Welcome to the start of my Hypnovember stories, courtest of the prompts provided by the lovely  Fauxpawe

The first features Matts running into  Vylraz's unfamiliar sergal, Vylraz, and having his life quickly changed forever.

1. Instant

The walk home from The Lunar Lure often wasn’t long enough that it was worth complaining about, but on a cold night like this Matts really wished he’d made some warmer travel plans. He could see his breath condensing in front of him with every exhale, reminding him of the less than pleasant conditions. At this time of the night, well… morning, he was desperate to get home and rest. He enjoyed his work at the bar but it left him exhausted by the end of the night; now all he wanted was a sanctuary that didn’t smell like spilled booze. “Screw this,” he grumbled pulling out his phone to order a ride, tapping his frozen thumbs a little too hard on the touchscreen. A voice suddenly echoed from behind him; “Nice night.” The sudden presence caused Matts to whip around frantically, almost dropping his phone in the process; but the street behind him was just as empty as he’d thought it to be. “Over here,” came the voice again. This time Matts followed the source of the sound to a dark alleyway; barely lit enough to outline a leather jacket clad sergal with deep grey eyes leaning against a wall. “Come ‘ere, I don’t bite,” snickered the stranger. Matts was wary, but oddly compelled by the offer. If the stranger meant to threaten him, he wouldn’t have given away the element of surprise; and his voice seemed familiar somehow, like a childhood friend he’d never known. “And you are…” Matts asked, advancing cautiously. The sergal kicked his heavy boots against the wall, grinning as the canine approached.

“Boss, if you like,” he said nonchalantly. The stranger’s sharp grey eyes locked onto Matts like those of a predator, but one out for something other than food. A piercing chill shot through the canine for a moment as instincts took over control of his muscles, moving him ever closer to the sergal. It wasn’t ideal, but it was easy, and that was enough for Matts’ mind to accept it. “Is that your nickname or something?” the wolf asked warily. The sergal just snickered once more, waiting comfortably for Matts to get a little closer before responding; “I prefer, title. Give it a try.” It wasn’t a suggestion, it was a command; Matts could tell from the way it was spoken, and a deep part of his mind pushed through the tension to grasp that compulsion. “Sure, Boss,” he said casually, catching himself off guard. Why did he say that? Why did it feel right? It didn’t matter, he couldn’t show weakness by correcting himself right now. “There you go, that’s better,” said the sergal, his voice warming to a more pleased tone for the first time. But that tenor quickly dropped with his next words. “Kneel.” Matts’ gaze snapped to those grey pools as the command was spoken and his legs suddenly gave out underneath him. It wasn’t due to weakness, his body simply had no desire to stand anymore; he felt more at home kneeling in the dust and grime of the alleyway and gazing up into those grey eyes just a few feet from the stranger.

Even as he obeyed the sudden command, his mind was reeling with confusion and uncertainty; he wanted to cry out for answers, for help, but his mouth wouldn’t respond. The sergal’s gaze was cutting through his sense of reason and short-circuiting his own self-control, keeping him from responding. Leather creaked as the stranger bent down to inspect Matts more closely, heavy grey eyes staring straight into the wolf’s soul. “Better?” he asked with a grin. “Yes, Boss,” Matts responded instinctively. His mind still wanted to scream anything else, but he simply sat there with a still expression of focus on the sergal’s enthralling eyes. “Good boy,” praised the stranger. Matts tail began to softly wag against his better judgement. “Now, where were you going?” asked the sergal calmly, as if he wasn’t speaking to someone on their knees. Matts searched his addled mind for a moment, feeling it settle within the storm of anger but still finding heavy clouds obscuring his thoughts. “Home,” said Matts, finally finding an answer of some kind. “And where is home?” the sergal pressed. Matts searched again, but this time there was no answer to be found; just a tempest of uncertainty, thick clouds covering his mind as heavy and grey as those paralyzing eyes. “I don’t know,” he uttered softly, so tangled in his own thoughts that he’d forgotten all sense of danger. He was lost in the eye of the storm, a peaceful calm, free of thought so long as he stayed under the sergal’s thumb.

“Your home is with me, dumbass,” the stranger snickered again. Like a light switching on, Matts found clarity in his Boss’ words. He couldn’t remember where his home was exactly, but he knew it was with the sergal, just as it had always been. “Yes, Boss,” he replied with confidence this time. That thoughtless security under his Boss’ influence was addictively comfortable; Matts didn’t need anything else, didn’t want anything else. “Well then what are we doing out here? You were meant to be walking home with me,” chuckled the sergal as he leaned back, gesturing for Matts to get up. “Yes, Boss. Sorry, Boss.” Matts swiftly apologised as he stood, unsure why he’d began kneeling in the first place. There was a snap of the sergal’s fingers and like a dog to his Master, Matts obediently followed the former stranger out of the alley into the depths of the city. A glint of teeth shining in the sergal’s grin as he saw the colour begin to drain from Matts’ eyes, fading into a dull grey.