There had been seven generations of Anthrites available for purchase by the general public. In total, there had been nearly twenty generations of the earliest Anthrites--the Great Danes--but it had taken quite a number of years to get the exact traits and precautions in place before anyone could be allowed to own their own anthropomorphic house pet. Each species and breed became easier and easier to produce, however, as the technology and knowledge base was built upon. New breeds rolled out almost monthly and new species came out at least once a year.

It was now easy to find one’s preferred kind of dog or cat Anthrites, and there were various lizards, birds, and even horses for those who wanted something more unique. There was always rumor of aquatic Anthrites, but the difficulty synthesizing the core mammalian genetics with fish was proving tricky. They could produce Anthrites that had all the necessary requirements--able to comfortably live for at least ten years, intelligent enough to hold conversations, and completely subservient to humans--but the hard part was in making them look good.

Very few people wanted to fuck a mermaid with a fish head and human legs after all. At least, not enough people to make the expense of producing them worth it.

But more than enough was on market anyway. Seventy years in, the price for the most common Anthrites--cats and dogs--had dropped enough that they were almost as common as their completely animal counterparts. They were still the pets of the well-to-do, as Anthrites had a lot more needs than a normal pet, but they were no longer just found among the richest of rich.

This had been both bad and good for Anthrites and the humans that loved them. Smart enough to consent, there had been multiple laws passed and struck down against sex with them. Debate raged about whether or not owning them was slavery. Kore Creations, the company that made the initial Anthrites, dealt with near daily threats. A few escaped Anthrites had started up resistance movements, but as many pointed out, those resistance movements were always headed by a human.

Because Anthrites needed humans. It was built into their very genetic code. Even the cat species had been modified to always adore their human, to love and respect their every word. Genetics was a tricky thing, of course, and there were always examples of ones who broke away from their coding, but the overwhelming majority of Anthrites could not fathom the idea of not obeying their human masters.

And that was part of the many reasons why Dr. Cassandra Hunt loved them so much. She was fortunate enough to grow up in a wealthy family and so had owned an Anthrite almost her entire life. She still remembered the Great Dane her mother had bought to help protect her. He was smart and funny, covered completely in fur--a less common trait now but one Cassandra still preferred--and with a short muzzle. He love scratches behind the ear and rarely left her side as she adventured all over her family’s estate. But he had been one of the first generations available for sale, before proper veterinary standards had been fully created for Anthrites.

One bad case of the flu--something Anthrite creators had never expected to transfer--took her beloved friend from her. It was what set her on the path to her current career, as the head geneticist for Kore Creations. Her specialty was disease prevention and she did everything in her power to make sure every Anthrite would be born and stay as healthy as they could. She even pushed for them to live longer, something corporate fought back hard against.

And she, of course, owned an Anthrite of her own...