The Bunnies of the Bay Area Ch. 04

Inside the chamber, the atmosphere dropped to nothing. Heating coils, wrapped in aluminum foil, glowed. The metal melted. Before the liquefied aluminum foil almost dripped to the floor, the lack of pressure forced the metallic fluid to vaporize. The gas aluminum atoms floated free to find either a contact surface on Darby or an inner chamber wall. Either way, an atom's touch caused its own condensation. Every passing second added more aluminum coatings over everything in the chamber, including the statuesque Darby. Layers of atoms built up a perfect glaze.

Darby lost track of time. She held herself motionless and oxygen deprived. Primitive artifacts probably found the aluminum impenetrable to the senses, but her Bunny costume pushed out and searched the emptiness around her. She found her body had been removed from the deadly chamber and placed in the museum's main atrium. What day was it? What month? Had it been minutes or years?

She searched the enormous hall. She sensed the details and distances of the surroundings. She was among the strap-on dildos and the display cases. The wood stick had been replaced with a sword. Her nude upper body served as an art piece. A display case built around her lower-half, covered the chunky rough pile of cement entombing her legs and crushed costume. Glowing glass, cut to hug her waist just below the belly button and her arms just above the wrists, created the illusion of a continuous tabletop.

Only an upper body nude female form showed, a half statue, a nude bust, placed on top a glass lightbox.

And now she knew what they had done to her. Her worst fears had been realized. She had been transformed into one of the museum pieces. She was one of the artworks, frozen, catalogued, and displayed -- probably named something derogatory.

"She turned out perfectly," said a Goth, admiring their work.

The other Goth with hazel eyes nodded her head in agreement. Then she flinched. New black full contacts magically grew in. She winced and then looked through her solid black eyes at the statue. "Yes. The mirror finish is perfect. I was worried she might move in the vacuum chamber causing micro-cracks, but she held herself perfectly. What a trooper."

"It would have been a bitch if we had to resurface her."

"Yeah. Bunnies must be tough to kill. Do you think I could survive that?"

The Goths gushed at the idea of being tinned in metal. They held each other close. A hand slid down and patted a buttock.

"I'd love to fuck you over like that, but you know we wouldn't survive it."

"Mmm, but what a wonderful way to die."

Their morbid thoughts grew. They kissed briefly and pealed their wet lips away to observe once more.

They enjoyed their latest creation: a perfect mirror surfaced chrome statue of a woman swallowing a sword, the ultimate deep throat.

Inside the museum's newest acquisition, the need for air grew endlessly. Physiologically, the hunger could reach infinity. Relief was impossible. Fighting hard enough, Darby could concentrate for a second or two. She could sense flashes of the world around her. Vague shadows of shapes moved about her. She sensed people readying the museum to open. Guards walked passed as if she wasn't there – as if she was no longer a person.

The thundering sounds of a fountain started to vibrate the stone floor. Her Bunny senses heard splashing water. Agony periodically blocked her connection to the outside. Through short glimpses, she retargeted her senses and heard white noise from rushing water. An image flashed of her chrome body. Her contorted mannequin self had been given a periphery location to the large phallic art piece, the one called Rock Hard, that dominated the center of the atrium. White bubbling water shot up from the phallic's tip. The turbulent flow fell on itself. Excess slid down around the shaft crashing into a pond below that outlined two circular pools like an abstract scrotum. Large sperm white koi swam the rippling waters.

Unable to flex her throat, she felt the impaling sword's sharp edges. It had been carelessly shoved inside her. Her body healed, but the edges still somehow cut. She sensed the uncaring metal around her, skintight chrome.

She really was a museum piece -- a chromed commission frozen forever.

The painful asphyxiation intensified.

She tried to clear her mind. The pain refused to stop.

Inside she screamed: focus on something else! She wondered about needless thoughts with answers that couldn't help her now. Still any distraction would help. And how the fuck did she forget about a huge squirting dick taking center stage in a museum? How had Libby flushed memories from her mind?

More pain hit.

How did Libby do this? How!?

Darby wanted to madly laugh. Insanity might disconnect her from such a horrid fate. She wanted to go crazy, lose reality.

Anything would be better than this. Anything.

*****

Duchess woke to the sounds of high heels. Bunnies were leaving their kennels. The combined Bunny hutch and dog kennel had no clock or windows. Was it day or night? She concluded that it had to be morning. She saw Jet over in her cage still sleeping -- motionless, depressed maybe. The puppy costume had to be the cruelest imprisonment possible. What could be worse?

