Werewolf Therapy

A young werewolf was chained to the wall by the neck, forced into wolf form. He minded it so much, yet if he screamed he’d be electrocuted. If he attacked he’d be hurt worse. If he did anything he’d be ridiculed, slammed, cut into, injected with, tortured, no praise at all. The wolf didn’t do anything to deserve it really, he had been out on a hunt with his mother, when a pack of humans came, running wild on the territory and caught him. Since then on, he’d been used as a comfort dog. Only allowed human form to show and eat.

He couldn’t hunt. He couldn’t breathe right. His collar was choking him constantly, sometimes to the point of blacking out. The young werewolf waited though. Day, night, day, night, day, night, daynightdaynightdaynightdaynightdaynightdaynight- something changed. The new smell hit him before the door opened, the creaking of the hinges made him cringe lightly. The light was so bright it hurt his eyes, and he was forced to close them,

“Do not close your eyes until told to do so!” The werewolf heard something get turned on- all of a sudden he was writhing on the floor in pain. He opened his mouth to scream but a muzzle was put on, so the screaming was muffled, white hot electricity coursing through his veins, saliva, throat- everything it could reach,

“You’ll be trained as a therapy wolf. Your job is to help our sick and weak-minded people.”