The lighting from the ceiling is positioned perfectly to highlight the object hanging from the ceiling. Each curve of the work of art is displayed for anyone in the room to see. The surface is shiny, almost glistening like it is wet with condensation. The artist must have used some expensive clear coat or wrap, as the sculpture of a human female looks to be wrapped perfectly in at least a half inch of transparent plastic. What is even more amazing is that the sculpture looks to be a real woman!

Starting with the toes, which have a bright red toe polish on the nails, look to be perfectly placed along side each other, as if these feet had been used recently and needed a break from their everyday use. The smooth legs look like they had been shaved and possibly waxed. The left knee shows a bit more wear than the right, speaking to the artist's ability to make this art work look realistic, as if they kneel down on their left knee more often than their right. Her right leg is extended more than her left, but they are both bent, as if she is laying on her side, or perhaps in flight as she hangs 6 feet above the ground.

As you walk around back, you can see each butt cheek is perfectly shaped to the coating. There is even a red handprint on her left cheek, as if she had been spanked. The paint must have been thick, as it did not splatter, but you can see where it had started to drip in places before drying. Her back is smooth and looks to be in good shape. There is a tattoo of a butterfly just below her left shoulder. Again, the attention to detail is genius by the artist.

Walking back around front, you see the artist was not trying to over sexualize his art. A bright green leaf is placed strategically below her waist, and centered on what appears to be a clean shaven front. Her waist is tight, like she might be a runner, and her chest is pulled in so tight that she appears to be flat chested. However, the artist made sure her nipples were pressed perfectly symmetrical.

Her arms extend out and above her, as if she might be taking flight like some sort of super hero, or perhaps she is simply reaching for a stretch of her back. Her bright red nail polish matches her toes, and each arm is tone and smooth. There is another tattoo on each forearm, but it is very small. It may be a heart, or perhaps a flower. Either way, it is a nice touch to realism. Her face is tilted downward a bit, allowing the gazers to see into the young, beautiful face. The face is smoothed tightly by the wrap, with her bright red lips pressed against her mouth. If one looks very carefully, one can see a thin, clear tube running from the nose and mouth of the sculpture. It appears to wind stealthily behind her head. Her hair is wrapped around her neck and then back up above her head, almost as if her hair is a hood or some type of head covering.

The man standing in the room takes in the work of art, the only patron enjoying the exquisite sculpture. His clothes are like what an older man might wear to bed. The lounge pants are cotton and baggie. His t-shirt is soft and comfortable, and his bathrobe barely comes to his knees. As he sips on a mug of something, he stares longingly at his suspended artwork. The dark, steel cables are taught and seem to reflect no light, making the shiny, glistening sculpture almost appear to float in mid-air. As he smiles, he waits just another moment to see the blink. Good, he says to himself, still alive and perfectly displayed for me. He turns around and shuts off the lights, plunging the room into total darkness. A beep can be heard as he punches something on the wall, and a monotone voice says, "Security system armed."

Taell closes her eyes, feeling her body starting to cool down with the spotlights off of her. She tries to sigh, but she cannot take in a full breath while wrapped tight and hanging from the ceiling. She lets her mind drift off to the sound of the constant beep of the alarm system protecting her, as she thinks to herself: never in a million years would I ever have thought I would be like this.

It all started when I had to take Professor Bolchinsky's college history class, she thinks back. She had missed taking an important history class the previous semester, which happens when the guy you are dating takes up all your free time. If she could grin, she would, because those few months were amazing. And with the other classes full, she was given permission to sit in on the honor's version, given that she could not take the other future classes she needed without this one. She's not dumb, but an honors class seemed out of her league, but then she was told the professors in the honor's college are a cut above the rest. And given how their relationship had changed so dramatically these few months, she is not sure that was a compliment.

Wait, actually, the story needs to start the summer before that fall semester, she recalls. I was needing a job to pay for college, after losing her grants from her dropping grade point average from dating the before-mentioned guy during the school year. She does not regret spending all that time with him, but she would have wished the repercussions had not been so steep. So, she gets a job at an Amazon warehouse working from midnight to 8am every day but Sunday. As far as her class schedule goes, this is great, except for her 8am Tuesday and Thursday class of history.

She was able to get permission to leave work a little early on those days, so she can get from the Amazon building to the university in time. On Tuesdays, she walks in on time or maybe one minute early. Professor Bolchinsky did not seem to mind that, and even smiled warmly at her the first day of class. But, Thursdays are another matter. No matter what she does, those days are always busier, so she cannot get out of the building as soon as she likes. So, she is always 5 minutes late to Thursday lectures. She has been no later than 7-8 minutes, and she has occasionally only been 4 minutes late, but she cannot get there on time.

Professor Bolchinsky makes his displeasure known as she walks in, and then he will find something in his lecture to bring up that pertains to her tardiness. And to remove any confusion, he will call her by name as the brunt of his joke falls on her. Most of the class seems to care little for her predicament, as she does not have any friends in the class. While she grew to hate the unwanted attention, she really had no way out. She had to have the class, and this was the only open one. Sucking up her pride, she took his insults on the chin.

