Sometimes Jamie wondered if he should have turned his hobby into a side hustle. What started out as the pink mouse sharing his exploration of abandoned urban areas turned into a small pile of money every month. Nothing substantial that he could live off of, though that made him want to grow it all the same. 
Hands playfully patted against the rubber steering wheel as he sang along to his playlist. Taylor Swift's pop songs had nothing to do with why he'd driven out into the early morning, driving through long windy roads with an endless array of trees on both sides that rushed past him. Digging through Reddit, Jamie had heard of an abandoned building deep in the woods with an origin of mystery. Some theorized it was an old factory, maybe a bottling plant that fell through during prohibition. Others thought it wasn't old enough for that, citing it as some kind of toy factory from the eighties. 
Jamie didn't care about its origin. His online persona did and would, no doubt, later make an exaggerated O-face for a thumbnail on the video with all livestream highlights. What he enjoyed was the excitement gained from breaking into a place and snooping around. His peers called it urban exploring, but the mouse tended to skirt enough legal lines that he didn't find the term fitting. Some places he crept around had him wearing a mask for safety and security.
Reaching the end of the road, Jamie saw it. The brick-laden building stood out like a red monolith in the morning darkness. Cement walls he reasoned to be eight or so feet high surrounded its perimeter, with black-iron gates situated in the front entrance. 
For someplace in the middle of the woods, Jamie noticed a lack of overgrowth overtaking the compound. He parked near the wall, stepping over the gravel pavement that surrounded them like a dry moat. A thought occurred with him wondering if that kept the plants from reclaiming the building. He shrugged it off, having neither the knowledge nor the care to worry about the forest's inability to take the factory. 
Whistling to himself, Jamie carried a flashlight and pink boltcutter to the front gate. To his surprise, the chains keeping the fence shut weren't rusted. Flashing his light across the ground, the mouse saw no sign of tracks across the rough pavement. "Can't be that old then," he said to himself, "Whoever owns the land must remember that this place is in it. Probably not a good idea to stream this then." But he did tell his followers he'd be streaming the location. It wouldn't be the first time someone got angry he broke a fresh set of chains.
Nor would it be the last. 
Grunting, Jamie snapped the chain with his bolt cutters. He did one last rundown of gear back at his truck; Backpack, respirator, crowbar, water battle, headlamp flashlight, camcorder for streaming, and protective gloves. Clad in black cargo pants, a black long-sleeve shirt, and a pair of steel-toe boots, the mouse headed past the walls, ears cringing at the hinges of the opening gate.
Behind the walls, just like beyond them, a gravel-laden driveway encircled the brick building. Noting a security booth to the side, Jamie jostled the knob. Locked. He peered through the window to find a layer of dust covering the other side. "Unrusted chains but dusty booths?" Jamie mused aloud as he pulled his tiny crowbar and wedged it into the door.
Thanks to the magic of physics it came away without much issue. Coughing from the clouds of dust, Jamie slipped on his respirator and a pair of goggles for protection before checking inside. 
Abandoned places sometimes carried leftover memorabilia from residences. Usually, stuff that wouldn't be missed. Faded magazines, tools that had been rusted over time, and more. One time Jamie found a stash of quarters hidden underneath a rotted mattress. 
Underneath the front desk of the booth, he found papers with words too faded to read that broke apart in his attempts to adjust. Next to that was a single locker he jimmied open with the crowbar. Flashing his light inside, he found the imprint of what looked like a handgun holster. "Guess this place had something worth protecting," Jamie said aloud, unsure if it was a gun or a taser the guard had in his locker. Then again, if the guard kept it in their locker then there was little reason to need it on hand. 
Just before leaving to set up his camera Jamie noticed something shine against his light. Peering to the wall opposite of the front desk he found a plaque. Back outside he set up his camera with a confident grin. "Hello fellow pink bandits," he addressed his adoring fans as the live stream played, "It's me, your favorite urban explorer and innocent burglar, The Pink Bandit. As promised I decided to check out this abandoned factory way off in the forest encircling my city. According to the internet, this place is an anomaly of sorts. Nothing exists about it online except an address, not even a name. Crazy, right? Some sort of government black site? Or just a result of lazy filing? Well, as luck would have it I do have a name for this place, courtesy of the former security guard named Jeb, who won employee of the month enough to earn a lifetime achievement award from Maestro Applegate Illard Dunkin Inc, or M.A.I.D. Crazy name, makes me wonder if this place was originally some sort of practice." 
