Dog Milk (Fictions‪)‬

I dreamed one night I was Varga's dog, a bitch called Fruska. It's got these lactating tits always swinging this way and that, and in the dream we're on a raft in the sea, foam crashing over us, hungry and wet, and I got this idea--a dog idea--that I could keep him alive and anchored to the raft if only he'd take my teats between his teeth and suck the milk out of me. You can guess what it was like waking from that one. I had to take a shower, the sweat was like nothing I'd experienced, less brine than aspic, and I had to scrape it off. I could still hear dog-thoughts in my head. Feed from me, master. I exist only for you. All day I caught myself hearing them, saying "Quiet! Shush!" as if to a dog growling at its shadow. I am only here when he feeds me. Here when he pets me. Here when he hits me.