Matty Identifies As Pt 04

This is part 4 of a multi-part series. It is intended to proceed sequentially.

I got permission to write in the Human Service Animal universe from the OG author LoyalHound and thank them for their inspiration!

Included are themes of puppy play, age gap, bondage, slavery, TPE, control, submission, domination, and more besides.

Animal-Centred Therapy

In the days that followed, we continued to dance between Master & boyfriend, Service Animal and partner in a slightly dizzying spin. In public, we were affectionate, but mostly as one would be to a loyal pet, but there were other subtle gestures here and there. A muscle-bound 'twunk' might walk by us in the park and I might gently squeeze a

little

higher up Quentin's thigh, maybe brushing his tip: for this I'd get a lascivious wink. Other times Master would just admire me standing there in front of him, and give my bottom a firm pat, a gentle caress, or--if no one was watching--a naughty little squeeze!

The social isolation was probably the hardest. What few of my friends had survived my relationship with "this

old

man" fought hard against my trial as a Human Service Animal. Only one, Mark, seemed to even try to understand. Mark had always appreciated the caring nature of the love between me and my Quentin, and he it appeared he was trying to bridge the gap mentally. On my second week as a service animal, he called the home phone (we hadn't cancelled my cell phone yet, but we only really needed one between us when Quentin and I went out).

"Hiya Quentin, I was, um, wondering, if um, you could, if Matty wanted--" he trailed off a little, not sure how to proceed "I was wondering if Matty could come over to visit?" Mark finished, clearly embarrassed. That made two of us. I realized I probably

should

have reached out to

my

own friend and arranged to see him. I'd been so caught up in my life change that it had all but slipped my mind. It was a big shift in perspective to have my friend ask my Master for my company, rather than inviting me out for drinks or something.

"Mark! I'm so glad you called! I think

mon amour

has been getting lonely without so many friends as before... I would love to bring him over, oh, uh," Quentin blushed as he turned to me, realizing he'd been making plans for me without me. "

Mon amour

would you like to go see Mark?" he asked me finally.

I still had the muzzle on from our walk earlier, it seemed both of us were forgetting to remove it more and more when we were at home. The muzzle straps and padding were so comfortable, and I was wearing it so often, I completely forgot I had it on. What came out was a mumbled "Yezh!" but I nodded and stomped once for good measure.

"Uh, cool..." said Mark. "If you drop him off at, say, six? I can have him home by eleven?"

"Take as long as you like Mark, if you boys are having fun: stay out late! I will stay in tonight and do some cooking for this week. I can handle that OK without

mon amour

," with that Quentin hung up the receiver and smiled at me. "I meant that

mon amour

: stay out, have fun! I need my Service Animal to be in good form and that means some time off."

I smiled at Quentin through my muzzle and went to hug and caress him, standing there in the living room next to the phone. He embraced me firmly and petted my head, before kissing me on the top of the head. I moaned a gentle purr, feeling safe in his arms, and hearing his steady, comforted heartbeat. We lingered a moment, then separated, we both had some chores to do today before my--playdate?

[...]

I felt like Quentin was overpreparing, but then again, he

had

been military.

Initially I had thought I would be wearing my collar and some casual threads: maybe a high-collared shirt to disguise my neckwear a little. Instead, I threw on a concert t-shirt. '

So what if people see my collar? They've been seeing it all day.'

Besides, Mark didn't sound like he had a big plan, more like a quiet night in, so I didn't really feel like my harness or pack were necessary. Quentin clearly had other ideas, quickly snicketing on my harness and grabbing my pack as we stood at the door, to top it off, he handed me my Human Service Animal Tuque.

Into my pack had gone my refilled water bottles, some extra granola bars, a rubber ball, a dental chew, a small bag of chips, some Human Service Animal treats from the vet's office, and a six pack of beer. The beer and chips were for me and Mark, but I felt the other supplies were perhaps 'a bit much'. I tried to signal my protest, but Quentin shushed me, "You can carry it, the exercise is good for you, and you can

never

carry too much water with you!" he insisted.

I grumbled at every part of that. He was right, of course, and I grumbled at that too.

My love smiled at me and clipped on my leash. I smiled back, but tapped my muzzle twice before slipping it off smoothly: I had a question or two.

"Ok, I get being prepared with the water, but why the animal stuff? Mark's just a friend, I think we're just going to hang out, watch hockey and play video games or something...

