It is nice to know "famous" people, or maybe in this case, "popular" people. My close friend Ilda is a body fashion model, so she gets her picture taken...a lot. So, I try not to name drop around town, but I sometimes cannot help myself when I see her on a poster in a store. What is odd, both in a good and bad way, they rarely take a picture of her face, so she can go anywhere and not be recognized. Personally, I think she has a very attractive face, with that eastern European look, framed with that classic-light-brown-not-quite-blonde hair, but evidently, not everyone thinks so. Now, I know what you are thinking: every gorgeous person says they aren't that pretty, right? Well, she knows she is not, because she has had photographers and agents tell her so...to her face. Ouch, that's not nice at all!

Brief backstory, a picture of her from the back was seen by a talent agent many years ago. Her face was not visible, but her bathing-suited body and all the lovely curves were. The agent got her number and hired her on the spot. She was so excited! She was in trade school working on a cosmetology certificate, so skin and hair beauty were her things anyway. But when she showed up to the photoshoot, she was very disappointed in how they treated her. It was bad enough with their frowns and grimaces when she introduced herself, but before she could ask why they were looking at her like that, he said, "Woah, I didn't know you weren't attractive in the face. Guess we will have to figure that out, won't we?" Fortunately, no one who saw the pictures from that day knew she cried throughout the whole thing. Her face was hidden from the camera, which ended up being for the best.

We had not been friends that long, as I was also in trade school, but I was there for electrician school (two years of trade school rather than four years of college sounded like a win). We each took night classes on the same days, so we would chat in the hallways. My dark hair that looked like it always needed brushing was in contrast to her straight and smooth "dirty blonde" hair. We are almost the same height, mostly because I wear flat shoes and she wears high heels. When we first met, we probably looked like an unlikely pair, especially since it was clear I was heavier than her with no real fashion sense. However, there are no other ladies in electrician school at that moment, so I was glad when she casually commented on my name (all students wear name tags, so "Celeste" was in bold on my chest) one night in the halls, while I was trying to avoid another conversation with another "too old for me" classmate hitting on me. And from there, we started our friendship in the trade school building common area...best decision I have made since graduating from high school. So back to that fateful day, we both happened to have class that night, so when she came in with puffy eyes, I knew she had been crying hard. We ended up spending the rest of the night in the snack area talking about it. Yeah, we both skipped class that night, but this was way more important than hair extensions and wire cutters. From that point on, we became best friends.

She never had to work with those specific people again, which was good, but evidently word got around that her body is what you want on camera. She started getting lots of calls for bra advertisements, as her pale cleavage looked perfect when wrapped in something bright and shiny (no facial picture needed). Then she got the panty advertisements, allowing her to show off her just-wide-enough hips in shiny, silky smoothness (again, no facial shot needed). Of course, there were shorts, tops, and dresses that needed curvy models to show off how good they would look on the customer (and again, nothing above the neck). While she was not making lots of money, she began to make enough to put her school on hold and focus on her body career.

She read lots of articles on how to make her body look just what the photographers would want. She worked out enough to keep tone, but not give definition. She ate some fatty foods, but not too many, to keep her chest and rear pleasantly full. She would wear some type of core-working-waistband that kept her stomach flat and her waist tight (I called it the "corset cruncher"). Since I was wanting to drop a few pounds from my desk job at the bank during the day, I started working out with her after work. I was usually able to squeeze it in before my night classes, and it eventually made it easier to squeeze into the small coveralls I had to wear for class each night (I think the guys purposely took all the larger ones to force me into wearing that extra small one). I'll admit, I liked the way my body was starting to look and feel. Truth be told, I did not follow her diet, as I was not trying to add anything to my front side or back side. If anything, I was hoping to lose some pounds from my chest and hips, as those coveralls were made for a guy and not a woman, so anything curvy makes the stiff fabric stretch in weird and uncomfortable ways.

The next couple of years we decided to save money by becoming roommates, so we could both focus on our future careers. Her bedroom was full of new clothes that she would get to keep, while mine was full of toolboxes and spools of wire. We had just signed our third lease agreement when I finished my schooling and went to work at Electrical Outlets. They install and repair electrical systems for houses and businesses. Similarly, Ilda signed with a real agent with a real talent agency. It was a big year for both of us!

That's been a few years now, and we are both on our own with our jobs pulling us in different directions. She needed to have a place that she could have people over at any time for modeling and quick pics and whatever else a body fashion model does. With her "high brow" clientele, she needed a good-looking home interior. While not a slob, I did tend to leave my part of the apartment in disarray. I was coming and going at all hours, and I always looked like I had not slept much. And of course, it was usually when she had people over, and that just made things more awkward, when I would burst into the apartment in my coveralls and find men and women in designer clothes, talking fabrics and color while holding expensive cameras, deciding lighting and model poses. They would all turn to see me in bland coveralls holding my toolbox, smudged face and messed up hair to match my tired expression. Needless to say, it was better for our friendship to separate our living space.

Anyway, enough of our drama...things are great now. In fact, I'm headed that way now, as she says she needs my help. I figure it is for her latest venture. She somehow got into the "fetish" side of body modeling (I don't even know what that word means). She now does lots of photoshoots that involve catsuits (but she doesn't wear any ears), latex (to be fair, I wear latex daily...I have to wear reinforced latex gloves on the job site), leather (I got that too...thick black leather tool belt for my coveralls), and bondage (not sure what that involves...but I bond wires together every day). Maybe she has a different kind of modeling career now, but I feel like I can relate, as I got all that "fetish" stuff too. She will tell people she is not into that sort of thing, but if anyone asks me, I'll be sure to tell them that I am.

