The Property of Dana and Tracy

by Jackie Rabbit

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© Copyright 2024 - Jackie Rabbit - Used by permission

Storycodes: F+/f; fpov; cage; public; naked; petgirl; collar; leash; exhib; cons; X

Continues from

4: Show Time II

…I tried to follow our journey with the very limited visibility that I now had, but my active mind soon had little to crunch over, so I drifted mentally, like a boat untied from its moorings, or perhaps a slave accidentally detached from her indoor run. I realized that without knowing where we were going, nor how exactly we got there, any of the humans in charge of me could so easily maroon me. I'd be like a helpless abandoned castaway, and impossibly grateful if one day I was rescued. That was my level of commitment here, for the next few hours at least I was living this adventure, even if I suddenly decided that I didn't want to…

Then I felt it start to happen with the rocking of the truck - losing myself to the experience - but this time there was an apparent mental choice here for me. I could fight the mind numbing isolation from outside stimuli, possibly retaining my humanity even, or let this dog show experience roll over me. I consciously chose the latter after no more than a few moments thought. I was in the company of my three good friends that wouldn't really sell me off to anybody, despite my troubling dreams to the contrary, and this would allow the experience to pass quickly from my point of view; in a way channeling how Dana and Tracy set out to do things they'd rather not do. This was obviously trust on a colossal scale, but I had already allowed these humans that I trusted to dress me up and place me in an oversized and locked pet cage, and deliver me to a show, just as I allowed them to use me like the slave that I am to them; I not able to truly ponder any other eventuality.

The time for any resistance is obviously long past - perhaps even the girls waiting on such themselves to be sure I was up for this - and the time for submissive compliance is now here, and has been for months; years really if you count our childhood together. I'd been conditioned to servitude, to serving those above my station in life, and as a collared slave, or even a pet, that was pretty much everybody. Back at home I'd been used to sometimes cook dinner for my busy parents, or clean the house, or cut the lawn, but such taught me valuable life skills; working with the ingredients on hand and doing for others selflessly. This pretty much backed up what my two good friends had also - perhaps inadvertently - been teaching me as well; this was after all the early 1970's, and most women's career paths still led to running the household and raising children. A man may have just walked on the moon, but here on earth we had a bit to go, even to walk into a business with a degree as a near equal…

Anyway, I'm zoning out in my pet cage, snuggled up under my pet blanket and obviously just thinking about straight up crazy stuff, being rocked this way and that on the slower roads before I even know it, then we stop and take a left into what sounds like an active fairground. People talking, cars and trucks in front as we queue up in the entry gate traffic - I smell the strong exhaust odors in the air of my little prison - and a distant Oktoberfest sounding live band. Dennis was right earlier, it sounds like a fun party, at least for the humans in attendance.

"First time here dear?" I hear asked from someplace in front of me, Dana replying with a simple "yes sir," and I hear the uncertainty in her voice too; but only because I know her so well. The summerhouse is familiar, Tracy and I also familiar, but this odd experience most certainly is not. Dana, for all her courage - and she has a bunch of it - has surrounded herself with familiar and safe things, for the most part, but this is well out of her wheelhouse. I know how that feels far better than she does, as I myself are presently caged and turned out like a nearly naked pet dog, so far more "skin" in this game of ours for me. The rules state that pets are to be delivered to the showgrounds caged and ready for competition though; I'm the reason they're here, and I sense a certain elation from her that she's to get temporarily out of the spotlight, odd for one dressed to get maximum womanly attention. Yes, just like all of us, there is an inconsistency in certain aspects of Dana's character, but love blinds me to those for the most part.

I both hear and feel all three humans exit the truck, and then the burst of light as my cage cover is flipped off, maybe half a dozen officials and spectators looking down on the new arrival. I'm under my pet blanket, but to these trained and experienced eyes it's obvious that I wasn't just loaded into that cage a mile up the road. There are only three human seats in the truck that brought me here, further confirming that I made the whole trip as a caged pet in the back of Dennis' truck, easily checking that entry box on their forms. From their forms they likely also know our "home" address, so they also know that this was a bit of a trip.