On her first test, which you can guess was on a Thursday, she got a C. She worked as feverishly as she could, but she ran out of time. She told herself that it was her lack of studying, and not the lack of time, but then the second test was an F. Again, it was on Thursday, and she did not finish. Trying to dig deeper to do better, she knows as she walks this latest test up to his desk, with just the two of them left in the room, she knows this is another failing one. Holding it out in front of her, she asks, "Professor, is there anything I can do to improve my grade? I know this test I'm about to give you is not a good one."

He stares at her, as he had been doing the entire time she walked up to the desk up front of the classroom. "No, be on time." She continues to hold her test, "Please, sir, it is not my fault that I cannot get from work to here any sooner." She tries to say more, but he cuts her off with, "Always blaming others aren't we, huh? Not my fault....not my fault...your generation is doomed to remain pathetic." Holding her ground and her test, she asks again for mercy.

Thinking back to that moment, she realizes that she was not asking for mercy. She was asking for bondage, because he was about to bind her grade to her freedom, and she had no idea. She thought at first that his change in facial expression was a good thing, but in reality, she had fallen into a trap and did not even know it. "I'll tell you what," he says slowly with a slight smile, "Come to my house at 4:30 on the dot on Friday afternoon. My wife and I must attend a scholastic function here at the university, and our babysitter is sick. Do you think you can babysit my son?"

Taell thought about that, not expecting this sort of help. She was thinking of a research paper or doing more homework or some current event activity for bonus points. Babysitter? I have not done that since I was in high school. As she processes that, he pulls her test paper out from her fingers. "Hmm," he says holding the paper in the palm of his hand, "Today, this paper weighs like an F, but I think it could weigh more like a C...or B?" Taell now realizes they are negotiating her "fee" for watching his son. Not wanting to be greedy, she replies, "I can be there at 4:30 on the dot for a B. As long as I'm not late to work that night, I'll be willing to drop to a C." The Professor holds out his right hand to shake hers, "Deal."

Friday afternoon, she finds herself in her car, driving to the professor's house. I can't believe he already had his address written out on a card to hand me yesterday, she thinks to herself. Having punched that into her phone's map app, she follows the line to what could only be described as a modern-day castle. The neighborhood was old, but well-kept by all the neighbors. The professor's house stood out, not because of its size, as all the houses are large, but rather the architecture. It really did look like a castle from the outside. It has a rock and stone exterior extending all the way up the three story structure, complete with four battlements, one at each corner. The windows were tall but very narrow, as they expected to repel an invading army like he talks of in class.

Once inside, she thought she had stepped back in time. The plush red carpet and Victorian style furniture made her feel she was living in history, not just taking a history class. The professor's wife was small and mousy. They probably met in a library, Taell chuckles to herself, but she looks more friendly than her professor. He tells her they will be back by 11, and Connor likes dinner by 6 with no exceptions. Taell does not wave at them as they leave, as she suddenly realizes she never asked how old the boy was.

Turning around, she sees him standing at the bottom of the stairs. His shorts and t-shirt look wrinkled, and his bare feet are noticeably dirty. To be fair, she is also casually dressed, but her leggings and t-shirt are in much better shape. He looks to be 10 or so, but his unkept hair could be misleading. She moves to introduce herself, but then he turns around and bounds up the stairs without a sound. "Huh," she mumbles, "This could be the easiest B I've ever gotten."

She finds the TV and turns it on. She is flipping through the channels when she hears a voice clear behind her. She turns around to see a young man, instead of a boy. He is wearing khaki pants and a button down shirt that looks like it has been ironed recently. His feet are covered in socks and dress shoes, while his hair looks clean and combed perfectly. She is not sure this is the same boy, because he looks to be much older now. 16? 18? The transformation is unbelievable.

"Hello," he says politely,"My name is Robbie." She smiles as she stands, "I'm Taell. It is nice to meet you, Robbie." And from there, the real work began. She fixed him dinner as he requested, and made herself available for his needs. He seemed polite and friendly, and not at all like his dad. She finds herself enjoying the evening, so after dinner, when he asks to play spy vs spy, she agrees thinking it is some kind of video game.

He runs off and returns wearing a lab coat, bringing with him some rope and a rag. "Okay, I'll start as the evil scientist, and you are the spy that was captured. Then, I'll rescue you as the best spy in the world: Spy Spyer." He seems innocent enough, so she agrees, allowing herself to be tied to a chair in the study, while he sets up his chemistry equipment. She recalls thinking her hands and feet were tied pretty tight, but he had given her no indication that anything was amiss. He shows glimpses of a young boy that she first saw, but he clearly is much older than he acts or pretends to be.