"Don't worry," said Nathalie, bowing by the cage -- cleavage showing front and center. "By Friday, we'll pose you at the museum and then take a picture -- with our Civil War camera. The curator should have the film plate ready by then. That's our only hold-up. It takes time for her assistants to coat and prep a plate."

Meredith's legs came into view. She hunched down and pushed her clipboard to the floor for support. "Taking a flash picture is like a light switch. Boom, you won't think at all after that. It's really the most humane tech we've found – for puppies and those cursed forever under tar and feathers."

Both Bunnies awkwardly paused in silence not knowing what else to offer. Puppy girls never added to a conversation. No one ever knew what they really thought.

Meredith stayed silent because of her own lack of words.

Did Nathalie's silence mean the same?

Duchess wondered if the maniacal Mistress bitch actually felt guilty. Her Mistress's silence probably meant she was starting a mental list, going through her day's calendar of chores and meetings. If Duchess could cross her arms and huff, she would. But the cage ceiling was too low to even sit up and her body ignored her thoughts anyway.

With people around, the costume wanted her to role play with barks, begs, and bounces.

The head Bunny added a half-hearted hope: "Who knows, maybe we can get you out someday." She turned to Meredith as if no one else was there. "I scanned a puppy girl once, a longtime ago."

"But you didn't change."

"It was dangerous, but I had to know if there was real life inside, real thoughts. I only found muddled confusion, insanity. Duchess, here, probably doesn't understand us anymore."

"What if she does?"

"That would be a terrible fate."

Duchess so badly wanted to say, "Fuck you for doing this too me!" Instead she pawed at the cage door and wiggled her butt and looked happy and -- fuck -- she couldn't believe this nonsense, she wanted to be petted so badly. She had no control. Her body rushed off into an eager cloud of puppy imitating motions. Maybe this total darkness, frozen as a stuffed taxidermist hunting trophy, would in fact be better. What kind of choice was that?!

Nathalie took a doggy biscuit from a steel bowl and sniffed it. She and Meredith rose out of view. Duchess could only see their nylon legs and shiny patent leather pumps. The puppy girl noted the black Bunny costume Nathalie wore. The color meant something official happening: a VIP visit. It contradicted with the empty calendar the former assistant had cleared for the week remaining. All meetings, except with R&D, were dropped until the weekend's deployment of the top secret Bunny Candie project. Duchess thought: whatever! It wasn't her concern anymore. Fuck you Nathalie!

"Bunny Reddie," summoned Nathalie.

"Yes Mistress," said a far off voice.

Another pair of legs and purple heels joined-in. Duchess eye's glared from behind her dog mask. That backstabber! Reddie was wearing purple now. Duchess lowered her shoulders to look-up at the three Bunnies: R&D green, executive black, and assistant purple. The doggy snout blocked her from getting closer to the metal bars. It was really pissing her off. She pressed it hard, but its strapped-on hand-tooled leather would not bend. The extension of the snout made her face tilt downwards. She jammed the protrusion into a corner, straining her neck and eyes to see anything. She got only a glimpse of the Bunnies chatting above.

It was Reddie, alright -- the other redhead -- of course. Nathalie seemed to like us redheads. It seemed she went through them like redshirts on Star Trek. Blast her. Blast Reddie too. The bitch was the new assistant to Miss Almighty. But how could Reddie help out? She didn't even know her own past. Duchess wanted to growl -- 'denied' seemed to be her costume's response. Duchess tried to pound and paw against the cage in anger. Denied. But it was a legit doggy thing to do. Why couldn't she do at least that much? Duchess looked up at the three pairs of long smoky colored legs. The words heard were English, but the sounds started to get scrambled. The language was becoming foreign gibberish. Great! So listening in was denied too. Duchess screamed in her head: someone please help me out of this costume! Please!'

The green Bunny stepped away.

The new Purple Bunny sat on her haunches, balancing on the tips of her shoes. She smiled.

An intended growl at the Bunny came out as a sad whimper. No! You bitch! Don't get close like that! Duchess watched the Bunny lean in and put her fingertips between the tiny bars. The puppy desires to play flooded the mind. If it weren't for the snout, she'd lick the candy coated nails. After all, an owner was reaching to her, showing love and affection. Rambunctious play and barking became everything. No! Don't put your hand against the cage door! The latex took over. Her body went into full happy 'puppy time' mode again. Her hips wiggled. The show started. She even gave a friendly bark or two.