His phone lit up with reactions and comments. Still, the same ten or so people who followed him, but more would come after this. He was sure of it. "Anyway, I don't know what they did, but I figure now's the best time to find out, right?" Fashioning the camcorder to his shoulder strap with a click, Jamie encircled the building to give his viewers the full view. He spoke his thoughts on each spot of interest. "Gotta be a factory given the loading docks. Not many windows so it's probably an old building. Actually, do they even make new buildings with brick anymore? I hardly see it." 
While a quick internet search could answer his question, Jamie's followers didn't log in to watch him do that. They logged in to watch the pink mouse break into abandoned places to explore. Sometimes while talking, sometimes in complete silence. Seeing a door with a push bar the pink mouse checked to see if it just so happened to be locked. More places than not relied on the illusion of being locked up and the politeness of society to not test it.
Sadly, this door did not. Propping his crowbar against the wedge between the door and frame, the mouse pulled with all his might. It didn't budge, not even when using all his small body weight.
"Ok, looks like the door is a no-go, guys," Metal clanged as Jamie knocked at the door, "Even if I did bring a hammer, I doubt I'd get through this bad boy. But never fear, the Pink Bandit always has a way inside." 
Finding a dumpster wasn't difficult, he just had to go around to the shipping dock. After checking that one of the metal boxes had wheels, Jamie grabbed one of the handles and started pulling. It wouldn't budge. "OK, maybe I need to go to the gym more. But brains beat brawn all the time, and I just thought up a solution."
That solution involved bringing his truck through the opened front gate and parking near a window. Using it as a stand, Jamie checked the glass for any holes or cracks. Finding none, he decided to make some with his crowbar. "Remember gang, goggles, and gloves for safety," Jamie pulled the gear over him for emphasis before taking the crowbar in both hands and swinging it against the window. Unlike glass in movies, he needed a few strikes before it really shattered. "If you ever find yourself needing to break a window, try and take the time to clear the windowsill of broken glass. Don't want to cut yourself." Glass shattered against the crowbar grinding over the windowsill, leaving it bare enough that the mouse could climb across without cutting himself.
The glass cracked under his heavy boots, another reason to have them. The first time he broke into a place, long before he started streaming, Jamie had ruined a perfectly good pair of sneakers thanks to nails that missed his toes by a centimeter. With his flashlight, Jamie noted the cement floors of the abandoned building, layered with dust and cracks in the foundation from years of unuse. 
"And now we discover what M.A.I.D made," Jamie said, chuckling to himself. "Get it? Made? How much do you all wanna bet that joke was constantly made around here?" No doubt his live feed was filled with whatever text or emojis people used to cringe on the internet as well as laughs from those who enjoyed terrible puns. He didn't bother checking, not with glass cracking under each step of his boots.
The standard signs of decay were revealed by his flashlight; cracks in the foundation, faded colors from chipped paint on what walls were painted, and stains of rotted wood from doors. Staircases needed a light step so as not to fall through when going up. "One time I fell into an entirely new floor because of a rotted staircase," Jamie told his viewers, "I was lucky. Some staircases don't have another way out behind them like that." 
Finding the upper floor offices the mouse sifted through dusty desks and creaky doors. Nothing caught his interest, save what looked like the boss's room. Private office bigger than the bedroom of his apartment, with a thick black desk that must have shone in its heyday. Carpeting muffled his boots as he stepped inside to inspect the furniture. Four divots in the yellowed gray carpet told him a chair used to sit there. Kneeling down for a closer look, his flashlight caught a glimpse of something metal underneath the desk; Two rusty metal loops, one on the floor and one on the desk. A small chain hung from the desk loop.