Thinking back to that first encounter sends a chill up her spine, or perhaps that is the air conditioner vent near her hanging spot. The cold, cold air blows almost directly on her, changing her temperature rapidly. She would have goose bumps, but there is no room for them in her tight plastic wrap "outfit". Her teeth would chatter, but her jaw could not move. She almost feels that the condensation on her wrap is turning to ice, as she feels her body freezing and literally bonding itself to the plastic wrap around her. The good news is that the cooler temperature makes it easier to fall asleep. She is not sure about the science behind that, but the constant pressure all over her body, with the dropping temperature, makes for good sleep. She thinks she might actually be a piece of art, but since sculptures do not dream, and she does, she figures she must still be a real person.

She dreams of that first visit to the Professor's house, and being tied to the chair as a captured spy. The boy laughs like an evil scientist and offers her something to drink. She had seen him pour the apple juice from the store-bought container into a glass mug, so she did not think anything of it. She drinks the cool juice, and says, "I'll never talk, you villain." He laughs again, "Oh but you will, for I have given you truth serum. You will tell me everything." As he walks out, he says, "I'll give it time to work." After he closes the door, leaving her alone, he comes back in and says innocently, "I'm gonna run upstairs and change into my spy outfit. Be back to rescue you."

She grins and almost laughs. How could such an adorable kid come from that mean professor? As she sits there, waiting to be rescued, she notices the room getting hotter and hotter. Woah, did he turn the heat on? I'm burning up here. As she sits there, she feels a pressure below her waist that does not seem natural. She wonders if she is getting sick or something, but her thoughts are broken by the door bursting open.

He tumbles into the room, wearing black pants and a black sweatshirt. His gun is a nerf gun, so he fires several shots all around her. She tries to laugh, but again, a wave rushes over her. When she looks up, he is standing in front of her, his voice sounding very serious and much deeper than normal, "Tell me, did you talk?" She shakes her head. "I must be sure before I set you free. You could be a double agent." He rests his hand on her knee, and his touch is like fire to her body. Like a sound of pleasure, it vibrates over her leg to her torso.

He runs his hand up her legging-covered thigh, sending greater pleasure all around her. As he rubs her shoulders, he says in a commanding voice, "You can tell me, did you talk?" But she cannot reply, as his touching brings a moan to her lips. She can feel his hands wandering down to her butt, as she sits on a small stool, and she can feel a dam that had broken inside of her. Oh no, she recalls, I know what that means. "COME along," he whispers in her ear while keeping his hands on her, "COME along and tell me." Her head snaps back into his shoulder as she climaxes with a scream. The pleasure overcomes her, and she moans violently for many moments.

He shakes his head disappointedly, "Oh my dear, it appears you have gone to the side of evil." He sits on her lap, straddling her as he faces her, looking more like a man than a boy, and whispers in her ear again. His breath on her neck sends tingles all over her body. What is going on? Why is this happening? He whispers things she cannot quite catch, but soon his words are lost over her screams of ecstasy again and again. She is not quite sure how many times it happens, but when she regains her senses, she is laying on the couch against the far wall, with him spooning her back. There is a small TV in this room, playing some cartoon show. The ropes that had bound her tightly were no where to be seen, and neither is the stool or the chemistry equipment.

Whatever fog was over her mind, it had finally lifted, and she knew what she had done, and she knew she had to get out of there as quick as possible. She sits up and then staggers to her feet. She can hear the front door opening, while she looks back at the boy laying on the couch, looking all relaxed and innocent. "Uh," she mumbles, "I've got to go...just got to go." She barely says hello to the professor and his wife, as she sprints out the door to her car. Her body is dripping with sweat, not from the run, but from whatever happened inside. What have I done? She starts to add more water to the outside of her body, as she begins to cry as she pulls away.

Back inside, the professor pokes his head in the study, noting the room appears to be unaltered from earlier. He asks, "Did it go well?" The boy replies almost robotically, "Of course, father. Everything went as you planned." The professor nods and smiles, "I knew I could count on you, son." As he leaves the room, he says over his shoulder, "Your mother wishes you in bed immediately." The boy stands and walks towards the stairs, "Of course, whatever mother wishes."

Taell went back to her normal life, doing her best to forget that night. Professor Bolchinsky seemed to be no different afterwards. She did get a B on her last test, so he must not be too upset. She reasons that the boy might be as embarrassed as her, not wanting his parents to know what happened, so it is possible, even likely, they do not know what actually occurred in their study. While moving packages at work each morning, she will think about that night, but some of the evening is fuzzy. It is like she cannot quite grab hold of the thoughts and memories. It was weird, she tells herself while scanning another set of boxes, I felt like I was out of control, almost like I was drunk or had been drugged like a real spy.

Three weeks later, another college test in history on Thursday had Taell standing in front of Profesor Bolchinsky's desk. She knows she is about to drop another failed test on his desk. She wants to ask for help, but then she fears what he might say. He cuts the ice with, "Tomorrow is another non-profit fundraising function, and since Robert liked you so much, I propose another exchange of services for grades." Taell gulped noticeably at the word "services", and while the failing test in her hand was heavy, it was not heavy enough to agree. "Oh, I'm sorry, Professor," she lies, "I have another appointment that night. Perhaps we could..." He cuts her off by snatching her paper from her hands, "Good day, Ms Taell." He puts his head down to gather his papers and things.

