HOME | DD

Description
body div#devskin0 hr { }

When I awoke I realized I wasn’t in my own bed and felt disoriented for a moment. When I recalled that I was locked in Graham’s storage room I sighed, turned on the light and resignedly lay back down to wait for Graham to arrive and unlock the door. It wasn’t long until I heard the key in the lock and heard a cheerful “Good morning!”
Graham was clearly in a good mood, looking forward to the fruition of his plans for the trade show. Surprisingly, given that I’d spent the night locked in a large closet, I was looking forward to it as well. I’d worked very hard in order to be able to perform this contortion routine, and I was quite proud of what I’d been able to accomplish. I used the shower in Graham’s office to clean up, which didn’t take long given that I had no hair to shampoo and blow dry, and that my makeup was dyed right into my skin. Graham had even brought me a small breakfast, consisting of a biscuit, a dab of yogurt and a small cup of tea, which was probably all I would have room for once I was scrunched up in the box.
We went to Graham’s car and I started to get in the passenger seat, but Graham stopped me and opened the boot.
“I want your performance to be a surprise at the trade show, especially to the other exhibitors. Given your appearance, we’re going to have to sneak you in to accomplish that. I have a box in the boot that we can use to move you into the Acme backstage area as a package. It should be easy enough for you to get into, and there are a few holes in the box so that you can breathe. When we get to the exhibit hall we can unpack you in privacy.”
I wasn’t happy about riding in the boot, but I could see his point. I made quite a sight being bald and wearing only body paint, including on my face. I could hardly walk in unobtrusively. I climbed into the box which was almost roomy compared to what I would be in at the show. Graham taped the box shut and we set off.
The car finally stopped and I heard the boot being opened. My box was picked up, placed on a handcart, and moved to the backstage area where Graham cut the tape and released me. I climbed out and as I took a look around I noticed that I was getting a few looks as well from the backstage crew, who were appreciating my costume, or lack of it. I saw the rubbish bin that would carry me to the compactor, and I pulled aside the curtain to see the compactor, with its lid open to receive me. Graham came up beside me. “Eager anticipation? You do certainly seem to enjoy your work.”
I blushed, knowing that he was aware of my erotic reaction to being compacted. Changing the subject I asked “Is that the stand where my box will be displayed?”
“Yes, we were fortunate to get a stand with a turntable. Once the stagehands have your box centered on it, they’ll turn it on, slowly rotating your box. The goal is to have people stop to see a full rotation, getting them to spend a bit more time at our exhibit. Even if it’s not the compactor they’re looking at, a crowed at an exhibit attracts even more people, wondering what they’re looking at. You’ll notice that we have positioned it as far forward as possible to give people a good view.”
There was still a bit of time before the first performance so I looked for a spot in the crowded backstage area to stretch. I had to be as limber as possible. Even though I had gone through the compaction process several times now, it was still at the limits of my ability. I was lost in thought, concentrating on my stretching routine when I heard the announcer begin his spiel. The stagehands helped me into the rubbish bin. I focused my mind on what I had to do as the bin was wheeled out to the compactor, picked up, and I was dumped in. The lid slammed closed cueing me to go into my routine. As I twisted around I noticed that there was a sizable crowd, but I began to feel the same arousal again, and soon my writhing inside the compactor was as much an erotic reaction as it was a performance. I heard the lid latches click, and I struggled to concentrate, reminding myself that the power of the compactor was a very real danger. As the piston of the compactor compressed me more and more, my arousal only increased until once again I had an orgasm as my box lid clicked into place. I was in a daze as my box was picked up, placed on the display stand turntable, and set in motion, going slowly round and around, displaying me to the crowd.
Sealed in my box and tightly scrunched up with my head between my legs, I was only dimly aware of being looked at by people passing by the Acme display. I tried counting the revolutions of my box to pass time, but being able to see very little, scrunched up as I was, I soon lost count. There was nothing to concentrate on except my breathing, and the wait was interminable. Finally, the turntable stopped and my box was picked up, put on a cart, and moved backstage. The power saw cut my box lid free and the box was turned on its side to make it easier for me to get out. I lay on the floor breathing deeply again now that I was no longer crushed inside. Graham leaned over me and said “Congratulations. Dynamite performance. It’s a shame you couldn’t see the crowd reaction. You’d better hurry up and get ready for the next performance though. You’ve only got a couple of minutes before it begins.”
“A couple of minutes?! I thought I was only going to be on display for a few minutes until the crowd dissipated.”
“What can I say? You were such a hit that the crowd never broke up. We certainly weren’t going to bring you back here to sit around when you could be pulling an audience to our booth. The crowd appeal of a practically naked contortionist on display in a Lucite box exceeded our wildest expectations.” Graham extended a hand down to me as I was still lying on the floor next to the box. “Come on, let’s get going. I can’t wait to see if the second performance draws like the first one, or if the novelty wears off.”
