We have a buyer, our retrieval specialist is on the way already, if all goes to plan he will deliver the package for processing later, however this is a very unique customer request. We trust your capabilities. That was all his manager offered. Cagey and evasive as always. But their profession required that at times. Especially such as now, the instructions as to what to do had come earlier in separate and fragmented messages. It was fortunate their client was so wealthy or they'd have to have turned down the offer due to the lack of profit, which would have been a shame, for this was truly different from Simand's usual work. True to the letter's words, soon a crate arrived, the inside softly lined, and judging from the lack of a tip being required this was an unremarkable snatch and grab, indeed, when they prised the lid open, their 'package' lay in peaceful sedation. The lioness cub was unblemished and fully clothed. A frown crossed Simand's face however, when he saw that she was a bit slighter than they had been told to expect, though it wouldn't be too big a problem, with a sigh of resignation he waved some of his staff forward. “So what's this one, boss?” Chirped one of the floor workers, Daryl, by his name tag, remembering the drones who worked here by name was growing increasingly difficult, so Simand was grateful for the enforced ID tags. “Some horny perv wanting it packed straight off?” He noticed the lack of gender pronouns, curious, as if this Daryl preferred labelling her to avoid thinking too much, or maybe he didn't like seeing a fellow feline in their care. “Not this one, a very special case. This time the customer is out for a purer motive. I believe there is some ironic phrase about trophies involved in the contract, which will hopefully become clear later.” He gestured to the crate. “Someone carry her out before she wakes, begin as normal, I expect to see you all pulling your weight as we do not have too long.” --- Emilia opened her eyes feeling so very tired, she'd had weird nightmares and now there was a headache behind her eyes. She tried to get out of bed, to go find her parents and- She wasn't in bed. The realisation made a strange muffled squeal noise come from her throat, the thick leather straps around her muzzle clamping a jaw-bending rubber ball in between her teeth. Figures moved around her, only one of them looking down as she stirred. They were all obscured by tinted glass visors on gleaming white suits, that put her limited experiences in mind of the kinds people wore to clean up chemical spills. The twelve year old was needless to say, scared witless, memories flooding back of a car pulling up without a number plate. A wolf climbing out and walking away, and then when she rounded the corner he had taken, she'd felt herself lifted off the ground, a cloth pressed to her nose and then blackness and nightmare until these last few seconds. She twisted her head round, unable to move her arms, her eyes widened with another shriek as she saw all of her clothing neatly folded to the side, she blushed until she saw they'd at least covered her body with a draped cloth. Underneath which, her wrists and ankles were held in place by metal bands extending from the cushioned table. Those four were enough to keep her fixed in place. Though despite her pounding head she squeaked, pleading for help and squirming uselessly. The employees knew not to speak so much as a word to who they treated, the tinted visors meant that they didn't need to keep expression in check though, moving in a practised path now that the girl had woken up. Normally the process would be nearly done by now, but the client had insisted this child was kept awake for it, and despite advice, the client had also rejected for the cub to be shaved all over which would add to the time taken, with a deliberate motion, they moved to her side and pulled the cloth covering loose, she whimpered, and tried to crane her neck down to watch. But one of the figures placed a gloved hand over her throat, holding her head back lightly. Under the cloth, the girl was bare but for between her legs, where a flexible and strange garment of some kind of pseudo rubber had been put on instead of the panties she'd worn before. Designed with tubes and workings to allow for waste to be moved, and the garment still cleanable, without having to ever be removed, for such was it's intent. The material stretchy enough that as she aged, it may only need replacing every few years. It was the only thing they had done to her beyond stripping, gagging and trapping her. The one who had been in charge of that activity was a professional, monitored for foul play as an unnecessary precaution. That shame covering rubber bottom was only one reason why this would be so costly. Unable to watch, the girl could only whimper and whine muffled protests, terror and questions keeping her company as these silent shapes began their work. --- Above, Simand watched, numbering the workers in his head, the one he'd assigned Five to was holding her head still, and even giving almost reassuring pats to her face. While One and Two both brought out a rubber filled box, Four unclapsed her left leg and pulled it firmly up holding it quite steady as the pair emptied and unfolded the package. A black, and translucent catsuit, thick at 0.5mm, and sized perfectly for a lioness cub. Now -that- had cost a lot. Three and Six had been busy in their white uniforms, spreading a mixture that both lubricated and disinfected over the raised limb, and indeed carrying on by spreading it over her body. The catsuit had an opening fully down the right side, from just above the digigrade ankle to below the armpit, and as it was rolled out, he looked for the hood. From this perspective it looked to his eye that it might be a bit too big now, but hopefully that was distance talking or she'd grow into it, plus it'd make it easier to fit on if so. A lioness' head, in compressed dimensions of unfilled and opaque rubber, yet still part of the same suit, with ear-pouches, eyeholes, and a bigger opening for her