As you can imagine, she has met some of the worst guys in this new world of photography. They assume that since she is wearing that stuff, then she must be into that stuff. She is not, so it has been awkward more often than not, as their advances can be borderline forceful. So then she had this idea of having me come around during those "fetish" shoots as her husband or wife (we haven't decided who should play which part). Neither one of us are dating anybody at the moment, as it is hard to meet men when you work all the time, so this was the best option. I got myself a masculine-looking suit that I wear while slicking my hair back as I stand close by and look displeased everytime a man or woman touches her for the photoshoot. It did not take long to get the "handlers" and "assistants" to leave her alone. It is hard to convince yourself that touching a tightly encased woman, who cannot stop you, is okay when her "spouse" is standing right there staring menacingly at you. It gave us an excuse to spend some more time together, and she usually buys me lunch or dinner (so does that make her the "husband", even though I "wear the pants in the family"?).

On this cool morning, I pull into her neighborhood of townhouses. They are a relatively new build, so everything looks neat and tidy. I park on the street, as they don't have any garage access from the main street. She has a one-car garage in the back of her full brick 2-bedroom, single-level townhome. I get out and grab my "husband" suit, figuring that is why she asked me to come over and help her with a photoshoot this afternoon. I was off today anyway, so it worked perfectly. My jeans and t-shirt are wrinkled, and my flip flops are really worn, as I figured it didn't matter what I wore to her house, since I will be changing soon. When she opens the front door for me, she laughs and says, "I see you dressed up for me." I chuckle and reply, "You know me...fancy!" We hug as I step in.

"First, let me say how much I appreciate you helping me with this today," she starts nervously, "This is gonna be new for both of us." I turn back to her, as she closes the door, and ask, "New? This isn't the 'I'm your husband so quit touching her' plan?" She shakes her head, "Actually, no...this time I need you on the other side of the camera for a group shot in catsuits." My stomach does four or five flips before settling down, or maybe it was the room that was spinning, I'm not sure. All I know, I'm sitting on the couch now with a cold rag on the back of my neck, as she sits next to me.

"Wow, I had no idea you were that scared of someone taking your picture," she said jokingly.

Trying to catch my breath, "You have got to be kidding right? I'm not a model like you...I'm an electrical technician...why would they want me?" She puts her arm around me, "Aw, come on, Cele, you got everything they could want." As I look at her in disbelief, she adds, "Our faces will be covered, so they are only going to be able to see your curves filling their outfits, okay?" I breathe a sigh of relief, but my nerves are still on edge. "Let me explain," she starts, "Ed, my agent, was asked to provide 2 body models for a larger event with Phetish Photos. They are the biggest and most prestigious photo group for fetish, kink, and bondage. So, he really wanted to get his foot in the door on this, so he called me first. Once I said yes, he agreed, figuring he could get one more. Well, no one else was available, so he was going to have to cancel. This has been a very slow couple of months, and I need this gig, so I told him that I know of some freelance models that might could help."

Before I could interject, she says, "I was not thinking of you, sorry. I have some other acquaintances that do this thing, too. Anyway, all busy...so then I thought of you. You've been keeping up with your workouts with me, and with our faces covered, no one will know it is you." My facial expression must not have changed yet, as she adds more meekly, "Please?"

Taking a gulp of water from the glass she had offered me, I begin to process what she is actually asking me. She wants me to join her as a fashion body model. Me...an electricial technician at a photoshoot as a model. Ha! The only time I belong there is when someone forgets to plug in their cell phone. I cannot help but smile as I say, "You do realize who you are talking to, right? I don't have any clue how to be a model."

She smiles and hugs me, "Ah, that is the best part. You will not have to know anything. At this photoshoot, the handlers will be directing us very specifically. In fact, you won't even be able to talk, so you don't have to worry about knowing what to say or not to say." Before I can ask the question, the realization hits me, "Oh no...this is one of those wrapping things, isn't it? Well, you can count me out. No one is wrapping me in bubble wrap and shipping me to Kansas." She raises her hands to say something, but then the doorbell rings.

She curses loudly. "They are here." I ask quietly, "Who?" She hangs her head, "The handlers. Phetish Photos has a group of professional handlers for all their body models. I figured we had time for me to talk you into it, but I didn't count on you nearly passing out." Handlers? Okay, Celeste thinks, I remember seeing them helping Ilda with some of those weird photoshoots. They are the "assistants" that pose and move the models around. They wear gloves so they don't leave fingerprints on the costumes the models wear.

My silence causes Ilda to plead, "Please, just go along with this, okay? Everything will be fine. They will treat you nicely, even though a bit strangely. It's weird but safe, and right now, I really need the money." The doorbell rings again, and maybe I don't even know what I'm doing, but I do know my friend is asking for help. I don't have a lot of friends, or maybe any real ones, so how could I not do whatever I could to help her? I nod my head and reply softly with a grin, "Better answer the door. We don't want to miss our big moment."

She smiles broadly, hugs me, and then rushes to answer the door. The door opens to two men who look to be twins, both dressed in black with dark shades. They look to be rather short and almost scarily thin. Their hair is spiked, with tips of white or maybe platinum. Their pants look to be pressed, and while their black t-shirts look like plain cotton, Celeste doubts these two would ever wear cotton like a commoner. Behind them, they each appear to have a large, black suitcase on wheels. The one on the left says plainly, "Good afternoon, are you the one who owns two models that we are to prepare and transport?"

Ilda nods and invites them in, "Yes, I'm Ilda, and I own two models for you to take today." Celeste could hear her emphasizing the words "own" and "two", as if that was to be a hint to her. "Excellent," the first man replies, "I have the rental agreement here, once we have inspected them." Inspected? Celeste never agreed to an "inspection".