I see their eyes first, I mean really notice them; this isn't "look at the freak-chick in the cage," but instead "wow, look at her!" This is obviously a friendly audience, and rather quickly getting over my exposure I shed my blanket with a shake, stand on all fours, and do my level best to wiggle my naked ass and wag my faux tail. A happy real dog would do this naturally when meeting new and friendly humans; and who doesn't want a happy dog? My little bare boobs oh so slightly hang and wiggle too, and the men haven't missed this either. They did miss something else though, but only for a few seconds more, overwhelmed as they are by my presence and appearance. If they recognize my unique outfit they don't immediately say so, but they do recognize somebody that's here at the gate…

"Name?" The nice older man with the clipboard asks while staring into my cage.

"Dana," my friend answers, "and this is my good friend Tracy, and our good friend and chauffeur Dennis." I can hear that Dana is nervous, which is way out of the ordinary, but the proper and polite forms have still mostly been observed; the humans have been formally introduced to the other humans in attendance.

"Good to meet you both, and good to see you again Dennis, the family is well I assume," the nice man replies.

"Yes sir, and thank you for asking," Dennis replies.

"I meant your pet's name though dear." Everybody gets a laugh, this is a friendly and welcoming group, especially for young-lady human-pet owners, as there are apparently precious few of those on the circuit. I half think this nice man is trying to get me to verbally answer for myself, which good pets just don't do, so I stay mute in my cage and look like I'm clueless. I'm perfectly happy to see Dana taking charge here, it feels natural to me.

"Jackie," Dana answers, and hearing my name I snap my head more towards her and perk up, like a real pet would do when her master calls her name. The judges notice and share a look with just their eyes, and for fun I wag my ass and tail extra hard, barking in a friendly way with my name mentioned. I'm hamming this up times a thousand, but how seriously can one take something like this? And, to the best of my knowledge - unless Dennis has ratted me out - the girls still think I'm in total dog mode. I think I'll play with this a bit more, just to see what I can actually get away with.

One of the men finally notices my unique paw tattoo, with the script initials of my two owners of record inked in, and he points it out to the others. All of them zero in on my ass, and I wiggle it again, making my tail gyrate in a circle. I end up kind of swinging my hips in combination with pumping my ass up and down slightly; so kind of like simulated sex with me on top I realize belatedly. The men could be left thinking almost anything, but I didn't mean to be sexually suggestive either.

"Is that real?" Dana is asked.

"A for-real ink tattoo, yes; Sean McMurphy did it for us downtown. Tracy and I are the owners of record, our initials are even scripted into her tattoo. The tag on her collar is also real, in case she should 'somehow' become lost."

One of the officials snickers at something remembered; "so this is the runaway pet that almost got squashed on the main road," I see in his eyes.

The men are almost giddy with the tattoo revelation - but they now also have a very good excuse to get close and stare at my naked ass without being accused of perving on me - this is other-level national show type stuff, only for very, very committed pets and owners. They likely realize that in fifty years my tattoo of ownership will still be there, it will still be a conversation piece for anybody so fortunate as to see it.

"Where have you shown her before dear?" the man asks. I can almost sense the impatience of the others in line behind Dennis' truck, as in, "what's taking so long for a simple pet check-in?"

"This is our first showing, we're very new to this."

"Indeed! Welcome to the club then. Jackie is number twelve, please remove her from her cage so I can personally put this on her." The man with the clipboard is holding a simple #12 tag designed to go into a pet's collar, the entire setup designed to add normalcy to what surely isn't normal for almost everybody else in society. My cage is opened and Dana reaches in to grab my leash - she's taking no chances of a runaway pet today - she's also goading me lovingly from my safe and temporary travel home to way out in public, - my legs are a bit stiff too - but quite a few people are now taking note of the delay at the gate. In my cage and below the level of the sides of Dennis' truck I'm maybe hidden from the others in lower vehicles who are less than patiently in line behind us, but with a real tug on my leash I exit my cage fully and stand with my front paws on the truck's side rail, up and out for everybody's viewing pleasure… all the way to the road. This puts almost all of me - my little bare boobs too - on full display, all while making my collar an easy reach for the short man with my show tag. I feel downright brazen in this masked pet persona, confident beyond any reason with my friends well within reach too. If you're gonna be a dog; be a very good dog, I think once again.

