Summary: (I need to think of a good one. But this is all I have so far. And it sucks, I know. Because there's so much to the story that I don't want to reveal yet.) A boy who isn't exactly human is born to serve. He is the new fad, what all the rich masters want because he's beautiful and never ages, like all the regular human slaves do. However, there is only one of him, and none of the masters want to share. So who will get to keep him?

Warnings: BDSM, Major Character Death, N/C, Master/Slave,


His eyes opened.

And the eyes were exactly the color that Galen wanted them to be: Violet. It was his signature, partly what Galen was known for. Otherwise, he was mostly famous from these Phyxeaus, a word that derived from the deceased language Krox, which simply meant man-made.

However, there was one thing he was unable to master, and that was to give these Phyxeaus human traits. Lords often came and criticized Galen for having emotionless dolls. He would often find himself being beaten because he had created a 'fake.' The lords wanted something that could cry when disciplined, not something that just lied there, motionless.

Galen spent his nine years trying to figure out how to make these Phyxeaus human. He didn't want these gorgeous dolls to have the ability to feel, because he knew that the masters that would take them home with them would be cruel ones.

Because there were no nice masters these days. If you were nice, you didn't own a slave.

But he had to, if he wanted to live. He had to make these dolls more human. Each lord's tax law that he found himself under would often raise his. They threatened him to make something real. If he did that, he could live there for free. No more taxes would be placed on his property.

So why not find yourself a slave if you want one so badly?

Because they scar. They get old and ugly. Yours stay beautiful for eternity. It's more expensive to find a replacement slave, especially one that is beautiful and young and unbroken, than to just have a Phyxeaus.

Those were the words that went through Galen's head each time he created one of these beings, because he always felt so guilty about letting them go. They were like his children, but because of the lack of money he had, he always had to sell them.

But, perhaps, after this one, he could stop, if Lord Dunham would follow up with his word and allow him to live here for free.

"Hello, Vynn," the creator said to the being.

"Vynn?" the boy repeated the name that he was given, slowly sitting up from the lying position that he was in on a hard, wooden table. He looked around, blinking several times, taking in his surroundings of the small room which was lit up by the full moon outside and a little fireplace.

Galen smiled. He could sense that this Phyxeaus was what he had wanted to master over the last ten years of making these wonderful beings. The doll looked scared, confused, and curious.

All of Galen's other creations simply looked dazed and acted more robotic and slow.

"Yes, Vynn. That is your name." Galen stood up from a stool he had sat in just a few minutes ago, as he waited to see if his magic would work. He walked over to Vynn and gently touched the forehead of the boy with his finger tips.

"Name," the boy repeated, his wandering eyes lingering on the fireplace.

Galen nodded. He knew he had to keep on talking more in order for this Phyxeaus to understand the language. Galen had implanted a chip in this boy's 'brain' so he could learn quickly. There was no time to teach Vynn. Once word got out that he had completed the first edition of the second series, the Duke would surely be buying him.

"I am Galen. I am your creator. And you are my masterpiece." Galen leaned over and kissed the top of Vynn's head, breathing in the sent of vanilla from the shampoo he had used on the boy's sandy blonde hair.

"What am… I?"

"A Phyxeaus. You were born to serve. However," Galen reluctantly took his hand away from the boy's head and leaned in a little closer to look at him a little closer.

Vynn's forehead creased in the middle as his eyebrows rose just a centimeter.

Galen inhaled and exhaled rather loudly. He wasn't sure what he wanted to say, had to say, in order to make this boy understand his future.

"I must send word to Lord Dunham that you are complete. I will be right back, Vynn. Don't move."

Vynn only nodded slightly as Galen left the room in a hurry. He walked into the kitchen, rummaging around his drawers for a paper and pen. He had to write to Lord Dunham now. He had to get rid of Vynn as quick as possible or he might just want to keep the boy for himself.

He finally found a piece of paper in his junk drawer and a pen, pulling them both out. He placed them on the counter and scribbled down that he had finally completed the second series. He addressed it to Lord Dunham, and signed his name.

Folding it and placing it in an envelope, he walked outside. He could smell the moisture in the air, indicating that it was going to rain, even possibly storm. When he looked up, he could indeed tell that it was going to storm.

Shit, he thought, I still haven't fixed my roof.

He placed the envelope into his mailbox, and walked quickly back inside, and into the room where Vynn was supposed to be.

But as Galen stepped inside, the boy was gone.

This was the first sign of a bad omen. His Phyxeaus were supposed to obey. He made sure he programmed them that way, so that the owners would be happy.

"Vynn!" Galen cried out frantically as he began to search his small wooden cottage. He couldn't have gone far. There were only five rooms in this house: a kitchen, bathroom, bedroom, workshop, and a storage room where he kept all his disposable items, his failed creations.

