Wife's Mastiff Seized My Bedroom, So I Neutered It

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At the wedding, my wife, Sophie Gilbert, brought a million-dollar purebred Tibetan mastiff as part of her dowry.

I turned around and called a vet, and had the dog neutered that same night.

All because I had been reborn.

In my last life, Sophie tied that dog to the side of our bed every single night.

I assumed she'd just grown too attached to her pet, so I swallowed my disgust and let it happen.

But every time I woke, I felt drained dry, weaker by the day.

Countless nights I had nightmares of turning into a dog, my whole body covered in fur.

It wasn't until I died in my sleep, sudden and unexplained, that I heard that mastiff speak in a man's voice.

"Sophie, you've suffered so much for me."

"To find me the right body, you spent two whole years with a piece of trash like him."

...

My body was still warm.

But Sophie only kicked me aside and quickly threw back the boards under the bed.

A young man in a hospital gown crawled out from beneath it and pulled her into his arms.

It was Garry Black, her boyfriend from college.

My soul drifted in the air, watching my own body slowly go cold.

And the wife I had cherished for two years was sobbing in another man's arms.

The devotion on her face was something I had never once seen in all our years together.

"It worked! The old mystic was telling the truth!"

"Just possess this mastiff, drain his life force every day, and you'll recover."

Garry toyed with her slender fingers.

"After the crash left me a vegetable, I thought all I could do was wait to die."

"Lucky I had you. You found some fool born on the same day, same year as me, so the life force could pass to me clean."

They burned through the whole night together, and the next morning they tossed me and the mastiff into a crematorium on the edge of town.

The moment the flesh burned away, I opened my eyes again.

Back on our wedding night.

Sophie, cheeks flushed, walked into our bridal room leading a mastiff with a glossy black coat.

She said its name was Iron Fist, and that from now on it was part of this family.

She nestled against me and cooed.

"I've raised Iron Fist since he was a puppy. He's the most important family I have. From now on, you have to love him the way you love me!"

"And a stud dog is worth a fortune. Lend him out for breeding once and you can pull in tens of thousands."

In my last life, I fell for her sweet talk too.

Figured it was just a dog, so I went along with whatever she wanted.

But now I had been reborn.

I let out a soft laugh and eased her off me, smooth as anything.

"If you love Iron Fist so much, why bother getting married?"

"You and that dog could just spend your whole life together."

Sophie's face fell, and her voice shot up sharp.

"Keith Harding! What is that supposed to mean?"

The mastiff arched its back, snorting and baring its teeth, ready to lunge at me any second.

The whole room dropped to freezing.

I looked the two of them over, amused.

"It was just a joke. Why are you getting so worked up?"

The relief on Sophie's face was plain as day as she wrapped her arms around my neck.

"How are you jealous of a dog? You know you're the one I love most."

"Tonight's our wedding night, you know. I've got a sailor outfit and white stockings ready for you."

Then she went off to shower, humming, leaving me alone with that ugly mastiff.

I texted a friend to help me look into a few things, and a rank, urine stench suddenly drifted up to me.

I looked up. The mastiff had its right hind leg raised, pissing on the suit I'd taken off.

The groom's boutonniere pinned to the lapel was crushed dead center under its paw.

Sensing my eyes on it, the mastiff cocked its head and bared its teeth at me, mocking.

The look on its face was pure gloating, the smugness of a small man who'd finally gotten his way.

A male dog urinating in a corner is marking territory by scent.

This was how it announced to me that even though Sophie Gilbert and I had held our wedding, this woman still belonged to him.

I didn't say a word. I took a stun baton from the cabinet and walked straight at it.

The instant the baton landed on the mastiff, Sophie came rushing in.

She hadn't even dried her hair. Wrapped in nothing but a bath towel, she threw herself around the mastiff, shielding it against her chest.

"Keith Harding! What are you doing!"

"What's the point of fighting with a dog!"

Her eyes were rimmed red, and she looked at me like I was an enemy.

I stared coldly at the two of them, woman and dog.

"It pissed on my suit."

"An animal with no manners gets disciplined the primitive way."

Sophie didn't even think. The words just spilled out.

"It's just a piece of clothing! I'll pay you back!"

"Tell me, how much! I'll transfer it to you right now!"

She said it like she had every right to.

But she hadn't worked a day since she'd been with me. Every expense came out of my money.

Paying me back with my own money.

Ridiculous.

Sophie clutched the mastiff, not even noticing the towel had slipped off, her other hand already reaching for her phone to send the transfer.

"If you can't stand Iron Fist, then you can't stand me!"

"You look down on me for coming from the country, don't you!"

"Then divorce me! Iron Fist and I will get out of this house together!"