The nice man puts his tag next to my other, but he also takes the time to look over my original tag as well, and the marks on my neck from wearing a padlocked-on chain-style choker dog collar for a very long time; and the fact that I don't have tan lines too. To both affix my show tag, and to properly read my original, the back of his hairy hand ends up brushing the tops of my naked little boobs, tickling me. Maybe nobody else has even noticed that his hand has touched some very personal and intimate flesh, this friendly stranger accidentally touching assets most girls of the age kept well covered when in public; but not I. I've been conditioned that nudity, specifically MY nudity, is normal and expected, so as a result his tickling touch doesn't offend me at all. We therefore share a very human look, that man and I; I then lean forward, ever so slightly into his hand, and wiggle back and forth just a little extra, so as to get full skin on skin contact.

"Good luck to all of you," the man stammers out his wishes, but then he hands off a form that Dana reads aloud, before both she and Tracy must sign:

This pet: Jackie #12 is the sole responsibility of the undersigned and is a willing party to the day's proceedings…



Both of my owners sign the form, but I'm allowed out of my cage for the actual short ride back to our number twelve parking spot on the fairgrounds itself; I am up and watching from the open box of the pickup truck and taking in the sights and smells. This is like visiting another planet, a planet where owned human pets are commonplace, it's fun and wild, almost like going to the circus. People wave in a very friendly and welcoming way, I bark in return, and the other pets, both caged and walking on their leashes, take notice of the "new girl/dog" in town, following me with their eyes. It may be a "small" event, but there are still at least a thousand people here, this hidden kink a bit more popular than I thought. Maybe ninety percent plus of those are paying spectators, but the others are the competitors, and those that "own" them for the day. In my case I'm owned every day for the next five years, but I'll bet these other dogs go back to a "normal" clothed life on Monday morning; or even Saturday afternoon for the ride home.

There is an advantage in being number twelve, as in I didn't have to go first. Tracy actually walked me around a bit to work out my caged stiffness before the show started, all as Dana and Dennis walked together themselves and took in the sights; Dana again separating Dennis and our friend adroitly. Dennis was giving tips when we got back, what to watch out for, but both girls were also intent on watching the starting events too; it would be impossible not to.

I'm watching the first few pets perform while sitting obediently next to Dennis - who's presently holding my leash - myself, basically it's a series of obedience tests between master and pet, then agility and speed, finally poise while on the leash and over obstacles. Lastly, it's "authentic appearance," but that's a separate event at the very end before awards are given. It's actually pretty incredible, but the first two pups are very uncomfortable being in front of a thousand plus fans while in varying states of undress. Not all the pets are turned out bare-breasted like I am either, some are a bit more body-suit covered, but all of them have their sex covered, that seems a given.

The girls apparently still think I'm in full pet mode, so my leash is on and somebody is holding it at all times. Anyway, I'm watching the others before me perform, and I'm so intently watching that I fail to notice a rather nicely dressed woman slide up to Dennis intimately close on the other side of me to say hello, and human introductions are made after she looks down at me briefly with a very hard to read expression. This is Lisa, Gregory's old live-in one-time pet girlfriend. There is recognition in my eyes though as I look up at her in my humbling attire, but it's obvious to me that the girls don't quite exactly know how Lisa and Dennis are acquainted, and he's not apparently saying either. Extremely confident Dennis is a bit shaken though, meeting her again in front of me - with my knowing what went down between them once - has to be awkward though.

I in comparison can't get any lower before this rather pretty woman that Dennis has already been fully intimate with, I'm literally a nearly naked human dog-pet, on a leash, sitting on my haunches with my little boobs out on full display next to "my" Dennis, a man I haven't been fully intimate with myself yet though. "How can I possibly compete with any woman like this?" my old insecurities ask. But, then I remind myself that she was once where I am, wearing these very same things. "Am I supposed to know that though?" I ask myself. Then I look at her a bit more critically, she'd look very, very good dressed as I presently am I realize with a tiny bit of envy.

