After a day like the one I’d just had, the sound of my apartment door closing behind me was one of the most welcome that I could imagine. The quiet and the darkness of my inner city hovel was like paradise compared to the paparazzi blitz, the disco ball of camera flashes, I’d been the recipient of since the earlier arrest.

On the far side of the living room, faintly visible in the gloom, the television played away, and I cursed myself for a moment for leaving it on during my eight-hour turned fourteen-hour shift at the station. My work boots were left in a bundle by the front door, and as inviting as the couch in front of the television looked, a toe-curling rumble in my stomach reminded me that I needed to make a stop by the kitchen.

Leftover Chinese food and a cold beer beckoned from the depths of my refrigerator. Cracking the seal on the can, I sat on the counter and casually watched a plate of beef and broccoli with steamed rice rotate around the microwave. Tired as I was, the process was almost hypnotic, and I was conscious of my shoulders slumping just slightly forward.

It was only a couple of seconds, though, before the buzz of my phone in my pocket brought me back to life. As late as it was, there was only one option of who it could be on the other end, and I swore extensively under my breath as I retrieved the noisy device from my pocket by the rubber treads of the police-issued protective case surrounding it.

“God dammit…” A quick check of the caller ID confirmed my suspicions. The police chief, fresh off of a shift that was every bit as long as mine. For as demanding as the day had been, he had done as much as he could to field questions and keep the majority of the attention from the arrest off of me. Admittedly, that did make it a little harder to be angry with him.

“I told y’all not to call me tonight.” But not impossible. I liked my boss, and we’d had a good working relationship in the six years or so that I had been a part of the force; which meant that both of us had been on the receiving end of some pretty nasty outbursts from the other. I didn’t feel too bad about getting a little terse with him.

“I know, I know.” He interrupted me about halfway through my statement, and perhaps (rightly) anticipating getting griped at, he didn’t stop for long enough to let me say anything else. “Shut up and listen for a second, alright? We got our last press meeting tomorrow at thirteen-hundred, and they want you there again. I tried to tell ‘em you wasn’t interested, but the mayor’s involved, and you know how he is about this shit.”

“Fuck… another one?” It was all I could think to ask. In the twenty-four hours following the arrest of a cross-country serial killer, I’d been subjected to three meetings with various members of the local news station, the paper, and radio stations. As exhausting as the case had been, it had absolutely nothing on the supposed ‘victory lap’ that comprised of dealing with the media circus that followed.

“Yeah, lookin’ like it. This is a big story, but I didn’t think it would get this crazy either.” He paused for a second, and I could tell by the weight of his silence that he was going to say something that would irritate me. “Gonna need you to give a statement for this one.”

“God dammit…” My premonition didn’t disappoint. It was the last thing I wanted to hear, though, and I felt pressure building behind my eyes as the headache that had been threatening me all day made its presence felt one more time. “Do I really have to?”

“They’re not gonna leave you alone until you do.” He sounded sympathetic now. As the big boss of the police station, he was media savvy and efficient when it came to dealing with the press, qualities that had not rubbed off on me in my years of service. “Let’s just get it out of the way and be done with it, yeah?”

“B—“ My initial response was to fight it, and I knew that if I did, I could probably weasel my way out of the obligation, at least for another day. As long as the day had been, though, I wasn’t feeling up to the dance routine arguing with my boss would entail. So, gripping the bridge of my muzzle between two fingers, I swallowed my pride. “… Alright Chief, whatever you say.”

“Good boy.” I could hear in his voice that he was smiling when he said it, pleased with both my accommodation and with his own dig at my canine roots in response to my sarcastic tone. I could’ve punched him in his stupid face if he’d been within arms’ reach, but even the thought of that was enough to make me feel a little guilty. “Make sure you’re lookin’ like roses tomorrow. And I don’t wanna see your ugly mug before noon, alright?”

“This from your Quasimodo ass…” Bracing the phone against my shoulder, I took my plate from the microwave and hefted my beer in my other hand, only vaguely aware that I was grinning as I navigated the darkness of my little living room. For all the shit I had to put up with, he really was a great boss. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Turnin’ my phone off, so don’t fucking call me again.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Tiger.”

So ended my fifteen-hour (and counting) engagement with the city’s finest. Shrugging the phone off of my shoulder and onto the couch, I sat down beside it and had a big drink of beer, followed by a mouthful Chinese food that was somehow perfectly equal parts freezing and molten. The resulting scramble to swallow it down before my taste buds either froze off or burned away was a little more undignified than I’m willing to admit.

Grumbling to myself about how I’d never learn, I was a little more careful to mix my food before trying it again. Coverage of the earlier press conferences on the local news channel included a brief close-up of the chief and me, and as I squinted grimly at the fuzzy screen, I realized that my left ear was turned inside-out.

I didn’t fix it. For almost the entire five minute segment, while my fork remained paused on its journey to my open mouth, I just stared at the inside of my stupid ear, unable to believe that I spent the whole conference looking like I was dealing with some kind of infection. Mercifully, when I stood up for a handshake with the interviewer, the situation righted itself, but the damage had been done.

The single dumbest problem a dog could have, and mine was plastered all over the local news.

Feeling heat in my cheeks, postmortem embarrassment at my traitor ear, I turned to the nearest sports channel, mumbling under my breath when I wasn’t chewing a mouthful of saucy rice and vegetables. There was nothing much of interest to see there, but at least it provided a running soundtrack for my late dinner.