muzzle, that would leave lips uncovered. The girl struggled and fought, of course, not knowing what was happening, and with them not striking her for that show of defiance, Simand might have done the same if he were down there. They bunched up the material and forced her foot into the end of the rubber casing, where hardened nubs awaited her claws, covering them and making them totally useless. The rubber snugging between each toe, second-skin in tightness as with much working they dragged the glistening shaded stuff along one of her legs. Four moving to ready the tubes to be fed through the suit that would soon cover the left side of her hip. She was raised up and the suit passed under her form, while they wrestled her leg back down and snapped the metal cuff over it again. They repeated this arduous routine, one limb at a time, releasing the restraint, holding it tight while thick latex soon covered and squeezed on her fur, each finger covered, though the claw-like nails had holes too to let them poke out. With left leg and left arm coated and restrained, they started spreading the liquid over her head next, smoothing her head fur down, and only when that was finished did Five let go of her neck. With the assistance of One and Two he tried to slip the mask over her head, but the spread jaw interfered. Eventually they had to concede and pull the ball out, snugging the straps down hard before she could let out anything intelligible. With tugging and smoothing needed, especially with her thrashing in resistance, it took a while to get the rubber in place. Two picked up the ball again afterwards, but seeing that the straps were sufficing he put it back down. Simand moved his chair closer, watching and taking in the progress. Left leg, left arm, right arm, head and shoulders all glinted with skin-tight, dark-shaded highly reflective sleekness, all that remained was the opening, no zipper, but instead a tight and almost imperceptible touch-seal. They tucked the rest of her fur down as they squeezed it shut, the thing sealing with a thread-thin seam. The frightened girl cub now wearing a one of a kind- well, at least the first he had seen, child-sized latex suit. Fortunately for Simand's entertainment, they weren't done yet. All six of the workers ran their hands along the length, making sure there were no hidden creases, and when satisfied, they filed out of the room, their paychecks earned. --- Soon they were replaced by two more furs in the same hazmat-style suit. Wheeling in a laden trolley. With no one holding her head, Emilia could stare at them, tears already slipping down her face and onto the rubber, it's odour cloying to her, the strange mess of feelings, like a too tight hug that pushed everywhere. The first figure was also the first among the eight she had seen to be obviously female judging from how her suit swelled at the chest. The woman plucked up a pair of long over-the-knee latex stockings and with no ceremony at all released the cubs legs and slipped them on, amplifying the tightness and making her feet less paw-like and now formless blobs. She left one leg bound at first, but didn't restrain the other again, and the girl made a desperate attempt at that moment, though her struggles proved totally useless anyway, flailing her legs at the female who just ignored her when a kick did land. The male moved while she was occupied with her struggles, detaching the leather that held her muzzle shut, she opened her mouth to shout, playing into his hands as a rubber bladder, coating a tube plunged down her throat. She retched and squirmed, crying out as it found its way to her oesophagus and stopped. Just in front of her lips were a pair of nose pipes and an inside out bag with a buckle hanging loose. The male pulled it over as the straps were set in place running around her head and under her chin to meet together unshakably. Overlapping slightly with her mask, to obscure the last patches of bare fur. He pushed a button on a remote and the bladder inflated heavily. Filling the child's mouth full of rubber, and working like a plug to ensure her wind pipe would never have to worry about drool or food. Her airways strangely restricted but working just fine through nostril only. When the thing was inflated, the male pulled open a flap at the front of her lips and fed a tiny pea-sized drop of liquid, making sure that the tubes were all working. The female meanwhile had their captive stockinged and then pulled out four cuffs, heavy with rings and rubber lining nestling a solid ring of tough leather, which creaked as she secured two of the cuffs at the ankle and two right below the edge of the stockings. They squeezed enough to show pressure. And with that done, she hooked the ankle cuffs onto the table, and ran a finger along the sole of a foot. Proving with satisfaction that there was just enough feeling when pressed hard to be felt through the twin layers of latex and foot-blob, but otherwise just the spongy clinging of the material would be all that got through. ---- Simand put down the phone, he'd missed some fun, but at least the client was on their way now. He shook his head, chuckling as they added to the girls encasement. The cute kittens eyes glistening wetly as a far more shapeless and heavy mass of rubber, leather and plastic was lifted, an isolation hood, with fitted ear-plugs that could deaden all sound, play white noise, or even amplify a whisper. She couldn't have seen him from his raised position, but nevertheless he waved goodbye to those eyes as the multi-part hood hinged shut on her face, a heavy blind-fold integrated too to lock off more of the cub's senses. Looking only at her head, one could now only guess that it was a feline, so thoroughly was her identity masked. The male tested connections, making sure it was all working as intended. While the female brought out the last of the raiment they were to deck her with. She was obviously traumatised and panting in exertion already from the slow process. And didn't struggle much as her arms were undone. Next, more latex, gloves this time, this