Fetch!

After their walk, the old widower Mr. Johnson could have some quality time with his neighbour's doggie, Lola, left in his care. It was already getting late, but he didn't want to leave Lola 'unsatisfied'.

Of course the doggie in question was in fact 19-year-old little Lauren. Her ex's new girlfriend, May, had left the poor diva in quite a pickle. She was '****' into playing the role of a high schooler being treated as a dog as punishment until next morning. It was already dreadful in itself, but unbeknownst to May, little Lola's impromptu caretaker Mr. Johnson was a generous patron and admirer of Lauren's. Of course the old man had quite a different mental image of the busty, prim lady she so desired. And it goes without saying, dogs don't wear anything apart from collars. Without makeup, clothes and certain form-altering enhancements to make those clothes more... curvaceous, the difference between 'Lola' and Lauren were poles asunder.

That meant, Lauren was safe from being recognised. Something, that would have had dire consequences to her career -- and her confidence as a whole. Unfortunately, that also meant the poor woman could not utter a coherent word. Her voice was one of the few things she'd never tried to change, so it would have definitely given her identity away. It just so happened that when Mr. Johnson asked her what she wanted to do, she just sat there on the grass, naked, with a dumb expression on her face. Something she soon regretted, when Mr. Johnson produced a yellow tennis ball from the nearby shed and picked an activity for little Lola himself.

"Fetch!" he said, throwing the ball. And fetch she did...

That was about half an hour ago. The backyard was pretty big, and he made sure to throw the little ball to the furthest reaches every time it was returned. As Lauren returned with the dirty ball in her mouth for about the fortieth time, she was beyond exhausted. Her knees and arms were trembling, her body was covered in a thin layer of sweat and grass, her messy hair was sticking to her body, her eyes were nearly closing and she was panting like she had just ran a marathon. Well, a marathon in zig-zags and on all fours. Her only solace was that it was relatively dark outside, and none of the neighbours'd come out to witness her little 'exercise'. She dropped the ball at Mr. Johnson's feet, shuddered and collapsed with a whimper.

"Oh, is my little pet tired?" asked the geezer with genuine concern in his voice.

"Could... be..." she thought, barely conscious enough to think straight.

"Why didn't you say so?"

"Fuck... you..." for a moment, she was glad she was so exhausted, as she would have murdered the old man otherwise.

"I think that's enough exercise for today."

"No... shit..." she panted, looking at the old man's ugly socks mere inches away from her face. She just lay there, drooling like an imbecile. Her little chest rising and falling with every breath.

She saw the ugly socks moving away from her and then with Mr. Johnson's blunt "Night." the backdoor slammed shu.

Lauren raised her head in surprise. The lights went out. She was alone in the dark backyard. The geezer left her outside for the night, like she was some damn puppy. She swallowed hard at the truth of it. Her initial disappointment was soon replaced by a stronger urge. Freedom! It was time to escape. She would have liked to jump to her feet, but soon realized that she was in no shape to do so. She could feel every muscle in her body scream. She barely had enough strength left to raise to all fours. She was still panting heavily.

She doubted she'd have the strength to stand up, let alone escape and walk all the way home. And even if she did, what good would that be with her door locked? Not to forget that she was still hopelessly naked. Maybe she could call someone. But whom? She had no friends with whom she would have been comfortable seeing her in such a sorry state. No, realy, she had no friends... She gulped at the thought. She was on her own. The police would help her... But when? It would take ages for them to identify her without any papers. And probably the whole station would have seen her naked by that time. How much of her dignity was she prepared to lose? Could she still lose more? Would it be worth waiting for May till the morning? Would May even show up as she promised? Would she dare leave her there?

As she knelt there in the dark, naked and sweaty, she could feel the chilly night breeze on her skin. For the last ten minutes, she'd been contemplating her situation while looking blankly at the closed backdoor of the Johnson residence. What should she do?