{"sf1_id":null,"sf2_id":"1EMAyxw1","title":"Pedigree - Ch5.","author":"InsanityRot","words":6379,"posted_at":"2026-05-21T23:59:18.000Z","tags":["Blackmail","Canid","Dog","Drama","Feral","First Person","Human","Interspecies","Modern","Non-Anthro","Poodle","Romance","Sad","Sentient Feral","Soft Scifi"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/1EMAyxw1-pedigree-ch5","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/s/1EMAyxw1","image_url":"https://cdn.sofurryfiles.com/submissions/thumbnails/99/9a/999a3221-b0e4-4ea1-86b6-cb01273ea46b","description":"Charlotte tries to fall into old habits, only to be reminded Max is human and she's not all she thinks she is.  \n  \n Check out the server for art, stories and dragon porn - [https://discord.gg/Nk4T6vrhF7](https://discord.gg/Nk4T6vrhF7)","content":"## **Chapter 5.**\n\n**07:07, Friday, the 5th of February, 2029.**\n\n**-----**\n\nThe patches beneath both of my eyes were sore and the fine fur matted with tears, the salt still stinging even hours after I’d finally managed to fall asleep.\n\nI needed a shower, I realised; heat and water – something to revitalise me – but I found that it was difficult to rub conditioner into my fur without hands or an assistant.\n\nAnd for obvious reasons, I didn’t exactly feel like asking the only other person in the estate for help.\n\nInstead, I laid back, held a bottle between both forepaws, thanked my father for getting the plus edition of the _Atak_ thumbs and squeezed, sending a limp spurt of green, flower-smelling slime atop my chest fluff.\n\nIt sat there, slowly sinking in my curls, weak and slow. A mess.\n\nAnd me on my back.\n\nPathetic.\n\nAnd worst of all – familiar.\n\nI pushed past the intrusive thoughts, squeezed harder and slowly lathered myself up as best I could, reaching the spots I could with my limited range, whilst all the while one persisted, even through the haze.\n\nI had a human.\n\nA server whose one purpose was to, _well,_ serve.\n\nSo why was I the one doing this?\n\nWhy was I the one being humiliated?\n\nStill on my back, vulnerable, hind legs splayed from their own weight, I felt a dull, throbbing ache in an area quite private.\n\nAt first nothing.\n\nAnd then it clicked.\n\nIt wasn't just because it had been my first time, though that might’ve played a part.\n\nNo, I realised, it was because I'd pushed myself to be with someone not my kind so quickly. There had been no careful, slow stretches or even something slick and gel-like to ease it beyond what my own body produced.\n\nI hated it.\n\nHated that I'd hurt myself so intimately for someone who had thrown me aside.\n\nHated myself even more for dreaming of him after I'd cried myself to sleep, reliving the first and only time in my life I’d ever been so connected to another living being.\n\nFrom the highest high to the lowest of lows, because how dare I show weakness, open up about myself and lower my status to that of another person? It was a lesson, I told myself.\n\nLaid back, on the ground of the shower, water pouring down and washing away the grease and grime and fur conditioner, I let these thoughts infest me.\n\nPetty, hurt, defensive thoughts.\n\nThey congealed into a barrier. A wall between me and him.\n\nThe water ran down my cheeks and past my eyes. I blinked them away.\n\n**#**\n\nI held it all tight to my chest as I entered the living room. I’d tracked his scent – sweaty, distantly tainted by oil and the egg he’d eaten the day before. His footsteps were ever loud and plodding.\n\nEverything humans did was a sensory nightmare for someone with senses as strong as mine, and his were _especially_ bad. He thumped about the place, not a trace of grace or guile in his movements.\n\n“Your breakfast,” he said before I got a chance to speak down to him. I followed his gaze, finding hot food on the table. I hadn’t even noticed it – I’d been too focused on him. “With extra bacon.”\n\nMy nose twitched.\n\nHe smelt like nerves – a cooler, more distant kind of sweat I’d smelt on the maids that hadn’t been prepared to meet me. “This is not part of my diet,” I said coolly, feigning a lack of interest in the meal.\n\n“I know,” he said, nodding low. “But I thought you’d like it.”\n\nI had him.\n\nHad… something.\n\n“And why does that matter?”\n\nThe TV kept playing. Some documentary that didn't matter. Motors or the like.\n\nMax straightened up, steeled his gaze, and adjusted his hair in a way that once might’ve had my heart fluttering. “Because I’d prefer it if you were happy.”\n\n“Ohhh.” I drawled out, forcing my tail to stop its anxious little whips. “You want me to be _happy._ I get it. Yeah, that makes sense – that tracks with how you’ve acted so far. You’re so kind—\"\n\n“Charlotte-”\n\n“And supportive. You’d _never_ do anything cruel—\"\n\n“Please-”\n\n“And dehumanising. You’d never call me an animal to my face.” My legs were shaking and a heat spread from my ribs down my forelimbs. “The morning after. Because that wouldn’t be very nice, would it?”