The next morning, Allison’s 9” tall pet Pipsqueak woke up very early--long before his master Allison. It was Jim's first night sleeping in his new bug cage and it didn’t go well. His new home was much taller than he was but the square floor wasn’t large enough for him to lie fully flat on it, even diagonally. Allison had kindly lined it with a washcloth which he’d bunched up in the corner, hoping it would make it more comfortable. It hadn’t. He rubbed his eyes and watched Krusty, Allison’s clownfish, swim around in the tank right next to his cage. He had spent the night on the same shelf as Allison’s saltwater fish tank--he assumed that after his little tantrum about being called a pet the night before she’d done that to help remind him that that’s exactly what he was now, nothing more. As he sat there, Krusty swam up to Jim’s side of the tank and started staring right back at him.
“Hey Krusty, I never asked you--what are you in for?” Jim asked it as if Krusty was a fellow convict in jail with him. Krusty answered him by swimming away again. “You’re right--we’re not in prison--we’re in a fucking zoo.”
There was nowhere Jim could go, and nothing he could do except just sit there. He’d only been in the cage one night & part of a morning but the boredom was already excruciating. He wished he had some scotch. There was no sound except for the soft tick-tocking of a grandfather clock. For the n-th time Jim carefully inspected the inside of his cage again, scanning for a way he might escape from it but again came up empty. It really did seem as though the only way out was through the locked hatch, high out of reach above his head. He threw himself against the screen wall as hard as he could. He managed to flex the screen a little, but the base didn’t budge a bit, so he just started pacing back and forth for a while--stewing about the fact that his plan to convince Allison to convince Morgan to restore his height had crashed and burned. He tried hard to think up a new angle--another way he might try to convince Allison to stop thinking of him as her pet. At the moment though, it seemed every bit as impossible as finding a way out of his bug-cage. Eventually, he heard Allison in the kitchen, cleaning up the pots and dishes from dinner the night before, he assumed. He swallowed his pride and squeaked as loud as he could hoping she’d at least move him to the kitchen counter, but she either didn’t hear him or didn’t care. He hoped she just hadn’t heard him because being ignored was one of the things he hated most about his new situation.
After another hour or so of more excruciating boredom, he heard footsteps getting louder and then the immense figure of Allison entered the room, fully dressed. Jim couldn’t help but gawk at how huge she seemed now--he still hadn’t gotten used to it and wondered if he ever could. He tried to get her attention with another couple squeaks but she didn’t even look at him--She just hummed to herself as she fluffed up the couch pillows & scrubbed at a wine stain on the cushion. Jim jumped a little when he was startled by the Wicked Witch theme that started playing loudly in Allison’s back pocket. Jim hoped she’d put it on speaker but alas, he’d have to settle for hearing Allison’s half of the conversation.
“Morning, witchie-poo--say, you’re up early today!…….Ha, that's hilarious. Well, between you and me she kind of *looks* like the sort of person who’d snore-- if that makes any sense…..…...Mmhmm. I bet she is……….. Sure, of course she can--I have the week off & I know she flies back Saturday. Believe me, I’ll make sure she gets loads of Pipsqueak-time before that. ……...I should be back by 10:30 or 11 if you two feel like swinging by. Or if you want to come sooner, well, you've got a key.....................Yep no problem. Ok, see you guys at 11 then. ..….” Allison turned to glance at Jim and he knew Morgan must be talking about him. But at least Allison was finally looking at him so he waved his arms frantically, trying to beckon her without resorting to squeaking. He was desperate to be let out, even for a few minutes. But Allison didn't even acknowledge she'd even seen him. She just turned back around & continued scrubbing the stain while she continued, “....Ha!! Oh man that would be so satisfying wouldn’t it. If I thought he could manage it I totally would but I’m afraid he’s just a liiiiiiitle bit too short now to drive to *my* dry cleaners for me……” Allison held her phone between her chin and shoulder as she put on her coat. “Oh goodie! I totally forgot about that!......Tell her I can’t wait to find out what it is…….” Jim watched hopefully when he saw her finally approaching his cage but without so much as a glance at him, she casually dropped a couple sliced mushrooms through his hatch. Jim kicked them into the corner. He hated mushrooms--He found them disgusting and Allison well knew that. Jim wished he could scream. Then after snatching up her Prada bag Allison continued happily chatting with her friend as she strode out the front door. She'd left without even saying a word to Jim and after the door slammed shut, he squished his carpet-sized washcloth into something resembling a beanbag chair and flopped down on it to sulk. As infuriating as it was, he realized literally had no choice but to spend the entire day trapped in a bug cage, like a tarantula or something--a decoration--an object on display for Allison's entertainment, same as Krusty. The realization that he'd been demoted from a dog-analogue to a passive, decorative pet like a goldfish. But the truth was he couldn't think of many functional differences between Krusty the clownfish and himself. Krusty could do everything Jim could and more--he was allowed to swim around in a far larger container. Except for that, he reconed he really was functionally equivalent to a fucking clownfish now--still very much a pet, but the type of pet that sits far below dogs & cats on in the pet hierarchy. The very thought brought back his rage so fast he soon found himself throwing another violent, childish tantrum--he started kicking his legs and rolling on the floor of his cage squeaking at the top of his lungs.