"How is he?" I hear her ask discreetly, and there is an overtone of love in that; Lisa obviously still cares. Dennis' response is to say he could be better, that there is some trouble at the school. Dennis and Lisa have taken a few steps away - with me obviously in tow on my leash - to ostensibly see the show a bit better, but this is really to let themselves have a few private words together away from the girls.

"Where is he?" she asks as she makes a show of looking around. Dennis tells her he has to keep away from the shows for a bit with all the trouble at the school.

"So 'this' isn't his?" Lisa asks after flicking her eyes in my direction in a dismissive moment, and then back on Dennis. I'm not her competition, or so she thinks; and now I think I understand why she came over in the first place. I hear it again in her tone, she still cares, but then to punctuate this she gets down to crouch directly in front of me - officially acknowledging my presence - and softly tells me with her nose almost touching my own that this used to be her's, that I look good in it. "Some lotion will prevent the mask from scrubbing your face raw," she whispers to me kindly before standing and leaving; and now I have some new things to consider regarding Gregory. Somebody with a previous claim wants him too maybe, and she looks like I never could.

Dennis looks down at me after she says goodbye to him - that look alone speaks volumes to me - and she waves to the girls - my owner's of record - in a friendly way while making her way back to her seat in the stands, but I can't see if she's with somebody from my down-low stance. I wish I could comfort Dennis, wish that we weren't playing this game right now, because I think he could surely use a hug…

…Number ten is up and that means I have to queue up behind number eleven with whatever owner is showing me first; Dana grabbing my leash from Dennis and leading me towards my first ever official competition. These dogs are good, both number ten who currently is prancing with her owner on the leash, out on the field in full view of the bleachers, and number eleven who is sitting like a statue to the right in front of me on her own haunches; her boyfriend - or maybe husband - holding her leash. Her nude body is flawless, boobs a bit larger and likely more fluid than mine, but what really catches me is the makeup - or body paint maybe - adorning her fleshy areas. She's painted up like a Dalmatian, so even I know what kind of dog she is without asking. If there was ever to be a second time this might be a good thing to keep in mind if wanting to mimic a real dog; as in what kind of dog are you supposed to be?

Her leash-holding owner says something quietly to her and the Dalmatian turns briefly to look dismissively in my direction, her expression says it all though. How one can become haughty, while turned out like a nearly naked dog on a leash in front of a thousand people, is beyond me but I don't dwell on it. Her owner is named Jack, and Jack and Dana quietly exchange human pleasantries so as not to disturb the competition - reminiscent of watching a golf game maybe - but I can also see the way that Jack looks at Dana. She's a stunning teen a good ten years younger than both Jack and his haughty Dalmatian, and she's dressed quite nicely too, heels and all, so the man in him likely notices; he can't help but to. There is something else there too though, something in his expression that says "this is a man's game, you don't belong here 'sweetheart,' except maybe stripped out of that nice dress and on your hands and knees, leashed up just like your skinny dog."

Would the man in Jack like to be holding that leash too? I'm left to wonder.

Dana, bless her heart, sees all this, and the Dalmatian's haughty look too; she might still be a teen, but she's not like the other girls from around here either. And, just to twist both of them up a bit before the competition, let them know that she's perfectly comfortable competing in a "man's" world, she quietly wishes both Jack and "his bitch" the best of luck. Jack smiles in an odd straight-lipped way with the friendly taunt, perhaps once again imagining Dana as his bitch instead, giving her a bit of humility even. Jack's dog hears the tone and turns to look up at this new teen with a fresh perspective maybe - or perhaps a bit twisted up herself even - and then perhaps submissively down at Dana's high heels.

We both watch number ten go through her paces, she's good, but she fumbles a bit with the fetching-rope. It's a bit large in diameter for her tiny mouth though, looking like a short piece of dock line off of a cruise ship. The other simple commands were flawless though, again, she was quite good for her master. Next up is the Dalmatian, and Jack turns before leaving and says under his breath "nice shoes" to Dana, and seeing how there is running on soft grass with your leashed pet over obstacles, Dana's choice in spiky footwear might not have been wise. He had waited until there wasn't time to correct her error, so he was feeling like he had something on her maybe; educating this newbie pet owner with the sassy mouth.

