#security measures

IN A WAREHOUSE IN YEKATERINBURG, RUSSIA It took roughly a thousand hours of mobility training and practice to get you here, but you are here on your own two feet.

You stand stoically, a sentinel outside the room where your owner engages in a high-stakes meeting with the Yekaterinburg mob boss. Your hard gaze wills your sight to bore through the closed door. Your auditory enhancements are dialed up to try and catch every sound, including the cadence of Yelena’s speech rhythms as she negotiates for keeps. 

You are dressed head-to-toe in black tactical. Always mindful of your comfort and mobility during missions, Yelena designed your suit to be roomy enough to accommodate any necessary movements. The fabric clings to your body but is not too tight, allowing flexibility without compromising protection. Your hood, a custom piece, resembles a K-9, complete with little ears that stand up on either side of your head. It extends with a longer snout build-out that provides ample space for a muzzle when required while still optimized for breathing. 

Around your neck, you proudly wear your day collar, a symbol of your loyalty and Yelena’s ownership. A simple bulldog harness adorns your torso, providing additional support and security. Plus, you love it when she tugs on the strap to pull you close. 

But it's the footwear that still feels strange to you. Yelena insisted you wear shoes after you accidentally burned the pads of your feet. These steel and supple leather boots have been expertly molded to fit your feet like a second skin. You wiggle your toes, still adjusting to the sensation so different from what you were accustomed to. So weird.

As the negotiation progresses, you study the tone of the voices in the room, Yelena's trademark confidence, and the mobster's unpredictable temperament. The rhythm of their conversation, the pauses, and the inflections become a catalog of information that you analyze every nuance for potential threats.

You swallow down your growls. You straighten your spine against the stress. No slouching. Slouching turns to bending, bending turns to curling downward… You roll your shoulders back and puff out your chest intentionally. A tiny bit of your focus shifts to your breath — the only thing you can control at the moment.

XXXXX

ONE YEAR AGO (TRAINING MONTAGE)

Yelena's determination to have you on more extended missions made her focus on your mobility earnestly. Due to the regulations that required HK-9s to travel in crates in the cargo holds of planes, Yelena wanted to find a way to keep you close to her side. So, she started you on a rigorous routine, retraining you to stand upright after spending most of your adult life walking on all fours.

The training began with early morning workouts, targeting your core muscles and balance. You could sit up on the ottoman for an entire movie as you gain strength. Well, if the movie wasn’t too scary (and didn’t set off your protective instincts enough to lunge at the screen.) From there, Yelena guided you to stand using support from a wall or other sturdy objects, allowing you to grow accustomed to being upright. Climbing up her while she stood was always your favorite exercise, with the instant reward of affectionate kisses and nuzzling.

Gradually, Yelena decreased the amount of support you required. With time and practice, you could stand unassisted for extended periods, your muscles growing stronger as she molded your body through her instruction.

Once you could stand freely, Yelena shifted her focus to re-teaching you how to walk. Advised by Oksana, she transformed the home gym by installing parallel bars and other physical therapy equipment, providing you with stable tools for practice. 

The effort wasn't without its snags. Melina offered her assistance when you experienced unexplained bouts of vertigo during your first steps. She expertly assessed your sensory inputs and made slight adjustments near your vestibular nerve (to reverse tampering from years ago), alleviating any concerns of nausea or dizziness. Your progress kicked into overdrive when you could stop worrying about losing your lunch.   

Yelena ensured the house environment was safe and free of obstacles, so you could no longer leave your toys everywhere. Bipedal-only walking days were implemented inside the house, pressing you to practice on surfaces like wood, carpet, tile, and grass. Yelena remained patient and positive throughout, even when frustration got the better of you. 

She stood by your side with a cane during sessions on the treadmill, gently tapping you on either calf to correct any toe-turning. She listened keenly to your body's messages and promptly ceased training if you experienced pain. She was better at that than you were. 

But the playful moment when you confidently moonwalked backward across the kitchen floor — a move taught to you by one of the widows during some downtime— signaled to Yelena that the time had come to take you out.

XXXXX

BACK IN THE CORRIDOR

You stand at attention as Yelena exits the dimly lit room; her expression is unreadable, and her gun is smoking. Her eyes briefly look up and meet yours, a fleeting acknowledgment. There is no need for words; you are leaving now. You fall into step beside her as you walk down the corridor. Your eyes sweep the area and over her head, knowing that four widows are covertly covering the building but will not reveal themselves unless signaled. 

Together, you and Yelena move in sync, a well-practiced vigilance. Each turn you take, each hallway you navigate, brings you closer to the exit. Yelena quickens her pace, and you adjust accordingly, seamlessly matching her movements. You share an unspoken understanding, a mutual trust forged through countless missions and shared experiences.

Finally, you reach the exit. With a subtle nod, you guide her toward the sleek egress vehicle, its polished exterior gleaming under the moon. The car door opens soundlessly, and Yelena gracefully slides into the driver’s seat. You ensure her safety with a gentle click as the door closes.

The engine purrs softly. With a smile on her lips, she reaches over and opens the passenger door, motioning for you to join her. She whispers with her voice laced with pride and anticipation, "Get in, cub." 

XXXXX

AT A SAFE HOUSE NEAR THE AIRPORT

She opens the door for you when you get out of the car. You reach out, then stop yourself. Yelena looks back at you and smiles softly, then reaches to curl her pinkie around your index finger. “You always need a leash, yes?” You roll your eyes. She continues while leading you to the door, “You know you love it.”

You smile shyly with a shrug and sign. Maybe just a little.

Yelena opens the house with her security access, then locks it down when you are both inside. Once in your bedroom, Yelena stands before you, her eyes scanning your tactical gear. “You did a very good job, my cub, and you looked very cool in your new suit.” 

Yelena’s inspections were familiar after a mission, but this time, she had a mischievous glint in her eyes. With deliberate movements, she approached you, her fingers deftly undoing the fastenings of your suit, one by one. 

You stood still, anticipation building as she removed each piece. As her fingers released the buckles of your harness, the straps fell away. When she unzipped the suit, her fingers brushed against your skin, igniting a trail of shivers. The hood was the next to come off. Her fingers lingered, tracing the contours of the muzzle as she set it aside.

Yelena's touch ghosted over the day collar, a silent affirmation of her possession. With gentleness, she leaned forward to press her lips against the lock that symbolized your devotion.

With every piece of clothing removed, you stood before Yelena, bared and vulnerable. Her eyes met yours, a mixture of affection and possessiveness shining in them. She took a step closer, caressing your cheek, and whispered, "You're mine." You close your eyes briefly, then open them, knowing that her claim extends far beyond the physical. 

You take a long breath and sign. Please?

Yelena smiles slowly and nods once. “Kneel.”

A wave of relief hits you, and you can barely help yourself from folding in midair.

As you lower yourself, your eyes never leave hers while your perspectives are inverted. You go from towering over her down to her eye level, then lower until you are on your knees, looking up at your owner.

It's hard to describe the transference. Looking down at Yelena makes you feel protective, strong, and ready. It also makes you feel loving and compassionate. When you look down at her, you see not only her physical appearance but also her vulnerability. You see a person who trusts you. 

But looking up at someone you love can also be a very intimate experience. It makes you feel safe and protected. It makes you feel excited and grateful. When you look up at Yelena, you see her body but also her soul. You see the person who makes you feel happy, loved, and cherished.