going from hand to over the elbow, before being clamped with cuffs at her upper arm. For her hands, a pair of mittens were fastened just behind the wrist. A ring at the tip of the gloves that stole all dexterity. A cob-web frame of straps comprising a harness squeezed around her torso and under her legs. Rings in place here and there to offer points for the cuffs to be linked, or chains used for other immobilising means, locking her to the table with the d-ringed cuffs rather than the built in bands this time. Finally, the pair inspected the waste tubes over her crotch, hooking them to devices meant for such relief to be tested in the time she was left alone while they departed to make ready for the client. --- And hour had passed before their client arrived, the doe stepped out of the car with a buck of an age with her, both in their late forties. Simand was there to greet them, ushering them into the laboratorialy clean room where squirmed a rubber encased, whining, twelve-year-old lion. With a bow and a flourish, Simand backed out of the room. “She looks perfect, Sis.” The buck said, moving over to the far wall and bringing some wheeled thing out. The doe raised a hand up to silence him as she found the remote and clicked it so the cub could here. “Hello, Emilia.” She whispered, causing the girl to tense. “You may not know me, my name is Saffron. But I know your father, and I know you.” A long time ago, your father stole my husband before I could ever have my own offspring. Of course, the world was less peaceful then, felines like you were allowed to roam around and kill as they pleased.” It wasn't quite true, but the venom of her tone showed her belief. “He was pardoned, on the grounds that my husband's murder was an accident, and do you know what happened then?” The arrogant bastard, in the traditions of old, dared to have my husband's head mounted on a wall!” She took a moment to calm herself. Her brother patting her shoulder as he returned. Seconds passed, the girl unable to do anything but listen to her own sharp whistly breathing and that of the doe, before Saffron began again in a calmer tone. “Well, quite simply, he took what was mine, and now, I am taking what was his. Do not worry, I will not kill you. But know this, you are his child no longer, just a nameless trophy of mine, now. And as proof of my conviction-.” She trailed off that last line, picking the one item she had insisted on putting on herself. A heavy posture-forcing neck-brace of a collar, it clamped around the lioness' neck with a heavy click. The doe locking it under key and then putting that key on a chain nestled next to her husband's wedding ring. “When we next speak, it will be with you mounted on my wall, at least, figuratively, I do not know what I shall bind your form in first, girl, but for now you will sleep again.” A small pill was forced into her gullet through the mask and she heard the doe walk off. Leaving her with just the buck who began to run his hands over her body. His fingers were not lustful or lewd, but inquisitive, though he tickled at her sides to provoke a reaction as he waited, using the touch to test when the drug knocked her out fully. As soon as he was certain she was out, he unhooked the cuffs and carried her to what he brought earlier, a wheeled frame, small, designed for transporting someone around Emilias size. “It's a real shame your daddy was a monster.” The buck began, just in case she could still hear.” Judging how cute you are in those photos you'd have grown up to be a real eye turner. Still, at least you'll get the chance one day.” Simand's men moved into the room. Peeling back one layer of the frame, in truth a vaccuum bed. Most of the furs the facility processed were packed away in these, cub and adult alike, though normally bare underneath. They layers squeezed down, a small oxygen mask over her head with a tank that would last more than needed to see her to her new home and finally to protect from damage, and also provide some discrestion, the frame was laid down on a bed of foam inside a case. The top half containing more soft form filling sponge. Together they worked the framed cub into the box, and then made sure it was securely shut, before finally they helped carry the box to be transported. --- Simand always felt a shudder seeing that, his manager had designed those cases that always managed to look far smaller than one would imagine. He turned his gaze away, back to the doe who sat opposite him in his office. “You know Saffron, despite your order being so extravagant, I will knock an extra 15% off the final price. Because I am glad that for once I've not sold a sex-slave. That is all our clients usually want after all.” His words were sincere. Simand admired a motive such as revenge, when all he'd known was perverted lust. “Never seen a cub having to be so tightly kept though, and not even fully grown...” The doe nodded, steely gaze taking him in. “Of course, we will be in touch, we will need her various clothings to be extended and enlarged as she becomes too big. You will receive a very healthy turn-over for this, I promise you. As it is, I am willing to sign a nine-year contract immediately.” “Nine years? So specific, why is that?” She tensed, inside a fire burned for revenge but she knew her husband would never have let her do this much if he still breathed. “When she turns twenty one we will no longer need maintainance or replacements.” Giving him a softer look that said she didn't want to talk about it. Better that the man be left to speculation. What she had planned would still in essence steal the best years of the girl's life. She had accepted that, but on her twenty first birthday, she would have her freedom given back to her. Besides, killing or permanently abducting would never bring back the stolen future Saffron had lost, but these measures would ease the pain. The two of them talked business for a while after that. Eventually parting ways, with Sigmand promising the best rates if she wished to buy any futher furniture in which to store her brand new living trophy.