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Jack had decided to call his therapy dog Rosie, after his first girlfriend, back when he was a teenager so many years ago. They shared some physical similarities–big brown eyes, dark red hair, round buttocks, and plump breasts with big puffy pink nipples.
His girlfriend, of course, had been able to talk (and talk, and talk), and she had never been walked naked on a leash on all fours, at least as far as Jack knew. Also, this new Rosie had much riper breasts than the budding peaches he had so eagerly groped; and he thought any teenage boy would have been able to remember those jutting nipples.
He had never really forgotten his Rosie, for they had been each other’s first love. It irked him, though, that he could no longer even remember why they had broken up. Something about different goals in life, maybe? Jack had never been meant for the academic life. The original Rosie probably never even thought about him anymore.
He had been struck by the resemblance, though, and for a time he even wondered whether the coltish, studious teenager he had known long ago had grown up and filled out to become this well-rounded beauty. He soon dismissed the thought, though. It would have been too much of a coincidence to meet her again here, of all places, wearing only a collar and a leash.
When her leash was first placed in his hand, he was instantly charmed by her bright hopeful smile; but there had been no recognition in it. If there had been, and she actually was his ex-girlfriend, would he have been easier on her, or harder? Thinking about that later on, he honestly did not know.
He wondered what the two Rosies would have thought of each other, if they had ever met face to face. The teenager probably would have been fascinated; the girl he remembered had always loved animals.
The curvy canine Rosie had probably had some other name once, if she had not been born a dog, but Jack would never know what it had been, and he had to call her something while he was training her. She did have a serial number stamped on the heavy metal tag hanging from her shiny labia ring, but it was too long to call her by, and he was not sure he could have memorized it all anyway. He had been advised to pick something short and easy to remember; and he privately joked to himself that her rosy nipples would be an ever-present reminder of the name that fitted her so well.
Like the other denizens of this place, Jack spent almost every waking hour outdoors, giving Rosie her obedience training, and working through their long list of assignments for the current day. He could often see other pairs at a distance, presumably engaged in similar intensive training; but the facility was vast enough that they never came near each other. He was not even sure how many of them there were. Scores, hundreds of them, each holding a leash with a naked female form at the other end of it.
He had no interest in talking to the other inmates anyway. He was certain that just to be here in the first place they were all absolute bastards, just like him, and he bristled at the thought of any of those brutes coming near his Rosie (he knew full well that she was the facility’s property, but he was starting to feel possessive about her), as much as she might have liked socializing with her fellow bitches. The two of them had serious work to do together, anyway. They only had one year together.
He sometimes wondered briefly how the other pairs were doing. He knew that criminals tended to be stupid and lazy, and he had a feeling that most of them would probably just go through the motions of training their puppy girls, and joyfully focus on fucking their bitches silly. The bitches would end up barely trained at all, they would fail their tests badly, and the hapless villains would be shipped grumbling off to prison, but with many happy memories to savor in their cells.
He had, frankly, been surprised that he had been given this opportunity. He would have thought a bullet to the head would have been more likely. Someone, probably the employer he could no longer remember, must have been looking out for him, and pulled some serious strings with the judge to get him admitted here. He scoffed to himself at the very idea that he might be capable of rehabilitation, but he recognized that complying with the program was his only chance.
He was familiar with the concept of prison therapy dogs, and how they could provide emotional support and stress relief, and help keep their handlers calm; but this revolutionary program went far beyond anything he had ever heard of. Jack was expected to work very closely with his assigned puppy girl, with a training curriculum too extensive for any real canine to master, but at least in theory, within the grasp of a suitably motivated puppy girl.
The experts’ theory was supposedly that while gradually, systematically and methodically, establishing absolute mastery over Rosie’s mind and body, Jack would learn to master himself as well. The responsibility of caring full-time for a helpless pet like escort bursa Rosie would supposedly teach him empathy, too. He had his doubts about the whole concept of rehabilitating violent criminals like himself through puppy girls; but at least the process should be enjoyable.