Taell turns on her heel, her heart pumping so loudly that she is surprised he could not hear it. Grabbing her backpack, she almost runs out of the room. The cool day makes her walk back to her car briskly. Somehow, she feels good having said 'no'. Her phone buzzes as she walks along the sidewalk of other college students passing by her. She pulls it up to see a picture of her spooning with Connor on the couch. Before she can react, a message comes in from the same number saying: I would like to see you again...unless you want this to be seen as well.

Taell looks around, making sure no one else can see what she is seeing. Turning back around, she starts to jog back to the social studies building. Can I do this? Should I do this? Can I afford not to? Thoughts of betrayal and fear and humiliation all bubble to the top, as she rounds the corner breathlessly and nearly bumps into Professor Bolchinsky. His brown pants and tan button down, along with his checkered sports coat makes him look like the stereotypical college history professor. She cannot read the look on his face, but he does not seem surprised to see her again.

"Uh, professor," she says without making eye contact and trying to catch her breath, "It turns out my...appointment...was canceled. I'm free tomorrow night if the offer still stands." He sidesteps her and says over his shoulder, "4:30 on the dot, Ms Taell, 4:30 on the dot." She watches him walk away, unsure if her fate had been sealed or if she had dodged a bullet.

The standoff had begun right after dinner. Taell had made dinner for Robbie like before, who ate slowly and seemed to enjoy it. He seemed completely ignorant of the text that had to come presumably from him, and now, he has a new game he wants to play.

He stands with a shiny black outfit in his right hand and a leash in his left hand. She stands across from him, his phone in her hand. "This will be fun...you dress like a dog and let me train you tonight," he says like that makes perfect sense. "Not until you delete the photos of the last time I was here from your phone." He has other things to say, just like she has other things to say, but neither budges. Finally, she has an idea. "Okay, how about this, show me the pictures on your phone while I get dressed in that. After an hour, I get out of the costume and you give me 5 minutes to delete those pictures. Deal?" He crosses his arms like he is thinking about it. "2 hours if you want to delete them all." Checking the time on the phone, she calculates that she should still be able to get undressed and delete them before the professor and his wife come back.

"Fine...deal!" He laughs like a little child and hands her the costume. "This is going to be so much fun," he says with glee. Taell wants to be mad with him, but he seems like such an adorable boy that it is hard to get angry. Taking the suit in her hand, it feels like it might be made of plastic, but flexible. It feels tight and stretchy and very, very shiny. The black suit has some red highlights on the straps that dangle strangely from the arms and legs. How does this even work?

Handing her a thing of baby powder, he says, "You gotta use this to help get it on, so that it doesn't stick to your skin. I'm gonna change, too. Be back in a minute." Standing in the laundry room, Taell holds the costume and container of powder. Well, I've never worn anything like this before, but if I want to pass my class and not be arrested for looking like I slept with my professor's son, I need to get this thing on.

Stripping down and powdering up, she slips and pulls and rolls the suit on her body. She can feel it pressing her from all sides and all around her. Her legs look tight and toned in the black material, just like her arms. She zips up the front as she pulls the mask over her head. There is a mouth gag that forces her talking to sound like a bark or woof. The ears are pointing upwards above her head, and while she can see through the eye holes, they are tinted slightly more than she would like. Running her gloves hands over her body, she can hear the squeaking and crackling sound, and despite hating being in this house wearing it, she likes the sound and feel of this material on her. Maybe it is the constant pressure that is so comforting, she guesses.

Robbie returns wearing khakis and a dark blue polo. "Here," he says with adult-like confidence, "Let me get that strap for you." Before Taell can really understand, she feels her left arm being bent at the elbow and her left hand finding its way up to her left shoulder. Without warning, the straps around her arm are tightened, immobilizing her arm in a harsh bent shape. As she tests the new restriction, her other arm is bound the same way, where her right hand is essentially holding her right shoulder and her right elbow bent completely. He is surprisingly strong.

She can feel him pushing her upper back down. "You will need to be on the floor for this." She does not understand that, so she resists by asking, "Wait, what for? What are you doing now?" The mouth gag only makes it sound like some barking and whimpering. The sound of her altered voice distracts her, so his gentle but firm touch has her on the floor with her legs bent completely back, with the bottom of her right and left foot being against her right and left butt cheek respectively.

When he stands up, he towers over her, as she is now constrained to walking on all fours. She awkwardly tries to maintain her balance. "Let's get your paws on you and the tail, and then you are ready." She tries to protest, but her current state makes her very vulnerable. He lifts up each elbow and attaches something underneath that hooks to the straps. She can no longer feel the sting of the hard tile floor on her elbows. It is padded now. The same happens on her knees, making standing much more comfortable, assuming this dog position can actually be comfortable. She then feels some pressure on her lower back, and then an added weight near her butt.

