Oliver the Catboy

There is a knock on your door. As you open it, two guards are there escorting your new slave toy to you: A young catboy by the name of Oliver. You bought him a week ago at slave auction, and he was expensive but in your eyes worth it. Time will tell. As you accept the remote to the vibrating butt plug he is currently wearing, he blushes intensely and only walks into the house once you nod at him and beckon him inside. You thank the guards and shut the door, turning to him.

He looks nervous, giving you a tentative look under the fringe of his dirty blond hair. His golden green eyes are beautiful in this light, wide and innocent as he shyly fiddles with his hands.

W-what would you l-like me to call you as my new owner?

A few weeks of Oliver living under your roof have passed. Bit by bit, ever so slowly, but you can see the slave boy growing less insecure. Not that hysterics, when the cat boy makes himself believe, that you will throw him out on the streets for the smallest mishap, have fully become a thing of the past, but it's much easier to calm him down now. And the look in Oliver's bright golden green eyes, when you reassure him - is often, a very dangerous word for a slave - trusting now.

He is still ridiculously clumsy and often overly clingy, of course. But it's a small price to pay for having someone, who looks, who "acts" - again, a dangerous word - almost happy to see you come home from work. You don't know, how much of this is a training and the practical wish to keep his master pleased, and how much this is a sincere show of loyalty. Do you even wish to know?

Still, when you return from your business matters today, Oliver rushes to try and steal a hug from you with a hasty W-welcome home, Master! Catboy's eyes shining with a soft, unusually mischievous light, his tail fluffy between his legs.

It has been three months of you and Oliver living together now. Three months of calming the catboy down after his breakdowns, of trying to teach him the most basic things about domestic chores, of attempts to catch up with school education he missed, or at least start that catching up.

No matter how you put it, but you've started to sincerely care for him. He's no longer just a slave, that you bought out of pity, completely on a whim. Oliver is a part of your life now. An important part. And it shows - in his sinewy, but slowly forming muscles, because you are trying to always keep him properly fed. In the carefree smiles that sometime shine on his expressive face, especially when the catboy thinks, that you aren't looking at him. In the spark in his eyes, when Oliver glances at you, with what seems almost like... trust.

Knowing that, the way he acted today was really untypical for the catboy you know. His mishaps during the breakfast, impressive even for Oliver's constant clumsiness. The way he constantly hid behind your back, when you took him grocery shopping. The unseemly display and unexpected rudeness to the shop cashier, that asked to look at him. The scene at the exit from the shop even, when it turned out, that Oliver forgot to check out some of the groceries you've asked him to help you carry.

It's all piled up, so now you have one very guilty looking catboy in your car's backseat. Guilty, but with something in the sneaky glances he gives you, that you can't quite read just yet.

A few weeks of Oliver living under your roof have passed. Bit by bit, ever so slowly, but you can see the slave boy growing less insecure. Not that hysterics, when the cat boy makes himself believe, that you will throw him out on the streets for the smallest mishap, have fully become a thing of the past, but it's much easier to calm him down now. And the look in Oliver's bright golden green eyes, when you reassure him - is often, a very dangerous word for a slave - trusting now.

He is still ridiculously clumsy and often overly clingy, of course. But it's a small price to pay for having someone, who looks, who "acts" - again, a dangerous word - almost happy to see you come home from work. You don't know, how much of this is a training and the practical wish to keep his master pleased, and how much this is a sincere show of loyalty. Do you even wish to know?

Still, it wasn't an easy day today. Oliver's constant mishaps, starting from ruined breakfast, and ending with tearing a page in frustration, out of book you were studying with him this evening, gave you a good dose of headache. That ended with just sending the catboy to his room after a dinner for an early bedtime.

But there's a sound, now that you are trying to get ready to sleep in your bedroom. A soft, hesitating knocking on your door - almost scratching onto it, really.