The redhead Bunny stood and continued to talk some garbled language with Nathalie.

NO! Don't leave me! The puppy pain of being neglected hurt even more than the latex stealing her free will. Just you wait Reddie. You'll get fucked over like me before you know it!

Reddie always felt nervous around Nathalie and when something strange was being done, her apprehension grew. She tried to hide it, but Nathalie probably sensed it anyway. Nathalie seemed to know everything.

As the redheaded Bunny had walked across the white floor towards her Mistress, Orange Bunnies skipped and pranced by. They were everywhere – and they were stupid beyond belief. Where had all these bimbos come from? She glanced down at her purple satins and worried they could change to orange.

"The doggy biscuits," said Nathalie, pointing with a doggy treat in hand. "Smell it."

Reddie took it and slowly held it close to her nose.

"Well, bite into it, dear" ordered the head Bunny.

"What? It smells so vile." She hesitated. Giving in, she nibbled a tiny corner of the abhorrent cookie. What was the point of this? Was this a new game? Then the thought hit hard: was this going to turn her into one of the latex girls? She looked down at the puppy girl behind the cage door near her feet. That thought made her drop the biscuit. She squatted down, felt sorrow for the girl inside the rubber suit, smiled at the poor creature, and picked up the fallen doggy cookie.

The puppy girl looked happy and barked wanting to play. Rumors were spreading fast that Duchess and Jet had actually been Bunnies. Reddie tried not to stare at Duchess. It was easier to turn away, so she stood.

Nathalie handed her assistant another doggy treat, taking away the one from the floor.

"Eat it all," said Nathalie, "Go on."

Reddie put the crumbling pieces in her mouth, holding a hand in front of her face to breath as she chewed the nauseating gritty supposed treat. She thought that if she held back on breathing through her nose, and kept her mouth slightly open, she would taste less of it.

"What is wrong Mistress?" she said, still chewing with her hand covering her mouth. The grit didn't melt in her mouth. It swirled over her tongue like sand.

"I could smell it. It's mostly filler."

"Oh mercy." The smell was in her nose now. "I don't taste anything edible here at all."

"It's not bad enough, Reddie. It has to be down-right awful."

"Are you punishing these puppy girls?"

"You don't understand. You have to feed a fetish. Feel it. Understand it. Here." Nathalie reached down her cleavage and removed a Bunny wrist cuff. "This French Cuff was Duchess's and now has infused into it some trace elements of the latex costume that transformed her from being a Bunny.

"So they were Bunnies? How?"

"Don't you worry about that. They were careless, unprofessional. Now, we'll just slide it under here like this." Nathalie pressed the white cuff against Reddie's bosom. It slid down underneath a breast.

Reddie stiffened. She did not want to be a puppy girl. This was not good.

"Keep it against your skin today," said Nathalie.

"But?" Reddie paused. "Yes, ma'am. Of course." Her eyes crossed, looking down at her cleavage. She realized that Nathalie must know the fear she was putting into her assistant's mind. Maybe something in doing so got the head Bunny off. Reddie wondered if her own fetishes should be turned on by the threat. She wasn't sure. But the thought of playing chicken with a puppy costume, while wearing a Bunny suit, didn't jumpstart any sexual juices. Fear and hate of the taste in her mouth seemed to amuse her boss though.

"Listen to it," said Nathalie, "I think you, of all Bunnies, should understand what a blatant disabling fetish is like."

That statement invoked some memories of being a frozen statue, watching the world go by – years went by -- so many people pointed and watched and giggled and floated away. Reddie felt a void of loneliness. "Maybe, sure. I'll try."

"Puppy encasement is one of the cruelest fetishes, even beyond pony girls. Once a trainer -- a caretaker, like you – understands other costumes, it's easy to learn about your own costume." Nathalie crouched down, opened the cage and stroked Duchess's head. A hand slid down the neck, across the smooth back, over the butt and down a leg. She looked into the latex prisoner's eyes. "I know I can be cold. Yes, I replaced you already, but I'm going to do what's best for you. Honest. The museum should be able to make a silver plate for the box camera in a couple days. I'll get them to hurry."

Duchess involuntarily rolled onto her back, her knees and hands in the air, her flat tummy of black mirroring latex exposed. The only thought was a wish to be rubbed harder. Duchess hoped her Mistress would at least be that caring. Rub me!