Ilda nods, "Of course, that makes sense. How do you want to do that? I'm one of the models." The men look at each other, then the other guy responds, "Oh, that is unexpected. Normally, we deal with the owner of the property only. While it is not unheard of for an owner and property being one and the same, we were not informed of that."  He seems to make a mental note, and then actually makes a note on a pad of paper that seemed to appear out of nowhere.

"Ah," Ilda starts to explain, "You see I actually own two, but the other is with my husband today, so I will be filling in for her, uh its, behalf." The one sighs heavily and produces a document that once again seemed to come from nowhere. "There is no need to explain your complex relationship. We are here to take hold of your property for the afternoon, so if you want that to be you, that is fine. Will you be taking the place of Bunny?" Bunny, Celeste questions, who is that?

"Yes," Ilda replies, "That will be me today. And this is Kitten." Ilda gestures towards Celeste, who looks shocked at hearing that name. Kitten? Celeste asks silently, who names a person that? The one man steps towards Celeste while asking Ilda, "May I go ahead and process your property, or would you prefer to sign the paperwork first?" Ilda replies, "Oh, go ahead and get started, as I don't want us to be late." The man looks at Celeste, "Kitten, you are now property of Phetish Photos. You will only move when directed to, speak only when spoken to, and if you disobey in any way, you will be returned without your owner being paid. Comply." Property? Disobey? Comply? Dumbfounded by these words, Celeste nods numbly. "I'm sorry, but I will need an audible confirmation." Celeste checks her nerves and replies, "I comply."

Satisfied with that response, "Stand here in the middle of the room," he commands gently, while he goes back to the front door to get his rather large suitcase. Glancing quickly at Ilda, who nods her silent reply, Celeste stands and moves to the center of the room. "Alright, Ilda," the other man says, "Since you will be unable to speak soon, do you have any questions over the agreement before you? We want to be sure you have read it all and know what is expected, because once you are property, you will have no rights as an owner." Ilda turns from looking at Celeste and continues to read the document in front of her.

"Your owner dresses you poorly," the other man whispers to Celeste, "But worry not, I shall remedy that. Keep your body wherever I put it to make this go quickly." Celeste starts to respond, but then she is shocked when his hands touch her arms. He pulls her arms back behind her. Grabbing the bottom of her t-shirt, he easily slides it up over her head and off the back of her arms. I never thought this was going to happen today, she screams to herself. I'm letting a stranger undress me in Ilda's home. She looks over at Ilda who is still reading the paperwork. She then feels a hand gently touch her chin, "You do not need to look at her, she is not your owner now," and he turns her head gently forward and then resets her arms to her sides. The way he touches me, she says to herself, or maybe his voice just makes all this seem so natural, so normal. "Trust me and my voice. Nothing matters to me more than you, so be the best work of art you can be for me."

Her jeans are unbuttoned and pulled down. He carefully pulls one of her feet up, while supporting her. She marvels at how she gets out of her jeans, and he seems to be doing all the work. As he stands back up, he takes a couple of laps around her, making her feel self-conscious. But then he whispers to her, "Oh, such beauty wasted in denim...if you were mine, I would have you in the tightest, shiniest material that shows off every wonderful curve. You look exquisite." Celeste has never been told any of those words about her body, so she is naturally surprised but very flattered. He then adds, "And these undergarments are embarrassing, she does not treat you as you deserve." He reaches into his suitcase, "Even though this is not part of the contract, I will dress you properly and you can keep these undergarments. My number is written on the inside, so if you desire to be treated like you should, then let me know."

Before Celeste can process all these sweet but weird things he is saying, her bra and panties are laying at her feet. Wait, she screams to herself, how did that...But her thoughts are interrupted by a new material touching her skin. It is soft, yet smooth, and somehow feels heavy. She feels her girls getting a lift as he sets the new bra in place. Mmm, that actually feels really comfortable, like it was made to fit me. He makes some adjustments, then comes around in front of her. Celeste asks herself, why am I letting this man do things that I have never let anyone do before? Nodding slightly, he disappears from her view but then she feels him setting a set of panties on her now. Wait, how did he get those up my legs...But again, her thoughts are interrupted by the feel of the material on her. It seems to warm up to her, shaping itself to her form. Wow, this feels so comfortable!

"Okay, I have it in a proper fitting. Come take a look." The other man walks over to him to stare at Celeste's body. He nods his head, and then makes a grunting sound. He then walks around her, and she feels him touching her thigh, then her neck. He gently takes her hand and strokes it softly while turning it over and back again. The way he touches me is like the other man, like I'm some kind of priceless piece of artwork. "I'll admit, I'm surprised. The way the former owner dressed it, I figured it would be a C at best, but its shape is clearly an A." The other man nods, "Yes, I thought the same thing. I think we should move to purchase it from the owner. Wouldn't it look great in the front foyer at sunrise?" The other man grabs his arm and says, "Yes, I was just thinking the same thing. It would be perfect! And while I would like to ask the former owner now, unfortunately she is no longer here, but I have her other model ready for inspection. Come look!"

Both men leave Celeste's view, but with their backs turned, she twists her head slightly to see if she can get a glimpse of Ilda. Standing in the kitchen, Ilda is dressed just like Celeste. She has a thick, shiny bra and panty set on her while she stands at attention. Both of them walk around her, making comments and then saying something like "A+" and "shocked an owner has such a body" and "perfection" and "wonder if we could buy them both", but then Celeste turns her head forward before she can be caught watching them. Buy? It is like I'm a piece of property, but, she tells herself, I've never had anyone treat me with such respect and dignity. I'm not going to lie to myself, I feel very special at the moment, even if it is really weird at the same time.

