Inhuman Behavior Read online

  “Language.” I point a finger at him and move until I am standing inches from the cage. “And you look like a dog to me,” I sneer at him.

  “Fuck you.” The words are grit out from between clenched teeth.

  “No thank you, I’m not into bestiality. Now be a good boy and go potty.”

  Wren fumes, his gaze locked with mine. I cross my arms over my chest and watch, victory coursing through me when he steps toward the pad. He grabs his dick, and it’s pink and smooth compared to how the rest of his body is covered in hair. I stare, entranced by how normal he looks there.

  I’m still watching as the stream of urine leaves the tip of his cock, when the first splatters hit my thigh, dampening the cotton of my sweats to a dark gray. Then he aims at my stomach and as the warm fluid runs down my abs, the slight smell of ammonia hits my nose. I fist my hands and lower them to my sides.

  “How’s that for a good boy?”

  Three

  Wren

  This guy is pissing me off. A fucking puppy pad. Is he being serious? I may be covered in hair and resemble a canine because of it, but I am not a fucking dog. I hope he enjoys the smell of my piss on him.

  “You’ll pay for that; you disgusting animal.”

  Uri strips off his sweats and tosses them aside. He stands gloriously naked in front of me and I remember jacking off to the thought of him last night. He’s proven himself to be an asshole, and he’s kidnapped me, but that doesn’t stop me from noticing his body.

  Without the suit he wore at the pier and the pair of sweats that covered his body until a few moments ago, the man is a walking metaphorical wet dream. The dark hair on his chest is sparse and narrows into a happy trail that goes down between his abs and accentuates the V of his hipbones. The trail ends in a well-groomed thatch of hair from which an impressive dick rests.

  “Stop ogling me. I already told you I’m not into animals.” He turns and walks to a shelf beneath the stairs. I watch his ass flex with each step he takes and let out a low whine at the sight. “You keep telling me you aren’t a dog or a pet, but your looks and your sounds contradict your words.”

  He’s right, but I’m still not a dog. I don’t say anything, though, that argument hasn’t done me any good. I need to find a different approach to get him to see me as a human, a person… a man.

  “How old are you?”

  His question throws me off. “Why?”

  “For fuck’s sake, can’t you just answer a question? It was simple enough. Here I’ll go first, I’m thirty-two. Now you.” Uri continues rummaging about on the shelf looking for a particular item.

  “Eighteen.”

  He stops searching, and his eyes roam my body. “Hmm. That hair hides a lot, doesn’t it?” He doesn’t phrase the words as an actual question, so I don’t bother responding. I’m not sure what he means. The hair covering my body is a part of me. I’m as naked as any man without clothes.

  Uri leaves the shelving and approaches the cage again. He doesn’t seem as angry about the piss on his leg and stomach, but the look on his face is scarier. Calm and contemplating. He’s staring at me like an object he desires. And it’s those desires I see reflecting in his eyes that cause my fear.

  “You’re filthy.”

  A simple, truthful statement. I’m covered with the dirt from the floor of my tent and grime at the bottom of this cage he’s put me in. Dust and debris stick in my hair easily and I shower often to avoid collecting crud in the strands. I learned years ago that the longer the shit was there, the crustier and grungier I became. The smell and the sight would have people avoiding me for days.

  “So, it’s your fault,” I challenge him; I just can’t seem to keep my words or my attitude in check around him.

  “You’re right. Let me remedy that.” Uri turns and heads back upstairs. I can hear doors banging and water running, and I try to imagine what he’s doing, what he’ll do when he comes back.

  I don’t have to wait long for the answer. Uri comes back carrying a bucket with soap suds spilling over the edges. Under his arm he’s tucked a washrag and a bath towel.

  He sets the bucket down near the door to the cage, then turns to place the rag and towel on a nearby shelf. “Step back to the other end please.” He gestures with his hands where he wants me to go. I almost resist, my body locking in place, but I’ll never get out of here if he doesn’t open the door. Now is as good a time as any to make a break for it. I have a feeling the longer I’m here, the harder it will be to leave.