"There," he says in a deep voice, snapping a picture but now sounding more boy-like, "Perfect!" He holds the phone up to her eyes, so that she can see a black, shiny dog. I can't believe it, she thinks in astonishment, I really do look like some kind of freaky dog. She does not consider that he has another picture of her, as she looks nothing like her regular self. The ears and small snout, along with the posture of all four legs even now. She even has a black, shiny tail. Where in the world did he get a costume like this?

Feeling pressure on her neck, she hears a click. "And of course, your collar," he says with pride, "Something every dog wants to have. Ownership...a place to belong." She feels a tug at her neck, and he says, "Come now, I gotta get you cleaned up." Walking unsteadily on her elbows and knees, she slowly moves with him to the small tub against the wall in the laundry room. There are rain boots and muddy shoes lined up next to it. He leads her into it, as it is shallow enough for her to step over it in her constricted state. As she does, she hears another click. "I got you leashed to the wall, so I know I can reach you." She then feels a cool liquid on her back, and then a towel or rag rubbing against it.

"Your name is Max. I've always wanted a dog named Max." He continues to talk as he shines her up with the spray and rag. "Oh, your coat is looking so shiny now. Gotta get that powder off of there. I want my boy to look perfect for play time." Taell does not know what to think. Robbie's rubbing feels good, almost like a massage, as he rubs every part of her body covered in the slick suit. The fact that he wants a male dog is somewhat bothersome, but this suit has truly pulled everything in, so it would be hard to tell what gender she is at the moment.

He works down each arm and leg. He takes extra time and care around her butt and stomach, making her blush under the mask. She does not want him or anyone to know how good this feels. I could have been wearing this for what's-his-name last semester. He probably would have loved it, and we probably never would have left my dorm room. Of course, I had never heard of anything like this until tonight, she thinks with a wink.

True to his word, Robbie takes his time and makes sure Max is all clean. He takes a few more pics to show his new dog. Max nods his head, and Taell admits that she looks nothing like herself. Robbie can take all the pics he wants, because no one would recognize her. Besides, I'll get access to that phone soon, so I can delete everything that has any link to me.

With the bath done, Robbie gets Max out and into the living room. He picks up a small bag from the kitchen counter on the way in and crouches in front of Max. "Okay, Max," Robbie says to his dog, "Let's learn to behave." Robbie stands up and with a commanding voice, he says, "Sit!" At the same time, he holds up a "treat" from the bag. Taell tries to sit, but she falls over. "No, no, again!" Robbie's commanding voice gets Taell up on her "feet", and she tries to sit again. It takes her a couple of tries, and many more falls, but eventually she gets it.

"Good boy!" he says and puts a treat in the dog's mouth. Taell can feel the soft treat in her mouth. It has a fruity flavor and starts dissolving quickly. With her mouth partially gagged, or blocked, she was worried about the treat getting stuck. However, it slicks right down and tastes really good. He has her stand up and then sit down again on command. While she should feel humiliated, she does not. Yes, she is eating treats from a boy's hand, well, maybe he is a young man, getting harder and harder to tell. Yes, she is wearing a crazy suit and pretending to be a dog. But, for whatever reason, it feels natural at the moment.

He shows her the water bowl, getting her to drink from it. It takes several tries, and he has to wipe her off repeatedly. His strong hand moving all along her front, getting all the water off her. "I can't have you tracking water all through the house." Eventually, she gets the hang of it, drinking easily. She just has to extend her tongue a little further and tilt her head up while bending her back over more. He smiles and gives her another treat. Using the leash, they go into the dining room, where he wants to work on fetch. She finds the leash and collar are comforting, as she knows exactly where to be without punishment. He has a pile of squeaky dog toys on the floor. Some are colorful, some are fuzzy, but they all have a squeaker in them. He took the time to test them all in front of her.

Picking one up, he tosses it down the hallway, letting it slide to a stop on the hardwood floors. "Fetch!" Taell looks at the toy then him. Sheesh, you wanna throw it further, she complains, that's a long walk. Still getting used to her walking, she slowly moves to the toy. She figures she could go faster if she practiced more, but there really is not the time. Once at the toy, she tries to pick it up with her mouth, but she cannot get it. Her small snout gets in the way. She just ends up pushing it around the floor, as she tries in vain to pick it up.

"No! No! No! That is not right. Heel!" He says and points to his feet. Heel? What does that mean, she thinks. She decides to sit, and see if that works. He screams "no" again and storms over to her. "Heel means to come sit by my feet. Fetch means get the toy and bring it back to me!" Grabbing her collar, he pulls her from the sitting position and drags her back to the dining room roughly. As he turns her around, he spanks her hard on the butt. "Again!"