"Huh..." Jamie said, fingering the metal, "Guess the boss liked to bring their pet to work so much they had an inbuilt leash hold? Seems weird. I wouldn't want a feral dog pulling my desk if they got too excited. Right guys?" He stream filled with witty remarks and laughing emojis. Instant dopamine for the attention whore he was.
The drawers had locks. He had a crowbar. All he found after prying them was a small modern door key. Jamie didn't spot any rust to his surprise, making him question if it was a recent item or if the drawers protected it from the elements. Whatever door it'd open likely had a lock too rusted anyway, but he pocketed it all the same.
"Well, that's the boring stuff out of the way guys. I know, I know, you guys wanna see what the factory floor is like. But you gotta understand one of the best things about urban exploring is figuring out what people's lives were like." Jamie twisted around an abandoned water cooler, stopping to lean against it and mimic holding a cup, "I mean, did they really talk about sports here, or was there some more devious gossip happening? Maybe someone talked about fucking the secretary? Maybe the secretary talked about fucking someone? They didn't call her 'Peggy' for no reason." At the questions of who Peggy was in the comments, Jamie sighed and said, "It's called a hypothetical, guys. No one named Peggy worked here. Probably. Maybe. Can't really rule it out."
Back downstairs, Jamie shined his light across the cracked concrete floors of the workshop. Conveyor belts enough for a person to fill the space. "Looks like some kind of packaging place if I had to guess. Canning factories don't need such big conveyor belts." He actually wasn't sure if they did. Sometimes Jamie just made things up for his fans. Whether they corrected him later or not was their responsibility, and he'd find a way to laugh it off to save face.
Running his finger along the surface, he found not a speck of dust. His light found no sign of rust, almost as though they were maintained regularly. "Well that's weird," he said aloud for his viewers to hear, "If I didn't know any better, and I'm not exactly an expert, I'd say the machinery is still in use. Still doesn't answer what exactly they made here." 
The stations along the belt made no sense either. One looked like something akin to a carwash with the big brushes, while another looked like some sort of strange black saran wrap puller. He stared at it for several seconds, utterly bewildered at what it could be for.
Following the conveyor belt like a river, Jamie reached the loading dock he'd seen outside. Opposite of closed metal shutters was a small hill leading up like a rising tarmac. "Well, now I'm even more confused," Jamie took two steps closer to the start, "Did they just haul out stuff from big trucks and roll them onto the belt? That doesn't make any-"
He felt his body fall an inch as he stepped onto an unseen pressure plate. Something whirred behind him. Jamie turned just fast enough to see a metal tendril wrap around his waist but too slow to stop several more grabbing his wrists and ankles. "What the fuck?!" Jamie screamed, only for a cold robotic voice to echo across the factory.
"Unidentified product found on loading dock. Commence refinement process." 
"Refinement process?" Jamie squeaked. He struggled against the metal limbs, having no desire to find out what exactly was meant to be refined. The belt surged to life, with more metal tendrils slinking out the sides. Each head carried a new tool, but what caught the mouse's attention was the whir of a small buzzsaw. 
He screamed. Body rigid with fright, Jamie closed his eyes with the knowledge he couldn't break free. Instead of feeling the spinning blade graze his fur, it swiftly cut away at his clothing and gear. The chill of nudity brushed against him while his camera fell, caught by a spare tendril. "Unidentified object found. Will hold until Administrator can clarify." 
He opened his eyes to see his camera pointing right at his naked form. "D-Don't look!" he screamed, fruitlessly trying to cover himself as the mechanical limbs held him in place. He could only imagine the sheer amount of comments on his predicament, not one of which would call an emergency number. Even if they did, the building was so remote that any help would take hours to arrive. More time than he had.
Feet on the tarmac, Jamie felt its pull bring him through the giant brushes and wipes of the car wash section. Cold water sprayed over him followed by sudsy scrubs running roughly over his body. Soaking wet pads pressed against his nipples and spun. The biting cold and high speeds earned a silent open-mouthed scream from the captive mouse. 
His wet mop of hair hung forward, blinding him as to what came next. Jamie shook his head to clear his vision, catching a glimpse of two industrial blow-dryers rising up next to him. Hot air blasted from both sides with a deafening roar. Puffy like a furry marshmallow, the mouse squeaked at a harsh buzzing noise coming behind him.
