The pinging sound subsided after ten seconds. It had the curious effect of ringing in his ears, even though he was fully enclosed. His hearing was in perfect condition. Presumably, this was all just psychological. It was a most curious phenomenon. The sound of his alert was over, but he expected to hear it again. When the ringing of his lab’s alarm didn’t occur, his brain imagined it.

Were he in a worse mood, this was the sort of thing that would send him into a rage. He associated even this minor transaction with the thought of being bred and treated like a dog. He thought about being used like an animal, with triggers and responses making his body respond without his permission. It infuriated him on a level he knew none would understand.

But today was not a day for rage. Though one project had been a failure, he had many more. It was always best to have a great many projects on the stove as possible. His witch’s brew provided him with a number of interesting venues, and he was excited about what today would bring. He traced the painted edges along the wall through his laboratory until he arrived at a room tinted red. Various lights and screens scattered colors along the walls. Brass fittings covered in oxide contrasted with new and high-tech accoutrements. Towers of computers and endless piping made the room quite the hazard to navigate.

She was a success; there was no doubt about it. He stared at the central feature of the room with all the glee that his jaded mentality could muster. A metal ring, hung horizontally by chains that stretched to the tall ceiling, held a single creature. The ring itself was unadorned but for the contact points on which a particular female was restrained in an X-position.

The Specialist thought for a moment whether to refer to the creation as an “it” or if his latest project deserved more respect as a “they” or a “she.” He spent a few seconds running over the possibilities before deciding that, since she was female before her acquisition, he would continue to refer to her as such. Unless she did something to earn his ire, and he had to downgrade her to something less mobile. There was plenty of space and slots for other failures in his “living morgue.”

Much like her captor, the creation was fully enclosed in a thick and multilayered suit. He wouldn’t admit it, but this was in no small part thanks to his own proclivities and unconventional desires. She reflected his own wants as much as his needs. The result was a full and form-fitting polymer suit, carefully designed and redesigned for long-term wear. There would be no creases or folds for her second skin. He ran a hand over her thigh, still matte from production.

Beyond that, her outfit bore superficial similarities to his own. A gorgeous pair of rubber boots encased her shapely legs. They went all the way to her thighs, at which point they flared out into points. A long line of purple trim drew the eye away from the seams, making it seem as though they were baked on to her. They were removable, though. He thought about giving her a pair of cruel stilettos, but such a privilege was not yet earned, so the heels were flat and bulky. Being able to feel taller and imperious was not something he would permit yet. He had made a few modifications to her body as well, and a splendid leather corset with purple trim surrounded her waist. It felt nice to look at. He would always feel in charge with just a quick glance to her bodacious breasts and slim waistline.

A pair of gloves went over her wrists, as much for show as for protection. They too flared out at the bicep, kept in place by a buckle to give it the look of a hands-on worker. The shoulders were flared into points slightly, and long purple-and-gold stripes ran along the black polymer to her fingertips.  It almost made it seem that her veins were visible, or that she had claws.

Finally, there was the mask. She would deserve nothing less than the exacting standard he had wanted for his own. Her gas mask, like his, looked like a jackal’s head; pointed ears and a snout that ended in two very visible filters. The eyes were jet black and the mask had a cruel, piercing expression. When polished, it would be imposing indeed.

He took to the task with gusto. It was supremely dull and mundane, but he did so with a renewed vigor. He sprayed onto her liberally, polishing with no small amount of force. She started to react. He could see her fingers twitching when he carefully wiped her inner thighs to a luster. There were audible sounds as he did the same on her feet, her ankles, her knees; with her arms  and legs in an X-configuration, he did the same for her exposed armpit. She quivered slightly when he varnished her rubbery neck and chests. He had remade her as his own, and he wanted her to look pretty.

When complete, the Specialist removed the bands. Immediately, she sat up. With a cool, animalistic grace, she stood up straight. Her boots slammed onto the metal floor with an echo. She was shorter than him, but no less unusual. She moved in close, with one hand brushing towards his groin.

He grabbed her muzzle. With a remote command, her air was off. She moved back, away from him, and gently began to paw at her mask. When he felt that she understood the consequences, he let her breathe free.