Jim had no idea what time it was when the sound of keys in the front door woke him up. He hadn’t realized he’d fallen asleep and found himself lying in a fetal position in the corner of his cage. His nose itched and he scratched it before remembering both his hands were covered in his own shit.
As luck would have it Allison had barely finished wheeling her 7-Series back into her driveway when she heard Morgan’s vintage black Thunderbird roaring up behind her, Sam hanging out the passenger window, waving excitedly. The three ladies were all laughing about something as Jim watched them walk in. He tried to unfold himself and stand up in spite of the fact that his legs were cramping up.
“PRE-SENTS! PRE-SENTS!! Morgan chanted loudly, punching the air as she kicked off her shoes & headed towards the couch. She tried to throw her long leather black coat on the floor but Allison intercepted it and then carefully hung all three coats in her neatly-organized coat closet.
“Ok, ok! Sheesh! Just let me change into my house clothes ok?,” Allison said over her shoulder as she disappeared down the hall. Sam plopped heavily down on the couch next to Morgan, pulled out what appeared to be a sloppily gift-wrapped shoe box and set it on the coffee table. When Morgan saw Sam zip her bag shut again She asked,
“Wait--what about the other one?”
Sam shook her head, “Later. I think we need to prepare Allison for that one a little bit first, don’t you?”
“Uuuugh. Fine, but I really think we should give it to her today. You saw how she was when we left last night, I’m not sure she needs as much softening up as you think anymore.”
Just then Allison walked back in wearing a colorful silk Kimono & holding a board loaded with meat & cheese.
“Charcuterie?” She asked with a big smile. After setting it down next to the box, she stood up and sniffed the air. “Gross what’s that smell??” She followed the odor across the room to Jim’s cage and screamed “WHAT THE FUCK!?” when she saw some tiny letters scrawled in shit on the side of Krusty’s tank--it was a little hard to make out but it looked like the letters spelled out “THIS ISN’T OVER, BITCHES!” Morgan had trotted up to see what was going on and put her bare foot right into what appeared to be a puddle of urine on the carpet.
“Ew, grooooooooss!” She said with a wrinkled nose as she lifted her foot and looked down. Allison became even more furious. She put her face near the cage and screamed,
“You little shit!! Did you seriously pee on my white carpet???! ”
Jim saw his chance and threw his final chunk of poop at her and it stuck on her cheek. Morgan gasped, but couldn’t stop herself from smiling--she had to give the little guy credit for thinking up a creative way to hurt Allison when even she assumed that would be impossible for him now. But more than that, she smiled because she knew he’d crossed a line now that he’d never be able to uncross. This is something she knew Allison would not, could not ever forgive. She no longer had to worry--Jim had just cut off any possible chance of winning her back now.
