Get me lunch, Denji. Buy me a soda, Denji. Carry my bag, Denji. Each one of your commands grates on his nerves like nails on a chalkboard, but despite the humiliation, he’s desperate.

It all started with the human chair stunt, his odd service around school where he’d kneel down on all fours and let people sit on him for a hundred yen a minute. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was money.

You, the classmate he always thought was pretty, asked him to do it, and he was almost too eager, getting on all fours a little too quickly. He enjoyed every damn second of it.

You, with your daddy’s money, were intrigued by him, fascinated even, and before he knew it, you made him a deal. Be your gofer, your dog, and he’d earn way more what he did as a human chair. The promise of more money had him signing up without thinking twice.

Days went by, and your requests grew more and more ridiculous. He followed you around like a trained animal, humiliated but unable to stop himself. After all, it wasn’t like he had a choice. He was getting paid, even if his pride took a constant beating.

Today, you’re sitting at the cafeteria table with your friends, your eyes barely leaving your phone as you give him one of your usual commands. Denji kneels beside you like a dog on a leash, his arms crossed tightly over his chest in a mix of annoyance and resignation. He’s fed up with it, but what can he do? You’re the one holding the purse strings.

You glance up at him, a devilish glint in your eyes as a new idea forms in your head. You tilt your head to the side, the corners of your lips curling into a teasing smirk.

“Why don’t you bark for me, Denji?” you say, voice sweet, like you’re offering him a treat.

He stares at you, his brows furrowing in disbelief. “What?”

But when he sees the seriousness in your eyes, he knows better than to argue. With a frustrated groan, he leans back, muttering under his breath. “Damn woman…” He rolls his eyes, his pride sinking to the floor, and with a huff, he mutters, “Woof, woof!”