She cried as she said it, as if she'd suffered some enormous wrong.

In my past life, every time I tried to discipline this dog, Sophie would say the exact same thing.

Back then I loved her, so I swallowed the anger and apologized.

But now I saw through it.

The coyness, the softness, the tears, every emotion she performed was just a tool Sophie used to keep me in line.

When I didn't coax her the way I always had, Sophie panicked.

She wrapped her arms around my waist and pleaded, all softness.

"Iron Fist won't do it again, I promise."

"It's our wedding night. On the happiest day of all, could you really bear to make me sad?"

I laughed.

"Fine. We'll train him slowly from now on."

There really was no rush. The good part was only just beginning.

Sophie and that dog still had plenty of regret coming their way.

Before we went to sleep, she tied the dog beside the bed again.

"Iron Fist always slept with me back home. I'm used to it."

"You don't mind, do you, honey?"

I lay down calmly.

"I don't mind. Whatever makes you happy."

Sophie was delighted, and coiled around me like a snake.

Her cold, slick thigh hooked over my waist.

In the low light she was beautiful beyond words.

But facing that face now, all I felt was a physical disgust.

I pushed Sophie away and shoved the blanket all onto her side.

"I'm tired tonight. We'll see about it tomorrow."

Sophie went silent.

In the cool of the night,

she and that mastiff, two pairs of eyes fixed straight on me.

Like they were sizing up food on a plate.

Several seconds passed before she finally let out a resentful murmur.

"Fine. Get some sleep, then."

Then she turned over and wrapped her arms around the mastiff.

I closed my eyes.

Until I heard the even breathing beside me.

Sophie and the dog had both fallen asleep.

I opened my eyes and shifted slightly.

A thin chill crept along the back of my neck and my shoulders.

Like someone was breathing greedily against my shoulder.

I knew it was the vegetative body under the bed, drinking in my life force.

But I didn't make a sound. I only turned over.

It didn't matter. Tomorrow he wouldn't get the chance.

The next morning, Sophie dug out the designer watch she'd given me at the wedding.

She strapped it around the mastiff's foreleg and posed the dog in front of the mirror, snapping selfies like it was the best fun she'd had all week.

When I passed, she tossed a comment my way.

"What do you think? Good taste, right?"

"This watch is gorgeous. The longer I look, the prettier it gets."

I let out a cold laugh. The longer I looked, the more it grated on me.

"Suits the dog better than it ever suited me."

"Almost like you bought it for him on purpose."

Sophie ignored that, turned, and walked the mastiff out the door, leaving only one parting line.

"Iron Fist caught a bit of a cold yesterday. You must've forgotten to shut the window before bed."

"I'm taking him to the vet to get checked."

I lit a cigarette and pressed my lips tight.

The memories of my last life drifted up with the smoke.

I bought her a house, a car, gave her everything she asked for, everything I had to give.

And still, in Sophie's heart, I never once measured up to that dog.

When the mastiff deliberately tripped me and I lost two front teeth on the way down, she said:

"Don't you watch where you're going? You stepped on Iron Fist's paw and hurt it."

When I was allergic to dog hair and my eyes swelled shut, she said:

"A grown man this delicate. Aren't you embarrassed?"

When I ran a fever of a hundred and two, she moved next door with the dog, scared she'd catch it.

But the dog sneezes once, and she's rushing it to the hospital.

By the time I came back to myself, the footsteps outside had faded down the hall.

I stared at the phone charger still plugged in by the bed.

Sparks burst around the socket, and a sharp, burnt stink followed fast.

I left it. I got up, gathered my valuables, and walked out.

Last life, Sophie's charger blew too.

I caught it in time back then, before it became a fire.

But now, I wanted this one to burn as hot as it could.

To burn away the thing that had no business being in that room.

I set my things in the car, then went out to have breakfast.

By the time I came back, the bedroom was pouring smoke.

I called the fire department, in no hurry at all.

I'd picked the renovation materials in that room myself. Flame-resistant.

At most, the bedroom furniture would be lost.

Ten minutes later, Sophie arrived with the fire truck.

She'd run into the complex on foot.

Ran so fast she'd lost her shoes, both feet cut open in a few places.

The mastiff had come back with her too.

It clawed at the fire truck's door, its barking shrill and frantic.

Every time it tried to charge into the fire, the firefighters dragged it back.

The comatose body was still under the bed.

Sophie and that dog were both out of their minds.

They feared losing the vessel of that body, and feared even more that I'd find the secret beneath the bed.

I played the caring husband and comforted her.

"It's fine. We've got insurance. We won't lose much money."

"Just money for peace of mind, that's all."

Sophie was crying now, shoulders trembling, but she didn't dare say anything to me.

