At first, it was cute.
Max, my golden retriever, had always been a friendly dog. He’d wag his tail at anyone who walked by, and his goofy smile was a constant source of joy. But lately, something had been off. He started smiling more. Too much.
It wasn’t a normal smile. It wasn’t like when he was just happy or excited. No, this was different. His lips curled back in a way that almost seemed unnatural. It started small, just a twitch at the corner of his mouth, like he was trying to hold in a laugh. Then it spread across his face until it became a full grin, one that didn’t seem to fit.
The first time it happened, I thought I was imagining it. I had just come home from work, and Max was waiting by the door, his tail thumping happily against the floor. But as I walked closer, I stopped short.
His smile… It didn’t look right. His teeth were too sharp, the edges of his lips pulled back too far. I could see more of his gums than usual, and his eyes were wide—unnaturally wide, as though he was staring into something beyond me, beyond the room itself.
"Max?" I called, my voice shaking.
He tilted his head, still grinning. That smile. It stretched further, as though he could hear my fear. His tail wagged harder, and that was when I felt a cold shiver crawl up my spine.
But I brushed it off. Maybe he was just being playful, or maybe it was just my imagination. It wasn’t until the second night that I started to feel uneasy.
Max was lying on his bed, the same place he always slept. I was scrolling through my phone, trying to unwind before bed, when I heard it. Soft giggling. At first, I thought it was a show on my phone. But then it became clearer—it wasn’t coming from the TV. It was coming from Max.
I looked up. His grin was back, wide and eerie. And he was staring directly at me, his eyes glinting in the dim light. The giggling continued, low and almost childlike, but no words came from his mouth.
I called out to him, my voice cracking. "Max? Are you okay?"
He didn’t move, except for his smile, which somehow grew even more exaggerated. It was like his face couldn’t hold the grin anymore. His lips stretched so far it looked as though they might tear at the corners.
I could feel something in the room shift, something cold and malevolent.
And that’s when I noticed it. His body had started to tremble. Not with excitement, not with the usual joy Max showed when he was happy. This was different. His body shook with something else, something darker. The giggling continued, but now it wasn’t just an odd sound—it sounded wrong. It was like someone was trying to imitate laughter, but failing. It wasn’t even Max’s voice.
I couldn’t breathe.
The smile stretched again. I could hear it now—the sound of something shifting beneath his skin, like his muscles were twisting, his jaw cracking open wider. I stood frozen in place, my mind racing.
“Max…” I whispered, but the smile didn’t falter.
Suddenly, he lunged at me.
I barely had time to react. He was fast—too fast. His teeth sank into my wrist with an almost vicious force. I screamed and pulled back, but his grip tightened, his smile still frozen in place as though it had been carved into his face.
And then, through the deafening pain and the sound of his teeth scraping against bone, I heard the voice.
It wasn’t Max’s voice. It wasn’t even a human voice.
It whispered, "You shouldn’t have let me in."
I managed to shake him off, my vision blurry from tears, but when I looked down, Max was still smiling. His mouth was wide open, his teeth bared, his eyes gleaming with something far more sinister than I had ever seen.
I ran to the door, but before I could get there, I heard the voice again, this time louder, more mocking.
“You won’t leave. You’ll stay with me… forever.”
I couldn’t escape. I couldn’t outrun whatever this thing inside Max had become. As I backed away toward the front door, I looked back, and there it was again—the smile, wider than before, stretching across his face, his eyes fixed on mine.
And then, Max spoke again, his voice dripping with something not quite human.
“I’m not your dog anymore.”
I never made it out of that house. The last thing I remember was the sharp pain in my chest, and then nothing at all.
They found my body days later, eyes wide, mouth frozen in a grimace.
Max? They couldn’t find him. But they did find a dog in the alley, staring at the empty house with a smile that looked all too familiar.
And sometimes, at night, I hear giggling.
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