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"However," I continued, my tone dropping to that register I knew affected him physically, making him tremble, "if I receive a poor report, there will be consequences beyond losing market privileges."

He shivered, and I could smell the slight change in his scent that indicated the threat had registered properly.

"Yes, Daddy," he sighed. I chuckled. My little brat.

We were approaching the daycare facility, its curved entrance coming into view. Other pairs were converging on the same destination, the morning drop-off routine playing out across the plaza. Some pets walked eagerly toward the entrance, clearly comfortable with the routine. Others, like Lucca, showed varying degrees of reluctance.

"Remember," I said, using the moments before arrival to reinforce expectations, "you represent my household. Your behavior reflects on both of us."

"I know..." he replied, and I heard resignation mixing with determination in his voice. He would try, for me, if not for himself, and that effort was what I valued most.

Chapter 8. Lucca

The daycare entrance curved inward like a mouth ready to swallow me, painted in cheerful colors that were probably meant to be welcoming but just made me feel smaller. The doors opened automatically as we approached, releasing a wave of familiar scents: cleaning solution mixed with the particular smell of many humans in one space, plus something vanilla-sweet they pumped through the air to keep us calm. It made my nose wrinkle every time.

Inside, the reception area sprawled in the way they'd designed it to seem non-threatening. Soft corners everywhere, nothing sharp or harsh, like we might hurt ourselves on a right angle. The floors were covered in some specialized material that felt warm under my bare feet, designed to be comfortable for humans who spent all day without shoes. Morning light filtered through tall windows, but it felt different from the natural light outside, processed somehow.

Other pets were already there, scattered throughout the visible play areas. I recognized most of them from previous visits. There was Otto, who belonged to a Council member and always acted like that made him special. A newer pet sat alone near the reading nook, her eyes wide. And Carlos, who was always annoying. The caretakers moved among them, all too tall, while the furniture was scaled for human comfort. They wore soft blue garments that marked them as staff. I knew them all by now: Shn, who ran the art activities; Plural, who taught us Aconchian history; and Virome, who handled behavioral issues with a firmness that reminded me uncomfortably of my early days at the pet store.

"O'li! Welcome! Lucca, good to see you, boy!" called the head caretaker, Herosm, approaching with that gliding walk all Aconchians seemed to master. Two horns rose from his forehead, like the ones that adorned O'li's head. The difference was that O'li's horns curved backward, resting on top of his black hair. Herosm's rust-colored hair was woven into an elaborate pattern around his horns. His brown eyes fixed on me with an assessment that made me want to hide behind O'li's leg.

"Health to you, Herosm," O'li replied, his hand settling on my shoulder in what could have been casual positioning, but I knew was meant to keep me in place. "Lucca's been particularly helpful with my specimens this morning."

I stood a little straighter at the praise, even as part of me wanted to shrink away from Herosm's attention. He had a way of seeing through facades, of knowing when a pet was planning mischief before we even knew it ourselves.

"How wonderful," Herosm said, his dual-toned voice harmonizing in what probably sounded pleasant to O'li but made my skin prickle. "We're doing texture painting today. I'm sure Lucca will enjoy participating."

Texture painting. Great. Getting messy with the other pets while O'li did actually important work at his laboratory. I pressed closer to his leg.

"His feeding schedule remains unchanged," O'li was saying, discussing me as if I wasn't standing right there. "He had a full breakfast, so just the afternoon supplement. And he's been experiencing some anxiety about separation lately, so perhaps extra observation during transition periods."

My cheeks burned. Anxiety about separation. Like I was some newly purchased pet who couldn't handle being away from their owner, not someone who'd been with O'li for four years. Not like I wasn't twenty-five years old in Earth years, although that was laughable when it came to Aconche years. But he wasn't wrong, and that made it worse somehow. I had been clingy lately, following him from room to room at home, trying to convince him to let me sleep in his bed, although he only let me do it as a real, super-rare reward.

"Of course," Herosm replied. "We'll ensure he's properly engaged. The socialization is good for him, even if he resists initially."

Other pets were watching us now. I could feel their eyes, especially Carlos, who had that superior expression that made me want to knock his perfect posture right over. He was sitting with two other pets, all of them unleashed already, their owners having left without the drawn-out goodbye I was about to subject O'li to.

"I should get to the laboratory," O'li said, and my stomach dropped even though I'd known this was coming. His hand moved from my shoulder to the leash clasp at my collar. "Come, Lucca. Let's get you settled."

I wanted to protest, to bargain for just five more minutes. Instead, I followed as he led me to the transition area, where pets were handed over to caretaker supervision.

The transition area was separated from the main play space by a low partition—enough to suggest privacy without actually providing much of it. A small table held water bottles, activity schedules, and the daycare's sterilized chastity cages arranged by size.

My stomach tightened.

I'd always wear them here. That did not make the ritual less embarrassing. The collar around my throat already transmitted basic health data to O'li: pulse, blood oxygen, impact alerts. The cage was more specific. Temperature, pressure changes, attempts at erection, prolonged arousal. Daycare called it behavioral monitoring.

I called it tattling directly on my dick.

O'li selected the device assigned to me and checked the sterilization light.

"Pants down, pup."

Heat rushed into my face.

"Here?"

He looked around the same transition area where every other pet went through the same procedure.