He throws another toy, and the process repeats. Again, she cannot pick up the toy, so she is scolded. She is then pulled back to the dining room and spanked again. After several tries, she finds her head drooping down. Her confidence is weakened, and she feels bad for failing her owner...uh, Robbie. He continues to work with her until finally, she is able to get a toy and bring it back to him. He smiles broadly, praising his dog. She finds a glow building in her as she looks at his face, hearing the words, and receiving the treat. It all just feels so good...so good...oh my, this feels like a...oh no, this is not...her thoughts are stopped short by an orgasm that racks her body. She falls down on her back, whimpering from her strangely-gagged mouth, feeling the pleasure of his praise wash all over her. He bends down and rubs her belly, praising her more, to which she climaxes again, rolling around on her back. His words and touch feel so good, she tells herself. Mmm, she moans to herself, rub my belly, yes!

Eventually, he commands her up, and they walk to the back door. She is still somewhat breathless, but walking around helps bring her down from the multiple climaxes. "Now, we need to potty train you. I can't have you making a mess on the floors." Taell looks at him with a tilted head, how am I supposed to go in this suit? He crouches down and shows her a bell. "Ring the bell and I'll let you out. Only ring the bell when you have to go outside to relieve yourself." She nods her head, and he has her come ring the bell as practice, giving her treats and praise that feel so good to her.

As they walk away, she can feel something move in her. Wait, she says to herself, was it because he has been talking about it, or do I really have to go? Deciding she can hold it, she keeps walking, but the pounding of her "feet" on the floor makes it worse. She whimpers, not realizing she had, and starts to walk back to the door. I don't know how this will work, but I need to relieve this pressure, she tells herself.

Like she just did in practice, she rings the bell with her paw. "Oh, you gotta go out, boy? Sure, let me get the door." He opens the back door and they both step out onto the porch. She has never been back here, but the wooden porch is huge and does not exactly fit the look of the castle architecture from the front. This is more of a traditional home in the backyard with lawn furniture and a fence with green grass all around. He has her walk down a couple of steps and into the grassy backyard. She is amazed she did not fall down the steps. Going down them only made matters worse, as she really really has to go now. Fortunately, the fence is high, so no one can see them out there. He walks her over to a brightly painted fire hydrant.

As she stands there staring at it, she feels a hand down below her waist. She hears a zipper and his hand tapping her butt. "Now, hike your back leg up against the fire hydrant and go." She looks up at him and then at the hydrant. As she stands there, she feels a spank on her butt, "You asked to come out, now go!" His command sends a signal that she needs to relieve herself now. The vibration from the spank did not help either. I don't think I can do this, she tells herself.

Again, he commands her and spanks her. Unable to hold it in any longer, she walks closer and like he commanded, she hikes her back left leg up and leans it against the hydrant. She cannot imagine this working, but then suddenly it does. She feels instant relief and again he praises her. That feeling deep inside her starts to glow, sending tingles all over her body. She soon realizes she has been done for a while, but she had not moved yet. Bringing her leg back down, he rewards her with a treat, and then zips her back up. He can feel him brushing her tail with his hand, so it must have been stuck in a strap or something.

Back inside, he decides to play some video games to take a break. She wanders around the lower level of the house, having no desire to climb all the stairs. The house seems to be fully furnished with antiques, beautiful paintings, and lighting that has a candle-flickering effect. Eventually, she goes back to the study and lays down at his feet. He did not call her, but it seems right to be at his feet. Dogs belong at their owner's feet. I am a dog...male dog, and Robbie owns me. Before truly realizing it, his former name of Taell has little meaning, and all pronouns that might have been feminine a few minutes ago are all masculine. He had thoughts of time and schedules back then, but now, he can only think of obedience and behaving like a good dog. The term "broken" comes to mind, but he is not sure why.

Time passes as time does, Max enjoying his training with his owner. He finds pleasure that he releases with such feelings of bliss with praise from Robbie. There is nothing better than this...nothing. Eventually, Max is leashed and brought back into the laundry room. With slow care, Robbie begins removing the straps and mask. Max begins to lose his hold, and Taell's consciousness reemerges. She simply lays limp as Robbie removes the costume. Within a few minutes, she lays curled up on the floor. He leaves the room and states in a monotone voice, "Parents are returning soon. Please get dressed and sit by the door."

Taell registers that information and does just as he asks. She finds her clothes where she left them, so putting them on takes no time at all. She has a foggy feeling in her mind, like something happened recently she should recall, but she cannot seem to put two thoughts together. Once dressed, she slowly walks awkwardly to the front door and sits calmly in the high backed chair next to it, holding her purse in her lap. Sitting in a chair seems strange now, just like walking on two legs seemed odd as well. Robbie is nowhere to be seen, and Taell shows no concern over that. She quietly, calmly sits in the chair. She does not move until the door opens and the Professor and his wife walk in.

