Your shitty apartment

Taking Charles' advice to not think about it too much in stride, you close your eyes and imagine the shitty apartment you share with your fiancee. It wasn't much, but to you it was home, and if this was something more than a fevered dream than there is little else you'd rather be in order to start it.

Instead of imagining the main entrance, your mind takes you to the washroom door, with its peeling white paint and slightly bent wooden frame. It's a lot easier to visualize than the rows and rows of similarly painted doors that adorn the hallway leading up to your place. The door perfectly clear in your mind, you open your eyes and almost jump back in shock upon noticing that the one blank, black door before you has transformed into the one in your head. You hesitantly reach out for it and, as you grab the handle, the hallway around you shifts, a ripple passing through it as though reality is reshaping itself and, one blink of the eye later, you're now longer standing in Charles' mystery world.

You're now in your shitty washroom.

There's no doubt it's your place: the shower curtains are hung up by string, and toilet has long lost its porcelain shine, and Jen's stuff is littered all over the place, filling up any free counter space.

A knock on your door breaks your reverie, making you more aware of the situation. Jen’s voice echoes through the door in tandem with the sound of fist on wood.

“John, hurry up! We’re gonna be late!”

Glancing around, that’s when you realize your predicament: you’re naked, wet, and fresh out of the shower.

“Late for what?” you mumble to yourself, wondering what would make Jennifer push you with such haste.

This urgency was unlike her. Ever since you met Jen back in first year, she’d always been laid back and very chill; something which attracted you greatly to her. That, coupled with her ambition and drive, were what made up the core of her personality and principles. A psychology grad student, the two of you met in an Intro to Psych class; one that you took because it seemed like an easy elective, one that she took because it was required for her degree. Little did both of you know that you’d meet the love of your life during those long lectures.

Not wanting to disappoint Jennifer, you quickly gather your thoughts and composure, momentarily forgetting the incident with Charles. You grab a towel from the rack, drying off whatever shower water hasn’t dripped onto the floor you’d been zooning out.

Quickly putting on your outfit for the day, you rush out of the humid shower room, emerging into the shitty apartment you share with your fiancée.

Jennifer herself is standing in front of the mirror, trying to put on a set of bejeweled earrings. She gives you a quick glance from the corner of her eyes, a small frown adorning her brow.

“Come on John, I don’t want to be late. We’ve been planning this for months!”

You blink, wondering what the two of you were rushing for. Whatever it was, Jennifer had dressed up for it. She’d combed her dark brown hair so that it fell lavishly down to her mid-back, its full length on show for all to admire. She had a pair of ripped black jeans and a loose white top that exposed a great deal of one of her shoulders. On the floor next to her sat one of her nicer purses, phone and wallet half-spilling out of its contents.

It was an outfit she only wore when you had a date night planned. But, quickly checking at the clock hung up on the wall, the sun had barely just risen. So what gives?

Still, the sight of her brings back wholesome memories of the two of you together, teasing each other from across the dinner table, and you walk up behind her, pulling her into a warm as you nuzzle your way to her neck through her hair.

“You look delicious” you tease as you kiss her neckline, your fiancée cooing before pushing you away.

“Nooo, stop. We can fuck later” she promises, fingers finishing her last earring. “I want to make it to the store before they sell the one we picked out.”

Now you’re really confused, although the ghost of a memory of an all-powerful man in an empty white room reverberates in your mind, and you spot a brochure sticking out of Jennifer’s purse.

Intrigued, you pull it out, reading its contents.

Golden Pets – March 2018

Looking to purchase your very own pet blondie? Come down to Golden Pets on Fifth Ave. and check out our latest stock! Here are our blondes that are turning 18 and available for purchase this month!

The rest of the advertisement, the brochure was filled with pictures of beautiful blonde women, each naked save for a dark collar, and a date which you guessed showed the day they were legal for selling.

You stared wide-eyed at the paper, flabbergasted. At first you’d been skeptical, but this brochure was clear proof that the vision you’d had last night was no dream.

Your reality had fundamentally shifted so that blonde girls were pets, able to be purchased at a local pet store. You felt your cock immediately harden in your pants, the very idea of what this implied turning you on.

Jennifer took that moment to throw herself around you, leaning around you to also check out the brochure. “Good to go?” she asked, beaming brightly. “God, I hope we’re not too late. Isn’t she just so pretty?” she added, pointing to one of the naked blondes. “I’ve always wanted a pet blondie. She’ll be perfect!”