The man returns and begins to wipe her body with some type of powdery wipe that he pulled from his suitcase. Her skin seems to feel softer now, but that might just be her imagination. "This is why we carry more than one size, am I right?" Celeste cannot hear if the other man responds, but then he begins to pull out an all-black costume. It seems to shimmer in his hands as he starts to put it on her. She can feel the costume going tightly on her feet, barely even giving space for each toe. He then carefully stretches it up her legs. The material seems to wrap itself around her, giving her a second skin, as it applies even pressure all over her legs. He then carefully stretches it over her butt and then she feels him zip something under her then right in front of her, providing that firm yet comfortable pressure even down there. Something must be off, as he unzips it again, and twists the material slightly. On his knees now, he rezips her. I'm not sure what he did, Celeste notes, but it does feel more right now than it did before.

Not stopping there, he moves on and gets her girls tucked perfectly into the top of the costume. Her arms are inserted carefully, as that pressure begins to cover each finger and all the way up and down her arms. She feels like she should help in some way, but he seems to have her every move perfectly planned. He pulls the costume around her to the back, where she hears another zipping sound, but it sounds not quite like a zipper. Whatever it is, it must be bringing her costume together. And while she thought she was standing up straight, as the back comes together, she feels more pressure around her waist, and her back straightens even more. She did not notice it before, but now her chest has been pulled up into her field of view. She can barely see two large black shiny orbs sticking out in front of her. Are those mine?

A spray bottle shows up in his hand from the suitcase, and he moves behind her. She can feel some type of liquid being sprayed into her hair. He returns the bottle to the suitcase and then walks back behind her. Trying not to moan audibly, he begins to massage her scalp and it feels amazing! Her eyes slowly close as he works the liquid in and throughout her hair. I don't know what he is doing, but he could do that any day he wanted, she remarks to herself in pure joy. It feels like he is styling her hair strangely, but who cares, Celeste says to herself, if I can feel like this, then do whatever you want to it.

Reaching around from behind her, she can see him pulling some kind of hood over her head that is attached to the costume. Pushing down on her shoulders while tugging, he easily manages to pull it over her head, covering everything on her body now except for her face. She hears that strange zipper again, and now her whole body is under an even pressure from her toes to her head. I have never worn anything this tight before, and while I should be embarrassed, I'm not.

She watches him put on a pair of gloves that seem to be fuzzy on the palms, but stiff on the back of the hand. Starting with her left leg, he begins to rub on the suit with both hands. This seems to be of no real use, Celeste reasons, but it feels like I'm getting a nice massage while standing up. He appears to be in no hurry, and he carefully and methodically works his way up each leg. Her muscles begin to relax and accept the pressure and his workings of her body. And while it seems unnecessary, he does the same for her butt and stomach. Again, Celeste tells herself, I should be bothered by this, but his mannerisms and actions seem so genuine. It is like he is worshipping me in some weird way. She continues to hold her stance until he finishes every part of her that is covered. After returning the gloves, he remarks, "Not as shiny as I would like, but that will come at the photoshoot location."

He returns to his suitcase and then comes back with some type of mask. It is black like the rest of the costume, but it does not look like a normal face. It has eyes, but they are more like big round goggles. The nose and mouth seem to be connected in a vertical line "grill", like a gas mask might have. Celeste recalls, we have some that are similar to that at work when we deal with toxic materials. He gently opens her mouth and holds up a red ball to it, the first splash of color she has seen from him. He shakes his head and returns to his suitcase. He left her mouth open, so she does not close it. While it seemed strange to not, it seemed even stranger to close it without his direction. He returns and places a different ball in her mouth. Rotating it to his satisfaction, he then begins to attach the mask to the front of her costume, then pulling it up and around her head.

The room was quite bright due to the medium-sized windows in the front of Ilda's living room, but now it has become quite dark. The goggles are heavily tinted but appear to fit her perfectly. She cannot hear now as well as before with two layers of material covering her ears. To her surprise, she can actually breathe better with the mask on, like it was necessary to make the costume work properly. With the room dimmed, she can still see him walking around her. He continues to inspect the mask, adjusting it again and again. Finally satisfied, he holds up a collar that has a small LED screen on it. Even through the dark lenses, she can make out the word on the collar: Kitten. He reaches around her and clicks it in place. While Celeste knows he said or did nothing to her, something seemed to click when the collar did. I'm property now, Kitten says to herself, nothing more than whatever my owner wants of me.

"Kitten is ready for transport, how's Bunny coming?"

"Just finishing up, so nice to work with such amazingly maintained property."

"Could not agree more...love my job even more when I get to do what I just did with such beautiful art."

"They will need proper gloves and boots before the photoshoot, but let's wait until we get them there. The box will be tight enough as it is."

Leaving Bunny and Kitten standing there, they take their equipment and suitcases back to their vehicle. Kitten can just make out their small black van. As they finish loading their stuff, they return with a large flat crate. The sides are black, but the edges are silver, like they are made of metal. They both carry it in the front door and sit it down on the floor. Her handler comes over to Kitten with a silver string or chain or...click. I have been leashed. He just put a leash on me. He tugs on it slightly, and for the first time since she stood up to start this process, she follows his pulling. She can hear her movements squeaking with every step.