His wife does not acknowledge her, walking on and up the stairs. The Professor sees her and says, "You may leave now." Taell stands up and walks out without a word. She knows she drove to work, because her car was in the parking lot when she came out many hours later. But, she really has no memory of driving or working that morning. Maybe after some sleep, it will all come back to me, she thinks. Her dreams are strange, but her mind is able to put it all together by the time she wakes up. She gasps, bringing her hands to her mouth, "I didn't delete the pictures!"

Over the next two weeks, Taell is in a bit of a fog. She has trouble focusing on her classes, and while her job is not mentally tasking, she still feels like she is just going through the motions. Eventually, she comes out of it and starts feeling like her old self. With a smile on her face, she leaves the gym for the first time in weeks feeling good. Like there had been a cloud over her that has lifted, she stops to get a salad and some electrolyte water at the university cafeteria. She is in such a good mood, that seeing Professor Bolchinsky walking out of the building does not bother her. In fact, when he says to "wait a moment", she does. She stands right where she stands with a smile on her face.

He calmly puts his change in his pocket, and repositions his lunch in his other hand. Taell simply stands next to him smiling, not really noticing the world passing her by. Professor Bolchinsky then says, "You seem happy to see me. You would be even happier to see me after class tomorrow. Have a good day!" He then walks on his way, and Taell nods her head and continues on inside. She grabs her salad and drink, and then tells herself, I'm not sure why but I cannot wait for history class tomorrow.

As usual, she was late to class, but for the first time, he did not call her out. She sat in her usual place, took her notes, and highlighted the date of the final exam next week. Since this is the last class of the semester, he was letting them go early, with a study guide for each of them. As they file past his desk for their copy, she hangs back to be the last person. She wants to see him after class.

As the last person leaves, he looks at her and asks, "Would you like to skip the final exam?" She smiles, but then replies in a serious tone, "What do you mean?" He leans back and says, "I have another need of your services, but not as a babysitter. But if you are to get an A on your final exam, this will be an entire weekend." Taell tries to process this, wondering what could he need of her for an entire weekend that is not babysitting. She nods tentatively and asks, "I would have to take off from work, depending on what you need." He leans forward now, "But an A in an honors college history class? Surely some time off from a weekend of work is worth that."

She feels more at ease now and nods her head like he is speaking good sense. "So, you will become a centerpiece for my house next weekend. My colleague in the chemistry department will make you into an exquisite piece of art on Friday. You will then be displayed at my house all weekend, while I entertain guests. On the following Monday, you will be released to go about your regular life." Taell has so many questions, as to how she would become a "piece of art" but then "released" from it later. Normally, her defenses would be up and she would be walking away. But, she is finding it hard to not trust him, and she is finding it harder and harder to resist this opportunity. The longer she stands there, the more she likes the idea. Finally after a long pause, she replies, "Sure, I'll do it for an A on the final."

She opens her eyes when the beeping stops. She knows that the track lighting is about to come back on. As if on cue, the lights come on, and her vision fades a little, as steam seems to roll off her plastic prison. The clear plastic fogs over due to the sudden change in temperature. The constant hum of the air conditioner is no longer there, so she knows that she will soon be back on the clock as a display piece. She can feel different parts of her body expanding as it warms at a different speed than the plastic around her. Soon though, the discomfort is relieved as her body and the plastic find an equilibrium.

Out of the corner of her eye, she can see the professor is back. He looks about the same from the last time she saw him. He is wearing the same outfit of baggie pants and t-shirt with a bathrobe. His mug is different, but the liquid is steaming like whatever he had last night. She can feel his eyes on her, and she knows that look. It is the same look she has gotten since Friday. It is the same look the men and women in lab coats were giving her when they pulled her out of the vat.

Friday morning, two long days ago, she went to the Chemistry Building on campus. She entered through one of the side doors not normally used by students. She found Professor Bolchinsky talking to another professor in a large room that smelled of a hundred different chemicals. The room was blindingly well-lit, and the walls, though it was an old building, seemed to have been scrubbed clean like the floor and ceiling.

As she walks up, Professor Bolchinsky says, "Ah, here is your test subject. She will be compliant and do whatever you ask. She wants to be here. Right, Max?" Taell feels something switch in her mind, something that was buried deep and that had no right to surface again. All apprehension and fear suddenly left her body. All the questions of what is about to happen to her simply left her mind. She found that a nod was all she needed to communicate, so she did that and stood next to them while they talked about her as if she was nothing more than a piece of metal or a hunk of rock.

Gloved hands are all around her now, picking her up and moving her to a hard metal table with holes in it. Her clothes are removed and her body is rubbed with a cold, thick paste. With a pressure hose turned to a fine mist, she is rinsed off. Her skin seems to glow, as she skin looks incredibly smooth now. While her legs are positioned as if she is laying down, her hair is combed and wrapped around her neck. It is then brought back up to her head, where it is held in place by some other thick goo. It feels like she is wearing a helmet or hair or a head covering made of string. Even though it all seems crazy, she has no fear or doubt of what she is doing.

