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his daughters’ old clothes and finally selected a small green dress. There was quite a fad going these days for people who liked to dress their pets up like real people. He guessed he was going to be one of them. She looked cute in it. It was loose and uncinched at the waist, short sleeved, and only came down far enough to cover the bottommost swells of her blushing bottom. He’d sent his daughters to school in dresses like this.
    With white knee socks, ruffled yellow panties, and buckle-down shoes on her feet, for a moment, he could almost forget Pani was a pet.
    He took his time brushing out the chaotic remains that her braid had become and, when all the tangles were gone, rebraided her mane. Two braids this time, tied at the tops and bottoms with thin green ribbons that matched the color of her dress.
    Breakfast was another battle, albeit a much more muted one.
    Strapped into her highchair, sitting gingerly on a pillow that he’d provided, Pani just turned her face away when he offered her a bite of egg. He made two attempts, then set his fork and the omelette aside.
    “All right,” he said, standing up. “We’ll do this the hard way.”
    He took the plate into the kitchen and scraped it into the sink. He got a blender out of the cabinet and opened the refrigeration unit. He mixed up a protein shake, adding a dollop of honey at the end to sweeten what was, he knew from prior dieting experiences, an otherwise nasty flavor. In the attic, he found an assortment of bottles packed away in an old diaper bag and brought them all downstairs to wash them out in the kitchen sink.
    He poured the thick protein shake into the bottle, screwed the cap into place, and then widened the hole in the contoured nipple.
    “Just remember,” he said as he walked back into the dining room, noting as he came that she’d somehow worked her hands out of the straps and was busily struggling to unbuckle her ankles. “You asked for this.”
    She took one look at the bottle and covered her mouth with both hands.
    Pulling his chair away from the table, he set the bottle next to his unfinished breakfast and sat down. “And now you’ve asked for this, too.”
    She screamed when he lifted her from the highchair only to lay her face-down over his knee, and instead of covering her mouth, she snapped her hands back in an effort to protect her bottom.
    “No, Papa,” she cried as he skinned her panties down over the swells of her red bottom to the backs of her thighs. “No, no! Papa, no!”
    “Papa did not say Pani could be excused from the table,” he told her as he pinned her hands up out of his way. “Pani’s being naughty, and so Pani is going to get a spanking.”
    “No, Pani, no!” she sobbed, wiggling her bottom futilely back and forth.
    Even knowing she had no idea of the meaning of the words she was parroting, Bach couldn’t help but agree with her. “That’s right. No, Pani, no.”
    With a bottom as sore as hers, it didn’t take much to reduce her to tearful wails. But he’d already learned his lesson about leniency. With his disobedient pet, five or six smacks simply wasn’t going to do it. He paddled her soundly, saying all the while, “This is what happens when Pani misbehaves. She gets her bottom spanked. Does Pani like her spanking? Is Papa going to have to spank her every day?”
    He repeated the word ‘spank’ with all its varying verbiage in the hopes that she would connect it with the action, and her bottom was so red by the time he was done that it all but shone. When he put her down on the floor, she grabbed her crimson nether cheeks with both hands and, with her panties dangling on one foot, sobbed and stomped out the most darling little dance of pain.
    Bach let her jump and cry herself out, waiting until the frenzy had passed and Pani stood, bowed over, clutching herself and wailing, long, wordless cries at her feet. He reached for her.
    Taking hold of her arm, he pulled her to him. Though she came, it was