\n\n…\n\n“...I’m sorry.”\n\nI froze. The forced grin slid off my snout slow as ice as I pressed my maw so tightly shut it hurt. That fury faltered as I digested what he’d said. I hadn’t expected it – I’d expected excuses, comments about species and consent and introspection and\u0026nbsp;_something_ Max flavoured.\n\nNot a sorry, with his face in his hands and his shoulders hunched like he was the one hurting.\n\nMaybe he was.\n\nI didn’t know what to do.\n\nSo I watched, instead.\n\n“I’m sorry I said what I said,” he confessed. “There was no reason to. You asked me if I wanted to stop and if I _knew_ who I was with, and I said yes.” He reached back up to fix his hair, but it fell apart. “I-I said yeah because I thought I could handle it. You were so beautiful, and I wanted to suck up how I _knew_ I’d feel in the morning because I just- I-I fucking...” His face scrunched up, eyes squeezed shut. “I wanted you.”\n\nMy lip quivered.\n\n“I’m something you’d have to _suck up_?” I pushed it down, pushed everything down.\n\nIt didn’t matter.\n\nIt didn’t.\n\nIt really didn’t.\n\nMy hips still hurt.\n\nMax raised his face from his hands and looked up at me, eyes bright and focused. “Yes.” He sat up straighter, moved forward, and for one long moment, I thought he’d kneel before me. “Not _you_ you, but everything else. You’re a person, but you’re not a human. Charlotte, I remember being a kid and actually owning a dog, and that’s hard to let go of in just a week. I-It just is. I’m sorry.”\n\nI had to force myself to breathe.\n\nBecause I could understand that. It made sense.\n\n“And you think it was easy for me to do the same?” I ground out. “You think it was easy to ‘_suck up’_ that my only options were effectively humans? I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m something of a fucking rarity. It’s either a species that thinks I’m a pet or _begging_ my father to let me visit someone I meet online. I don’t want…”\n\nMy eyes betrayed me, and I raised a paw to bat weakly at my suddenly wet cheek.\n\n“You’re not a pet, Charlotte.”\n\nBreathing grew hard once again.\n\nIt was too good.\n\nI hated it.\n\nI wanted to be angry; I wanted him to regret what he’d done, lay low beneath me and grovel. But no, he was remorseful and calm, and I despised him for it, because I could feel myself relaxing, letting go…\n\n…I couldn’t accept that.\n\n“ **No**. I’m not.” I moved forward with strength. “I am not a pet, Maxie. And more than that, do you remember what I told you?” He froze – he knew, I knew. I wet my lips. Chose my path. “That I’d tell my father? If you didn’t play nice?”\n\nScarcely did it work. His jaw tightened harshly, teeth grinding visibly. “I do, yeah. What’s that got to do with anything?” He sat up, posture shifting immediately, almost like he’d been anticipating it. “I-I said I’m sorry, and I mean it. What more—\"\n\n_More._\n\nMore, I realised. I could have more.\n\nMore conflict, more apologies.\n\n“I like you,” I admitted, cutting him off. “But I want… proof… that you’re sorry.”\n\nA flush of surprise and then indignation, but he, with a low sigh, let it ebb. “Seriously?” He said. \"You-\" Another surge of annoyance that he pushed down. “What proof?”\n\n“Do a handful of favours for me and we’re good.” I leant closer over to him, food ignored. “We can even have more late-night fun.”\n\nI felt like I was about to vomit.\n\nI knew what I wanted, but I couldn’t just _ask._\n\nIt had to be forced. It had to be whatever _this_ was.\n\nThere couldn’t be a moment where I was left open ever again.\n\nMax snatched my breakfast from the table, spearing a sausage with a silver fork. “Fine. What do you want? Back rubs or something?”\n\nI didn’t answer him straight away.\n\nI let the silence sit between us, heavy and crushing, and watched the way it pressed in on him. His grip on the plate tightened just slightly, fingers curling against ceramic.\n\nGood, I thought, swallowing.\n\n_Let him wait._\n\nI tilted my head, slow and _thoughtful_, as though weighing something far more important than petty favours. My ears angled just slightly back, then forward again, controlled and measured.\n\n“There is a place,\" I said at last, voice even, almost bored. “In town.”\n\nHe frowned.\n\nNot irritated, not just yet. Confusion first. There was always confusion with him, like he needed a second longer than most to catch up to what was actually being said, even despite the business degrees he sometimes preened about.\n\n“A place,” he repeated, brow raised.\n\n“Yes.” I sat up straighter, claws brushing against the rug. “An ice cream parlour. Independent. Quiet. Father mentioned it once.”