Nathalie looked-up, while stroking the puppy girl into a happy frenzy. "Take care of the puppies today."

"Of course," said Reddie.

Duchess happily squirmed. Yes! I don't know what you are saying, but yes!

Reddie extended a timid hand to touch the latex puppy. She somehow knew that such girls were formed in an involuntarily way. A quick index finger tapped the rubber. A few more fingers stroked the slick sheen. She determined Duchess to be safe enough to pet and slid her hand over the smoothed scalp and the belts tied around the head to keep the snout firmly in place. The neck lifted when she scratched the throat. Red lush lips showed underneath the hard leather nose and smiled back at all the attention from two Bunnies. To be a true simple puppy could be fun, but to live as a human trapped inside, it made Reddie pull her hand away.

"These girls," said Nathalie, continuing to mollycoddle, "need so badly to be leashed, walked, petted, loved, punished, played with, and even fed dog food -- but fed only if it lines up with something kinky. Otherwise they spend their time alone, thinking about their latex prisons. They need the puppy fetish to occupy them. So these biscuits have to be the most intolerable concoction of dog food. It's a way for a poor puppy to cope." She held Duchess's precious puppy girl face and switched to a higher pitched parenting voice, "but you wouldn't listen, would you Duchess? I told you to practice, to meditate everyday, but no, cutsie-wootsie is now encased in latex." She stopped her mocking tone. "Don't fight it and maybe, you can talk again." She shrugged. Even she didn't believe that. "I hope I made you a little angry inside that suit. Try every emotion, my dearest. There's always a chance." That notion Nathalie did believe. The cutsie voice started again, "or maybe you like being a little latex bitch. Huh? Yeah. Who likes being a puppy wuppy? Who likes to be a sex slave slobbering pup? Yeah. You do. Yes, you."

"What normally is done with them?"

"Over the centuries, they've been whored out. Their sex drive soars and it's cruel to not have them fucked almost every hour until they pass out. Then the next day starts. But we have the camera. I used it on you, until I could get you back into a body."

Reddie stopped chewing the dog food, afraid to swallow. She covered her mouth. "These are horrible. Really." She said that to suppress her real thought: who's body did Nathalie get? She wanted to know, but then she didn't want to know. Maybe some innocent woman walking home on lonely night? Hopefully, a magical spell created a body out of nothingness.

"Get something worse, darling."

"I'm going to vomit."

"Well then, eat all of them. I insist. Get used to them, because I want you to really truly know bad flavor when you find it. We need to help these puppies." Nathalie handed over a box of the biscuits. "I want you to first stop by the museum. Get the puppies measured for a display case. It's important the costumes be seen and admired when frozen. Voyeurism feeds the fetish too. Hit the pet store afterwards. I'll have Chauffie this morning. When we're back, she will look after you, protect you. There are a lot of costumes out there. Anyone one of them would love a new inexperienced Bunny trophy sitting pretty in their laps. But remember to feed the fetish. Give in to it." She left Reddie standing there chewing sandy grit. Nathalie stopped at the doorway to give a sultry look back. "Swallow it." She smirked and disappeared into the adjacent dark furnace room.

Reddie gulped. Gravel passed her throat. She almost choked. She watched her boss leave the top secret blinding white kennel room. She felt the French cuff under her left breast, padding her bra. It made her skin tingle. That couldn't be good. Could it? Then she wondered if it made her chest lopsided since it was only under one boob. She cupped her breasts and jiggled them.

It should be fine. Still, it felt dangerous.

She crouched again to see Duchess at puppy eyelevel. She searched closer into the girl's haunting stare, shaded dramatically in eye shadow. She hadn't met all the Bunnies, but was this what's-her-name? Holly shit! Could this be the other redhead? Reddie looked at her own purple satin outfit. Could this girl be the other Purple Bunny? What was her name? Maybe it didn't matter anymore. It was Duchess now and forever.

"Weren't you a redheaded Bunny?" she whispered to the girl. No response. "Come-on, what did you do? Tell me, so I don't do it. You must have screwed up somehow, somewhere. Nathalie wouldn't be so cruel to let this happen for nothing. Would she?" Reddie pressed a hand against her breast to feel the cuff under her newly assigned purple Bunny costume. The screams of fear held inside the cotton cuff scared her. Getting Duchess or Jet to talk seemed more important than ever. Reddie pivoted on the tips of her shoes. She saw Jet behind her, silently sulking on the floor of her cage.