Unruly Pet

Crazy

I sat in my cage silently watching my new 'vender' AKA the person who would sell me to a new vampire master or maybe not depending on how this goes.

I despise each and every time I got bounced to a new shop, the vender was always thoroughly warned about my behavior but thought they could break me anyways. Idiots. Trying to remember I put up with them for a reason I took a deep breath.

My looks and rare blood made me highly valuable. I had straight fiery hair with a constantly pissed off expression to match. Skinny from too many starving my blue and green eyes looked dead even as they glared at the vender.

Deep red gashes and dark bruises that were all too obvious on my pale skin were fading at a noticeable rate. My eyebrows were always perfectly plucked and my skin silky smooth.

I should look like a mess but I have a little more pride than that. Only a little though, I have to look the part at least a little.

My blood was even more rare than my looks however as I was a hybrid. It was rumored that hybrid blood could heal faster and tasted better so why vendors put so much effort into me was no mystery.

Breeders had been pushing making hybrids for a while but even if they somehow found a vampire willing to have a half werewolf child (not to mention a passive enough werewolf) they didn't know how sensitive hybrid pregnancies were. The mothers always had to be uninjured and well-feed (I wasn't about to share this information with them though).

If they could just learn to leave me in peace I wouldn't hurt the 'trainers'. Beating a pet into submission worked for most, like the shaking blonde in the corner, but once the whips and hot irons came out I always despised whatever poor trainer accepted the job of breaking me in.

Horrid smells assaulted my nose. Every pet shop reeked of infection, urine, and sweat. The smells of the humans and few werewolves in the shop mingled together. Didn't they realize they would probably sell more of us if we were bathed?

But unlike every other pet in the shop I had a goal. From worst to best the pets had established a system; target practice, sex slave, blood slave, chore maid, and true pets.

Target practice were pets that got whipped, ironed, or scolded with hot water for their master's amusement. Sex slave, blood slave, and chore maid were all as cut straight as they sounded.

A true pet was what every pet was scared to hope for, they were treated as pets, pampered and well cared for they were easy to envy.

Having been target practice twice I refuse to get trapped by a master who didn't at least make me a chore maid. Of course there are other options, I could be killed for my blood or serve the vender as a door greeter, either of which sounded better than being whipped for fun.

One other ending was possible but I would rather die than see it come true. They could try to breed me. Even the thought sickened me.

I glanced down at my plain white dress and red and orange anklets. Each pet wore a white dress and a colored anklet to signify how ready to be sold they are as far as behavior went. I was the only one with an orange anklet.

The blonde shaking in her cage had a yellow anklet as many of the pets did. Two or three greens sat in their cages staring at nothing, I found them pitiful but it spoke volumes about how broken some vampires like their pets.

Werewolves always seemed to wear red anklets because they would always be 'potentially hazardous' and a different anklet for their actual behavior.

Orange was the worst behaved and they usually don't last long unless their pet shop has many customers that enjoy being able to punish pets.

The vendor put a plate of something that could only pass as food to the starving in my cage. It looked and smelled like puke.