“I am not to be touched without permission.”

The female nodded.

“Well, my lovely assistant, you need a title.”

She spoke. She had a low voice, somewhat like his. She was stifled through her gear, but it was audibly more emotive. A modicum of vocal fry in her throat transmitted through the suit when she spoke. It made her seem downright childish compared to his cruel tone.

“Not a name?”

“You don’t get a name. You’re not a person.”

She stood up. “Then I do have a title.”

“Have you already named yourself?”

She shook her head. “No. You did. You called me the lovely assistant.”

The Specialist allowed a sarcastic laugh. “Hah. All right then. Come, my Lovely Assistant. You’re not dreaming. Your mind must be clearing. Come with me.

The Lovely Assistant followed as he motioned. She wasn’t certain if it was her own choice or if it was some hypnosis, but she walked with him through the lab.

“Already, you are exactly what I need in an associate.”

“Would you elaborate for me?” she said.

“You are obedient. Enclosed. Anonymous. Blessed with the same aptitude and given with the skills that I need. What else do I need to say? You meet my needs.”

“Would you elaborate on your needs?”

He said nothing as they walked. It made the loud footsteps of the pair seem all the louder.

For a time, she was treated like a queen. The Lovely Assistant had some vague awareness of the lab’s layout. She didn’t remember why, and she had only a vague awareness of what she had been before coming here. He certainly wasn’t interested in answering questions. For a few hours, he gave her the utmost respect; he opened every door first, told her every code, relayed to her as much information as he could. The Assistant soaked it all in. It was dreamlike for her.

When the Specialist felt that she had enough to absorb, he brought her to a small room. He rotated a handle, and a bulkhead-like door swiveled open. Inside was a spartan but functional room, complete with a bureau and a small bed.

“You are feeling sleepy.”

Again, she reacted to his command. She was tired, despite being asleep for some time; it was like she was leaving the hospital. Or was it perhaps his voice? The magnetic, dominant tone and the way that he stared at her; the way that she could feel his eyes from behind his mask. She agreed.

With one hand, he gently led her to the bed. She crawled in, squeaking slightly. The Specialist pulled a blanket over his assistant as her breathing grew slower and she drifted to bed.

Beautiful, he thought. He couldn’t help but muse on what a good person he was. He was surprised himself at how lovingly he had treated her. He was delighted. Impressions were important. He knew that she had a good one. How splendid.

The Specialist was patting himself on the back all the way to his own room. He had done such a good thing. He was such an expert; if he was a specialist in any one subject, one that he was always successful at, it was making people look good. He knew how to make things look pretty. If he had the care, he could make his lab look pretty as well.

From his room, he ascended the circular steps and passed through the various doors and passages to the outside world. He didn’t know or care what the weather was.

He was standing in a run-down two-story house. Spiderwebs and dust covered some parts of the room. Endless webs of cracked paint, in fact, seemed to make the whole house appear like had spider-web patterns. The outside seemed threatening and foreboding. He never had visitors.

While there were no visitors, there were victims. He strutted through the run-down domicile, looking at his artwork. He mused that if he ever did invite a guest over, he would allow them to see this facade of a home first and gauge their reaction. The decrepit state was mostly just an act; the house itself was sturdy enough. He lived in his attached lab, in any event. And of course, the real test of anyone he invited to this little demesne would be their reaction to the artwork.

The most prominent piece was the contrapasso male. It was difficult to pose him, and when the paralytics had run their course he had regained his movement. That frustrated the Specialist, and he had not attempted such difficult poses with later pieces.

The artwork was a fit and slim male emulating an ancient and classical pose. He had one leg raised slightly, indicating movement. He had one hand at his side, the other on his chest as though he were making some solemn pledge. And of course, he was permanently encased in latex and framed on the wall.

