She wants to bathe her dogs, me included

I crossed both hands over my modest dangling bits for some degree of decency while Doggett effortlessly hoisted my small body up against her pillowy breast. With the strength of a woman half her age, empowered by some sort of perverse enthusiasm, she made it all the way inside before setting me down, while her little dogs ran back and forth between us, eager for attention. She provided them precious little, as her attention was currently all trained upon her newest pet: me. The collar she'd replaced around my neck, albeit unattached to any leash and easily removable by human hands, made me feel powerless to leave her care.

Once back inside, we resumed contact with the large, noisy, menacing dogs that we'd left behind earlier; I found the extra threat unnecessary and vulgar, though I doubted she actually intended to use those dogs for intimidation purposes. I was more frightened of the woman's crazed intentions than I was of her canines, at any rate. "Your shenanigans out there really got you filthy, Miss Hojo. You're every bit as silly as my puppies!" Ms. Doggett giggled, raising one hand to cover her mouth but doing little to hold back her laughter. "The three of you are all just as caked in mud now."

I wondered why she'd bother teasing me with that fact at this point. I was much more concerned about other factors of my situation than I was my cleanliness. By way of counterpoint, I noted that she'd gotten just as grimy as the dogs when she'd flopped down onto her belly, although she didn't have it as bad as me; I'd been double coated, once on my front and once on my back.

"Is that so?" Doggett questioned, smiling wider. That impish smile of hers made me feel as though I'd just ensnared myself in some sort of trap. "Follow me into the back room! I have something else there I think you're going to enjoy!"

I reminded her she'd already given me the ominous foreshadowing once; I didn't need a second helping. Walking by my own power now, I followed her into the back, feeling vaguely uneasy as I clutched my hands over my private parts. What was she going to show me this time? A cat costume, so we could go look for her lost kitties? There wasn't anything in the storage room that seemed like it could provide any joy to me, despite her claims. I wasn't hungry for dogfood or birdseed and I was afraid to see the contents of any other storage hampers she might bring out.

The woman left me for a moment to bend down over in the corner, giving me another look at her huge caboose that I politely declined, then stepped aside and folded her hands in front of her lap. "This way, Miss Hojo!" she beckoned sweetly. The pathway she referred to... was a cellar door! The basement was probably private and soundproof, where nobody would disturb us, no matter how loudly I yelled.

I turned to flee again, then saw the growling, larger dogs waiting behind me. I abandoned my plan to flee just as I'd given up the idea of escaping through the neighboring building earlier.

It may please you to know, if you still have sympathy for me in your heart, that the subterranean level of the pet-shop didn't hold any cages or sexual **** devices. Then again, with how this story's going, maybe that's what you were expecting and hoping for. Instead, what awaited me down in that cellar was a room for bathing the dogs, including towels, soaps, and a very large-- but shallow-- tub. This was clearly the place where she ordinarily bathed all of her pets. The fact that she'd kept it relatively clean of animal hair, feathers, and that sort of thing was a good testament to her work ethic. For at least a moment, I found a new respect for the woman. Perhaps she really needed the relief that ODD's services provided, allowing her to just play around for just a while and blow off steam? After all, she was seemingly the sole employee of this pet store, making her owner, operator, and caretaker. She wasn't married either, judging by the lack of a ring, though this hobby of hers would be all the stranger if it was done alongside a marriage.

Whatever respect I had for her vanished when she shooed her puppies to the side, then pat the side of the tub with one hand, signaling for me to enter. Her smile was welcoming but despite my dirtiness, I didn't feel like taking a bath and told her as much. At the very least, I wanted to bathe myself.

"Hmmm?" Doggett questioned, pressing one finger to her cheek with fake innocence. "Doggies can't wash themselves! Luckily, I'm an experienced pet-owner, game for the task!" She'd already begun to run the bathwater and pour in soap to lather it up with bubbles. I really hoped she wasn't using the same detergent she used on her dogs... With the water bubbling up, that cheerful smile on her face, and the whole room brightly lit, I almost began to feel ridiculous for feeling so anxious.

Dejected, I asked if she'd at least turn away while I got in the tub.

"The water's really going to be too shallow to hide anything regardless, my dear."

Growling, I pointed out a logical inconsistency, as though that would delay my issue: if I take off all of my things, I'm not going to be at all like a dog any more, am I?! This paw-print bikini and the gloves and boots were the only things making me look like a dog right then!

"You'll always be a cute puppy in my eyes!"

I finally resigned, seeing that this wasn't going anywhere. While she watched, I turned around so she'd be watching my butt instead of my dick, then pulled my hands free from the gloves, one by one. Once that was finished, I lifted my legs for the boots, ignoring her squeals of delight as she got brief flashes of my futa parts. Finally, I took off the top and dropped it with the rest of the suit. As I reached to grab the collar, she begged that I keep it on. I had no reason to object; my pride was pretty far gone by this point anyway. With my arms barely hiding my bare nipples and my legs slightly twisted to hide by penis as best I could, I shuffled awkwardly back to the tub, then splashed back down. The impact was hard enough that water and soap suds even coated the swell at the chest of Ms. Doggett's sweater; I found myself reveling in at least that little bit of payback.

The woman only laughed, then wagged one finger. "You mischievous little doggie! I've got the perfect thing to scrub down a dirty dog like you~"

I could only take guesses at what she had planned. Was she going to use her hands to lather me up, like a master with an animal? Or would she grab a long scrub brush? That would make for a pretty comical scene.