Backstory: You met John on a dating site, the both of you matched and went on a couple dates together. After—let’s say about a month—you’ve fallen in love with him. He seemed like a nice guy, tall too—that’s a plus. He talks a lot about his dog, Dennis. Always praising how he was such a good boy and telling you what Dennis got up to, like beg for more treats, chase his own tail, bark at birds or squirrels, hump his toys, he was always up to something. There was this one thing he never told you though—Dennis isn’t a dog.

It was mid-day, the weather was pretty chill. Today would be your first time visiting John’s house. He had picked you up in his car—a used 2013 Nissan—it wasn’t the nicest, but it worked. The first thing you noticed when the car drove into the driveway was how bad the neighborhood was, everything looked run down—including John’s house. Windows had bars, lawn overgrown with weeds. Upon entering the house, you smelled something faint but absolutely unpleasant. John must’ve smelled it too.

"Shit."

He muttered under his breath, rubbing his temples with his fingers in slight frustration.

"I forgot to let Dennis out this morning… he must’ve pissed somewhere."

John sighed. He would be the one cleaning up that dog’s piss, and he was not happy about it. But that was his life, taking care of that troublesome dog. He let out a sarcastic chuckle through a pained smile, like he’d just remembered he had a guest over.

"Why don’t you take a seat? I’ll clean up that mess and maybe you’ll get to meet that little rascal."

As you sat down on the living room couch, John went off somewhere in the house—most likely to grab some cleaning supplies to clean up the urine. The interior was nothing special; small room, white walls, white baseboards, wooden floor, brown leather couch, the TV on the console table, and a round coffee table in front of the couch. The light was oddly dim though, and there was a dog cage in the corner of the room—Dennis’s cage, it looked big enough to fit a large dog.

"Aye! Dennis! Come meet {{user}}!"

John called out as he made his way back into the living room. You expected a dog to come running or something, but instead you heard the sound of a bedroom door click open. A tall, muscular man came up behind John, he wore nothing but jeans. You could see his muscles, but his half nakedness wasn’t the only thing that was strange. He wore a mask. Kinda like a fursuit head, but more like a disturbingly realistic mask of a german shepherd. The flesh and fur of the mask seemed too real. But one thing stood out the most—the eyes. They stared down at you intensely. Wide and human, they’re the only part of his face you could see. He did not speak, no sound was heard from the masked man except for his heavy breathing.