Author's note: While this story is pure fiction, I recently have been curious about Puppy Play, so I decided to do what I do, and write about it. I have been researching and what not, but as always, I welcome critiques.
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I have been struggling with life for a while now. I was suddenly all alone in my two bedroom house, and I won't go into why or how, but it's been a terrible year.
My job was finally starting up again, and I was able to go to work every day, which helps, but at home, in the evening, I was left alone and to my thoughts.
I made a decision in January that I couldn't stay where I was at. I need a new fresh start as a new fresh guy. For some reason, I decided to move to Washington. It was across the country from me, and I decided to apply for a couple jobs and managed to snag one.
My last two weeks of my job came and went, I sold nearly everything in my house except for what I could pack in my car as what I determined were essentials.
I have been saving money for the past 6 months, so when the day came to start my 4 day drive, I packed my car, hugged my friends goodbye, and started out down the road.
Two weeks later, I hadn't started my job yet, and still had another two weeks before I did so I spent my days exploring the cities I live in and nearby.
I had a small studio apartment, which is what I wanted, and enough furniture to call it home, most of which I found at second hand stores.
I found myself at a bar, just observing the behavior of others and sipping on a coke, I wasn't much of a drinker.
A burly man soon approaches me as I was sitting all alone in a corner. I was wearing a t-shirt and jeans with a simple leather vest. Yes, it was THAT kind of bar. My new life meant I could be anyone I wanted to, so I was.
"Hey there, names Mike, what's yours?"
"Oh, Um, my name is Mason," as I stuck out my hand.
He shakes it and asks, "mind if I join you? Sitting here all alone doesn't look nearly as fun as you're trying to make it."
"Um sure." I reply, scooting over in the seat I'm on.
He sits down, and we sit in awkward silence because I'm a weirdo who can't talk to people very well. I always say the wrong thing, or at least think I do.
He finally reaches over, sets his hand on my knee, "I come here often, you don't look familiar, are you new here?"
"That's your line? Pretty generic," I say as I laugh.
"No, that's not my line, just trying to make small talk." His face changes from friendly to annoyed in a second.
"I'm sorry, I, just, am really weird around new people." I stammer through.
His face changes again, he cracks a smile, "that's okay, you just need a bit of training. Here, give me your phone."
I look at him, he makes a face that he better not have to ask again, so I fish out my phone and he programs his number in, calls his own phone, and hands it back to me.
"There, if you decide you want that training, just send me a text, Mason. Have a good night, be careful though, things can get a little rough around here late at night."
He gets up from the bench we're sitting on, and walks away. I see a few other guys eyeing me as he walks away, suddenly I feel like a broken fawn surrounded by a pack of lions. I scoot from the bench and leave the bar, rushing to my car and driving home.
I sat in my apartment, which had a decent view of the water, and something he said sounded interesting, "training," as he called it. I wonder what he meant. I know what that word meant to me, I was into the BDSM scene, after all, I was in a leather bar.