We've

never even used the ball."

"

Exacte, mon amour

," he

always

called me that these days, he barely called me Matty anymore... "You remember our voice call check-in with Dr. Roberta a few days ago?"

I nodded, "She said I was doing well, I remember."

"She

also

said you needed to keep up with some of your animal therapies. She said she believes part of why you are happy is your new life balance is suiting you!" he smiled at me in that way he did, the one where it seemed like his inner light was shining right through me. It always melted my heart to see him smile that way, I wanted that light to shine for everyone, not just me: my Quentin had so much in him to share, if only he could let his guards down. "So do not feel pressured

mon amour,

but if Mark feels like maybe he wants to do something other than watching

l'hockey et boire ou quoi-que-ce-soit

you can maybe try playing ball with your friend? Bring it, please for me, you don't need to use it."

I could tell he was doing his best in his own awkward way. I loved him for that: he was

always

trying his best. I could see the heat rising in his cheeks, his embarrassment growing. I smiled at my Master, slipped my muzzle back on, and leaned into him to hug him closely. After a moment I broke our embrace, looked him in the eyes, touched his hair, and nodded. Nodding back, he jiggled my leash, and we walked out the door.

[...]

Mark was unsure how to behave when we came in the door. Normally Quentin would leave me at the curb if he was dropping me off. Instead, we had both walked over, and Quentin had come in with me. Unclipping my leash, he handled the coiled leather to Mark and ruffled my hair. My muzzle, harness, and backpack were still on, so I understood I was expected to still be the good service animal. I stood still and looked at my Master.

"You keep him out as late as you want, we don't have plans until tomorrow afternoon some time. Text me if you'll be out past midnight, please, and another if he won't be home tonight at all. There's everything you need for him in his pack, plus some snacks and treats for both of you..." Quentin gestured at my pack and harness to Mark.

"Oh, uh, cool!... Thanks man, that's nice of you. Did you wanna stay for a bit? Have a brew?" asked Mark.

"

Merci-euhh-

thank-you, but

non

. It's good for

mon amour

to get some friend-time where he doesn't need to worry about me..." Quentin looked thoughtful for a moment, trying to see if he'd forgotten anything. "He doesn't need to be leashed if you go out, but you could consider it. Oh, and seeing as how he's off-duty, I'd leave his harness off for now." Quentin slowly took my pack from the harness and undid the clips. I slipped off my shoes. "If I have

cas d'urgence

I will page his collar and it will vibrate, but I am not worried tonight."

I hugged him goodbye as he returned the hug forcefully. "Have fun

mon amour

, tell me all about it tomorrow!" he smiled at me as he turned, made a friendly wave to Mark, and left.

"Talk later!" called Mark to Quentin as the door swung shut.

There was a slight silence that followed, partly facilitated by the fact that I was still muzzled. Mark and I stood there, staring at each other for a tense moment. We were wearing similarly-styled jeans, and both of us had concert t-shirts on, but I was wearing a bright purple collar, a beautiful purple-strapped muzzle, and a tuque that asked the world not to talk to me because I was a service animal. I blushed and took my tuque off to put it next to the harness.

"Um, did you need me to, you know..." Mark gestured at the muzzle. I didn't--of course, my hands were free--but for whatever reason I soundlessly leaned forward bending my head to show him the closure buckle. He obliged and slipped the muzzle off. It felt good to be freed by my friend.

I coughed a little after tonguing out the padded bit, "Thanks buddy, that buckle can be a little hard to reach," I lied softly. Mark kept the muzzle in between his two fingers at arm's length as he gently laid it on top of the tuque. Trying to shake off the awkwardness, Mark hugged me in greeting the way we used to.

"Hey bud, come on in!" he left an arm on my shoulder to guide me inside. "Let's see what your--what Quentin left us eh?" he announced as he grabbed the pack. Setting the bag down on his living room table, Mark was clearly pleased with the modest haul: perfect for a quiet night with his buddy.

"Hmmm, I don't know what these are though..." On the table, he placed the Human Service Animal Treats, and the dental chew. "Of course, I know what

this

is, but do you guys really play with it?..." he finished as he pulled out the tennis ball.