"Vy--" Galen's voice came to a halt as he entered his storage room. Vynn was sitting there, shaking, and staring into a large mirror.

"They… all… look like me," the boy choked out as his eyes gazed around the room full of mannequins with violet eyes and sandy blond hair. "But not moving."

Galen groaned inwardly. He didn't think that this room would be so bad for the boy to see. But now that he thought about it, he knew he should have locked this room. He knew how he would feel if he were to find a room of his clones.

Galen walked over to the boy and sat next to him. He put his arms around the nude body and pulled him close to his chest.

The boy, thankfully, complied, and rested his head against the nape of Galen's scruffy neck.

"What are they?" Vynn asked softly, his warm breath sending a chill down Galen's spine.

"They are… failed creations. But I can't just dispose of them, for I could always use their parts."

"Why do they look like me?"

Galen couldn't explain. They all looked the same, except for a few missing limbs here and there, because that is what the lords often requested.

Blonde hair was rare these days. And violet eyes just didn't exist… at least not the vibrant color that Galen had installed on his dolls.


Galen cringed at the sound of his name coming from Vynn's mouth. It sounded accusing. "I… can't explain."

"I believe you can," Vynn said, freeing himself from Galen's embrace. He stood up and walked over to one of the dolls, running his hand through a mop of hair that looked like his, but belonged to something else.

He's more human that I thought… Galen thought regretfully, lowering his eyes. He felt sick to his stomach. He didn't want to give this boy up. He didn't want this boy to have a life that he did not deserve, that no one deserved.

"It's easier for me to create Phyxeaus when they all look alike. I can use parts for ones that do not live through it, and it takes less time for me to build one because I do not have to think of new looks."

"Which ones did you take parts from to create me?"

Galen flinched. The sound in Vynn's voice was no longer innocent. It sounded angry.

"The one you're touching now. For your arms. Otherwise, I made most of you from scratch. I figured if these past ones didn't work, then it was best I give you a new body."

Vynn stood there, silent, and his hand still on the mannequin's head. He slowly took his hand away and put it on the opposite forearm.

"If they don't belong to me," he whispered, "Then I don't want them."

He started to pull.

Violently. To Galen's eyes, it reminded him of an innocent animal trying to escape from a toothed trap.

Galen got to his feet abruptly. "Vynn! Stop!" He ran over to the boy and put his arms around the boy's chest, prying each arm away from one another. "You'll hurt yourself!"

Galen felt the boy shaking. A sound erupted from Vynn's throat, and he started to sob. The creator looked down, and Vynn's face was smeared with wet tears.

"How can I hurt myself when I'm just a doll? A thing?"

"You're not just a thing!" Galen shouted, frustrated and hurt that the Phyxeaus really believed that he was nothing. "You are practically human. The only thing artificial is your body!"

The boy sagged down in Galen's arms. Galen released, and Vynn fell flat on the ground, still shaking with frustration.

"Then why did you create me?" he asked into the wooden floor. "Why was I created?"

Galen sat down and started to rub Vynn's back. "I told you. You were born to serve. You were created… to serve.

"Now come, Vynn. The night is calling for you to sleep. For me to sleep." Galen picked up the Phyxeaus and carried him off to his room.


Galen's room was full of dust. The small wooden dresser, his lamp, and his blankets were all gray and old looking. The mattress in the corner next to the window was sagging from the metal springs underneath it. It appeared as if Galen hadn't slept in his room for quite some time.

Which was, for the most part, true. He slept in his workshop. His main goal was to try and conjure Vynn.

"What is this thing called… sleep?" Vynn asked as Galen placed the boy on the bed.

"You need it. Trust me. Although your body may be artificial, your brain is, for the most part, real. All you do is close your eyes and eventually your mind will wonder off elsewhere and you won't even know it."

Vynn's eyebrows rose and he gave Galen a puzzling look. "I don't understand."

"Just try it. Lie down in my bed and close your eyes."

Vynn did as he was told. He crawled under the blankets, knowing that they were there for that reason, and placed his head on the soft, feather pillow. He closed his eyes.

There was silence in the room for more than five minutes when Vynn finally opened his eyes.

His mind had gone nowhere.

"This isn't working."

Galen smiled sheepishly. "Give it time. Give it a lot of time. Just try it. Trust me."

Vynn nodded and closed his eyes again. He could hear Galen rummaging around the room, and then leaving.

And after about thirty minutes, Vynn drifted off to sleep.


Vynn woke up to the bright sunlight in his eyes. He shielded his eyes from it with his arm, squinting just a bit. What was that beautiful light? And how come he did not see it before he fell asleep? He had to go ask Galen. He felt the need to understand.

