My Pet Platypus

I was one of the lucky ones.Was.It all ended for me when I was 12, when I was taken away from the last bit of hope and family that I had left.Now, this is my life. Destined to rot away in a cage until a vampire comes to take me as theirs.Destined to be nothing but a pet.

At my lowest point that year, I took a job at a pet shop, where I was assigned to take care of a "gentle-tempered" silver-white Alaskan Malamute. Every time I went near him, he would lift his head and bury his nose against my chest, breathing in low, rough sounds that felt disturbingly like a grown man holding himself back. Especially when my hand brushed through his beautiful fur, his body would heat up, and his eyes would darken and burn with unmistakable possessiveness. Thinking he was sick, I rushed to find the shop owner. The owner gave me a long, meaningful glance. "He's not sick. But he only acts like this with you. "You need to bathe him, give him a full-body massage, and try giving him a little kiss. Otherwise, he might lose control." I had my doubts about the whole thing, but I didn't really have a choice. I went along with it anyway. Eventually, I told the friend who had gotten me this job everything that had been happening. After she heard me out, she went quiet for a second. Then, she looked at me strangely and said, "Have you ever thought that maybe you're not looking after a dog at all? What if he's actually a werewolf who can take human form, and he's in heat, using pheromones to mess with you because he wants to… You know, sleep with you?"

My show-quality service beastkin doesn't like me. He only wags his tail for my sister. I then bring home a low-grade venting beastkin. But he's now so upset that he's nearly in tears. "Layla Manfred, there can only be one hound, and that's me!"

When she drove home that night after a long day at work, Mikayla found a mysterious young man lying injured in her parking lot, bloodied and robbed. She rushed him to a hospital. She shockingly found out he had lost all his memories. The handsome young man couldn’t even remember his name. Mikayla let him stay at her place for a day with the expectation that he would leave the next day. The workaholic bank executive didn’t have time to care for any random stranger. But the young man insisted on staying. To drive him away, Mikayla gave an ultimatum. He could stay only if he agreed to be her pet. With a jovial attitude and not many options, he agreed and let her name him Davey, her new pet. After the contract was made, they gradually found out Davey’s identity when his model friend approached him and asked how he was preparing for the upcoming Paris Fashion Week. Who was Davey really? Will this strange relationship work out? Find out in ‘My Pet is a Model’.

My name is Lennie Sherman, and I am a python handler. However, I gradually realize that the python doesn't quite like me. Every time we meet, it will always use its tail to hit my private part and then hiss in my face.

The zombie apocalypse had arrived, and pets could transform into guardians to protect their owners—each person was allowed no more than three. My best friend had spent a fortune on three Tibetan mastiffs. The landlord cleared out a fish tank to raise a crocodile. My boyfriend? He had stormed the zoo and dragged a lion home. And me? I only had three stray cats. The eldest was blind, the second one limped, and the youngest had just turned one month old. The moment the apocalypse system announced that pet slots were locked, I knew I was doomed. I tried to hide with my three disabled cats, hoping to survive quietly. Day one of the apocalypse: terrified… Day two: helpless… Day three: my cats sauntered over, tails swishing, carrying some unidentifiable object. "Mama, I bit off all the zombie heads on this street. How's that? Solid enough?" I was rendered speechless.