\n\nA pause.\n\nHe blinked.\n\nMy heart skipped.\n\n“…Ice cream.”\n\n“Yes.”\n\n\"That's-\" He stopped himself and exhaled sharply through his nose. “_That’s_ what you want, seriously? Ice cream?”\n\n“It is.”\n\nHe stared at me properly. Not glancing, not avoiding, but looking. Searching for something that wasn’t there.\n\nA trick.\n\nA catch.\n\nSomething secret.\n\nThere wasn’t one.\n\n“Jesus, you’re serious,” he said after a moment, slower this time.\n\n“I am not in the habit of joking about these things.”\n\nHis jaw set tight.\n\nTeeth pressing together, the faint shift in his posture as something like resistance rose up in him. His shoulders squared, spine straightening just a fraction too much, like he was bracing himself for something more. Something worse.\n\nI watched it happen.\n\nWatched the moment he considered pushing back-\n\nBut didn’t.\n\n\"...Fine,\" he said, voice calmer now. “Later. When it’s quieter.” And then he glanced away, somewhere distant. “I like ice cream…”\n\nSomething in my chest surged so suddenly it almost made me falter.\n\nMy tail flicked before I could stop it, a tight, betraying wag that I corrected too late. My claws pressed lightly into the pads of my paws as I forced myself still.\n\n“Good,” I said, lifting my chin just slightly. “That will suffice.”\n\nHe didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t argue.\n\nInstead, he pushed the plate towards me, a little more forcefully this time. “Eat, _princess_.”\n\nThe bacon was still warm, salty and fatty, richer than anything I should have been eating. My ears twitched despite myself, a small, involuntary reaction that I masked with a careful tweak of my posture.\n\n_Dignified,_ like the lady I was.\n\nAcross from me, he sat back, one hand coming up to rub at his temple. Watching without staring. Thinking again, then taking out his phone.\n\nAlways thinking.\n\nLet him, I thought.\n\nBecause as I ate, the feeling didn’t fade.\n\nThat rush from before softened into something steadier, warmer, coiling low in my gut and refusing to leave. He’d agreed. Pressed and cornered, yes – but he hadn’t fought it. Not _really_. A moment of resistance, and then-\n\n…\n\nMy tongue brushed lightly over my teeth as I swallowed.\n\nIf that was all it took…\n\nMy thoughts shifted.\n\nTo heat. To pressure. To the memory of his hands.\n\nTongue-\n\nThe grip on my hips as he thrust up into me, spilling, teeth against my throat.\n\nA flush spread fast and hard beneath my fur, heat climbing up my neck. My tail rose on mating reflex before I forced it back down.\n\nI took another bite just to have something to do, chewing too quickly this time, less controlled. My tail tightened against a hindleg, curling in close.\n\n…\n\n…If I asked-\n\n_No_.\n\nI swallowed.\n\nThen, quieter.\n\n_Maybe_.\n\nThe thought lingered.\n\nSlippery.\n\nDangerously tempting.\n\nHe’d agreed to ice cream. To something small, yes, but still… He’d folded, eventually.\n\nSo what if-\n\n“What’s that look?”\n\nI froze.\n\nSlowly, I lifted my gaze, heart thudding.\n\nMax was staring at me now, openly. One brow raised, mouth pulled slightly to the side, like he wasn’t sure whether to be annoyed or amused.\n\n“You look…” He hesitated, searching. “…off.”\n\n“I do not,” I said immediately.\n\n“You do,” he replied, leaning forward slightly. “You were just sitting there. Smiling. Not normal smiling either, just, like-” He gestured vaguely toward his own face. “Creepy, like.”\n\nMy grip tightened on the fork, the metal of my prosthetic whirring.\n\n“...I was eating.”\n\n“You were _not_ just eating.”\n\n“I assure you, I was.”\n\nHe huffed lightly, unconvinced. “Yeah. Sure. Whatever that was, please don’t do it in public later.”\n\nMy whiskers twitched.\n\n“I was not aware I required your guidance on how to present myself.”\n\n“You do when you look like that,” he muttered, the corners of his mouth lifting in a weak grin.\n\nI turned my head away from him in one smooth motion. My nose lifted slightly, body straightening further as I placed the fork down for a moment.\n\n“If you find my expressions unsettling,” I said coolly, “perhaps you should refrain from staring at me so intently.”\n\n“Pretty fucking hard not to when you’re making faces like-\"\n\n“I was not making faces.”\n\n“You definitely were.”\n\n“I was not.”\n\n“Were.”\n\nHe exhaled again, sharper this time, but didn’t push further.\n\nI continued eating, slower. The heat lingered anyway.\n\nIf he’d agreed to this…\n\nWhat else might he agree to if I asked it the right way?\n\n“Charlotte, the face again.”\n\nThe lady I was, I didn’t react. Truly, I was refined.