A small tube is placed inside each nostril and fed around to the base of her neck. Another tube is run from her mouth to the top of the back of her head. The tubes are incredibly small, but once they are properly installed, she finds that she can easily breathe through them. The table must have some adjustable legs, as she lowers down. Certain items are applied to her front and back, but she is not sure what they are. Soon, she feels a warm liquid all over her body. As it rises in height around her, a set of gloves closes her eyes.

In the darkness, she feels her body completely submerged, save for the tubes that allow her to breathe. She notices that she seems to float, just a short distance above the table, which might be on the floor now. She feels the liquid slosh and pulse around her, and then it seems to go away. She feels hands on her again, and then the liquid returns. Three more times she assumes she is "dunked" into the liquid. Finally, she feels another warmth on her, and then a constant pressure all over her body. In moment, she finds it hard to breath. In fact, she finds she cannot move, even if she tried, which she did. She tries to take in a full breath but cannot. She is completely immobilized.

She feels a tapping on her nose, so she opens her eyes. Through a tan or yellow haze, she can see a person with blue gloves and a white suit. They wave at her, and she blinks repeatedly. She tries to talk, but her jaw is frozen shut by the casing. She wants to smile or frown or something, but she cannot do that either. All the sounds around her are muted, but she can see now what is happening.

She sees various people spraying something on her, then wiping it off. She feels rubbing on her legs and back and chest and head. She does not realize what they are doing until they spray right in front of her eyes. When the rag comes over it, she can see more clearly. Three more times they work over every part of her body, and by the end, it is like there is nothing holding her still. She can see as clearly through the plastic as if it was not there. However, it is most definitely there, as she still cannot move any part of her body, except her eyes. So other than seeing, she can breathe. Those are the only two things she can physically do.

If she was a human, no one noticed. From this point on, the way she was treated, she was definitely just a piece of art. No need to ask her how she is, she's inanimate. No need to ask her about her day, it is the same everyday as art. Her thoughts try to scream herself back to reality. She tries to will herself to move, to think, to be human. However, all those are lost as she is picked up and placed in a box of foam peanuts. As they lower her in, she finds her mental state lowering as well. When the lid is closed and nailed shut, she finds her brain shutting down, become inert like the box and packing foam around her. She is somewhat surprised at her acceptance at becoming a simple object...a work of art.

The men in coveralls hold her up as they mount her to the ceiling. She feels straps attached to her as they suspend her from the ceiling. For a brief moment, she swings back and forth. The straps are clear plastic so as not to block any view of her. The wires attaching them to the ceiling are dark and black as night. As she hangs there, her mind again wants to progres forward with thinking thoughts she should be thinking, but at the moment, she finds her thoughts moving at the speed of plastic. The world seems to move around her quickly as she remains "frozen".

By the time the professor's guests come over, she can barely put one thought in front of the other. Sure, she can hear the praises of the guests, with some even reaching out to touch her. Even though they are muted or muffled, she can hear tones of surprise and awe. What they have to say matters little to her, but their opinion of her makes this whole ordeal seem good, worthwhile. She tries to remember everything, but she cannot grasp anything at the moment. Ugh, she thinks with a frown, I even think like a piece of art.

The strangest part, if there could be anything stranger, was when Robbie and his mom walk in. They are wearing bodysuits of some type, but she cannot really tell much else. They slowly and stiffly walk up to her. Both are too short to reach her, but with her tilted head, they can look into her eyes. With no facial expression, they both say in unison, "Our mind is bound to yours. Our mind is bound to his will. We are one. We are his." And just like that, Taell feels like someone opened a stopper on her mind and just let it all flow out. All her thoughts of independence seem to leave her completely, as if they were flushed down the toilet. If her facial expression could become more neutral, it did.  They both turn around in unison and walk out.

The next morning, she is taken down and returned to the chemistry lab. Her thoughts are more plastic now than ever before. She cares not for the bumpy ride over, or the repeated dunking into another vat of liquid, or continued wiping off of her skin when she is released. She lays there, like she could not move, even if she wanted to. As the voices of the workers fade, she hears one clear voice speaking to her. "Sit up," he commands, and she does. "Put your clothes on and come to my house immediately." She says nothing, but does exactly as he asks.

Later that afternoon, Professor Bolchinksy types an email behind his desk in his study. The contents of which seem nefarious, as he ends it with, "Let the takeover begin!" Pondering his correspondence as he leans back in his leather chair, he glances over to his left. Three people stand at attention, all wearing the same bland bodysuit with blank expressions. The woman he calls his wife, stands next to the man he calls his son, who stands next to another woman who was recently a student of his. Maybe, he thinks with a grin, I'll switch her to my wife since she is so young and fit, and make the other my daughter, or perhaps a maid. Hmm, a maid would be nice...of course, who is to say the man shouldn't be my wife instead, he thinks wistfully. I can do with them whatever I want, whenever I want. His maniacal laughter appears to have no effect on them, as they stare blankly thinking only what he has told them to think, unaware of his plans for the future.