  I take the few steps to the opposite side of the cage. He pulls a key fob from the pocket of the shorts he must have pulled on while upstairs and presses a button. The snick of the lock being released sounds deafening in the quiet.

  Uri quickly moves the bucket inside and grabs the rag before closing the door and pressing another button on the fob. A beep, much like the one that sounds when a car alarm engages, echoes around the basement. He pockets the device and reaches for me. I struggle against his grip on instinct.

  “Let go, dickhead,” I shout at him.

  He ignores my demand and wraps his arms around me, pinning my own at my sides.

  “Goddamnit, hold still,” he growls the words close to my ear.

  I don’t think he meant them to sound the way they do. The words themselves say he’s exasperated with me, but the breathy quality and the almost imperceivable moan that followed suggest he likes it when I mouth off and try to fight him. It instantly takes the wind from my sails. My body goes limp and I fall against him.

  “What the fuck? What is wrong with you?” Uri tries to push me away from him, but I fall back again as soon as he moves his hands. “Stop this nonsense.”

  I sag more heavily into him and he adjusts his stance to hold me upright. The movement causes his body to press firmly along mine, my back to his front. That impressive dick of his is against my ass, and by the feel, it’s even more imposing up close. He’s fully erect judging by the hardness that brushes over me as he struggles to hold me up.

  Though my cock doesn’t harden, it twitches and I try to hide my reaction to him as he maneuvers me to the dog bed and lays me down.

  “You’re making this harder than it needs to be.” I groan at the unintentional innuendo. “This is childish; stop it. Be a good boy.”

  Be a good boy. I mock him in my head.

  “Sit up. I’m going to wash you. You need to be groomed properly, but it can wait until you’ve proven you’re trainable and that your loyalty lies with me.”

  Groomed? Loyalty? He really does see me as a pet. My mind runs through all the ways I can work this to my benefit. I’m used to putting on the act of a dog at the Carnaval. This would be no different. I’ll just pretend to give him what he wants until I can get out of here.

  I sit up. He pats my head as he stands to get the bucket. “Good boy.” I cringe but quickly shake it off.

  Uri sets the bucket beside me and kneels with the washcloth in his hand. Dipping into the bucket, he submerges the rag then lifts it out dripping with water and covered in suds. He twists the cloth, wringing the excess.

  “You’ll see Wren, I’m not so bad if you listen and do as I say. I’ve had many pets, and I always take excellent care of them.” He scrubs the rag over me, dislodging the dirt. “I think we’ve started off on a bad note, don’t you? What do you say we start over? Reintroduce ourselves.”

  He’s fucking crazy. Certifiable. But I play along. “Sure,” I tell him with a shrug.

  He finishes my impromptu sponge bath and tosses the rag in the bucket. “Hi, I’m Urijah, but you can call me Uri.” He sticks his hand out and waits to see what I’ll do. I grab his hand in my own, noticing the way his smooth skin contrasts with the hair that covers mine.

  “Nice to meet you, Uri. I’m Wren and I’m more dog than man.” I add the last part to appease his need to own me as a pet. Truthfully, I have hair that makes me resemble a canine, but I’m mostly human. It’s just hard to see the man beneath all the hair.
/>   Uri smiles, and it reminds me of our meeting at the pier. It’s real and genuine, like the sadness and grief I saw that night, and I wonder why he is doing this. Why didn’t he just come back and try to befriend me? He’s a handsome man and nice when he’s not in kidnapper mode; what’s wrong with him that he felt taking me captive was the better option? Do I really want to know?

  Four

  Urijah

  After our reintroduction, Wren seemed to be more docile with me. He’s been using the puppy pads I place in the kennel every night after I bathe him, and he eats the food I bring him in the stainless steel dog bowls I found at the pet store in town. The food is a combination that I made myself from raw meats and grains. I read online somewhere that a diet of both was beneficial to a canine’s overall health and thought it the best way to keep Wren healthy. The diet has the added bonus of keeping his digestive system from clogging and his anal passage clear for the most part, which will be a plus later.