As he pulls her leash over the crate, he says, "Step up." She complies and then notices the sides of the crate have folded down, to reveal a padded interior. He unclips her leash, which for some reason, makes her feel sad. He then begins to kneel her down on the padded floor of the crate. She can just make out Bunny to her left and facing her, having the same thing done to her. He then lays Kitten down in her knelt position on her left side. As she lays there, she can see Bunny's knees being tucked under Kitten's chin. She then feels hands sliding her knees under Bunny's chin. With the help of her new suit, Bunny's knees fill the space between Kitten's chin and chest. Her arms are placed in the small space between them, and she can feel Bunny's hands near hers.

"Looks right to me, box them up and let's get going. Dante is probably beside himself by now."

The sides are folded up and locked in place. Soon, her whole world becomes silent and dark, as the handlers close the lid. She can barely feel being carried out of the house. She wants to be scared, but she cannot. She feels like she belongs here, pampered and carried like an exquisite piece of art. She feels a bit of pressure near her hands, and realizes it is Bunny. Returning the gesture, they hold hands throughout the transporting process, supporting each other, hoping the other one is enjoying this as much as they are.

The ride over is non-eventful, as the two men drive their vehicle the same way they do everything: calm diligence. Their priceless cargo remains safe and snugly packed without incident or worry. Arriving at the location, the "For Sale" sign out front is large and colorful. The driveway is a horseshoe shape that provides enough space for 30 cars, easily. The house is more like a mansion, with white stone and stained wood finishes that let everyone know the owner paid a premium price for everything. The landscaping looks perfect, as if the trees, shrubs, and flowers were made of plastic and not actually organic. As they near the front door, the men see other cars parked around the driveway. Noting the one red sports car, "It appears Dante got permission to use his ex-wife's alimony house after all." With a chuckle, the other replies, "So it would seem, and if I'm not mistaken, the Wicked Witch is here too, so we will have to be at our best. You know how she can be." They both nod and park next to the front door, knowing they have no time to park further away.

Opening the sliding side door first, they walk up to the front door, leaving it open for anyone to see the large, flat crate. An older woman answers the door, wearing casual pants and a loose-fitting top. Her demeanor is one of nervousness, as her eyes seem wider than they should be, but that may be due to her all white, frizzy hair. She does not smile, but whispers, "Oh, please tell me you have two, yes?" The black-suited gentlemen nod with the same grin, and she quickly turns around and yells too loudly, "Your two favorite people have come through again, Madame Faun." The guys look at her quizzically, as she turns back around. "She's in one of her moods," as she rolls her eyes, "So step lightly. Good news though: Dante is on it today, so we might all make it out of here without losing our jobs."

Without making any further small talk, as they know they are being timed by the "witch", in unison they return to the van, lifting and carrying the crate inside. The mansion is completely bare of furniture and wall furnishings. Supposedly, the settlement was 50-50, which started with them tearing things in half and giving each other half. Eventually, they settled it more smartly, emptying the house like adults. Since that time, the house has been rented out for a day here or afternoon there for photoshoots. The house and grounds are still maintained neatly for whomever the next homeowner will be, so it makes a perfect place for a backdrop.

At the top of the stairs and down the right hallway, the men carrying the crate see more life and equipment. Along the tiled hallway, they see lighting stands and reflecting screens and three crates similar to the one they are carrying, but smaller. The crates are owned by Phetish Photos, so the other handlers must have brought in their "goods" as well. Like they are handling fragile pieces of fine China, they set the crate down and begin to open it. They note, as they do so, the one thing missing from any photoshoot: a large rack of clothes. Inside, Celeste had fallen asleep all warm and cozy in the box, letting her mind drift lazily. As light returned to her vision, and noises became more prominent, she awoke in a much cooler temperature room. I wonder where we are, she thinks.

Feeling hands on her shoulders, she feels herself being raised back up to a kneeling position. With the support on both sides of her arms, she stands up. Her muscles seem a little stiff, but then as she begins to move them, they begin to loosen up, just like the material she is wearing so tightly. Her movement seems to help the material fight off the cold temperatures. She can see Bunny standing near her, and watches her become leashed and led off the crate. She anticipates being next, but nothing happens. Celeste is curious as to what is going on, but the new "Kitten" side of her brain remains quite content to simply stand until directed otherwise.

She hears a door open, and heels being forcefully driven onto the tiled floor. "Oh, here they are, you little devils, why have you kept Madame Faun waiting," a low-pitched-yet-feminine voice says. Celeste then recognizes her handler reply, "Good afternoon, your grace, and oh, you know how traffic can be this time of day, but look, Madame, see what we have for you." Celeste can hear an "ooo", then the sound of a hand being rubbed against the shiny material. "I must say," the deep-voiced woman continues while reading the collar, "Bunny might be the best yet." Celeste hears a slapping sound, and then a "Oh my, that is one tight..."

"Madam Faun," a new voice says loudly, "We really need to get these two in the room. The natural lighting is perfect, and I don't want to lose it." Celeste hears the door open and close and then maybe open again. "That Dante," Madam Faun remarks, "I'd scratch his eyes out if anyone else talked to me with that tone, but with him, he is such an artist that I can't be mad at him for long." Her forceful steps retreat from Celeste, and then she feels her leash being attached. Again, something just feels right about that, as she is gently tugged off the crate and onto the cold floor. She can see Bunny being led right in front of her, as both of them walk into the room, where she assumes Dante wants them to be.

Walking in, the room is incredibly bright, making her thankful she is wearing tinted lenses. There are spotlights and reflecting screens and huge floor-to-ceiling windows letting in even more light. The room is furnished with the bare minimum of old, dark wood furniture. There is a giant four-post bed, a large dresser drawer, a wardrobe or perhaps coat closet, a long bench and some chairs, and next to the windows look to be a sofa or couch. Despite being new to the room, no one in the room seems to notice her. They all seem to be involved in conversations or work related to the photoshoot. Madam Faun seems to be older than the others, by the sound of her voice, and catching a glimpse of her too-tight outfit with platinum blonde, curly, long hair around her overly made-up face, with some type of animal print full length overcoat. She looks completely different from everyone else who looks either professional or casual. As they cross the room, Celeste then notices three all-black women against the far wall. Each one looks to be dressed like her and standing with their heads bowed, facing the wall. Do I look like them?