\n\nBut even I could fall victim to boredom, especially when there was something to look forward to. Max as well, based on him leaving to retrieve his laptop and the sounds of video games echoing through tinny speakers that followed.\n\nQuiet music. Retro sound effects. Max swearing under his breath every ten minutes or so, muttering about a million-dollar debt.\n\n“What are you playing?” I asked.\n\n“Hacking game. Deepfake-\" He paused, clicking at something. “Uh. Deadeye Deepfake. Pretty good. Friend recommended it.” His eyes flicked over to me, the tablet in my grasp, then back. \"You're doing your… dog Instagram?”\n\n“Possibly.”\n\nI was.\n\n**\\\u003e Chewing that human bone Char-Char? (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)**\n\nTo which I sent only a winky face.\n\n**\\\u003e Lucky guy T\\_T**\n\nA nodding poodle GIF.\n\n**\\\u003e You keeping him or just playing?**\n\n**Show his face properly next time; don’t be stingy.**\n\nMy thumb hovered over the screen, scrolling just a fraction slower now.\n\n**\\\u003e Nah look at the shoulders in pic 3 – he knows what he’s doing**\n\n**That one where he’s carrying your stuff??? Yeah. Yeah. Yeah.**\n\n**Need that next rut. (⸝⸝\\\u003e ω \\\u003c⸝⸝)\u0026nbsp;**\n\nA pause.\n\nThen, quieter, buried a little deeper:\n\n**\\\u003e Does he treat you right?**\n\nI didn’t answer that one.\n\nInstead.\n\n**\\\u003e If you don’t want him I’ll take him off your paws.**\n\n**\\\u003e Char-Char hoarding again smh.**\n\nA small huff left my nose before I could stop it.\n\nTo them both, I replied with a simple\n\n**;)**\n\nAnd turned my phone off, mood boosted enough to last.\n\n…\n\nFor a time, at least.\n\nThe room settled back into its earlier rhythm soon after. I let it fill the space without comment, stretching out along the sofa with a careful sort of laze, as though I had nothing at all occupying my thoughts.\n\nI watched him instead of the TV.\n\nNot openly. Just in pieces… the shift of his posture when he leant forward; the way his fingers moved faster when he grew frustrated.\n\nHe was comfortable again.\n\nIt felt too good to see. Too natural.\n\nI broke it.\n\n“We’re going,” I said.\n\nHe didn’t look up. “Yeah, in a bit. It’s still early.”\n\n\"No,\" I rose, smoothing down the front of my jumper with deliberate care, gathering my strength for a push. “Now.”\n\nThat got his attention.\n\nHis expression sharpened just slightly as if he were weighing the effort of arguing in real time.\n\n“…Right. Right,\" he said finally, pushing himself up with a faint groan. “Give me a minute, at least.”\n\nI didn’t need to respond, I told myself.\n\nThe time it took him to gather himself was short.\n\nKeys, jacket, and a quick check of his phone whilst I followed at my own pace. The estate felt different when leaving. Quieter, somehow.\n\nThe front door opened with a dull click.\n\nCold air pressed in immediately, sharp and clean compared to the insulated warmth inside. It carried scents – damp earth, distant exhaust, and something faintly metallic.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n**_I loved it._**\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\nThe outside world.\n\nMax didn’t notice my sudden elation.\n\nHe was already moving ahead, keys jingling lightly in his hand as he led the way down the short stretch toward the drive, past the sporty and sleek cars. Gravel shifted underfoot. The sky sat low and grey, clouded but bright enough to flatten everything beneath it.\n\nHis own car came into view.\n\nI stopped.\n\n“…That is yours.”\n\nIt wasn’t a question.\n\nA small, battered thing sat crookedly near the edge of the drive, paint dulled and uneven, one panel a shade off from the rest like a broken tooth. There was a faint line of rust creeping along the door, just visible beneath the rest of the grime.\n\nMax glanced back, proud. “Oh yeah.”\n\nSilence.\n\n“You’re joking.”\n\n“I’m not. Used to be my dad's, then my brother's, and now she's mine.” He smacked the top, and I was stunned the entire thing didn’t collapse. “She’s a beauty, aye?”\n\nI stared at it for a moment, then stepped closer, circling just enough to take in the full extent of it. The smell reached me before I even touched it – stale, faintly sour, layered with something oily and old.\n\n“It’s… horrible.”\n\n“Just get in,” he said, already unlocking it.\n\nI hesitated.\n\nThen, with reluctance, I pulled the door open. The scent intensified immediately, wrapping around me in a way that made my ears flatten before I could stop them. Fabric seats worn thin. Dust in the seams.\n\nI climbed in anyway, shut the door behind me with more care than it probably deserved.\n\n“This is a sensory nightmare,” I said flatly, pretending I wasn’t inhaling every minute's fragrance, cataloguing it for later, unpleasant as they were for me.\n\nMax snorted as he slid into the driver’s seat. “You’ll survive, princess.”