Tracy Identifies As

All characters, businesses, and institutions are fictious. All characters are adults.

The idea for this story was suggested by a poster on another forum. I have diverged from some aspects of his original suggestion.

I'm still working on Chapter 04 of "The Cost of My Dreams". Progress is slow, however, and this story or, at least, chapter 1 of this story seemed like a quick break.

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"Tracy Identifies as"

Chapter 01 - The Plan

POV Tracy

Emily held my leash and led me down the concourse. At least I was clothed; they'd made Penny strip before they kenneled her for the trip to Florida. I might be collared, tagged, muzzled, and on a leash but at least I was flying with the humans.

We were in plenty of time for the flight, so Emily took me to the animal relief area and took Penny's personal item from me so I could squat and do my business in the litter, still wearing my own personal item. Panties weren't part of my registered service animal clothing, so I only had to lift my dayglow orange service animal shift carefully so it didn't get contaminated while I pissed.

When I finished and stood, Emily gently tugged my leash, patted me and said "Good girl," and passed me her Penny's personal item. As she led me toward the gate, I thought about how I'd gotten myself into this ridiculous situation.

Three weeks ago, I'd been a perfectly normal girl attending University. Spring break was coming and the dorms would be closed, so my lack of funds for a vacation was starting to be a real concern. Penny, Emily and I shared a four-bedroom quad unit, but our fourth roommate had gone off campus partway thru the semester. Penny was in the same boat I was when Emily came up with her plan.

Emily had enough money for a trip to Florida for herself. She didn't have enough for the three of us, but she was being treated for anxiety. She thought she could get a letter from her therapist saying she would benefit from emotional support animals. She would then register Penny and I as her emotional support animals and both the airline and her hotel would have to accommodate us without additional charge.

That should have been the first warning; she would have to register us. Human emotional support animals have been allowed for over a decade, but there were requirements we'd have to meet for registration. It wasn't enough for Emily to have a letter stating she would benefit from emotional support animals. Penny and I would need letters stating that we identified as service animals.

We went thru the various internet forums and put together our script for a visit to a therapist to get the necessary letters. We also found out that we would have to make a three-month commitment to dress and act as service animal in the care of our owner. Yea, right, we thought. Once we're back from vacation, we can just drop that shit like a bad habit.

Already I was starting to see the problems; we would have to live the life of service animals from now until we returned from Florida. If the airline or hotel found out we were faking it, we would be in a metric shitload of trouble.

When Emily brought home the human service animal collars, I started to have a bad feeling about this plan. Like all such collars, they supported a shock collar function. "Tracy," she said "the shock collar not only doesn't have to be painful, using it for pain is a form of animal abuse. The trainer is supposed to find the shock level that gets the animal's attention but doesn't cause pain. That's the level you're supposed to use for training and you'll have to be a well trained service animal for this to work."

The remote could control several different collars. Emily paired the left button on the remote to one of the two collars, carefully buckled that collar snug around my neck and had me start my homework. While I was working, she tested the various shock level. Eventually she found the one that was just shy of being painful. It was level four of ten. She paired the right button on the remote to the other collar and found the correct level for Penny, who was also a four of ten.

She drilled us on our story. "Why do you want to be a service animal?" she'd ask, shock collar remote in hand.

"I don't want to be a service animal; I am a service animal," I'd answer. "I should have been born a dog so I could be my master's eyes or help him catch bad guys. As a human service animal, I can provide emotional support right away, and that's needful for my mistress. I may be able to train to act as a human's eyes or ears. I belong in service to humans."

"Are you prepared to give up your future to be a service animal?"

"Yes, but is that not what the three-month trial is supposed to determine? This trial will prove that I am suited to life as a human service animal. If I am wrong, then the trial will prove that. I'm prepared to give up three months of my life to determine this. Penny and I will be able to provide emotional support for Emily while continuing our education. If it turns out we were wrong, we will have lost nothing. When it turns out I was right, I can start my life as a support animal without regret or any second thoughts."

She also drilled us on our behavior before our interview with our therapists. "Sit," she'd command, and we would drop to our knees and kneel facing her with our hands in our lap. "Heal," she'd say, and we would follow one step behind her as she walked to class. We also learned to fetch for her, snuggle at her feet, and be available for her hugs and petting. If I tried to move away from her when she stroked me, I received a shock from my collar; I had no personal space where she was concerned. We also tried out human service animal muzzles that included a leather pad in our mouths to remind us not to speak or be distracted by others when we were attending our mistress and to remind others not to distract a service animal on duty.

Happily, at least one of us either shared a class with her or had no conflicting class for her whole schedule, so we could make the service animal story work. We started wearing our service animal collars to class and Emily would make a point acting anxious and would then hold me or Penny and pet us while she calmed down. She was a good actor, probably because she really had anxiety.

Emily took us to our therapist appointments. I wore a brief shift, similar to a type of service animal clothing but without the dayglow orange coloring. She led me on a leash to the appointment and sat with me, holding me and gently petting me throughout the interview.

The script we had written worked brilliantly. I was diagnosed with Service Animal Identity Disorder and so was Penny. When we went to register as Emily's emotional support animals the other shoe dropped.

Penny and I wore our collars, tennis shoes, and the brief dayglow orange shifts that were one of the uniforms of a female human service animal. Emily hooked a leash to each of our collars and led us into the county office building.

