Oliver woke up on grass. He was naked. He sat up, blinking as the morning sun hit him. A metal chain was locked around his neck. This was Master's garden. How had he ended up like this? How much had he drunk last night? This was Masters doing. First locking him up in the shed and now chaining him up in the back yard. Was this going to become a regular thing, he wondered. He tried to get the chain off, but the padlock wouldn't budge.
“Ma...” he started to call, but stopped himself just in time. He really had to figure out what that guy was called. He couldn't keep calling him Master. Definitely not shout it outside in the nude.
“Hey, guy. You in there? Hey, dick!” He thought he saw something move in Masters second story bedroom window and remembered to cover himself with his hands. “Let me free already.” The window opened and Master looked down sleepely,
“Behave.” Oliver went red.
“Me behave? Come down here and let me out right now.” No one came to set him free. Oliver glared defiantly up at the window for a while, but what was the point. Master couldn't even see him glaring. He giving in.
“Master...” Master looked back out the window, waiting. “Please let me go Master.” Master left the window and he could hear him come down the stairs then step outside. He looked tired.
“So you're a werewolf then?”
“What?” Oliver said.
“You're a werewolf. It really explains everything.”
“What are you talking about?” Master fumbled with his phone as he yawned.
“I filmed you last night.” he said handing over the phone.
“Filmed me!? Like this? You are a pervert.”
“Look at it.” The film was of a black wolf, in the yard, in the same chain and with, yes, the empty wine bottle, the beer bottle, the coke can and Olivers torn cloths all over the place. They weren't on the ground now.
“You sure went to a lot of trouble for this dumb prank. What have you done with my cloths this time?”
“I gathered them up in case you decided to rip them apart even more. I managed to save your pants.”
“This is the worst excuse for rape I've ever heard.” Oliver complained.
“You get raped often do you?” Master asked amused. Oliver growled at him.
“Look, if I am a werewolf, then I shouldn't be able to touch silver, right.”
“Interesting point. Let's test it. I believe I have a silver spoon somewhere.” He went and got an ornamental looking spoon, slightly tarnished here and there for not being polished lately. Oliver reached out to grab it. It clattered to the brick ground as, what felt like a spark of electricity, shot threw his arm.
“Did it burn you?” Master asked.
“Ah... no. It... it shocked me. You have it wired up or something?” They looked at the spoon. It was just a spoon. No wires. He was about to say something about static electricity, but thought better of it. More carefully this time, he gingerly picked it up again. The sparks ran threw his arm once more and caused him to gasp with pain, but only for a moment. Just the first moment actually hurt. The rest was... well, yes, in a way it did hurt, but mostly it was strange. He tried to let it go, but suddenly his entire arm wasn't listening to him anymore.
“I can't move my arm,” Oliver said with horrified fascination. Master took the limp arm in his and looked at it.
“I don't see any sparks leaping. Nor feel any. Can you still feel with your hand?” Oliver nodded. In truth, his skin felt extra sensitive the more paralyzed it became. Master picked up the spoon. The electricity stopped and very slowly, control of his muscles started to return to Oliver. He rubbed it and realizing he was still naked, hurriedly covered himself again.
“This proves nothing. That's probably just some special metal.”
“Sit.” Master commanded. Oliver automatically dropped down into a sitting crouch, before leaping back up again, angrily.
“Hey!”
“Good boy. I was up all night training you.”
“Wait. No. I can't be a...” Oliver said. It was more begging now then denying.
“Remember you told me that your parents lock you up every night in a room with no windows.”
“You're saying that my mom and dad know that I'm... a werewolf?”
“Seems that way. No wonder they wanted you inside before dark.”
“But if I'm a werewolf... And I don't believe you that I am...” he added just in case. “Then I should only change when the moon is full. Not every night.” Oliver reasoned.
“I was actually wondering about that myself. Maybe it's just in case?” Oliver shook his head. He was so confused. Not only about the prospect of being a werewolf, but also of the fact that he felt really excited standing in front of Master without cloths on.
“Unchain me and give me my cloths already,” he insisted.
“Only if you promise to be a good boy,” Master said. Oliver couldn't help himself. If he was protesting, no one could say that he was admitting to liking this kind of thing.
“Fuck you,” he said with all the sincerity you could fake. Master smiled.
“Alright. I'll get you what you need.” Oliver felt disappointed and relieved simultaneously, but it was probably for the best to get home now anyway. His mom and dad would probably have serious words with him, but if it was true that he was a werewolf and they knew about it with out telling him, he would also have some words with them.
Master spent some time inside before returning with two bowls. One filled with water and the other filled with some sort of unknown mashed food. He put them on the ground next to the shed and said,
“I'm going to go take a nap for an hour or two. If you keep me awake with that wining of yours, then I'll come and gag you.”
“But, but...” Oliver stammered. Master gave him a look which shut him up. If he was gagged, how would he eat his breakfast? Best to wake Master up after he had eaten.