To be fair, these two were good together too, and the only thing I saw that struck me was that the haughty Dalmatian didn't wait for her master's commands to do things. Now one could assume that's because the two had competed together for quite some time, or less charitably that the dog wasn't behaving like a well trained dog, but instead like an independently thinking and listening human might. Still the fans in the stands loved them, applauding each task enthusiastically, high scores for each segment reflecting their performance. There was a reason she was haughty, her body looked magnificently sexy all painted up, it moved good too, and I was right, her large natural endowments moved as fluidly as Tracy's on the steps earlier that morning, just the way men are programmed since caveman days to notice.

Not that I'd obviously planned it this way, but with Dana thinking I was once again in full dog mode, she'd almost certainly be directing and treating me one hundred percent like a dog, so good for our "act" maybe; but good enough for first place with this competition was yet to be seen. Anyway, I'm waiting for Dana's commands before I move, not sitting, nor shaking paw until I'm told. I'm a happy pup and I love my master, and at a slight break in the action I look up at her, nuzzle her thigh affectionately, and get a loving rub on my neck in return. If I were an actual dog I'd be looking for confirmation, from my human master, that I was doing well, behaving and making her proud; which were also my sincere desires.

Standing while waiting for the next command I'm wiggling my butt, wagging my tail like a happy dog, something I didn't see the haughty one doing at all. For me this feels like the "real deal" where maybe for the haughty one it was more of going through the motions, "I've done this before, give me my trophee please." So, as much as I could read into things with what little I knew, team number eleven seemed like they expected to win, like the actual competition was a mere formality for them.

I myself feel all "coiled spring," ready to jump, full of energy from being locked in my cage for a bit; so very puppy-like I suppose. Then it's time to fetch the rope, and Dana throws it underhand like a softball while I sit on my haunches beside her, watching it arc high through the air, but I don't move a muscle until she tells me to "fetch" it. I then run it down as fast as I can bound up as I am, but I don't move badly like this either because I'm also in shape, and lean like the runner that I am. I don't have true hanging boobs either, impeding my running on all four legs, but visually I understand men might like the way such things look too; so a little good, a little bad. I don't just bring the throw-rope back to my master though - with the Dalmation's fresh slobber all over it - I instead prance back towards her with it like a proud puppy returning to her master, with all the puppy-love such actions promise. In my simple dog-mind I've just completed the simple task my master commanded, it's implied that I want her to be proud of me, you can't one hundred percent fake this. The crowd loves the nuances of our act, I'm as close to a human dog as I've seen so far, not a young woman dressed scantily and pretending to be one; and the way Dana looks, turned out as the stunning young woman that she is, doesn't hurt our act either I'm sure. Her dress is mature and fits like it was specifically made for her body, and her presentation is at least equal to that.

Her confidence is soaring, standing before the full cheering bleachers is enough to make anyone feel larger than life though. Anyway, I'm back on the leash and it's time to run me through the obstacles, but snarky Jack was right, Dana's heels aren't up to the challenge on the thick grass. She sees this herself though and walks us towards the line official and confers with him as I follow and listen, getting permission and removing her heels to place them on the ground in front of him. She then runs me through the obstacles barefoot - as fast as I can run bound up as I am anyway - and we finish this part of the competition, her and I coming to rest in the center of the grass as the crowd cheers once again. She's still barefoot though, and instead of walking to her shoes, she has a perfectly capable dog that can do that simple task for her instead. So she once again removes my leash and tells me to fetch with a flick of her hand, and I happily prance to her shoes, wag my tail playfully at the official, and prance back towards my master with them in my teeth, the crown again going wild.

Appearance-wise the officials love my real tattoo - I heard a stray comment suggesting such - and the rest of my outfit as well, but they also love the way Dana looks while showing me. It's obviously a dog show, but the human component apparently matters too, as female handlers are rare on the circuit. Now unknown to us at the time there are also some others watching our act from the stands too, but more on that later…

Scored for our part of the competition, with Dana giving a graceful bow to the stands - she the first human handler I'd seen do so - we head back to our #12 staging area, and Dennis has a bowl of water down for me to drink from. I'm a thirsty dog from all that running on all fours, but also still a dog, so no human drinking at all, and certainly no speaking either. I try to watch the other competitors from my down low stance while next to my cage, but I can only see so much; like the standing humans in front of me from the belt down.