Rosie was a delight to train, and not just because of the hypnotic motion of her big-nippled tits constantly swaying as she moved at his command, or the rolling undulation of her fleshy ass, jiggling in open invitation. He knew that a near-constant erection would be a distraction during their training sessions; but of course Rosie was well-qualified to help with that. Stress relief was part of a therapy dog’s purpose in life, after all.
She had clearly never been trained before, and it astonished him that she had become a grown dog without even knowing how to sit on command. How could a puppy girl be so ignorant? It was as if even being a dog were completely new to her; or else her memory had been wiped to remove everything she had learned, so that she could have a fresh start. Whatever the case, he stolidly accepted the fact that he had been given a blank slate. Her pretty little head might be empty, but he was going to fill it. It was his job to teach her everything she needed to know, from the ground up–starting with making sure that her ass hit the dirt as soon as he said “Sit!”
Luckily for Jack, Rosie had a burning thirst for knowledge, and seemed to grasp almost immediately what was expected of her, though sometimes he had to use his big brutal hands to position her body gently where it needed to be. He proudly thought that she must be a genius among her kind, and he chuckled to himself at the thought that he might have someone smarter than himself at the end of his leash. He knew he was no genius; thinking was definitely not his strong point, which was part of how he had ended up here.
As smart as Rosie was, though, he knew that every command he was teaching her would need endless repetitions before they became second nature for her. It had been made very clear to him in his orientation briefing that one of the conditions for his ever leaving this place was that the bitch who had been entrusted to him be able to respond instantly and perfectly, without thought or hesitation, to every command she was given. Her understanding a command was not enough; it had to become part of her, and be drilled into her muscle memory, so that she would not even be capable of disobedience.
He was naturally inclined toward pessimism, and he had worried that because of his notoriety, the rehabilitation facility’s administration might set him up to fail. They might give him a surly and rebellious bitch who would fight him every step of the way, and that every day might see another frustrating contest of wills between man and dog, guaranteeing their inevitable mutual failure.
He only had a year, after which the bitch’s final examination would determine whether Jack had succeeded in training her well enough, in which case he would be considered rehabilitated. If he failed to train her well enough, he would be promptly sent to a regular prison for life, which was one hell of an incentive for him, if not for the dog. With his luck, the bitch would make a point of being a bad dog just out of spite. He had worried that he might be doomed before he had even gotten started.
Rosie, on the contrary, had been a very pleasant surprise. She was enthusiastic about obedience training, and seemed eager to become the perfect bitch that he knew she had in her. She seemed to be even more motivated than him, if that were possible. And so they spent long hours, seven days a week, rain or shine, out there training, because dogs needed consistency and discipline, and as her repertoire grew, so did her need for periodic reviews to ensure that she would not forget what she had already been taught.
Jack was not a patient man by nature, as he knew to his regret, but he found that he could show endless patience toward Rosie. Her sweet temperament inspired him to be a gentler, better person, and he made sure that his voice stayed calm and even at all time, just as his hands always handled her gently. He trusted her to do her best, just as she trusted him to take care of her. The longer they were together, the more affection he felt for her, and he never raised his voice to her, except when he needed to make himself heard over the crash of a thunderstorm. Dogs needed firm but calm handling, and he forced calmness upon himself for her sake. He needed her focused, not distressed or distracted.
It rained often in this dismal place, but the weather was almost never allowed to affect their training, which had to be done on schedule regardless; and neither Jack nor Rosie wanted to miss a day of it. When they had been out in the rain all day, he was just as drenched as she was when they wearily trudged back to their isolated hut. It was little more than a stand-alone cell, really. Despite its name, the facility was in reality eskort bursa a sort of prison itself, in an isolated location, and with double 20-foot electrified fences around it, and armed guards around the perimeter.