  It’s been a week since I’ve taken Wren in and Amalie is still angry at me. She doesn’t speak to me and continues to give me the cold shoulder, even when we are in bed together. It frustrates me, but I know once I give her Wren, things will go back to how they were… they have to.

  Today I’m going to fully groom Wren. I want him presentable for when he meets Amalie. Hauling the large wash basin I got at the local hardware store down the stairs, I then position it in the center of the basement before returning to the kitchen to gather the tools I also collected during my trip into town.

  Wren watches me as I set things up, his gaze boring into me as I work. Once I have everything in place, I meet his curious stare. “You’re going to be a good boy, right? You’ll be rewarded if you are.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Just think of it like a day at the spa. Full treatment.”

  “I’ve never been to a spa. Don’t think they’d much like a dog in their business.”

  His words make my heart ache. Though I see him as a pet for Amalie, and myself, if I’m being honest, I don’t much like thinking of anyone else seeing him that way. The loneliness in his voice because of the way others have treated him makes me want to hold him. I can’t imagine the isolation he must have felt before finding a home at the Carnaval. “How old were you when you joined the Carnaval?”

  Wren shrugs. “Don’t know. A few years, I’d guess. I’ve always been a part of the Carnaval as long as I can remember. My mother dropped me there when she realized that no amount of punishment or beatings would change the fact that I’m a freak.”

  “So you don’t have a family?” I take out the fob to unlock his cage, press the button, and return it to the pocket of my slacks. Taking him by the arm, I stroke him softly as I lead him to the basin. “Do you wish you had one?”

  “I do.” He steps into the basin on his own, and I steady him as he sits. He continues as I grab the hose and turn the spicket so that warm water enters the basin. “They’re not the traditional kind of family, but I consider Maia, Ezra, and the rest of them my kin, my blood. I‘ll do anything for them.”

  Wren waves his arm through the water, as it rises the hair floating out over the surface and turns a dark chestnut color that matches his eyes.

  “I’ve never had any family except for Amalie, and she hates me more than she likes me most days. We’re a dysfunctional family at best.”

  I turn off the water and reach for the special shampoo I bought to make Wren’s hair soft and silky. It’s also supposed to repel fleas and mites, but I don’t think we will need to worry about that.

  “Who is Amalie?”

  My hand squeezes the bottle hard enough to pop the lid and a few globs of shampoo plop into the water. Shaking off the unpleasant memories of how she’s been with me lately, I instead focus on the way Amalie is, and has always been, my life. “Amalie is my world. She’s the only person I’ve ever loved. I’d do anything for her, and anything to keep her with me.”

  A sigh leaves Wren, a breath filled with longing that once again has me wanting to wrap my arms around him and hold him close. “What’s that like?”

  “What?” I absently wash the hair on his head then move down to his shoulders, massaging his tense muscles as I go.

  “Loving someone so much.” Wren relaxes into my hands as I continue to soap his body.

  “It’s the best and worst feeling in the world,” I answer honestly.

  I pick up the hose to rinse him off after I’ve scrubbed his entire body. “Up.” I release a valve at the bottom of the basin to let the water escape into the drain of the basement floor.

  I rub the towel over his shivering body, drying him as quickly and thoroughly as I can. His questions have stirred up emotions long buried and I’m struggling to breathe. I shove him back into the cage and lock it. I run up the stairs and out into the backyard, falling to my knees in the grass.

  Amalie was once the light in my darkness, but now she’s the shadow that follows me constantly. Her illness brought with it a depression and personality change that almost destroyed us. The animals saved her, and in turn us. I swipe at the tears on my cheeks and think of all I’ve done for her. Every animal I’ve brought home, including Wren, is a promise of my love. But Wren is different. The physical and emotional pull I have toward him is a problem. These conversations need to stop. He’s a dog and I need to remember that. No more placating him with the stories of my life.

  I walk back into the house, stopping to collect myself before heading back down to the basement. After several deep breaths, I head down the stairs.