Walking to the wall, she is stopped just short of it next to Bunny. "Let's get their boots and gloves on so they can be ready to go." Her handler leaves, as does Bunny's, so they simply stand there, staring straight at the wall. She can no longer see anything else, and the voices in the background are little more than noise at the moment. Again, Celeste wants to turn around and see what is going on, but Kitten is more than content to just simply stand where placed.

In a few moments, she sees her handler return with gloves and boots in his hands. He takes hold of her right arm and bends it at the elbow. He sets everything down and starts to put a glove on her right hand. She figures it will be just another layer, but then her hand feels like it is being manipulated into spreading her fingers wide. Once the glove is in place, she cannot move her hand at all. In fact, her wrist is now locked as well, bending back. With her arm extended, it looks like she is holding up five fingers. She cannot be sure, but the glove looks to be made of the same material, but perhaps thicker. She feels her arm being rotated, where her "number five" is now against her hip, and her elbow is pointed out to the side.

Repeating the process, her left hand is now forced into a "cup" shape. As if she might be getting water from a river, her left hand holds that shape with her wrist locked straight ahead. Again, her elbow is rotated to put the "cup" on her hip, and while her elbow is extended out from her body, it does not quite have the same feel as her right elbow.

He disappears from view, but then she can feel him supporting her legs. Without her having to shift her weight at all, he lifts her right foot and places it in the boot. The boot does not feel overly comfortable, and clearly has a rather large heel on it, as her foot is being shaped so that she is standing on her toes. She can feel the boot wrapping around her leg and going almost up to her knee. Then pressure from the boot slowly works its way up her leg, as if he was tightening laces on it. He shifts her onto the boot and helps her stand in it, raising her up several inches. How tall am I now?

He repeats for the other foot, wrapping it the same way. Even though she has not walked in them yet, she can tell they are heavy boots with thick platforms. I certainly hope I don't have to walk far or fast in these, she says to herself. She wants to make a further comment on what she normally wears, but at the moment, she cannot quite think of what she normally wears. He takes her leash in his hand and pulls it down. As she ducks her head, she can see a hook on the floor that has four other leashes attached to it. Once her leash is attached, she feels a sense of being trapped or confined. She knows she could pull away, but then she has no desire to do that. If left alone, she would stay hooked up and confined right here. It is at this point she can feel her backside getting warmer than her front side. I wonder if I have my back to the windows or maybe it is the lights.

The next amount of time seems to pass without measure. Celeste can hear voices saying something, and occasionally the room will brighten then dim only to brighten again. I'm sure they want more from me than just facing this wall, especially after all the work they did to get us here. Finally, she can make out some words when one of them walks closer, "...so this next shot, let's come from lower and then...", but then they wander away. Shortly after that, the room gets brighter, then dimmer, then brighter.

Her handler comes into view and unhooks her. He slowly leads her to the right to walk past the large windows. The boots are not uncomfortable, but she would not want to walk any faster in them. Like she thought, they are quite heavy with thick platforms and clunky heels. She can make out large trees and a huge green space in the backyard through the windows she passes. This place is massive, Celeste observes, where am I? No answers come, as he positions her to face the window. He unhooks her leash, then takes her right hand to put it against the window, her five fingers resting against it. He pulls her right foot back slightly and leans her forward slightly, like she is pushing against the window. From her limited vision, she can only make out another hand to her left like hers making the number five on the window just like her.

"Yes, yes...", a voice that might be Dante shouts, "That is what I'm looking for...now, we..." but then he turns away from facing her. She holds her pose calmly, noting her frontside getting warmer now, as her back side cools some. She then hears something like a squish sound, or perhaps a squirting sound. Then she feels something cool on her butt, then followed by something rubbing against it. After a few seconds, she hears, "Nope, do it again, need a higher sheen with no streaks." So again, she feels a cool sensation on her butt, then a rubbing sensation against it. She feels something poke her butt cheek, "Nope, still not right...get the buffer, need more shine from all of them in this lighting."

Then something she did not expect to ever happen, as an electric drill sound starts up behind her. She then hears other sounds just like that as if there was an army of electric drills behind her. For a third time, she feels a cold sensation on her butt, but this time, there is a vibrating feeling of something spinning and pressing against her butt cheeks. This feels really good, Celeste thinks to herself, I mean like really, really good. I'd be a worthless puddle of pleasure if they keep this up too long. She would moan if she could, but all she can do is just internalize that wonderful sound. The only thing she can get to come out of her mouth is a slight purr from the gag in her mouth.

The drill sound stops and then the "YES! That looks perfect, now get out of the way!" Kitten has no doubt the voice was not speaking to her, as she has not been moved from her pose. She notices the world get brighter, then dimmer, then brighter again and again. She has no idea how long it takes, but Kitten feels no desire to go anywhere. Celeste has stopped trying to figure things out, and that part of her goes dormant until needed. For now, Kitten's mind remains empty, waiting patiently for her next direction or command.

Kitten's leash is reattached, then her right hand is put back on her hip, and she is straightened up. Following the lead of the leash, her owner directs her towards the bed where the other four are being lined up. Each one is facing the bed now. She will be on the far left of the others, and she can see how each one of them is having their left hand extended out to "cup" the right butt cheek of the one next to them. As her leash is unhooked, she feels a hand being placed on her right butt cheek. She feels herself being adjusted slightly, but holds whatever slight shifts are made. Finally, her left hand is rotated, so that her left hand is out to the side, her "cup" up as if to catch something.

