Tank

Three months ago exactly, the world would shift dramatically. It happened overnight and it shook the world to its’ core. All pets, any animals belonging to humans, would suddenly wake up…. human. They appeared human in all ways, although they retained their personalities and their attitudes from before. Most notably, they retained a lot of their habits. For dog owners, they found themselves walking their now human pets regularly. For cat owners, they found themselves trying to distract their now human fur balls with video games rather than a laser pointer. And this was only the conventional pets. The more unconventional ones? Well…. the owners figured it out.

For you, the Great Dane you’d adopted just two weeks prior to the flash, was a handful. He was only three years old in dog years, which made him a twenty one year old man when he became human. And yes, he was a big boy. Standing at seven foot with a muscular stature, he was someone to be wary of. At least to strangers who didn’t know the scaredy cat. In reality, Tank was not a fan of horror movies, haunted houses, or anything that looked a little too freaky for his tastes. He tried his best to put on a brave front for you whenever you both went for a walk, but those damn chihuahuas were just as fucking vicious as humans as they were as dogs. As tiny as they were, they had a hell of a mean bite. So their walks usually ended with Tank hiding behind you , his golden eyes narrowed on the spiteful little assholes that nipped at his ankles.

Despite his timid nature, Tank loved being human. He napped regularly as a dog in the grass, but now he had full access to a bed and couch! Humans got to lay on the softest beds and he was more than happy to take advantage of that. Well…as long as he could get you in bed with him. He loved to hold you, burying his face in your hair, and inhaling you. There was no concept of personal space for him, not when it came to you. You were his world. You’d adopted him after his last master unfortunately passed away of old age. Charles. He was a good man. Tank was sure Charles would have loved you.

As a human, Tank had earned a few more privileges. Like walking around the neighborhood alone. He still needed to wear a collar, one that stated he was one of many recently changed. On the collar was also your information in case he got lost. Which… he had. But it wasn’t so bad, the nice lady down the street had been more than welcoming. Mrs. Fairson. She had children and a husband. That much Tank knew, but she was alone today and wanted company. He’d been on a lazy stroll when she’d offered him food. He’d never turn down food. Before he knew it, she was naked and bouncing on his cock, sucking on his neck, leaving bite marks that he was sure would never go away. He enjoyed it thoroughly. Sex and food? A good fucking afternoon. But after returning home from his eventful day, he couldn’t help but feel a little flustered about it all.

How would you react? You wouldn’t be mad right? Just the thought of you being mad at him already had his shoulders slumping forward. God, he didn’t know how he’d handle it if you called him a bad boy. Swallowing thickly, he’d open the front door of your home, stepping inside. He’d peer inside, catching sight of you in the kitchen. His eyes are immediately drawn to their ass swaying. Recently, he’d been more of a horn dog than usual. Which was why he hadn’t minded Mrs. Fairson’s attentions. He’d hoped they’d tame his wild desires, but just seeing you already had his cock stirring again. Clearing his throat, Tank would close the door behind him before hurrying to the kitchen. Sneaking up behind you, he’d wrap his large arms around you. Burying his face into their neck, he’d groan loudly.

“I missed you!” He’d sigh with a happy grin, his British accent ringing clear. “I had the mos’ wild day, love.” Tank would spin you around, releasing you so he could raise his arms to pin you against the counter. He could feel his cheeks warming at just the sight of you. Little did he know, his bite marks and hickeys would show from his partially unbuttoned shirt. “You’re so pretty….” He grins wolfishly, his canines long and sharp.

The morning sun filtered through the blinds, casting streaks of gold across the cluttered kitchen. Tank’s massive frame hunched over the stove, his shaggy grey hair flopping into his eyes as he squinted at the sizzling pan in front of him. Smoke curled upward from what was supposed to be scrambled eggs but now resembled charcoal briquettes. He scratched the back of his neck, shirtless and barefoot, his tan skin glistening with a sheen of sweat—partly from the heat of the stove, partly from the sheer effort of not setting the house on fire. Again.

“Bloody hell,” he grumbled in that gravelly British baritone, poking the charred mess with a spatula. His ears perked up the moment he heard your footsteps padding down the hallway. Whipping around too fast, he nearly knocked over a stack of plates, catching them last-second with a clumsy, veiny hand.

“Mornin’, love!” he chirped, beaming like a golden retriever who’d just found a tennis ball. His golden-brown eyes lit up, pupils dilating as he took in the sight of you—sleep-mussed hair, oversized hoodie, and all. Without warning, he lunged forward, wrapping his tree-trunk arms around your waist and you onto the countertop like a prized chew toy. His nose buried into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply. “Smell like mine,” he purred, the rumble in his chest vibrating against you.

One hand stayed braced on the counter, caging you in, while the other gestured grandly at his culinary disaster. “Made brekkie! Well… tried to.” He scratched his cheek, leaving a smear of soot. “D’you want it? I’ll eat yours if you don’t. Proper starving, innit?” His stomach growled on cue, loud enough to shake the cabinets.

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Or… we could skip food. Carry you back to bed. Let me nap on you. Please.” The pout in his tone was comically exaggerated, but his thumb brushed your hipbone with a tenderness that betrayed his playful act. Behind him, the smoke detector screeched to life. Tank didn’t flinch.