When they got back, he would always take care of her first, carefully drying her from head to foot with a big fluffy beach towel, and making sure to get every nook and cranny, down to the spaces between her fingers and toes, and of course giving special attention to rubbing her groin and her breasts. Only then would he strip and dry himself, as she stretched luxuriously and watched him from where she was curled up on her rug.
Rosie did not seem to mind being out in the rain, at least as long as he was out there with her; and she did not even mind the mud that came along with the rain. Moving along on hands and knees through the splashing mud immediately got her filthy. Often enough, assuming a down position meant that she was slapping her heavy breasts down into a mud puddle; and rolling over on command, which she had to do frequently, meant that she got coated in mud from head to toe, so that Jack could only see Rosie’s bright eyes gleaming at him from a mask of mud. He hoped that she might be one of those dogs that actually enjoyed playing in the mud; it would make things easier for her. She was not a fastidious dog, anyway.
If the rain came down hard enough, it cleaned most of the black gunk off her by the time they got back to his hut, but sometimes he had to spray her with a hose before taking her inside. She clearly hated being hosed down, but meekly submitted to it.
Being a full-time dog trainer was tiring for him, and his voice was often reduced to a hoarse croak after calling out commands all day long. He could only imagine how exhausting it must be for Rosie, who was constantly in motion, following his endless commands over and over again without a whimper of complaint. Jack constantly marveled at the strength concealed within her soft feminine body. He had heard somewhere that women actually had greater stamina and muscle endurance than men, and that was certainly proving true for Rosie.
Early on, he had driven her too hard, and once or twice she had passed out from exhaustion, still trying pathetically to obey his last command. As he carried the warm weight of her limp unconscious body home in his arms, he bitterly reproached himself for stupidity; her failure to keep up was his fault, not hers. He soon learned her limits, and was careful to push her up to those limits, but never past them. He kept a careful eye on just how hard she was panting from her exertions, and made sure to give her a “Down!” command when she needed badly enough to catch her breath. He enjoyed seeing the sheen of sweat on her body, though; it was visible proof of how hard she had been working for him.
They were always both tired by the end of the day, but their evenings were in a way even more enjoyable after their satisfyingly hard work. Jack always fed Rosie her supper first; he enjoyed watching her wolf down her food. She was a healthy animal, with healthy animal appetites, and he would smile as she licked her bowl clean and looked at him questioningly, as if to ask whether there was any more.
After she ate, he would call her over to kneel between his legs, and he would start grooming her. The written instructions he had been given on her care and feeding called for at least a few hundred brush strokes a day, to keep her thick red mane lustrous and free of tangles. Brushing her hair felt odd at first for someone like him, but he discovered how relaxing it was, and he could continue for hours.
As he brushed her, he would murmur to her over and over again what a good girl she had been for him that day, and how smart and beautiful she was. He doubted that she understood any of what he was saying (which was just as well, since he was not an articulate man), but he could see her responding to the tone of his voice as he praised her, growing calmer and more relaxed, with her heavy-lidded eyes half-closed in pleasure as he brushed her.
With his free hand, he would fondle and caress a fat breast, weighing and bouncing it in his hand and slowly stroking it with his blunt thumb, carefully circling around the sensitive nub of her rosy nipple. She would sigh deeply and quicken her breathing as he did this, pressing her pebble-hard nipple into his palm, and if he ever stopped, she would open her eyes wide and whine in surprised protest, and waggle her breasts at him, mutely demanding that he resume his attentions.
From time to time he would switch hands, to make sure that both her breasts received equal attention (though he did have a favorite, the slightly larger one on the left). Jack’s therapy dog really loved being petted, and she blossomed under his touch.
Her urgent craving for his touch and his attention was an excellent sign of her progress, he knew from his briefings. It was also a sign of progress that her gaze was always on his face, waiting for orders. When he moved around the hut, she would even unconsciously shift her body so that she was always facing him.
It worked both ways, though, and his need for her was growing. They were to be isolated in a hut together for a full year, with only each other to focus on, and it was natural that they should bond closely. Jack knew this was by design. The scientists probably had charts and graphs projecting the evolution of their co-dependence. Jack had no more objection to this than Rosie did.