I was doing my best not to think too much. I had spent the better part of the last two months thinking, and while I was glad that I had been table to take a killer off of the streets, I would be very happy when the entire mess was over with. I maintained no illusions about the ‘meeting’ tomorrow being the end of the ordeal.

No, this was something that would follow me around for months, years, possibly forever, and I had to chuckle through my beer at my own woe-is-me mindset. Most people would kill for their fifteen minutes of fame, and after five of my own, I could hardly wait for the end of it.

“Can’t wait to see the back of every person at that desk…” I mumbled, repeating something I’d heard the old janitor say in response to the mess a typical news rush creates. It mirrored my sentiments exactly, and I found myself briefly envious of the anonymity his job provided him. Even sweeping up after the worst of society has its perks, apparently.

The rest of dinner proceeded without much issue. I ate my food and watched the highlights of playoff basketball. The local team, in which I maintained a vague interest, was getting hammered by the league favorite. It was a situation I knew of well enough, mostly because of the rumblings that went on at the police station. Endless bitching among the old guys who’d had season passes for decades, the type you find in just about every city in the country.

Using my fork to chase the last few grains of rice to the edge of the plate, I scooped up the last bite of dinner and shoveled it into my mouth, almost able to hear my boss in the back of my mind playfully chastising me for eating Chinese food with a fork. More and more I realized that giving me shit was one of his favorite pastimes.

With the plate put aside, I slid back into the couch and finished my beer at leisure. All my usual worrying had already been taken care of for the night, and it felt nice to just relax in the dark and coolness of my little inner city cave. Despite my ultimatum, I hadn’t actually turned my phone off, but I was sure that the chief got the hint and wouldn’t let anyone bother me for the rest of the night.

The empty beer can soon found itself next to the sticky plate on the coffee table, and although I knew that it was a bad idea as soon as I started, I slumped back on the couch and kicked my socked feet up on the opposite arm. As I arched my back and crossed my arms behind my head, I thought to myself that nothing in the world had ever felt so completely satisfying.

Even with my clothes on, I knew that I wouldn’t be able to drag myself to bed, and that I had moved my last for the rest of the night. Staring at the ceiling, losing myself briefly in the slow, even paddle of the blades of the ceiling fan, I thought for a couple of seconds about what I could possibly say at the press meeting the next day, but the thought was quickly pushed from my mind. I didn’t want to think about work anymore.

It was inevitable that I would fall asleep on the couch, but I didn’t remember the turning point. It was a sudden drop into unconsciousness, but it couldn’t have lasted for more than a couple of hours. Just as suddenly as I’d fallen asleep, I blinked myself awake, and the change of scenery was immediately obvious.

I was in my bed, tucked most of the way under the covers, and I barely had to move to realize that my clothes had been removed as well. Left in just a pair of underwear, my head comfortably on a pillow – and a stuffed polar bear that had stayed with me since childhood tucked into the crook of one of my outstretched arms. It was a far cry different than the disheveled mess I’d been when I dozed off on the couch.

Rather than the panic that would have seized me before, the post-midnight shift only made me sigh. With my arms spread comfortably to either side, it only took a quick tug of my wrists to confirm that I could not move them. Squinting my eyes into the unnatural darkness that quietly enveloped my bedroom, I was greeted by the familiar silhouette that had been visiting me more and more often over the preceding two weeks.

“Do we have to do this tonight?” My voice was groggy with sleep, and the man-shaped shadow shifted in the darkness. I could feel the rustling of the blanket around my legs as ‘he’ put his hands on either side of my knees. He didn’t answer; all he did was laugh, a low-voiced, pleasant sound that hung in my ears.

Slowly, the blanket was peeled down the length of my body, from abs to feet, and I recoiled slightly from the tickle of fingers on my toes, baring my teeth in a harmless snarl. I knew it wouldn’t intimidate my nocturnal visitor, but it was an ingrained habit that could not be shaken. A brief glance down the length of my body demonstrated just how prone I was, helpless on my back with just a pair of snug, blue boxer-briefs to preserve my modesty. That wouldn’t last.

“You could at least an—“ I started to complain, more for my own benefit than anything else, but I was quickly silenced by the soft approach of his shadow, and the feel of a rubber bulb being firmly pushed into my mouth. This was something new, but given the context of his previous interruptions, I knew immediately what it was.

The mouth-guard of an adult-sized pacifier rested comfortably against my lips, and the bulb was large enough to fill my mouth. I made a cursory effort to spit it out, but a gentle shush and pressure against my muzzle made me realize that it was a useless endeavor. I kept the pacifier in my mouth.

“Good dog, Tiger.” His voice entered my ears again, seeming to surround me, and I felt my shoulders slump with a sigh; I couldn’t tell if I was agitated, content, or some annoying mixture of both. In the inky blackness near the end of the mattress, I saw him move again. I knew what was coming. I caught a whiff of baby powder, and the now familiar crinkling of soft plastic made me squirm a little, my ears getting hot. He sounded like he was smiling when he spoke up again.

“Are you ready for your diaper?”

==================================

First part of a commission for  drxeno. Looks like monsters really can live under your bed, though their motives are probably a little different than what you've heard!