…After all the other competitors have finally shown - and there is a natural break in the action - I see several officials approach and ask to speak privately with my three humans; two of which are my owners of record. So that I can still drink my water though - it's maddening slow and sloppy using just your tongue - Dana briefly unhooks my leash, loops the hook end around one of the bars of my cage, and then through the human eye-end sewn in handle of the leash itself, then she re-hooks it to my collar. She's made a slip knot with the human loop handle end of my leash and affixed it to my heavy cage, anchoring me to it so that I can't escape. It's a very "may run away" way to secure your naughty pet, and the officials have noticed, just as they've noticed how I'm drinking my water down on all fours from an actual dog bowl, even while not technically "showing."

I think the message is clear to them; I arrived as a dog, I've shown as a dog, and with only three human seats in Dennis's truck, I'm most certainly going home like one too. I wonder if this isn't some kind of tie breaking inspection of the competitors, and I therefore wonder what the others are doing themselves right now that I can't see.

I am seeing an animated conversation between the humans, hands moving, and pointing too, and reading their body language only I'd say Dana is holding her own in whatever the disagreement is. I can't hear the actual details though, but they've looked my way a few times so I know I'm the subject. It goes on for a few minutes and then the confrontational body language eases; there is some agreement that has been reached maybe. So with that little meeting apparently concluded, the officials leave and the appearance portion of the event is next, and Tracy is to show me in this one, which is curious to me as Dana and I did quite well in the others. If these were Dana's wishes, I'd say they were due to wanting to keep Dennis and Tracy socially separated, but I get the feeling there is some other motivation here as Dana seemed to really enjoy being in front of the crowd like that.

Now to be fair - of my two friends - Tracy has a bit more empathy, but Dana is the one who's responsible for the house itself, so perhaps this is because she's under a bit of asymmetric stress. Do all the adults funding this educational adventure hold her ultimately responsible, fairly or otherwise? It could explain why she got so angry with me for running away from her once; who wants to make that kind of phone call back home?

For this part of the competition we're all assembled together in a line, so once again we're standing next to number eleven, the haughty Dalmation and - in my mind at least - her snarky "leash holder." But everybody is a bit more friendly now that they're all gathered together; the humans specifically. The bulk of the competition is already over, the proverbial scores are theoretically written down someplace, so relaxation is mostly in the air. There is nothing but good wishes for Tracy and her pup, it's almost like a party. This is where the other competitors have a moment to ask how Tracy and her friend got into this, and Tracy obviously does the same.

Jack the Dalmation owner seems a bit aloof, and the only one apparently not surprised that Tracy, and not Dana, is the human showing me for this last event though. Tracy knows why obviously, but she's not saying it in front of her pup for fear of spoiling my performance, which I think has been quite good for a first time showing. I've heard several of the owners say as much too though, so I'm feeling pretty good here overall.

Tracy is asked about my tattoo several times, and she tells them about our experience at Sean's shop downtown, in effect both making a kind of testimonial, and a commercial sales pitch for his services. This is "next-level" human pet stuff to be sure, a proverbial lifetime commitment, and everybody is taking a very close look at my ass before the officials once again do, but of course I ham it up and wag my tail too. I'm a playful, happy to be a dog kind of dog, and I think it shows. However, nobody is asking Tracy's pup about the experience at Sean's though; I'm a dog, I can't speak for myself…

So after we all get good and inspected by the officials, some recognized from check in even, the final scores are given. The haughty dalmatian apparently took first in appearance, but I took second, and I also took second in the cumulative scores for the other events, so it's safe to say that we're advancing to the next competition; the nationals. It all sounds good so far, but then there is a bit of a stir-up between the officials - possibly to make this a kind of "photo finish" for the spectators - and it's announced that the dalmatian team is to be deducted five points on appearance for non-pet activities back at their staging area. That means that #12 wins the appearance portion, and the crowd goes wild.

Both Jack's and the haughty one's heads snap around on hearing this, upset by this newbie girl on girl team, dirty looks to follow…


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