The paperwork we had to fill out included a power of attorney. Emily would manage our finances for the duration of the trial period. Emily, in turn, had to agree to be responsible for our care and behavior. She was legally required to train and maintain us. Once we had filed all the forms, the clerk asked us one last question before she issued us our service animal tags.

"Do you, Tracy Allen, solemnly swear that you truly believe yourself to be a human service animal who will find fulfilment in service to others?"

"Yes," I said.

The clerk issued a service tag in my name to Emily, who attached it to my collar. When Penny had been similarly sworn, her tag was issued to Emily and was duly attached to her collar. After that, we were photographed for our HSA licenses and had an interview with a human service animal welfare officer.

"Ms Richardson," he said to Emily. "Do you understand that your service animals and their quarters are subject to inspection by service animal welfare officers?"

"Yes," she said. "I will take good care of them."

"More than taking care, you must see to their training. Everyone must know by their behavior, not just their collars, tags and clothing, that they are service animals and you must treat them as such, always. Too many people had tried to game the system, pretending to be service animals so they could travel for free. If we find that they are faking it, they will be prosecuted severely and you will also be liable as a conspirator. Every fake discredits a real person with service animal identity disorder and real people who need emotional support humans. We will not stand for that."

Emily nodded and the welfare officer finished "I'm sure these two will be a great comfort to you. Don't coddle them; they need discipline to support you properly. We're not allowed to endorse training centers, but there is a list in your license packet, along with a list of rules for human service animals and the HSA handbook. I urge you to read the reviews of the various trainers, select one, and use the services of a trainer until they you are all completely comfortable in your respective roles. You should also review the rules daily until you have them memorized."

Fuck, now we were trapped. We'd filed the forms and been sworn in; there was no going back. We'd be service animals for the next three months.

We were now her support animals and were obliged to stay near her where possible. Oh, I could attend a different class if Penny was with her and Penny could attend a different class if I was with her, but at least one of us was obliged to be with her at all times. Both of us were obliged to be with her unless we had other commitments.

Emily became quite strict with us. She made sure we behaved as service animals, even when we were alone, and made good use of our shock collars. When we went out with her, she kept us on a leash at all times and she often muzzled us as well. She made sure we were always attentive. When we went to the bars Friday night, she did forgo our leashes and let us talk with the other patrons but she kept us near her.

People were curious about our status, but we stuck with our script about identifying as service animals. Emily would tell them "Tracy identifies as a service animal. So does Penny. Since I benefit from having emotional support animals, this works out well for all of us." Any time we returned after being separated from Emily, she would hug and pet us, relieved to have us back. At some point I realized that she wasn't acting. She did benefit from us being her emotional support animals.

We had rearranged her bedroom and moved the mattress from the empty room in there so that Penny or I could sleep on mattresses on the floor near her. That turned out to be a good thing as a Service Animal Welfare Inspector turned up and inspected the place. He interviewed Emily and Penny and I separately, trying to trap us in a lie. Fortunately, we told no lies. Emily had been making us live the life of service animals, so we only had to tell the truth about our activities.

When Emily added us to her booking, it became clear that only one of us could be in the passenger cabin with Emily. The other would have to travel as baggage, naked (because of baggage inspection requirements) and in a kennel, which the airline would supply. We decided that Penny would be baggage for the trip to Florida and I would be baggage on the return trip. I would be allotted a personal item for myself and also be permitted to carry Penny's personal item for storage in the overhead bin but would be allowed no other carryon.

We were leashed and muzzled when Emily led us to the check in counter at the airport. The clerk examined our HSA licenses carefully before issuing Emily and I our boarding passes. I'm sure he noticed the recent issue date, but he wasn't allowed to question that. We were certified human service animals and that could not be questioned. That didn't mean he believed we weren't cheating the airline, however.

He looked at Penny and said "We need to check this one in as baggage and stow her clothing in a checked bag."

"I wish they both could be with me. Is that possible?" asked Emily.

"The flight is completely booked. I'm sorry, but we'll take good care of her, never fear. Please remove your clothing, Penny. Shoes too, you are to be completely naked for processing."

When Penny stripped, he took her behind the counter and gave her a baggage tag to hold. "That's for the kennel," he told her. Steadying her left breast with his left hand, wrote her flight number and destination on it in removable ink. He tethered her near his station and said "I'll take her back for processing in just a minute. Don't worry, we've never lost a service animal. She'll be waiting for you at baggage claim when you get to Florida."

And so, Emily led me thru security and into pier C for our flight, showing the TSA agent my HSA license as my ID. He looked carefully at me but, muzzled as I was, he couldn't question me. I'm sure he thought I was a fraud, but that wasn't really his business. After our visit to the animal relief area, we got to our gate and Emily went to the bathroom, tethering me outside while she went. In fact, she went three times while we waited for boarding to be called, always hugging me with relief when she found me tethered outside, waiting. I held her and stroked her, calming her but she was kind of a wreck. She needed me with her.

The other passengers stared at me, some clearly thinking naughty thoughts about having me as their service animal. When they called our boarding, Penny led me to our seats. I stowed Penny's personal item and Emily's carryon and sat in the middle seat, holding Emily until we were ready for take off. And so, we had pulled it off, two human service animals flying for free while I tended to our mistress. Emily's plan had worked but I felt a sense of dread. What we were doing was wrong and I couldn't help feeling that it would catch up to us before too long.