Introduction 2

The next morning, David woke to the same soft glow of sunlight through his curtains, the same faint aroma of coffee drifting upstairs. For a fleeting moment, he hoped yesterday had been a bizarre dream, a glitch in his brain that would reset with the new day. But as he lay there, staring at the ceiling, he heard the gentle clink of dishes from the kitchen and his mother’s voice, soft and deferential, calling up the stairs: “Master, breakfast is ready whenever you are.”

David groaned, pulling the pillow over his face. Not a dream, then. The surreal reality was still here, unchanged. He dragged himself out of bed, his body heavy with the weight of yesterday’s unanswered questions. After throwing on a hoodie and jeans, he trudged downstairs, bracing himself for another round of “Master” this and “Master” that.

In the kitchen, Ellen was arranging a plate of scrambled eggs and toast, her movements precise and practiced. Mia was at the table, sipping orange juice, her phone propped up against a napkin holder as she watched a video. Both looked up as he entered, their faces lighting up with that same unsettling devotion.

“Good morning, Master,” Ellen said, sliding the plate toward his usual spot. “I hope you slept well. Would you like coffee or tea today?”

“Morning, Master!” Mia chimed in, pausing her video. “I can grab you some fruit if you want. Or, like, make a smoothie or something.”

David sighed, sinking into his chair. “Coffee’s fine, Mom. And… no smoothie, Mia. Just… let’s keep it simple, okay?”

“Of course, Master,” Ellen said, pouring coffee into his mug with a small smile. Mia nodded, returning to her phone but glancing at him occasionally, as if checking for unspoken commands.

He ate in silence, his mind churning. Yesterday’s attempts to understand this shift had gotten him nowhere. His mom and sister’s insistence that they were his slaves, that he “owned” them, was as unshakable as it was inexplicable. Their casual acceptance of it—Ellen’s calm explanations, Mia’s cheerful obedience—made it even harder to argue. He’d tried reasoning, ordering them to stop, even pleading, but they just looked at him with gentle confusion, as if he were the one not getting it.

After breakfast, David couldn’t take another minute in the house. The walls felt like they were closing in, every “Master” a needle in his brain. “I’m going for a walk,” he announced, pushing his plate away. “I need some air.”

Ellen nodded, already clearing the table. “As you wish, Master. Should I prepare anything for when you return?”

“No, just… I’ll be back later,” David said, grabbing his jacket from the hook by the door.

Mia looked up, tilting her head. “Want me to come with, Master? I can carry stuff or whatever.”

David shook his head, maybe a bit too quickly. “No, Mia. I’m good. Just… stay here.”

She shrugged, unfazed. “Okay, Master. Have fun.”

He stepped outside, the cool October air hitting his face like a small relief. The neighborhood was quiet, the kind of Sunday morning where people slept in or lingered over coffee. Leaves crunched under his sneakers as he walked down the sidewalk, hands shoved deep in his pockets. He needed to think, to sort through the madness of his home life without Ellen and Mia hovering, ready to obey his every word.

What the hell was going on? Had the world changed overnight, or had he? He tried to pinpoint the moment this started, but his memory of Friday night was stubbornly normal: pizza, TV, bed. No weird experiments, no cryptic warnings from strangers, no glowing portals in his closet. Just… nothing. Yet here he was, in a reality where his mom and sister acted like they were his property, their love and loyalty twisted into something servile.

He was so lost in thought that he almost didn’t notice the woman approaching on the sidewalk. She was maybe in her late twenties, with short dark hair and a bright yellow scarf, walking a small dog that trotted happily at her side. As they passed, she glanced at him, smiled, and waved. “Morning, Master!” she said brightly, her voice as casual as if she’d said “Hey, neighbor.”

David froze, his heart lurching. He turned, staring as she continued walking, her dog’s leash swinging slightly. “Wait,” he called, his voice sharper than he intended. “What did you just call me?”

The woman paused, turning back with a puzzled look. Her dog, a fluffy terrier, sat patiently at her feet. “I called you Master,” she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “That’s… you, right?”

David’s mouth went dry. He took a step closer, keeping his tone as calm as he could. “Why are you calling me Master? Do I… own you or something?”

Her brow furrowed, and she let out a short, incredulous laugh. “Own me? No way, I’m not owned by anyone.” She sounded mildly offended, her hand resting on her hip. “I’m my own person, thank you very much.”

“Then why call me Master?” David pressed, his confusion mounting. “If you’re not… you know, my **** or whatever, why say that?”

She tilted her head, her expression softening into something like amusement. “Because you’re Master. Everyone knows that. It’s just… what you are.” She shrugged, as if explaining why grass was green. “It’s not a big deal.”

David stared at her, his mind racing. “Okay, but… what’s your name?”

“Clara,” she said, smiling again. “And this is Rufus.” She gestured to the dog, who wagged his tail.

David nodded slowly, trying to process this. “Right. Clara. Uh… have a good day, okay?”

“You too, Master!” Clara said cheerfully, giving him another wave before turning and continuing her walk, Rufus trotting along beside her.

David stood there, watching her disappear around the corner. His pulse pounded in his ears. So it wasn’t just his mom and sister. This… whatever it was, extended beyond his house. But Clara’s reaction was different—she called him Master, but not like she was bound to him. She had her own life, her own autonomy, and the title seemed more like a nickname, a universal label that everyone but him understood.

He resumed walking, his steps slower now, his eyes scanning the quiet street. A jogger passed on the other side, a woman with earbuds in, who didn’t acknowledge him. He was half-relieved, half-disappointed—she hadn’t called him anything. Maybe it wasn’t everyone? He kept going, passing neatly trimmed lawns and parked cars, his mind a tangle of questions. If Clara called him Master but didn’t think she was his ****, what did that mean for other women? Was it a cultural thing, a linguistic quirk? But that didn’t explain his mom and sister, who genuinely believed they were his to command.

He reached the small park at the end of the street, where a few kids were playing on a swing set and an older man tossed a frisbee for his dog. David sat on a bench, staring at the ground, trying to piece it together. Clara had said “everyone knows” he was Master, but what did that even mean? Was he some kind of figurehead, a titleholder in a world that had rewritten its rules overnight? And why did his mom and sister take it to such an ****, treating themselves as his property?

He thought about testing it further—approaching another woman, seeing if she’d call him Master too—but the idea made his stomach twist. What if they all did? What if this was his life now, every woman he met addressing him like he was some kind of lord? He couldn’t wrap his head around it. And the worst part was, he had no idea how to undo it. No clue, no starting point, just this bizarre new normal that everyone else seemed to accept without question.

David leaned back, tilting his head to the sky. The clouds were thin, wispy, drifting lazily across the blue. He wanted to scream, to demand answers from the universe, but all he could do was sit there, the word “Master” echoing in his head like a riddle he couldn’t solve. For now, he’d keep walking, keep watching, and hope something—anything—would make sense.