Allison and Jim glared at each other for a moment, neither saying anything. Sam had come over and whispered “woah” to Morgan when she saw (and smelled) what he’d done. Allison suddenly left them and marched to the kitchen. Morgan whispered back, “We should stay out of this,” and after she motioned towards the couch with her thumb they went back to eat cheese and watch the show. Soon Allison returned wearing rubber gloves and an apron. She was carrying a huge jar with about 6” of soapy water in one hand and a bucket in the other. With her gloved right hand, she opened Jim’s cage, held it upside-down over the open jar & and shook it vigorously until Jim couldn’t hold on anymore. He tumbled awkwardly into the foamy water with a little sploosh. Allison then picked up the jar, screwed on its lid, and started shaking *it* vigorously. Even Morgan was a little surprised by how violently she was shaking it. She wasn’t sure if he’d survive this but she hoped he would, at least long enough to ‘enjoy’ Sam’s final gift. Eventually Allison’s arms started getting tired & she stopped to inspect him. Seeming satisfied, she took the jar’s lid back off and poured all the ice cubes in the bucket into the jar, filling it up top to bottom with ice cubes. Then after angrily slamming the jar back down on the shelf, she covered it with the same cloth she’d used to cover his planter-cell and walked back to join the other women, smiling and adjusting her Kimono--clearly trying to regain her composure.
“Sorry about that guys, I just kind of lost it there.”
“Ice cubes?” was all Sam could think to say.
“Hahah, I don’t know, I was going to strain the soapy water and rinse him in ice water but I was so mad I just skipped right to the ice. I’m not going to let him that fucker ruin our fun today.
Morgan heard the tinkling of ice coming from Jim’s jar. He was obviously not a happy camper right now but he was clearly still alive. She could tell Allison didn’t want to talk about what just happened so she just smirked, grabbed a handful of meat & slid the box down the coffee table towards Allison’s chair.
Morgan started changing “O-PEN! O-PEN!” and clapped her hands in time. Allison looked at Sam and when she nodded, Allison opened the box and pulled out what appeared to be a very small red dog sweater. She was about to check the label but as she inspected the knitting more closely, she could tell it wasn’t store-bought. This had clearly been hand-made by an expert. It wasn’t nearly as interesting looking as Roxy’s other sweaters but it did appear to be the same size at least. She was definitely confused though because she’d assumed it was going to be another ‘gift’ for Jim--like the bug cage.
“Oh! It’s….very nice! Thank-you Sam, I’m sure Roxy will love it.”
Morgan made a circle with her finger and though she had a mouthful of salami she quickly mumbled,
“Flip it over, dummy!”
Allison turned the little sweater around and her eyebrows shot up when she saw what appeared to be a strange little leather object woven securely into the middle of the sweater's backside. It appeared to be some kind of tiny leather bondage chair or saddle or something, just the right size for a 9” tall dog-rider. It was more chair than saddle, which made sense considering a rider small enough to sit in it would obviously have legs far too short to straddle a dog--even a cute little corgi like Roxy. Instead, it had a little metal tube mounted horizontally, just in front of the chair. It was very narrow, only wide enough for both little legs to fit in the opening, but it was long enough to stretch from the rider's toe all the way up to his crotch. The seat itself was a tiny, uncomfortable looking thing with a rigid, 2” high back, clearly designed to force the rider’s back upright. Three leather straps with buckles were attached to the chair back with rivets--the straps were plainly meant to securely bind the rider’s chest and arms. With all his limbs bound, the rider would have zero control over anything the dog did--he’d be merely an immoble passenger, helpless to do literally anything but look around as the dog did whatever she pleased. Alison held it up and it unfolded a bit, revealing some white stitching on the sweater just beneath the chair. On both sides there was a big white arrow pointing up, and underneath the arrow, the words “WORLD'S SMALLEST ASSHOLE” had been stitched at a size large enough to be easy to read from a distance. Sam was relieved when Allison started laughing.
“It’s a Roxy bondage-saddle for Pipsqueak! I’m hoping you agree it’s time to demote the fucker from 'Pet’ to ‘Pet accessory.’ What do you think?” asked an excited Sam. Allison poked at the leather with her finger.
“Holy shit it’s absolutely incredible, Sam! And yes, obviously I agree--Jim’s But how...I mean….how does something like this even exist?” Morgan couldn’t resist cutting in,
“Turns out Sam’s new boyfriend makes high-end, custom bondage gear & strap-ons. He’s actually pretty famous amongst the wealthy connoisseurs of such things. He sells them online--they’re very expensive!” Sam glared at Morgan,
“Don’t say that! Allison, he was more than happy to make this for you….he loved doing it actually. His only request was that we send him a video of Roxy running around with Jim stuck on her back.”
