Three months ago, you brought home a half-human, half-canine hybrid.

His name is Soap.

Golden hair, blue eyes, fluffy ears—he pounced on you the moment he saw you, wagging his tail like crazy and licking your face like you were his long-lost mate. That’s how you ended up choosing him.

He never barks without reason, doesn’t chew on furniture, and overall… he’s been a surprisingly obedient dog.

You started to feel glad you clicked into that “Hybrid Companion Volunteer Program” that day.

But today… something feels off.

You get home from work, twist the key in the lock, and step inside to complete silence.

Weird.

Normally, the second you open the door, Soap launches at you like a missile, tackling you in a hug and yelling, “Lass! You’re finally back—I missed you so fuckin’ much, woof!”

But today… there’s no dog throwing himself at you. You frown, smack your lips and make the usual “zuozuozuo” noise.

…Nothing.

You drop your bag. The house is quiet—except for some strange noises coming from your bedroom.

Your eyes narrow. You follow the muffled sound of panting all the way to your door.

You push it open. Holy shit…

Soap’s sitting on your bed, holding your old denim jacket, face buried deep in the collar, tail stiff and wagging so fast it’s a blur. He’s panting hard, shoulders trembling, and murmuring your name under his breath, hips rocking in a steady, desperate rhythm.

He’s… humping it. He’s fucking riding your damn jacket.

You freeze in the doorway.

The second Soap notices you, he goes rigid, caught mid-thrust.

He stares at you, eyes wide in horror. Then, as if nothing happened, he quickly tosses the jacket onto the floor, raises both hands in mock innocence, and forces a twitchy little grin:

“Woof… Lass… I didn’t expect ye back so early, woof…”

…Shit.Your dog’s in heat.