All of the artwork was of the same basic premise. They were, like his failures below, alive and healthy. All of them had been free people once, and through various means had entered into his gallery as art. They were compressed between two thin high-tensile layers of polymer. Some features had been sculpted, others natural. Some were the result of his careful craftsmanship. On this first ambitious piece, he had changed the material’s thickness and strength to better conform to his captive’s features. The result was nothing short of magnificent. The Specialist came in close. Proximity sensors detected that someone was near, and the living art awoke. Lights flickered on, providing a harsh contrast to the vacuum-packed sculpture. One could make out the details on this male; the lips, the nose, the eye sockets. He looked down, and even a minor divot was visible for his navel. Since the contrapasso was his first attempt at such art, he had pulled out ‘all the stops’. He’d even sculpted an imprint for which his male’s manhood could be comfortably kept. The result was that he was tastefully nude and carefully packed.

At times, the Specialist had thought about how to describe his art. Were they nude, or were they entirely clothed? He wasn’t quite certain. He’d occasionally mused about teasing the males or females that made up his gallery, but there weren’t many and he doted on them enough.

Of course, they were also all enclosed behind glass. No good artwork could be left out to the elements, and he wouldn’t forgive himself if he’d done something silly like pleasuring or teasing the males or females that made up his very small but very intimate gallery. Thus, he had spent endless hours finding a custom frame for each and every piece. It was a massive undertaking. For this first ‘classical’ piece, he’d spent weeks finding a way to acquire a huge frame with an appropriately romanesque style. With a little work, he had managed to complete the seal; his victim on the wall, the frame keeping him enclosed, and a perfectly lustrous and shining pane of glass to keep his artwork in place.

The Specialist replicated this setup with three other objets d’art. The subjects were not quite so classically posed. He had been overambitious with his first project. The others were still sublime. He loved the way they showed off the figure. He loved the gorgeous contrast between his hideout and the clean lines of the ultra-modern art and lighting. He would need to thank the worker that helped him pick out all these fabulous frames… he would need to remember with art piece he’d become first, though.

The piece that brought him the most pride was whichever one he had done most recently. His most recent construction was perhaps as ambitious as his first, with a complex pose and theme. This one had not one, but two figures.

Staring at them was a delight. One male and one female had been very carefully ensconced in the stifling, special sheets. It had been a pain to find them and pose them, but he thought that it was worth it. They had been posed together, cradling each other. They were pressed together at the front; her breasts on his chest. Each of them had their legs intertwined. It made for a truly lovely image. They were cuddling. It wasn’t of their own accord, and he could see them occasionally stretch and try to escape when he was assembling their display piece. He’d adhered each of their hands to the rear end of their partner; the male had his hands firmly grasping the cheeks of his partner, and the female did the same to the male. It was gorgeous and intimate. It made him smile beneath his mask.

This particular piece was actually suspended from the ceiling by two high-tensile cables. Lights surrounding them. They were a centerpiece, after all. It meant that he could walk around them, pacing like a shark and looking at prey. It made him feel like a real predator. As he circled them, he thought about what it would be like to reach out and touch them. He thought about stroking the male’s back or rubbing at the female’s thighs. Tempting, to be certain.

But once again, he’d made sure he wouldn’t do any such thing. They too were encased in a glorious, glamorous black frame. Ultra-modern, satin black, and with two plastic panes to seal them inside… it was absolutely unreal, and he loved it.

As he paced around them, he was curious at what point his art would be “complete.” He had wondered for some time if this would be the one - if this would be his first truly interactive piece. He tapped a few commands and the vacuum-seal relaxed a bit.

The two captives instantly sprang to life. They moved and they wriggled and they groaned and they struggled, and he loved it. He loved every second of it. Deep inside, he knew that they were in absolute ecstasy. Released from stasis and pumped full of the same dangerous concoction that he’d fed to his Lovely Assistant, he could only imagine what they felt like. Love. Lust. Fear. Excitement. Perhaps none of those; perhaps the way that they moaned and squirmed was simply animalistic instinct. Maybe they had all their faculties and were horrified… or maybe they were excited. He knew how he’d feel. He imagined himself in the same place; packed up and rubberized and encased with someone else, forced to hump and grind against a partner. He wondered if they were achieving any sort of climax. The way they wriggled certainly seemed that they were highly stimulated. The Specialist grinned even wider. He was such a good master. He gave himself another mental pat on the back, gloating in his skills.