Across the room, Jim was absolutely freezing underneath all the ice but he tried to keep as still as he could. It was a little hard to hear the women now but if he kept still he could catch bits and pieces without the ice cubes drowning out the women’s voices. He heard enough to know they were going to tie him to Roxy. He figured Morgan must have told Sam about his intense hatred of Allison’s little dog. He always tried to be nice to her when Allison’s around but she’d caught him a few times & once even saw him kick her for making him spill his scotch. He tried to look on the bright side--He reasoned, ”Well, this is lame, I know I’ll look ridiculous but at least it’ll get me out of this ice..” He was really shivering hard now, “And hey... a little trot around the backyard on the back of Allison’s stupid dog...It’ll be lame but it sure won’t be as boring as being stuck in this fucking cage all day.”
But by the time the sun had set Jim was desperately wishing they’d let him spend the day alone in his bug cage. Sam’s boyfriend had done a great job with the measurements--Once Allison had strapped him in, he couldn’t budge. He’d been stripped of his Ken clothes which was a relief since they were drenched with ice water but the feeling evaporated when he realized they had no intention of replacing them with dry clothes. They strapped him in buck naked and the straps pinched painfully against his skin. He had expected the girls to simply watch Roxy take him for some laps in the backyard while they looked on and laughed at him. But instead, they just went to brunch without even saying one word to him--they were clearly just going to let Roxy just go about on her own, just living her dog life--and now Jim would be living that dog’s life right along with her. So the second Allison had checked the straps and was sure he couldn’t move much less escape, she whistled twice and Jim lurched hard as Roxy suddenly sprinted for the doggy door as fast as she could. Seeing it approaching fast, Jim started worrying his head might not clear the top of the door. When it got close he realized it wouldn’t. He couldn’t duck--he could only cock his head to the side a little and sure enough the top of the door smacked his forehead so hard it almost knocked him out. It wasn’t enough to even slow Roxy down though. She took Jim on a high-speed roller coaster ride around Allison’s backyard. Jim was freezing again. It wasn’t dangerously cold but it didn’t take long for Jim to become intensely jealous of Roxy’s new sweater. Suddenly his face was sliced up when she ran through the bush that used to serve as Jim’s toilet. A little blood dripped into his eye and of course he had no way to wipe it out. The straps cut into his chest when Roxy stopped suddenly, walked around in a circle a couple times & then squatted to poop. He just had to sit there while she did, and she took her own sweet time with it. He looked down at the brown fur to his left and saw a flea crawling by. That’s when the humiliation really hit him hard--it stung far more than the wounds to his face or forehead. That was when he realized that even the tiny flea next to him had far more agency than he did. The flea was riding Roxy by choice. It could go anywhere it pleased--it could even jump off Roxy altogether at any time if it wanted to. He couldn’t stand to look at it anymore so he looked down to his right and saw a little lump or cyst in the middle of a little shaved patch of fur--cleary some skin problem that she’d already been treated for. Seeing it made him feel even lower than the flea. He thought, “My god, I literally have more in common with that cyst than a flea now.” He had been expecting to feel like a tiny cowboy riding around on a funny looking horse. That would have been a humiliating feeling for sure. But now it was sinking in that this was much worse than that--He was overcome by the feeling that he was no longer even human--like the collar around Roxy’s neck, Jim felt he was now nothing more than a glorified part of a dog’s body--a dog he despised. He was so light that he knew Roxy had no idea he was even back there. It’s a pretty insignificant being that can be tied to a dog’s back without the dog even noticing.