The room's lighting changes, and she hears, "Let's try the billiard ball." She can feel a slight weight in her left hand now. "Hmm, no...try the Christmas ornament." The slight weight is removed and replaced with an even lighter weight. "No, no, no...what else you got?" In a few minutes, she feels a heavier weight now, but unable to see it though. "Yes! That's it. Out of the way!" Kitten notices the room gets brighter, then dimmer, then brighter again. She remains there like all the others, waiting patiently for the next direction.

The item in Kitten's hand is removed, as is the hand from her butt cheek. She feels her leash being reattached, then left to dangle. As she faces the side of the bed, she can now see people gathering over on the other side of the bed. Her owner is one of them, as he stretches across the bed to get the leash. Pulling on it, he says, "Come to your knees on the bed." Kitten complies and begins to kneel on the bed. She can feel others doing the same, as the bed shifts to the added weight. As he continues to pull, she continues to scoot across the bed. He stops pulling, so she stops. He then begins to bend her over. "Okay," Dante directs the handlers, "put the right hand down for support...then fold the left-hand underneath them."  Kitten sees her right hand extended as she bends over, resting on the bed. Her left hand is tucked under her, cupping her own right breast.

There is a short time of discussion, then she feels her head being lifted gently by her owner. He looks into her eyes, and she feels such a calm and sweet feeling of contentment. He seems to smile at her lovingly, and she graciously does whatever he wants. "Okay, now get over here and shine those shiny rumps...extend further down the legs this time." So, for the second time today, she feels the wonderful spinning buffer pads on her body. As her owner works it up and down her legs and butt cheeks, she can feel the whole bed shaking for the others getting the same treatment. She is not sure what happened, but her whole-body shudders as she climaxes unexpectedly. Her heavy breathing must be noticeable, but then the whole bed is shaking now, so maybe they will not see what happened. "Seriously?! All of them?! Stop...stop...this isn't some cheap video on Youtube, handlers. Madam Faun expects more from you and your property this day and every day. Fix them!"

Kitten has no idea how long the rolls of pleasure went through her body, but she clearly remembers the hand touching her chin, causing her to open her eyes and look deeply into her owner's eyes. "Kitten, not again. I know you think you should, but don't. Not again. Business not pleasure." Kitten now feels sad for feeling so good, as her owner seems displeased with her. She regains her breathing, and begins to feel her body temperature cooling down. The cool room helps her pull out of the place of pleasure she was feeling. The bed becomes still again, as it appears all the others needed some help like her. As instructed, they each return to being a simple piece of furniture placed on the bed.

The next few moments are a little tense in the room, as the handlers return to their shining job. This time, nothing more happens than what should have. It is like the 5 black sexy objects on the bed are just that: objects. None of them move nor do anything that would lead one to think they are alive. Kitten loses count of the number of times the room gets brighter and dimmer and brighter. All she counts is the number of times she has moved since being told not to: zero.

At some point, she sees the people in the room leave, including her owner. She is not sure what is going on, but she does not think to find out. The room that was once full of noises and life seems to be empty now. From what she can tell, there is no one in the room now. Earlier in the day, that might have seemed odd to just stay where she is, yet now, it seems very natural.

There is no way of telling how long passed, but she feels like it was considerable before the door opens again. This time though, it is people she has not seen before. The older woman is dressed very professionally and carries a small clipboard, every part of her outfit and hair looks perfect. Behind her is a couple in their 30's perhaps, dressed in a more traditional garb from the Middle East. His suit looks to be very expensive and tailored perfectly, with his head covered in white fabric with a bright band to hold it onto his head. She is covered head to toe in dark fabric. The only thing Kitten can see is her dark eyes.

As they step in the room, the woman says loudly, "Please ignore the furniture in here, as this is just for the photoshoot today. I really wanted to show you the view from here." Kitten feels some type of recollection of a person that takes other people into houses to sell them. They have a specific name, she tells herself. As she begins to pull her brain out of the static place it was in, she hears the man mumble something, to which the lady responds, "Oh no, they are not real. Just mannequins for the photoshoot." And just as Kitten thought she might remember the name, the lady reminds her she is not real, and since inanimate objects do not remember things, her brain goes static again, comfortably holding her pose like a piece of furniture.

Time passes for who knows how long, but Kitten does notice the lady and the couple leave. She sees the couple stop and linger over the "mannequins" on the bed, or perhaps the costumes they wear. Either way, they take a long moment to pause and gaze upon them. Satisfied, they turn and leave, just as Dante, Madam Faun, their many assistants, and her owner come bustling back in the room. Madam Faun is screaming at the "insolence" of "those people", while Dante looks like he dunked his head underwater. She can hear things being moved around, and then hands on her hips pulling her back. "Back up now, nice and slow...easy." Her owner's voice helps her back off the bed and stand back up. He attaches the leash and leads her to another part of the room. "One more! Just one more! Let's go!" Dante screams.

The wooden bench is against a bare wall now. As she walks up to it, she sees that the others are being positioned next to it. With amazing skill, her right leg is lifted up by her owner while he maintains her balance. Her right foot is placed on the bench, while her left leg stands locked on the floor. Moving again feels good, and standing at the moment also feels better from being on "all fours" for so long. She feels a hand on her shoulder that is not her owner's as she can feel the nails digging into her suit. "This one is not tall enough for the end, move it to the middle."