\n\n“I may not.”\n\n“You will~” The little coo he did almost made me laugh.\n\nThe engine turned over with a rough, uneven sound before catching properly, a low rumble settling beneath us. The whole car seemed to vibrate with it.\n\nI adjusted my posture, pulling slightly away from the seat as if distance alone might help.\n\n“It smells like you,” I added.\n\n“That’s because it is me.”\n\n“How unfortunate,” I lied.\n\nHe huffed, shifting into gear without responding further. Gravel crunched beneath the tyres as the car rolled forward, slow at first, then smoother as we reached the road beyond the estate, the gate resolved with a flick of the human's card.\n\nThe change was immediate.\n\nThe wide, empty stretch near the estate gave way to country roads, lined with hedges and the low stone walls of other homes.\n\nThe fields on each side were quiet and relaxing.\n\nA prison.\n\nBut then, in the distance.\n\nA town. One I’d been to fewer times than I had claws on my paws.\n\nSmall. Quiet and old, just like everything in the area.\n\nMax drove without speaking, one hand resting loosely on the wheel, the other tapping absently against his leg in time with music only he could hear.\n\nI watched through the windows, my body lounging on the back seats, old bits and grits sticking to my expensive clothing before I batted them away.\n\nI’d never admit it; I was too myself, but that quiet drive, even with us how we were… I’d remember it.\n\nWe didn’t speak even once, but the wheezing of his atrocious vehicle and the quiet hum of rubber on pavement – it was everything to me.\n\nIt was real.\n\nBut all things passed, and in time those rolling fields and distant farms turned to shops, to smaller homes and to people, and we were at last in the town proper. People, I found, so many people – enough to make my chest seize up.\n\n**#**\n\nWe pulled into a spot quicker than expected, and I wondered if it was where Max had gone the day prior when he’d left me in the morning, and that sudden reminder steeled me.\n\n_He_ got to enjoy a day out whilst I had to limp to bed, hips aching, crying in my room like the idiot I was.\n\nI stared at the back of his head as he put the car into park and found myself angry.\n\n“So this is where you went?” I asked, unable to keep the bitterness out. “Did you have fun without me?”\n\n“Not really, no.” Slowly, he reached into the inside of his coat, pulling free a small paperback novel with a bent spine and yellowed pages. “But I did get you this…” He passed it over. I stared at it, at the gaudy cover and the suddenly chipper expression.\n\n“What is it?” I asked, that roiling bile freezing for a moment, stalled by how little I’d seen it coming.\n\n“A book,” he said simply. “About this kid who’s secretly royal and magic, and it’s so god damn cheesy, but I thought, like…” He stopped himself. “That you might like it.” And wet his lips. “Or hate it, and that’d be fun.”\n\n“Fun?” I echoed.\n\n“Yeah.” He nodded, extending his arm in offering. “I’d sit and watch you tear it apart… or you’d go gaga over the main guy.” That sly grin, the slight arch of a dark, slim brow – it reminded me of why he’d been my first and why, at least then, I’d been so vulnerable.\n\n“Admittedly tempting,\" I said, eyes scanning the glossy cover, the overdone musculature and the near-childish attempt at a grim feel. At odds with the old man in his silly robes and the silly baby dragon off to the side.\n\nAnd then my gaze fell to the hand holding it.\u0026nbsp;\n\nTo the short, clean nails and subtly pleasing muscle of the forearm.\n\n“Keep a hold of it for me, Maxie. Reading and walking is hard for someone lacking hands.” I wet my chops and looked away, climbing free from the musty car before he could help me.\n\nMax joined me, closer than I expected, slamming the car door shut and locking it with a rust-tinged key. He lingered there for half a second too long, silvery grey eyes flicking over me as though checking I wouldn’t bolt, or snap, or make a scene before we’d even begun.\n\nI lifted my head higher in response, nose tilted just so, posture focused into something that might have passed for regal.\n\n“Try to keep up,” I said, already turning, already moving.\n\nHe snorted softly behind me, the sound following a step later as his shoes met stone. “You’re the one with little legs.”\n\n“I have twice as many as you, Maxie. Try to remember that.”\n\n**#**\n\nIt wasn’t far.\n\nFather had described it once in that vague, disinterested way of his, like everything outside the estate existed only in passing, but I remembered enough. I was gen 2. I knew where to go.\n\nA turn past a florist that smelt overwhelmingly of cut stems and sugar water, a narrow street that dipped slightly, lined with older buildings that leant just enough to make the space feel tighter than it was.