He sat up and looked around the room, only to find that Galen was nowhere to be found. Throwing the blankets off of him, he got up from his bed and walked out the door.

Galen was sitting across the hallway in his kitchen, staring outside, looking thankful and pleased.

Vynn found himself thinking that that look made Galen look attractive and young again. He looked as if he had lost ten years. His scruffy beard that he had the night before was shaved off. The wrinkles under his eyes were gone, and he gave himself a haircut.

He no longer looked like a bum.

Vynn walked into the kitchen. Galen, seeing movement in the corner of his eye, looked away from the window and towards the boy.

"Galen? What is that light outside?"

Galen started blankly at Vynn for a moment. Then he burst out laughing.

The boy scowled, turning away from Galen. Obviously the older man did not want to respond. He guessed that Galen thought that Vynn wasn't serious.

But then Galen stopped laughing. Vynn looked at him, glad to see the pleased look on the man's face again, only with a stupid grin plastered on it.

"I'm sorry," he said, wiping something from his eye, "It's just amusing that you asked, and in the nude."

At this point, Vynn looked down at himself, and then to Galen. He understood what nude meant right away.

"But, anyway, it's called night and day. You were born in the night, and it is now morning. The moon and the sun trade places. Last night, which you didn't get to see much of, was the moon. This is the sun. As you can see, the sun is a lot brighter than the moon."

Vynn nodded. He took a seat next to Galen and stared outside.

Galen followed the boy's dazed look outside, only to narrow his eyes as he saw a horse coming towards his house.

Galen stood up rather abruptly, almost making Vynn fall out of his seat in surprise.

He looked at the boy, and that look of easiness left every feature of his face.

Vynn could tell something was wrong.

"Mail shouldn't travel that fast… unless some wizard got into my mailbox and sent it straight to his fucking kingdom." Galen snarled and left the room, and then the house, slamming the door behind him.

Vynn looked back outside, and could see Galen opening his mailbox. The older man took out an enveloped letter and waved it around, shouting something. He then turned around and walked back in, still holding the paper.

"He must be here to collect his taxes!" Galen cursed himself and slammed the letter ground.

He stared at it, then knelt down, and picked it back up. He glanced at Vynn, then turned around the corner into his bedroom. He came back out with nothing.

"Vynn, that is Lord Dunham. That is… who you're supposed to go to, to serve. But I don't want to give you up. I don't want you to go through the life that wasn't meant for you," Galen said, sounding frantic and eager. "So, I want you to hide. I want you go to into the bedroom closet and hide."

Vynn opened his mouth, ready to ask questions.

"Don't ask questions. Just hide."

Vynn nodded reluctantly and went about to the closet.

He sat down in the darkness, pulling his knees to his chest and listened.


Once he heard a scream, followed by thud, he shot out of the closet. "What's going on?" he cried, shaking.

A man that certainly was not Galen came into the bedroom, with a very wide, very mischievous grin on his face.

"So you must be the one," the man said.

"W-what do you mean," Vynn asked, backing up a bit as he started to shake.

The man looked Vynn up and down, licking his lips hungrily. "Oh yes. By the shakes… you are unlike the other ones. And oh my, you have quite a body. I can't wait to break you," he said as he grabbed Vynn as the boy tried to run away.

"Let me go! Where's Galen?" the boy shouted as he started to struggle against the man's grip.

The man turned the boy around and punched the boy in the face. "Don't give me orders. That's my job for you!" He was shouting at the top of his lungs. Vynn shut his mouth, feeling the same wet tears he had last night blur his vision. "Oh, and about your sorry old master? Well, he's been a bad man so I had to put him to sleep. Forever."

Vynn's eyes widened. "What do you mean?" he asked quietly.

"It means that I killed him. Here, come have a look." The man shoved Vynn out of the room and into the kitchen. There Galen was, his head completely detached from his body, looking scared and sorry. A puddle of blood surrounded him.

Vynn kneeled down. Death was something he did not understand.

"Galen? Galen it's me! Wake up?"

The man came in behind him and laughed a laugh that was… unpleasant to Vynn's ears. "Do you not understand, boy, what the meaning of death means?"

Vynn cranked his neck and stared behind him at the other. "What… do you mean?"

"Death is a term that is commonly used for humans, something that you are not. When we get old, we die. When something stabs us, slices up open, we die. That's what happened to poor old Galen. He's never coming back, boy."

"No!" Vynn stood up and turned around on his heal. He ran towards the other and started hitting his chest. "That can't be true! What did you do to him? Make him get up!"

"It's no use!" the man clunked another fist into the boy's cheek. When the boy started to fall, he grabbed his arm and started to lead him towards the front door. "I told you not to give me orders. And every time you speak to me, you will call me Master."