  "I was going to groom you, but I think that can wait for another day. I'm tired, and I need to spend time with Amalie." I don't know why I’m clarifying my reasoning, maybe because I don't know myself and saying it out loud makes it feel true. It should be true. I should spend time with Amalie.

  I move the basin to the far side of the room and put the grooming tools up on a shelf. I consciously avoid looking in Wren’s direction. I’m sure my unusual actions will lead to questions from him I’m not ready to answer.

  After I’ve put everything back in its place, I turn to head upstairs. I almost don’t hear his whispered words. I contemplate pretending I didn’t. It would be easier that way. As if he hears my thoughts, Wren repeats himself.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause you hurt.”

  “It’s nothing. I’m just in a hurry. I forgot I had plans with Amalie, and now I’m running late.”

  Wren looks like he wants to call me out on my lies, but he nods in acceptance of them. “Okay. But for the record, if love is both the best and the worst, I’m glad I haven’t experienced it. I’ve had enough of the worst in my life to last me until death.”

  This time I pretend not to hear him and quickly leave the basement. I seek out Amalie, desperate to erase the emotion Wren has evoked in me.

  I find her in our bedroom. She’s asleep… again. Lately she’s always sleeping. I know it’s her sickness that makes her succumb so easily, but at times—like now—I wish she’d fight the drowsiness to be with me. We don’t have much time left together; I can feel the end nearing. It’s one of the reasons I took Wren. A final gift to my love before she leaves me alone in this world.

  Shaking off those morbid thoughts before they can take root and grow, I lay beside her. If I can’t be with Amalie while she’s awake, I’ll hold her as she sleeps.

  Five

  Wren

  Something is off with Uri. He isn’t coming down as often and he still hasn’t groomed me like he promised. He hasn’t washed me at all since that day when we made a small connection and he ran. I feel lucky he still brings me food, and as disgusting as that shit is, at least it’s keeping me fed.

  Looking down at my body, I see that my hair is matted with sweat and dirt and whatever else I have picked up while down here. I’m repulsive. I can smell the stench clinging to me after going days without bathing.

  I hear Uri unlock the door and his footsteps as he
makes his way down into the basement. It’s dinner time and like clockwork the man goes through the motions. And that’s what exactly he’s doing, just going through the motions. I wonder if more than our last exchange of words is what has put him in this mood.

  He slides the bowl of homemade food into my cage and starts to leave. It’s been days without conversation, without touch. I may not have many friends and most people see me as an oddity to fawn over, but I’m starving for touch. I never thought I’d miss the petting this much.

  “Uri?” I quietly call out to him. If he doesn’t respond I can keep my weakness, my need, to myself.

  He stops before he reaches the stairs, his back visibly stiff. “What?” The word is gruff and I consider telling him to never mind, but then he turns back to face me and I see the sadness and exhaustion that’s weighing him down. Maybe he needs this as much as I do.

  I can’t tell him I want him to touch me, to talk to me, to treat me like the human being I am, so I play on his need to care for me and see me as a pet. “I’m dirty and I need exercise. Maybe we can play fetch and you can finally groom me like you said you would.”

  I purposely use words that will remind him I’m just an animal to him. We made progress the other day, but it was too fast. He needs me to be his dog, his pet before I can convince him to see me as the man I am.

  His nose scrunches as he sniffs the air. “You do stink.”

  I manage to not roll my eyes or give a smart-ass reply, barely. “I’ve been a good boy, haven’t I Uri?” The words are like vomit, spewing from my mouth and leaving a putrid taste behind.

  He nods, raking his eyes over me, assessing the state of my body. I’ve lost a few pounds from the strict diet he has me on, but he won’t be able to tell through my hair.

  “You’re right. I need to clean you up. I think it’s time you met Amalie, too. I can’t keep splitting my time between the two of you. It’s not working anymore. I’m always messing it up somehow. Either you’re neglected or Amalie is pissed at me. There’s no middle ground the way things are now.” He scrubs a hand over his face, emphasizing the tiredness I noticed earlier.