\n\nUnique and present. Not just posts online or a second-hand description.\n\nReality.\n\nBut the people.\n\nThey noticed me.\n\nOf course they noticed, because that was reality also.\n\nAt first it was the stares some online friends had mentioned: glances that lingered a second too long, an unsubtle double-take, and the sly movement of someone nudging the person beside them.\n\nMy ears twitched despite my best efforts, picking up the uneven rhythm of it all. Heartbeats, footsteps slowing, breaths catching. The scent of curiosity, sharp and bright and tinged with fear.\n\nThe undercurrent of something else, something worse – unease, maybe, or that same old confusion that **_always_** came with me.\n\nWas I a pet?\n\nA person?\n\nSomething wrong?\n\n…I kept walking, ignoring the twisting in my stomach.\n\nHead high. Back straight. Steps measured and even, manicured claws clicking lightly against the stone in a steady rhythm that I forced.\n\nI would not look at them, I told myself.\n\nI would not acknowledge it.\n\nBecause if I did, if I gave them even an inch, it would turn into something else. Questions. Comments. That awful tone people got when they thought they were being kind. Like the maids Father had hired before Max came.\n\nMax stayed just behind and to my side.\n\nNot touching me, not guiding me, not doing anything that would make it worse, but… present in a way that changed how we were seen.\n\nI caught it. The way people’s gazes flicked from me to him and back again, trying to fit it all together.\n\n“The hell’s their problem?” he muttered, low enough that it didn’t carry, but I heard it anyway. Maybe they did. It didn't matter.\n\n“It’s nothing,” I said, just as quietly.\n\n“They’re staring.”\n\n“They do. It’s worse in some places – I know a borzoi who says it makes school a nightmare.”\n\n“Does it bother you?”\n\n_No._\n\n_Yes._\n\n“...Should it?”\n\nHe didn’t answer.\n\nA group of teenagers went quiet as we approached, conversation cutting off mid-sentence, only to resume in quiet tones once we’d passed. Someone laughed too sharply, too suddenly, and then stopped just as quickly when Max turned to glare.\n\nMy tail froze, bent stiff between my legs, before I forced it back into place.\n\nForward.\n\n“There,” I said after a moment, nodding toward a narrow frontage tucked between two older shops. The sign above it was small and subtle, painted in soft, fading colours.\n\nHe followed my gaze, squinting slightly. “That’s it?”\n\n“Yes.”\n\n“Huh.”\n\nNot impressed.\n\nWhich was good.\n\nIt wasn’t _meant_ to be anything grand or excessive or loud, I thought slyly. It was quiet. Tucked away and easy to miss if you didn’t know where to look.\n\n_It was private,_ most of all.\n\nMy pace slowed just slightly as we approached, not enough to be obvious, but enough that I could take in the details. The door. The handle. The faint shift in scent. Cold air brushing past, carrying with it sugar and cream and something more precious.\n\nChocolate.\n\nMy ears dipped, then lifted again.\n\n“After you,” Max said, stepping past me, hand already reaching, pulling it open without comment.\n\nFor a moment, just a moment, the stares outside fell away.\n\nI stepped inside.\n\nThe space was small and cramped, with a handful of tables scattered about the place, a counter along the far wall with glass displays beneath it, and colours layered in soft rows.\n\nAnd people again.\n\nFewer.\n\nBut people still.\n\nThe shift was immediate.\n\nHeads turned and inside there was nowhere for it to go.\n\nI paused just past the door, letting Max move around me, letting him take the lead for half a second as I adjusted.\n\nA woman behind the counter baulked.\n\nA couple near the window stopped mid-conversation.\n\nSomeone further back leaned slightly, trying to see past the person in front of them.\n\nI breathed in.\n\nSlow.\n\nEasy.\n\nMax hesitated only briefly before moving toward a table off to the side, one with a bench rather than chairs. I followed, jumping up with a small, controlled motion, settling onto the bench with a careful adjustment.\n\nHe sat across from me, already reaching for a menu, eyes scanning it quickly before flicking up again, just for a second, checking.\n\nI let the silence sit for a moment, watching the way he leaned back slightly, one ankle hooking over the other, menu held a little too close to his face.\n\nAwkward.\n\n…Cute, even.\n\n“It’s almost like a date,” I said, voice light and teasing, as though the thought had only just occurred to me and didn't terrify me to my core.\n\nHis eyes flicked up. “…Like one,” he said after a second, noncommittal tone carefully neutral. “Sure.” Not quite denying, not quite agreeing.\n\nMy tail flicked once against the bench.