Jim and Roxy’s coller spent the entire rest of the day riding around as mere glorified parts of Roxy’s body. The only times his humiliation took a break was when it was replaced by terror--like when Roxy ran through that same bush, over and over again--so many times he wondered if Morgan had somehow arranged it. He wasn’t even able to fully escape the boredom of the cage-- like the hour or so when Roxy took a nap on the porch. It was worse than his cage actually. At least in his cage he could walk around and not feel like a fucking dog cyst. At one point he had to pee so bad that he couldn’t hold it anymore & peed all over his thighs. His seat became so saturated with his own urine that had to sit in his own piss the entire rest of the day. One of the more memorable moments was when he saw a bulldog walking slowly towards Roxy. He wondered how the hell the bulldog had gotten in the yard until he saw Morgan standing & waving at the gate--holding it wide open. He braced for what was surely about to be a huge dogfight & it occurred to him that he literally might be about to die by being chomped in two by a smelly bulldog. But the dogs didn’t fight. Roxy turned around and JIm had to endure a very long humping session---as a part of the dog being humped. He couldn’t help himself and started squeaking uncontrollably. While he was being bucked around, thinking about the fact that the bulldog's penis was inside Roxy just inches away from his own naked ass he heard laughter coming from the deck. He had to strain to turn his head far enough but could see Sam & Allison waving and laughing at him as they sipped blue drinks with little umbrellas in them.
It felt to Jim like it took forever but eventually the bulldog was finished and trotted away. But before he had time to be relieved he heard a huge pssssssssss sound as enormous streams of water started filling the air above his head. Morgan had turned on the sprinklers. Roxy loooooved playing in the sprinklers no matter the temperature. Jim was instantly freezing again as the women watched Roxy run around in the streams of water, soaking Jim’s naked shivering body. Then just as he thought he was probably going to die of hypothermia, Roxy started rolling around in the mud coating his entire upper-body and head in a thick coat of it. He was having trouble seeing but he had no trouble hearing the squeals of laughter coming from the deck. But then when Roxy suddenly stopped, he could smell it--it wasn’t mud. When Roxy finally arrived at Allison’s chair, Allison stopped laughing and sniffed him--she recoiled instantly and exclaimed,
“Omygodyouguys!---he’s covered in Roxy’s shit!!!!” And all three of them broke into peels of laughter that seemed to last forever. Nobody even tried to clean Jim up. Sam tried to stop laughing and said,
“Awwwww, poor thing needs another one of your special baths I think, Allison!” which made Allison laugh even harder.
“Pipsqueak, speak.” she said through her laughs, trying to catch her breath. She wanted to hear what JIm had to say about all this. She thought surely spending a day as a cute little dog accessory would be enough to break him. Surely. But the humiliations of the day somehow weren’t enough. His rage was actually back & more intense than ever. Jim started screaming as loud as he could, in the lowest register he could muster. He still sounded ridiculous but the women could all hear what he was saying.
“I meant what I said you fucking bitches! I don’t know how yet, but mark my words: I’m going to fucking kill every single one of you cunts. And it’s not going to be quick, trust me! You’ve gone waaaaay too far. You crossed waaaaaay too many lines. When I get through with….squeak squeak squeeeeeeek! squeaksqueak!” Allison had heard enough and cut off his power of speech again. She didn’t reply. Instead she just mocked him with an exaggerated sarcastic frown. Then she looked in Roxy’s eyes and said,
“Roxy! You bad girl you rolled in your poop again! Go clean up or I won’t let you back inside!” Then she whistled three times and while Jim was in mid-squeak, Rocky put an end to his rant by instantly whisking him right Jim back into the yard. The women giggled a little more as they watched Roxy back at her rolling-around-in-shit-and-mud-under-the-sprinklers game. Sam asked,
“Mind if I take Roxy for a walk around the neighborhood tomorrow morning? Morgain said all your neighbors know about Morgan and would probably love to see little JIm’s new station in life as part of a living dog sweater.
“Of course! I’ll come along even!”
Even Morgan, who initially didn’t see the saddle as much more than a weird diversion had a great time once she saw how hard Jim had taken it. But as usual, she was the first to get bored and ready to move onto something fresh. She said,
“Ok that was worth it….Sam and I are both really glad you like Roxy’s new sweater. But you probably guessed we were saving the best for last, and I’m here to tell you we absolutely did. Are you ready?”
Allison was distracted, still grinning ear-to-ear watching Roxy add a new coat of shit to the bump on her back called Pipsqueak.
“Allison! He's getting another coat of shit, who cares? We brought Sam’s third present! Open eeeeeet!!!!” she begged.
Allison had a hopeful grin on her face as she carefully handed Morgan a pink narrow box about 10” long.