At the end of her daily grooming, he reached down with the hairbrush as if to continue with her pubic hair, and Rosie giggled. They both knew that there was no point in brushing those wiry red curls, but she never seemed to tire of the joke, and it had become part of their intimate ritual. Sometimes he would hook his middle finger through her labia ring, and tug her gently closer to him, and she would snuggle up to him eagerly, pressing her soft breasts into him.
By this time, Rosie was greedily eying the tent in his crotch, and he could smell her damp arousal, carefully fanned to a flame by hours of patient and methodical breast-play. He made her wait a bit, teasing her, before he gave the command to snap into her begging position, whining impatiently for his cock. She held the posture perfectly and gracefully; she had learned that any carelessness would mean that she would be denied the satisfaction she needed. It had not taken her long to learn that cruel but necessary lesson. If Rosie begged perfectly, then only would he unzip his pants and order her to pounce upon his cock.
Their lovemaking was always the same, because it was important for dogs to have a fixed and consistent routine; but it was a very satisfying part of the day’s routine for both of them. Rosie was never allowed to suck him to completion, as much as she might have wanted to. When Jack felt that he was hard enough, he would give the “Present!” command to order her onto her hands and knees, offering him her cunt, and then he would enter her from behind, doggy-style (naturally). She would spread her thighs and arch her back so that he could penetrate her as deeply as possible, and slam her rump back against him with the same ferocious appetite with which she had attacked her bowl of dog food.
He kept thrusting into her until she would howl, shudder, and collapse under him. It was the same every time, and it was perfect. Her position when she presented her cunt to him never deviated from what he had taught her by so much as a millimeter. Repeated sexual reinforcement had made her movements flawless and graceful; and he knew that she would receive perfect scores on this portion of her final examination. He was very proud of her.
After they had both been relaxed by their mutual orgasms, Jack would spend the rest of the evening quietly reading aloud to his loyal companion while she watched him dreamily. He had no books, and he had never been one to read for pleasure anyway; but he did have the binder of instructions and checklists for the next day’s training exercises. He knew that Rosie did not understand what he was saying to her; but she seemed to enjoy the sound of his rough voice, and she never took her interested gaze from his face. She was preternaturally sensitive to the tone of his voice and his moods, and he took care to keep his voice low and reassuring.
The instructions, along with a fresh bag of training treats (Rosie was a greedy little thing, and went through them quickly), were always left in the hut while Jack and Rosie were out training; it was as if the staff was actively avoiding meeting Jack face to face. (One of Jack’s colleagues had once nervously joked that Jack had “resting killer face.” Jack had merely turned and stared at him stonily, perhaps proving the man’s point.) They would hardly be avoiding the sight of Rosie.
The instructions were surprisingly thorough, accounting for almost every minute of Rosie’s day and ensuring that he had to work her hard to get through it all. Sometimes when a new behavior was being introduced to her they were complex, so Jack had to read them over a few times to make sure that he grasped what he needed to make Rosie do the next day.
Sometimes they were simple drills, if time-consuming, along the lines of “500 sets of Sit-Beg-Present, varying the order randomly each time, with 2 seconds allowed for the animal to get into position, and holding Present for at least one minute and up to 5 minutes at the handler’s discretion, with the vagina raised and aimed directly toward the handler’s face; correct immediately if the dog’s body is not properly aligned or if the animal moves out of position.”
These instructions sounded daunting even to him, especially as only one item on a long checklist, and Jack thought it was just as well that Rosie could not understand how much grueling work was waiting for her the next day. Her ears did prick up alertly when she recognized familiar command words; but she could tell from Jack’s tone that she was not being given the orders yet. Her breathing continued calm and relaxed, and Jack sometimes took a moment to admire the rise and fall of her breasts. Even at rest, his rosy Rosie was enjoyable to watch.
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