"No!" He screamed, "No, no, no!" The mechanical hold remained no matter how hard he thrashed. Thick brushes matted down his body fur as a buzzer trailed through his red hair. The weight of his ponytail fell, leaving him to guess how little of his hair remained as the treadmill continued. 
"Urethral inspection required. Subject advised to stay still." 
Jamie saw a small thin rod at the end of a metal limb and screamed, "Fuck you!" at the top of his lungs. 
"Poor language detected. Implementing punishment subroutine." Before he could repeat the computer with confusion, a heavy smack cracked against his backside. Yelping, the mouse fell victim to a barrage of spankings from some unseen paddle until his ass became brighter underneath his pink fur. "Increased blood flow detected in genitalia," the machine said right as Jamie noticed his erection, "Adding masochism to potential training routine for stage two."
He didn't have time to question what stage two was thanks to the thin rod slipping into his urethral. While not an innocent soul in the bedroom, Jamie had yet to experience penetration in what he considered a one-way hole. The rod looked thin but every centimeter it went inside felt like fire. The mouse fought to stay still as the rod began to rhythmically fuck his cockhole, fearful that moving would hurt more. 
Breathing heightened. Fists clenched. He felt something rising as the pain mixed with pleasure. "Fuck..." he winced through bitten lips, earning another spank which pushed the rod deeper. His voice cracked as he squealed. 
It pulled out just before climax, leaving his erection leaking pre-cum over the tarmac. "Subject's temperature is normal. Begin testing capacity and gag reflex." Two more metal limbs slipped into his gaze, one slicking itself in lubricant from the tip as it circled around him. Jamie clenched his ass at the rod pressed into him and closed his mouth. "Subject's continued resistance has been marked in record. Advanced punishment is to be administered." Suction cups latched onto his nipples, carrying an electrical charge that forced the mouse to open up just enough for the tendrils to go in.
From both ends they penetrated him. Not a first, but never so rough. The one behind pushed deeper and expanded enough that he worried it'd rip him. Any cries of protest became gags thanks to the squirming limb sinking down his throat. "Anal capacity, above average. Excellent for clients. Oral capacity, below average, training tool required." 
"I don't-" Water sprayed into his asshole from the tendril once his mouth became free. A sudden suction rocked his body. He heard the phrase 'enema cycle' repeated over and over until his asshole was emptied of the intruder. 
Gasping for air, Jamie could scarcely utter another word as a thin rod slipped into his urethra again. A low vibration emanated from the tool, sending tortuous waves through the sensitive walls only to stop as pleasure rose up to the point of no return. Tendrils held him upright as his legs gave way, leaving him a ragdoll for the machine's mercy. 
"Subject attention dropping. Applying punishment." The machine spanked him again, determined to make his leg muscles burn so long as he stood up.
"No...no more..." Jamie begged aloud. The machine had no ears to listen nor a heart to care. It rolled him forward on the tarmac towards the black saran wrap-like machine. A tarp of black glossy material stretched wide between them. It wrapped around his body, encasing him in a warm second skin that rapidly cooled. Without holes, he struggled to breathe and reached for his face to tear it away. A whirring buzz solved that for him, cutting out spots for his eyes, mouth, nose, ass, and crotch. 
Something seeped through the rod in his cock. "Injecting drug cocktail category three. Increased sensitivity and decreased erectile function expected shortly." Any questions he had were blocked by an oxygen mask shoved into his face, followed by something that wasn't oxygen. It smelled vaguely like the poppers he'd sniffed at college parties before taking on studs too big for him before he stretched himself out. The wide plug immediately shoved into his backside confirmed his suspicions. 
"Chastity parameters recognized. Data suggests flathead cage most appropriate for size and position of subject. Attaching now." Jamie's balls were squeezed tight and pulled through a thick metal loop. A large coin-like piece of metal pressed against his softening cock, pushing deeper and deeper until the mouse felt his member sink inside of him. The sounding rod was the only indication it was still there, carefully replaced by a hollow tube. Instead of a lock, Jamie smelt a quick burst of heat as the machine soldered the cage closed. 