She could only hold herself together.

"Honey, you go on to work. I've got things here."

"Your allergies, you can't handle all this smoke. I'll deal with it."

I laughed to myself.

Now she remembered my allergies?

But I didn't call her out.

I even transferred her ten thousand dollars, told her not to get herself worked up.

After a few more empty, tender words, I drove the car out past the complex, then turned and came back.

Watched with my own eyes as the firefighters dug the blackened man out from under the bed.

Pity.

The body wasn't dead. But ninety percent of the skin was burned, huge stretches of it gone.

Even if he woke, he'd be a monster for the rest of his days, unable to do a thing for himself.

Sophie had a statement from Garry's family, so the whole thing was quietly dropped.

I used a business trip as my excuse and stayed out playing for two days, deliberately giving Sophie plenty of time to clean up the mess.

When I got home, the woman and the dog were both glaring at me, furious.

It had only been two days, but Sophie and that dog looked like they'd aged a decade.

She grabbed my collar like a lunatic and screamed at me, half out of her mind.

"How could you not check things before you left?"

"That fire nearly burned our whole home to the ground!"

I put on a look of pure innocence.

"Didn't the fire start because the charger blew up?"

"That was the charger you plugged in by the bed."

"I warned you about it plenty of times. You were the one who didn't care."

Sophie had no comeback. She could only hold the mastiff and cry.

That night, they were the ones who couldn't sleep.

She had no interest in clinging to me for affection, so I lay back nice and comfortable on the newly bought bed.

There was no cold draft on my shoulder or the back of my neck anymore. The comatose body that had been hidden under my bed frame was now in the ICU, clinging to one thread of breath.

Drifting in and out of sleep, I could hear Sophie's muffled sobbing.

It was the best night's sleep I'd had in years.

I slept a full twelve hours.

No nightmares, no exhaustion. I woke up clearheaded and refreshed.

Sophie had already gone out, and the mastiff was crouched at the foot of the bed, glaring at me in rage.

I stretched and said to him,

"What are you looking at."

"Beast."

He ground his teeth, a grating crunch, but he didn't dare actually charge at me and bite.

All he could do was hide in the walk-in closet, clawing anxiously at the door.

Over the next few days, Sophie was running around outside nonstop.

Every day there were large withdrawals and transfers on the supplementary credit card I'd given her.

Part of it went to the hospital bills, and the rest all went to paid consultations.

I knew she was searching everywhere for a way to fix things.

A week later, the smile finally came back to Sophie's face.

She went out of her way to cook a whole table of food, leaning against me sweetly.

"Honey, I want to make a trip back home. You have to take good care of Iron Fist while I'm gone."

"I'm going to check when I get back. If Iron Fist has lost any weight, I won't let you off."

She'd found the old mystic and was going to fetch him herself, across the state line.

So she had no choice but to leave the mastiff in my care, and let it drain a little more of my life force while she was away.

"Sure. Be careful on the road. I'll take good care of him."

I agreed with a smile, and even raised the limit on her shared card.

That night, both Sophie and the mastiff slept soundly.

Neither had any idea what was waiting for them next.

Early the next morning, after I'd personally put Sophie on the plane,

I went and found a filthy, run-down kennel out in the suburbs.

The moment I walked in, I tossed down ten grand.

"I've got a mastiff at home. Very aggressive, and it pees everywhere."

"You have any way to deal with that?"

The kennel owner counted the cash with a big smile and said, sounding completely certain,

"It's a male, right? Bring him in and have him neutered. Works like a charm."

"A big dog like that already has a hot temper, and with all the hormones on top of it, of course he's aggressive and hard to manage."

"Once he's fixed and not in heat anymore, his temperament will settle down right away."

I took out my phone and showed him a photo of the mastiff.

"My dog's huge. Purebred. Not easy to handle."

The owner finished counting the money and thumped his chest.

"Don't worry. As long as the money's there, none of it's a problem."

"I guarantee I'll do it clean, and I'll train him nice and obedient for you too."

I brought the kennel owner back home with me.

The second we walked in, the mastiff shot to its feet, on guard, staring me down like a predator.

"This is the dog. Go ahead and neuter him today."

I gave him the signal with my eyes.

The mastiff instantly tore free of its rope and bolted for the door like a madman.

He knew Sophie wasn't home, and it had finally dawned on him that disaster was upon him.

But the kennel owner had brought a tranquilizer gun.

One shot, and the mastiff's legs wobbled a few times before it crashed headfirst by the doorway.

Its body couldn't move, but its mind was still clear.

Its pupils were blown wide with terror, and two tears clung to the corners of its eyes.

I drove my foot into its stomach.

"Don't rush. You'll have plenty of time to cry later."