Reflective

I entered the garage with tears starting to well again. I tried to hold back a sob as I realize my human life is over. I had heard of petgirls but thought no one could be that cruel. I thought it was tabloids trying to scare people. I knew girls were bought but I didn’t think it would be this bad.

Inside the garage, as promised, was her vehicle. She opens her van and in the back was a crate for a large breed dog or a small petgirl. I looked at the other seats in the van.

“Can I just sit? I’ll be good. I promise.” I said begging for some reminder I was still a person.

“Sorry, babycakes, you’re going to be doing a lot of thinking this trip and I can’t risk you having a freak out or getting ideas. Get in the crate, don’t make me tell you again.”

In mere seconds she went from sounding empathetic to domineering. It was probably intentional to keep me off balance.

I climbed up into the van and inside was the crate. I crawled into it with my pussy and ass facing out, after not thinking about how I was getting in.

Commenting on my poor decision she spoke to me again “Oh already, adhering to the role of the simple minded petgirl. Well I guess it’s for the best, just stare at the plastic and we’ll be there eventually.”

I heard her close the gate and lock it. I was trapped even if I had any fight in me. I heard the garage door open and felt the van reverse out. I was terrified of what my parents had done to me. They had always told me how I can’t have any anger, that a proper lady should be meek and compliant. They were preparing me for this moment, to try to make sure I didn’t fight back. It worked.

I lowered myself into a seated position as best as I could, though I had to duck my head. All I could see was plastic in front and the intermittent circular holes in the crate only showed the van’s plastic walls.

I had no stimulation as I truly grasped my situation. I was never going to have the life I planned anymore. The best I could hope for was maybe ending up with a nice owner. The word stung, I was owned now, I was not my own person. I tried not to cry as I heard the speed of the van pick up, meaning we were probably on the highway.

She didn’t talk to me once the whole trip. I was scared and a nervous wreck and she was just driving along likely carefree. Maybe she was preparing me for feeling isolated. Maybe she felt bad and didn’t want to acknowledge the terrible business she was a part of, maybe she just didn’t have anything to say, or didn’t consider me worth talking to. I’ll never know because she never told me.

I realized how tired I was just off the emotional toll this day had already taken and I fell asleep. I dreamt a normal dream about a normal life I so recently had. I was baking thanksgiving dinner with my mom. It was nice even though it teased me.

I woke up to the crate opening at a later time. I wasn’t sure what would come next.

“Alright, babycakes, training day 1.”