\n\n_Interesting._\n\nHe turned a page, brows furrowing. “These prices are insane,” he muttered. “I’m too used to, like… nothing. This is actually tripping me out.\" A small, humourless huff. “Living in a car does that. You don’t really get used to places that sell one thing for this much.”\n\nI watched him. Surprised he’d admit it and curious as to _why._\n\nThe way his fingers tapped once against the page. The way his shoulders held just a fraction tighter than before.\n\n_Why?_\n\n“And now you’re here,” I reminded him.\n\n“Yeah.”\n\nAnother page.\n\n“You know what you want?” he asked, finally, lowering the menu just enough to look at me properly.\n\n“Chocolate sundae,” I said, nodding once.\n\nHe paused as he stood, chair scraping. Looked back.\n\n\"You serious?”\n\n“Yes.”\n\nHe arched a narrow brow.\n\n“Charlotte, dogs-\"\n\n“I am not a dog,” I said sharply, before he could finish.\n\nHe stared at me. Then huffed, something halfway between a laugh and a breath forced out too quickly. “R-Right. Yeah. Sorry.” His head tilted slightly. “Gen two, right?” And raised a finger to tap the sides of his sharp cheekbones. “Red eyes.”\n\nHe remembered.\n\n“Yes. I was injected with a concentrated dose, not _randomly infected_ by a passing mutt,” I said, quieter. “Directly into the spine.” A small pause, my breath hitching as I realised just how loud I’d gotten out of nowhere.\n\nSomething shifted in his expression.\n\nNot quite pity, but something in that vein.\n\n\"...Right,\" he said again, softer, like he didn’t quite know what to do with that and so chose to do nothing at all. “Chocolate sundae it is, then!”\n\nHe left before I could say anything else.\n\n_Good_.\n\nI didn’t want to sit in whatever… that… might’ve become.\n\nI adjusted on the bench, paws tucking in more neatly beneath me as I tried to figure out why I’d so suddenly told him that.\n\nMax returned a few minutes later, two spoons in one hand, a glass dish in the other piled high with something _definitely_ not on my pre-planned diet.\n\nChocolate, dark and rich, layered with cream and something glossy that caught the light just enough to make my mouth water.\n\nHe set it down between us carefully.\n\n“There,” he said, sitting back down with a small exhale. “Your incredibly expensive, probably bad decision that I will never, ever tell Jack about.”\n\n“It smells excellent,” I replied, already leaning forward slightly.\n\nHe snorted. “Yeah, well. So did that mix you made the other night apparently, and we both know how that ended.”\n\n“That was different,” I grumbled, the skin beneath my fur flushing hot even as my lips pulled into a grin.\n\n“Was it?” He picked up one of the spoons, tapping it lightly against the edge of the glass. “Rum, whisky, vodka. No plan. No thought. _Just vibes~_” A small, crooked grin as he mimicked my voice as best he could. “You nearly threw up on the floor.”\n\n“I did not,” I said stiffly.\n\n“You absolutely did.”\n\n“I nearly did,” I corrected after a pause.\n\n“Yeah,” he said, amused. “Sure.”\n\nI ignored him, lowering my head to take a careful first bite. The cold hit immediately, sharp against my tongue, followed by the deep, heavy sweetness of chocolate, richer than anything I’d had in… longer than I could remember.\n\nTakeaway milkshakes weren’t quite as tasty.\n\nMy eyes closed, just for a second.\n\nIt was-\n\nGood.\n\nAcross from me, Max watched as he took his own bite, though he was far less cautious about it.\n\nTension and bitterness faded.\n\nWe weren’t bantering, not really. Just… eating. Small comments here and there, observations about customers that didn’t go anywhere, the quiet scrape of spoons against glass, the occasional glance that lingered a second longer than necessary before drifting away again.\n\nIt was… familiar.\n\nUncomfortably so.\n\nLike those nights.\n\nThe ones I had told myself didn’t matter.\n\nThe ones that had.\n\nMax leaned back slightly after a few minutes, spoon still in hand, eyeing the half-finished sundae like he was weighing whether it had been worth the cost after all.\n\n“…So,” he said eventually.\n\nI felt the question before he even finished.\n\n“This is the favour?” he asked, gesturing vaguely between us, the table, and the melting edges of chocolate and cream. “Because this feels a lot like just… hanging out.”\n\nI froze up.\n\nJust slightly.\n\nNot enough for anyone else to notice.\n\nHe kept going, because of course he did.\n\n“Like before,\" he added, tone lighter now, like he thought he’d found something amusing. “You know. Late-night drinks, dares, bad decisions. You're trying to invent the worst cocktail known to man. Before the _incident._”\n\nMy grip tightened just a fraction against the bench, claws scraping.\n\nIt would have been easy to agree, to brush it off.