I blushed hard "We, um, haven't done that yet, but my veter--my new doctor

*cough*

has said I should give it a try. It's, like, supposed to be soothing or meditative or some bullshit..." I gibbered out. "Just forget it, Quentin just likes to, you know,

over-

prepare sometimes? One of those #Swiss-army-knife-life guys. He means well."

"Oh, um, k... That's cool I guess..." it was clear to me that Mark was not sure it was cool, not even by a guess. "And these other things?" he gestured at the other objects on the table.

"Well, the dental chew is, I dunno, formulated to help my teeth? The veterinarian said if she could she'd make her own kids use them; she thinks they work way better than brushing," Mark nodded, sniffed it, frowning slightly in concentration. He was trying to understand.

"And the little red things are these sort of toffee sweets, they're for, um," I cleared my throat "they're supposed to be for when I've been a..." my throat felt like it was closing. '

Why is talking so hard?!'

"...for when I've been a

good boy

." I finished in a shameful mumble, my eyes fixed on my feet in my friend's living room floor.

"So, your

veterinarian

gave Quentin these treats to encourage you to be a

good boy

?" puzzled Mark. "Dude, you see a

veterinarian

now?!"

"Well, um, Quentin takes me there, yes..." came out of my mouth, while in my head all I could hear on loop was: '

Kill me now, please!'

"K... Well, k..." this was a lot for Mark to take in. "Are they like, a dog veterinarian, or...?"

"Doctor Roberta specializes in

Human

Service Animals," I explained. "And we don't need to worry about the 'animal' stuff tonight, honest. It's just if we get bored and feel like it. We can just hang out like normal?" I inflected up at the end. Even though it should have been a statement, it had become a question.

"Sure, sure... Just tell me first though, what does being a

good boy

mean? How do you, I guess, 'earn' a treat?" his left eyebrow was raised in curiosity.

"Oh, um, just stuff like being a good service animal to Quentin, staying calm when people are mean to us in public, or when I do what the vet asks, you know: stuff like that."

"'Stuff' like, say, tricks?" his eyebrow raised, Mark looked suddenly altogether too interested.

"Ex-

fucking

-scuse me,

tricks

?!" I asked aghast.

"Yeah, you know, when you're trying to teach a dog a new--uh--let-me-say, behaviour? You use food treats." Mark shrugged, trying to defuse the situation, he looked around for inspiration. "B-but you came all the way down here with that heavy bag though, does that count? Can you have one now?"

"Well, I--I suppose that would count... But I'm not supposed to, you know, just

take

one."

"Oh?" Mark was puzzled for a moment before he realized. "Oh! I suppose animals aren't supposed to dish out their own treats, are they? Wow. They've really got a mindset for this whole thing..." he shook his head. "Can

I

give you one then?" he brightened.

I was crimson with embarrassment, "I--I guess, yeah.

You

'd be OK to give me one yes..."

"Alright, let's get you a couple treats then Matty..." I couldn't help but be excited as he opened the packet of treats and slipped a few into his palm: they really were tasty. "Over here!" he playfully snapped at the floor in front of him.

Without pausing a moment, I knelt at the ground with my hands on my thighs where he'd snapped, opened my mouth, and extended my tongue out for a treat. When my eyes locked with eyes, I could see the shock in them. Clearly, he hadn't intended for me to be

quite

so obedient. He extended his palm towards me, the three treats glistening ruby-red in his slightly trembling palm.

Nervously, I bent my head down and licked the treats off his palm. It took four licks to get all of them: the tickling sensation of my tongue caused Mark to giggle a little and forced his had to squirm, which made it damn near impossible to get the spit-slippery treats into my mouth. Once I had, I realized the mistake of getting three at once. The glue-like nature of the treats would make speech impossible for the next five minutes at least.

Mark petted my head, his laughs subsiding, and drew me up and in for a friendly hug. "Good boy Matty, let's say I put on the game now and we have some beers, yeah?" I nodded in reply. He grabbed some glasses, cracked open a pair of my favourite pale ales that Quentin had bought for us, and settled down on the other end of the couch.

[...]

Watching the first two periods, everything felt almost like normal. The only slightly odd moment was when I found some chips had got stuck in my teeth and I reflexively went for my dental chew and gnawed on it. Mark was clearly a little weirded out by that, so I put it back on the table for now. Sadly, the home team was down by 5 points heading into the final period: it was a sure loss, but it was one hell of an unlikely-seeming win.