A gag pushed past his lips the moment he opened his maw. Long and thick, it pushed down his throat and stayed there, ending with a wide ball-like bottom as straps were tightened around the back of his head. "Trainer gag installed. Dressing protocol starting." 
The bondage, invasive penetration, and injections were all humiliating in their own right, especially with his camera watching it all from out of his peripheral vision. But the dressing protocol hit him where it hurt, first by affixing a wig over his head made from the same color of his discarded hair that he assumed it was his own. 
Then came the dress. Specifically, some sort of hyper-sexualized French maid outfit with white frills, a skirt that was too short to hide his cage and balls, and an apron made out of the same material as his second skin. Glossy white gloves, tall heels that forced him against his toes, and a thick standing collar that forced his head up.
"Maid doll finished. Begin packaging." Reaching the end of the tarmac, Jamie was hoisted by the robotic tendrils and laid down flat against some sort of black table. His limbs were stretched to the four corners, tied down by giant plastic bands twisted like a doll in packaging. 
With his camera returning to view, Jamie screamed into the gag. He thrashed into the bindings to let his viewers know this wasn't some preplanned stunt. This was a real kidnapping and he didn't know where he was going. "Training simulation required for long-term travel," the voice said in the midst of his struggles, latching some sort of headset and earplugs over his head, "Loading program 42. Have a nice trip to buyer ERROR," the robotic voice cracked and screamed, "ERROR. Buyer unidentified. Contacting support department."
Darkness enveloped Jamie. Quick breaths through his nose were the only indication he was still alive. Light flashed before his eyes, followed by a cute fox in a maid outfit standing in some sort of Victorian manner. "Hello, I'm Foxy, your virtual trainer for the trip between you and your buyer. M.A.I.D specializes in training perfect dolls to fulfill all their owner's needs, from cooking, cleaning, to sexual," Each example was highlighted over the background with a cute if animesque image of the fox, except for the last one. The last one showed Foxy kneeling on the floor, covered in cum surrounded by cocks. Jamie's cage buzzed from his sounding rod at the sight of it. "Hmm...it appears that you don't have a listed buyer. An error must have occurred in processing. Don't worry, while it may be a while for a specialist to arrive and move you to a more secure location after registering you on the catalog, I have plenty of instructional videos to show you for your conditioning. After all, a good maid needs to know the ins and outs of their duties."
Instructional videos began to play before Jamie's eyes. How to clean dishes, laundry, proper dusting techniques, and more. On top of each video being represented by another latex maid doing the actions, scenes of sex were spliced in that Jamie could miss with the blink of an eye. Cocks, pussies, assholes, and the servicing of them filled his instructional screen, enthralling him to keep staring with a buzz at every instructional guide. 
"A loyal maid is a happy maid," Foxy said, "A loyal maid is a happy maid."

***
Katie awoke with a long yawn and a buzzing from her phone. Heterochromic eyes squinted at the latest message. "The fuck? That place was abandoned for real last month." The german shepherd groaned and made a quick call to Chuck before rolling out of bed. "Hey Chuck, can you send a tower to the old building? Figure there's probably something there and my truck isn't built for that sort of thing." The last-minute request would cost her, but she accepted that risk when she took watch over the old place.
Yawning with a stretch, she brushed her teeth and casually made herself a quick cup of coffee before getting dressed in her jumpsuit. No one questioned what she did for a living if she looked like a blue-collar worker. As if anyone with a blue-collar job could afford her loft. Then again, it wasn't really her loft. She was just given it by her own master who saw fit to give her privacy if she kept up with her responsibilities. 
Why it had to be the old M.A.I.D facility she didn't understand, but Katie didn't have the authority to question things. 
Her phone told her it was half past nine. "Ok, so with traffic that'll take me an hour. Great," she said sarcastically, "Well whoever broke in won't be going anywhere. They've only been in there for..." She checked her phone to find when the alert was sent. "Oh, three hours. Hopefully, their brains aren't mush. No buyer wants a braindead maid." 
Worst case scenario, they would reprogram it.