The Brentwood Society

Acceptance

            There was a part of Sue that knew she wasn’t walking down the unrealistically pristine street of her old neighborhood, and that she was, in fact, lying in a drug induced stupor on the floor.  That realization was like a wedge holding open the doorway to reality.  Everyone was there, her parents, old friends, classmates, even people from the church she used to attend.  Their backs facing her, they seemed to all be entranced by something up ahead. 

            The wedge holding the door was slipping, and Sue found it easier and easier to accept the improbable with every passing moment.  She tried to look past the crowd without success, and then asked what they were looking at.  No one answered.  She tapped on a few shoulders, but no one moved.  Annoyed, Sue grabbed the arm of the nearest person—her former pastor—to force him to acknowledge her.  The old man stared straight through her before returning to his former position. 

            A moment later, each person in the crowd simultaneously pointed down the street and started laughing.  The scornful cackling was in perfect, mechanical sync and grew louder and louder.  Sue covered her ears from the terrible noise and hopped up and down in a vain attempt to look past the forest of bodies. 

            With growing frustration, the small, young woman elbowed her way through the throng.  She didn’t know why, but she had to know what they were laughing at.  The press of people seemed to go on forever and ever.  Sue’s heart raced as she pushed and shoved to get ahead, the laughter making her ears hurt even as she covered them.  Then, suddenly, she popped out on the other side of the mob and found herself standing on the soft green grass of a park.  The crowd was gone and so was their horrible laughter.  It was replaced by a noticeable emptiness and the charming songs of birds. 

            Robert was standing about a short distance away under a cloudless, blue sky.  As always he was poised and impeccably dressed.  She knew he wasn’t perfect, but he sure looked that way.  Even though he didn’t appear to notice her, Sue’s heart beat faster.  Next to him there was a mirror.  It was odd to see a two-sided, full-length mirror in the middle of a sunny park, but for whatever reason it seemed like it belonged there.  Sue crept up to it slowly until her reflection showed in the polished surface.  Her scrubby form next to Robert made it look as if she were really standing next to him.  Sue frowned.  The frame around the mirror separated them and broke the illusion. 

            The narrow wooden split between them made her heart break.  Sue shook her head and flipped the mirror to the other side with a surprisingly effortless touch.  The mirror on the opposite side replaced the original.  Sue gave a start.  She’d expected to see her reflection again, which she did, but not in the way she at all predicted.

            Gone was the young woman in a smart, black skirt suit and sensible heels, which was how Sue had come to imagine herself.  In her place was a pathetic, squatting creature.  She recognized the pet gear immediately.  With some small differences it was the exact same Pomeranian style they’d put her in during her first case with Robert.  Sue saw her raven colored locks arranged into two stubby pigtails—doggy ears—tied off with bright pink bows framing her face. 

            Her face!

            Sue saw her face.  Had her nose and cheeks been tattooed with black ink to make her look like a dog or was it just makeup?  Either way, she didn’t look bothered with her bright eyes, big smile, and lolling, drooly tongue.  What’s more she didn’t feel bothered looking on from the outside.  Her legs were weak.  Blushing, she raised her right hand to her cheek while her left hand drifted down to her tingling stomach. 

            The light brown paws with black pads on the bottoms were so silly looking, and yet so strict and severe.  They trapped her on all fours and made the simple act of traversing through closed doors basically impossible, but under such a veneer of sickening cutesiness.  Her left hand moved down past her tingly tummy to the top of her skirt.  It made its way inch by inch to the smoldering neediness between her legs that was trapped beneath the professional black skirt, the tops of her pantyhose, and her modest, white cotton panties. 

            The collar with its bell and her name—her real name—embossed on the side: Button.  She should have been appalled, but she wasn’t.  She loved the name in fact.  It reminded her of the moment Robert had called her “cute as a button.”  The collar would let everyone know where she was and anyone who cared to look, who she belonged to.  Her legs trembled as her finger tips began to rub against the fabric of her skirt when her eyes darted from between the tag in her other self’s ear and the brand on her belly. 

            They weren’t facsimiles like she’d had before.  They were real!  They told everyone that she was not a person.  They told them that she was legally a thing, an object, with no rights, no choices, and utterly beholden to her owner—her master.  Sue found herself rubbing harder as she looked at her state, bouncing and drooling, wagging the tail attached to the plug that had no doubt been rudely shoved up her butt as her puppy parts, trapped behind the c-string covering her crotch, dripped and dripped creating an undignified puddle beneath her.      

             Robert was still standing there.  He seemed to have just noticed both versions of Sue—of Button—standing and squatting near him.  He smiled at both of them.  Sue knew she should stop rubbing herself, but she couldn’t.  Her neediness and his approving smile made it impossible.  Her panties were completely soaked.  She looked at the puddle of Button’s desire, her desire, and realized that the only thing separating her two selves were their “wardrobes.” 

            Sue panted and shivered as she started undressing right in the middle of the park.  The buttons on her blazer were difficult enough for her shaking fingers, the smaller ones on her blouse were maddening, and the hooks on her bra were beyond exasperating.  The zipper on her skirt was as blessedly easy as kicking off her shoes.  Then it was just a series of desperate wiggles and tugs to yank her pantyhose and wet panties down her legs before she could be free. 

            Under Robert’s warm, reassuring gaze, she dropped to her hands and knees, crawled forward, the green grass tickling the palms of her hands and her bare knees, and took her place next to herself.  She looked up at Robert and realized that his attention was no longer split.  He was looking squarely at her.  She glanced to the side and saw her other self was missing.  Then she noticed her hands in her peripheral vision.  They were captured in the light, brown paw mittens.  She looked down and saw the brand on her belly.  She felt the tag in her ear, the pressure of the plug stuffed inside of her. 

            She was awash in fear, panic, and lust, but overriding all of that was the feeling that she was finally being honest with herself and Robert.  There was a feeling that everything was right and as it should be. 

             Her heart leapt into her throat as Robert reached for her collar with a matching pink leash in hand.  The click of leash being attached echoed in her ears and she was suddenly overcome with a sense of safety and security she’d never before felt.  With a slight tug, Robert brought her to his heel and led her to the park’s walking path.  Button followed submissively, but happily.

            He walked while she crawled, and they passed the same people she knew from before.  Sometimes they were alone, sometimes in groups, and other times in pairs.  Some stopped and stared at her with contempt.  Though they didn’t say anything, their feelings were clear.  She was a lowly slut who let her animal side overcome her.  Others laughed as she passed by panting and leaking like a broken faucet, her wide eyes fixed on her master.  Their feelings were clear too.  They not only thought she was pathetic, they thought it was funny. 

            Perhaps it was.

            She didn’t care.

            All their scorn didn’t matter.  She couldn’t argue with what she knew was right, and none of those people could either. 

            She’d finally accepted.  

***

Thanks to @NimbleTail  for allowing me to continue to write in the ComPet universe, and for providing the amazing artwork.

Thanks to Flydeath, as always, for including me on this commission.

Main Sue Sharp Stories 

Deviantart Links

Case #1 - Sue's First Case

Case #2 - Deep Undercover

Case #3 - The Mutt Maker

Case #4 - Tit for Tat

Case #5 – Sisters Reunited

Blogspot Links

Case #1 - Sue's First Case

Case #2 - Deep Undercover

Case #3 - The Mutt Maker

Case #4 - Tit for Tat

Case #5 – Sisters Reunited