\n\nTo pretend I’d been joking when I’d suggested favours.\n\nEasy.\n\nSafe.\n\nI hesitated long enough for something uncomfortable to settle in my chest.\n\nBecause he was right.\n\nIt wasn't-\n\nIt wasn’t a favour.\n\n_Not really._\n\nIt was…\n\n“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said suddenly.\n\nI woke back up, just slightly, eyes lifting to him as he leaned forward a fraction, spoon abandoned against the glass.\n\n“I-I know how that sounded,” he went on, quieter now, less sure of himself than he had been a moment ago. “Like I was… brushing it off. I wasn’t.”\n\nIf he hadn’t said anything, if he’d just left me to think, then maybe…\n\n“Then what were you doing?” I asked, my tone wavering.\n\nHe froze up.\n\nHis gaze dropped to the table, to the slow melt of the sundae between us, like he might find the words somewhere in it if he looked long enough.\n\n“I’m trying,” he said after a moment. “I am. I just-\" A breath, sharp through his nose. “I keep fucking it up.”\n\n“That’s not _my_ problem,” I replied, automatically.\n\nHe nodded anyway, like he’d expected it. “Yeah. I know.” His fingers tapped once against the table, then stilled. “I just… I don’t want you thinking I don't-\" He stopped, jaw tightening briefly. Started again. “Fuck. I really do like you, Charlotte.”\n\nSomething in my chest hurt.\n\nI said nothing. Not because I wanted to be sly or intimidating, or anything like that, but because I physically could not.\n\nSo he kept going.\n\n“I think you’re…” Another pause, shorter this time, like he was forcing himself through it. “You’re beautiful. And you’re funny when you’re not trying to be. And you're-\" He huffed softly. “Smarter than me, probably. Definitely more put together.”\n\nMy tail gave a small, traitorous flick against the bench, desperate to wag at the praise.\n\n\"But-\" he added. “But you’re still…” His hand lifted, gesturing vaguely, helplessly. “This. Physically. Y-You’re still a poodle, Charlotte.”\n\nMy stomach rolled. The word crushed me.\n\nI felt it press in on me from the outside, from the inside, from everywhere all at once.\n\nStill a poodle.\n\nJust a poodle.\n\nAlways.\n\n“T-That doesn’t just go away because I want it to,” he said, more firmly now. “It doesn’t switch off. L-Like I told you earlier, I grew up seeing dogs one way. It's hard.\"\n\nMy jaw tightened. He'd said this barely an hour ago and it didn't feel great reheated.\n\n“After we…” He trailed off, then pushed himself to finish anyway. Quiet, so nobody could hear. “After we slept together, it hit me all at once. What I’d done. What it meant. And I panicked.” A short, humourless laugh. “Badly.”\n\nI remembered.\n\n**Animal.**\n\n“I said things I shouldn’t have,” he went on. “Things I don’t actually believe. Not about you.” His gaze flicked up, sharp now, intent. “You have to understand that. They were just words.”\n\n_Do I?_\n\nThe question rose up, quiet and dangerous.\n\n_Do I have to understand that?_\n\nI could.\n\nI did.\n\nI could see it. The way his mind worked, the way it caught and snagged on things it had been taught for years, the way it pulled away even when the rest of him didn’t want it to.\n\nI could understand it.\n\nI didn’t want to.\n\nBecause understanding made it harder to hate him.\n\nAnd I needed that.\n\nDidn’t I?\n\nSlowly, masking, eyes closing, I exhaled.\n\n“You are asking for a great deal,” I said, my voice cool again, measured.\n\n“I know.”\n\n“You hurt me,” I continued, not raising my voice, not needing to, even if I wanted to scream. “In a way that is not easily dismissed with a few well-placed apologies and compliments.”\n\n“I know,\" he said again, softer, and that gentleness stung me.\n\n“And yet you expect me to simply… understand.” My head tilted slightly, eyes narrowing just enough. “To excuse it.”\n\n“I’m not asking you to excuse it,” he said quickly. “I’m asking you to know it wasn't…\" He stopped, searching. “It wasn’t because I think you’re less. Not really.”\n\nI straightened.\n\n“I see,” I said.\n\nHe watched me carefully, like he was trying to gauge whether he’d made it worse or better. Probably both.\n\n“You will need to do better,” I added after a moment. “Ice cream is the start.”\n\nHe kept his eyes on the table.\n\nThen, quietly:\n\n“Yeah.”\n\nHe didn’t argue.\n\nDidn’t try to defend himself further.\n\nJust… accepted it. A fact of life.\n\nAcross from him, I lowered my head again, taking another bite of the melting sundae, though the sweetness sat differently now. Thicker. Harder to enjoy. Bitter, almost.\n\nBitter, but-\n\nIce-cream still.","series":{"name":"Pedigree.","previous":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/m0KKvYze-pedigree-ch4.json","next":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/nKr2l0jm-pedigree-ch6.json"}}