"Whelp, that was a bust," announced Mark.

"Yeah, that was a little disappointing," I agreed.

"Well, the night is young, and I'm getting bored, want to do something? Head out? Play ball?" asked Mark. He bounced up from the couch, surfing on a two-beer-buzz. He rummaged around the room looking for something.

"Dude, I'm not playing fetch with you, it'd be too weird," I explained. I was starting to feel uncomfortable when I felt the heavy rubber sphere land in my gut. Mark had check-passed a basketball to me.

"... I was talking about basketball, bud. Hahahaha" Mark descended into a fit of laughter. I could help but chuckle myself. "C'mon, let's go to the park, shoot a couple hoops!"

[...]

It was a dusky light outside, but the night hadn't gotten too cold yet. Park lighting illuminated the basketball square where we'd setup our one-on-one tournament.

It had been hard fought--granted, our co-ordination hadn't been improved by the hockey-induced beer drinking from earlier--but in the end, I smoked Mark with a five-shot margin. Gracious in defeat, he popped the tops off the last beers we'd snuck into the park in Mark's backpack. It felt nice to have someone else wearing the backpack for once.

Replacing his basketball in his bag, Mark suddenly stopped. "Woahh! Cool, it glows in the dark!" Removing his hand from the bag as the basketball slid into place, Mark's hand was wrapped around the rubber ball Quentin had provided, the eerie green plastic glow seeping between his fingers.

"Huh, neat, I didn't know it did that!" I said, genuinely surprised. My eyes were tracing it as Mark tossed it between his hands. "Can I see?"

Snatching the ball from my grasp, Mark held it high and away. "Not so fast Matty! Haha" he teased.

"Oh fuck

you

," I laughed back "why did you even bring that with?" I asked, pretending I wasn't still watching his grip for a moment's inattention.

Mark got suddenly a little serious, "Well, you

did

say your Doctor said you should try it... I'm here for you man, all the way. I thought after a few beers, maybe you'd give it a shot? I don't know..." he trailed off embarrassed.

'

Wow, through thick and thin eh? What a guy...'

I thought, aloud, I said "Mark I'm touched, you're a next-level friend. Everyone else just bailed..." I sulked for a moment. "Thanks man, I mean it. Now... Can I see the ball please?"

"Sure, here..." Mark lowered his hand and brought the ball close. As I reach out to grab it, he snatched it back and tossed it clean over the fence of the basketball court and into the dark. I stared, watching the faint green trail bounce and disappear behind a bush. "Fetch!"

"Oh you absolute

ass

," I said, giving him a playful shove. He smiled back. "

Fine

, I'll go get it..." He smiled wider around his beer.

I left my beer on the bench with our other things and strolled over to where I'd seen the glow disappear. Not saying a word, Mark collected our things, including our beers, and followed my out of the basketball court and over to a picnic table.

It took me a surprising amount of time to find the glowing green ball, it had fallen through some dense pine bushes. Eventually, routing around, I was able to find it. Studying it up close, the green glow had some kind of neat patterns of swirls to them, making it seem like some kind of sci-fi alien tech in the moonlight. In the dark, I could feel the ridges in the ball and my fingers fished around the ventilation holes drilled through it.

Tossing the ball hand to hand in the dark was a significant challenge two and a half beers in, but I was managing not too badly. I stopped briefly when I got to Mark at the picnic table and finished my beer. While I tipped my head back to get the last drops, I felt the ball slip from my fingers' grasp as Mark once again snatched it away.

I was about to lodge my protest when he propelled away from us in a pop-fly. My protest forgotten, I traced the arc of the ball and took off for where I thought it would land. I just managed to grab it as I stumbled at the end of my mad dash to the ball. I shrugged and tossed it back to Mark like a baseball, and we played catch for a few rounds before the night had truly fallen and the glow was starting to fade from the ball.

Back at the park bench, Mark and I put our things away, recycled our beer cans, and hit the road. Glowing in the warmth of the beer buzz, and our rekindled friendship, he slung an arm around my shoulder and we stumbled back to his place. He'd already texted Quentin, so we sparked a joint on the walk home, played Call of Fritz until 1am, and I slept on his couch.

[...]

We ran into Trixie and Ralph at the dog park the next day. We got turned loose by our respective humans, so we took a walk together around the park. I filled Trixie in on playing fetch the night before.