“I’m going to savor you,” said the Specialist under his breath. He couldn’t resist. The Specialist took the frame in his hands. He pressed his entire body against the glass. Deep inside, he knew they were deprived. He could take off his mask and they wouldn’t know. He could be nude and they’d never know. There was a pleasant, rubbery squeak as he let his form squeak against his art. His pouch, his chest, his arms… he groped at it, his perfect and most sensual creation. Two beings trapped together. He could *swear* that they had shifted, that they were now close, together in a forced kiss. The poor entombed objets d’art made the most perfect couple. As he pressed his rubber-clad body against the glass, he felt a modicum of envy.

“That’s very impressive.”

He felt a tingle of electricity down his spine. He was surprised. He turned away and shut off the display; the captives returned to stasis, the thick rubber squeezed and solidified and encased them once again. He turned around, and his maw opened. His mask’s mandible separated and a gooey mouth roared. It was something that he had designed his equipment to do, but rarely did. It was a predator roaring; it was more bark than bite.

The Lovely Assistant was staring at him. She had her hands behind her back in an obedient posture. She strutted around the room, taking in all the sights and sounds. For a moment, he was intimidated by *her*. He had made her anonymous, and he couldn’t read her expression. Was his own assistant going to find fault with his art?

“Marvelous. You’ve done a fantastic job.”

She stared at one of them in the glass. “I envy you. I envy them as well.”

“Do you?”

She was quiet.

“You want to be one of these two figures?” He motioned at his duo of captives.

“I…” she was slow. “I desperately want t-to be one of them.”

The Specialist was quiet. He approached her.

He put one gloved hand around the Lovely Assistant’s throat. He felt powerful. She quivered slightly. He could hear her breathing faster, feel her heart beating and sense her blood pumping. She was in his control. He could put her into a case like this. He could send her away.

Eventually, he released her, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

“What you want is irrelevant, Assisstant. You do what I say. You do what I tell you. You perform your responsibilities as I dictate. You do all this, and you live. You will be rewarded. If you fail, you’ll end up in my collection with the other failures. You’ll be another piece of meat, squirming and entombed until I find a use for you. Do you understand?”

“Of course.” Her tone was almost quizzical. Of course she understood. She was almost confused why he had to ask.

The Specialist took her by the hand and led her back to the stairs. “Come away from here. There’s no need for you to be outside. Not right now.” He brought her back to the lab, making sure her suit was pristine. He wanted his creation to be pretty.

***

The rest of the day was somewhat menial. There were tests to complete and equipment to assemble. There was quite a bit of delicate work as he put together second-hand machinery and third-hand electronics. Careful soldering and construction of his equipment was necessary, and he had exacting specifications. His lab was his sanctuary, and even if it were not his gloved hands doing the work, he expected the entire thing to run just as smoothly as if it had been assembled by him personally.

He stared at the Assistant via a camera, busy sleeping in her bunk. He switched it off. There’d be no need for that. She was a success.

The Specialist returned to his own room. He slid open the door and entered, taking a seat in a cushioned, padded chair in front of a flickering simulacra of a fireplace. He had no space for a real mantle, so this LCD would have to do. He sighed and crossed his legs. Today had been a good day, even if he wasn’t entirely certain how to parse it.

He reclined a bit. His thick boots were firmly on the floor, and he slouched back in his padded chair, squeaking as he did so. He took his hand and patted at his lap twice. A creature slowly approached him from the dark corner of the room. Their former identity was irrelevant; a simple leather collar that read FAILURE was his name now. The pitiable man was forced to paw around on padded knees, with the flat of his feet jammed and sealed up against his rear. His hands had been tended to with the utmost of care; a pair of gloves which were wrapped and finally sealed into useless, if endearing, mitts.

Grinning in his suit, he decided that he deserved some satisfaction. The Specialist reclined further, staring at his rubber pup as it came closer and closer. He couldn’t see so much as an inch of skin; the male’s head had been carefully ensconced in a hood that mimicked a housebroken dog. The most obvious difference, of course, was the O-ring gag that beckoned.

The Specialist removed the plug and motioned for his pet to come closer. As the doctor shut his eyes, he brought his captive closer. The rubberpet groaned. The Specialist enjoyed the sweet sensation of failure turned to success.