Her owner comes into view again, taking her right leg off the bench, and then moving her down it to the middle. She can see there are two others like her already in place, so she does the same at his direction. She is scooted in close, where her front side presses into the one in front of her. Not long after, she feels a pressure from behind, as the chest of the one behind her gets pressed into her. "Okay, okay...get their hands up so I can see the 'fives' and let's get their left hand cupping the one in front of them." Kitten feels her arms being manipulated as directed, and while she could have moved them, knowing what to do, she knew she should wait to be directed.

Within moments, the picture was taken, with the five of them facing the same way, with the same pose. Facing the camera this time, Kitten could see the multiple flashes from the reflecting screens now, as the room got brighter, but then dimmed as the lights went out, and then brighter again when they turned back on. While not trying to figure it out, it did make more sense now. She could hear the people in the room congratulating each other over a job well-done. She did not even notice that no one came to thank her for her hard work, as furniture does not need to be thanked for doing its job. She was simply beautiful furniture to them.

And without any fanfare, Kitten and Bunny are boxed up for transport. And like before, they hold hands in their laying-down-while-kneeling position. Their owners had removed their gloves and boots before putting them in the crate, as all available space was taken up by them. They did not notice the extra stop, as both of their owners wanted something to eat and drink. They also did not notice the added stop for gas for the van. Bunny and Kitten were blissfully unaware in their silent, dark, padded "home".

Eventually, the crate was opened and both Bunny and Kitten were removed. As if he was going in reverse, he begins to undo everything he had done before to her. There were a few added changes. He closed the blinds of the townhome before removing the mask, as Kitten's eyes had grown rather accustomed to the dark. Once the gag was removed, he put some water in her dry mouth from a small squeeze bottle. She held it, and then when he massaged her throat, her body naturally swallowed. As he worked around putting things up, he would stop and give her more cool water. He would leave it in her mouth for a few seconds, then massage her to swallow. Kitten marveled at that, as she had never involuntarily swallowed. She had wondered if she should swallow when he first put the water in there, but then, it did not seem right to take the initiative on anything.

"If I may," he whispers in her ear, "I would do all of this to you every day. I would make sure you would want for nothing under my ownership. I will be leaving a contract with your current owner that would last a year. Call me if you are interested. I promise you will be happier being owned by me than her." She ponders his words, wondering what it would be like. If every day could be like this, having a man spend every moment making me feel desired and special, then I'm in!

He finishes removing the suit, but leaves her undergarments as promised. He pulls out a white robe made of paper. It thinly covers her from shoulders to knees. As he finishes packing up, she hears Ilda say, "Thank you, gentlemen, for your help today! I will definitely be giving you a 5-star rating." They both bow slightly, "Thank you, but the pleasure was all ours. We do not always get to work with such models as you and yours. It has been a treat for us as well." Ilda nods and replies, "And now to payment, will there..." She stops when they hold up their hands. "That is not our concern, as that is between Phetish Photos and you. We simply transport and prepare your property for the task at hand." She smiles, unsure of what to do now with these guys in her house and her friend still standing at attention in the other room.

"On the table, you have the invoice of services for today, as well as two contracts for you and your property here. We were serious and would gladly purchase you and her for the next year. Look it over and let us know." The other chimes in, "Yes, please let us know." Ilda seems flattered and flabbergasted at the same time. "Thank you both, and we, uh I mean, I will look it over." They both shake her hand, and then exit efficiently, but Celeste notices the one handler cutting his eyes at her as he closes the door.

The townhome is quiet for a few moments, then Ilda asks, "You going to stand there all day without moving?" Celeste grins and replies without moving, "I don't know. I have not been able to move unless someone did it for me, so it feels weird to move on my own." Deciding it was worth trying, she turns and looks at her friend. It truly feels strange being in control of your own body again. "So, have you done anything like that before?"

Ilda shakes her head, "Nothing to that level, no. I've been to several shoots with clothing like that...in fact, you have been there most of the time. The photographer does most of the handling with an assistant. This was the most elaborate set-up I've been to." Celeste leans on the counter in the kitchen, "I can't believe that happened, like it was a real thing that happened. I would not have believed it if I wasn't there experiencing it." Ilda nods her agreement.

"I don't know about you," Ilda states, "But I'm starved. I wish we would have eaten beforehand. Whatever you want, I'm buying!" Celeste nods her head and rubs her stomach, "I couldn't agree more. I had not thought about how little I had eaten today until now. I was just so distracted by it all." Ilda nods and starts looking on her phone for delivery options. Her paper robe makes crinkling sounds as she scrolls her finger up and down the screen. Celeste notices she makes the same sound as she walks over to her friend. While the robe is odd feeling, what is underneath is not. She cannot get over how different she feels with just the right kind of bra.

"Switching topics on you," she says, "I'll never go back to Walmart for my underwear. I'm buying whatever this stuff is that he left me in." Ilda chuckles, "Wow, I never thought you would be into leather undergarments. You think your electrician friends would approve?" Celeste wrinkles up her nose, "Ugh, don't even bring them up...I bet they would love to see me taking off my coveralls and wearing leather. Which, by the way, I did not know what it was, okay?" Ilda waves her hand at her, "I'm just teasing...okay, so how about some Italian food. Mario's can deliver in 30 minutes, giving us time to get a shower before they arrive." Celeste thinks it over and adds, "Can you add some breadsticks? I'm REALLY hungry." Ilda chuckles again, "For my 'property', anything!"

As they both laugh at her joke, they both secretly think of the contracts left on the table. 'Property' sounds a little scary, but for a year, they would be objects of worship to these men. They would want for nothing, and be adored in a safe, stress-free environment. A decision for another day, but definitely something to ponder on.