I hurried to the bathroom to relieve myself and take a small sip of water. As soon as I got back the stagehands put me in the refuse bin, and it was off for another turn in the compactor. I felt the brutal caresses of my mechanical lover again, and once again I was in an orgasmic daze as my box was placed on the turntable. This time I was resigned to the possibility of being there for quite a while. It was gratifying to be such a hit at the trade show, but I hoped that the novelty of the performance would wear off and I could get out of my box for a break between performances. I was dismayed though as my box just kept going round and round and round. I was finally hauled back stage, sawed out, and dumped out onto the floor again. I looked up and saw Graham standing over me with a big grin on his face. “Incredible. It was even better than the first performance. I think most of the crowd from the first performance came back, and brought their friends as well. I was watching the crowd moving past your box on display, and many of the men passed by several times for a better look. I’ll have to get the stage hands to set your box down with a different side up each time to give the repeat viewers something a little different to look at. Do you think you can manage it if you’re upside down occasionally? Never mind. Hurry up and get ready, the next performance is about to start.”
As I was dumped back into the compactor I wondered if being crushed in the compactor would become routine, and I would stop having an orgasm from the experience. I got my answer as the machine’s piston crushed me into my box again, and once more I exploded into an orgasm. I wondered how many orgasms were possible in a day, and if it death by orgasm was a danger. I was put on the turn table once more, but this time instead of being in a position that could be described as sitting with my legs crossed, head between my knees, contemplating my navel, I was lying on my back with my legs in the air, scrunched up, contemplating my navel. This had the effect of putting my glued shut pussy on display.
This time when I was hauled backstage and sawed out of my box I found the Graham has reorganized the layout so that my box was lying just outside the bathroom door. As I tumbled out of my box Graham stuffed a piece of a roll into my mouth and said “Here’s lunch. Chew it while you’re using the bathroom.” as he picked me up and pushed me through the bathroom door. As I came out he handed me a glass of water. “Quick! Take a gulp as you get back in the rubbish bin. You’re due for your next performance.” Before I knew what was happening I was dumped into compactor again, and orgasmically entered my box. This time the stagehands did set the box on the display stand with me upside down, my pussy pointed up, though it wasn’t as bad as you might think, since I was scrunched into such a tight ball that blood rushing to my head wasn’t an issue.
The quick turnaround routine went on until I lost track of the number of performances and orgasms. I consoled myself with the knowledge that at least the show ended at 8 pm and I would be free for the night, until the performances began again the next day. Finally my box was hauled backstage and not immediately sawed open. Instead of the frantic pace that had been the norm, I heard Graham talking to his crew, congratulating them on a very successful first day of the show. Then I heard him say something that gave me a chill. “It’s been a long and busy day today. I want everyone to go home and get a good night’s rest. I’ll look after Katie and we’ll see you back here first thing in the morning.” I expected Graham to saw me out, but instead he loaded my box onto a hand truck, and then set the saw on top of it. He wheeled the hand truck out to his car, and heaved my box into the boot, followed by the saw and hand truck.
Back at Acme Graham unloaded me from the boot and used the hand truck to haul me up to his office. He bent down next to my box and said “I know you’re expecting me to saw you out of your box for the night, but I’ll be using the cot, so I’m going to let you sleep in your box. It’s a bit snug, I know, but you handled yourself so well today, that I know you’ll be just fine there for the night.”
I tried to protest, but compressed as I was, I couldn’t manage much more than a whisper. Graham gave my box a couple of taps, said “Have a good night and sleep well”, turned the lights out, and went off to sleep on the cot in the storage room, where I had slept the prior night. I struggled frantically, but of course I couldn’t budge the box in the least, and I could only manage a tiny wiggle for all my efforts. The only result of my struggling was that I became more and more aroused as I realized that I was implacably held, with no hope of escape. Finally I had one last orgasm for the day, gave up on my struggles and finally dozed off.
I awoke when I heard the storage room door open and Graham moving about the office. After he had washed up and gotten dressed, he used the saw to cut the lid off. I had been in there so long by now that tipping the box on its side wasn’t enough to get me out; he had to turn the box upside down and pull it off me, leaving me lying on the floor. I slowly began to move my arms and legs, feeling the tingle as the blood began to flow into them again. Graham looked down at me.
“Good morning! How is my star performer doing this morning?”
His chipper voice grated on me as I lay there struggling to move again.
“This wasn’t part of the deal! How dare you keep me imprisoned in that box all night?”
“Actually it was part of the deal. Apparently you missed that clause in your contract, giving us the right to set the conditions of your performance, though I must admit, the contract wasn’t structured in such a way as to make it obvious. Actually, my decision to keep you boxed for the night was really a spur of the moment thing. I was standing backstage watching the crowds you were drawing when on display. It set me to wondering how we could build on this for future promotions, and I wanted to know how long it might be possible to put you on display for. Now we know that at least ten hours is possible, and probably twenty-four hours or more, given that you had already spent most of yesterday in your box. The possibilities have already given me several ideas, but we can discuss that later. I’ve ordered some breakfast delivered. Why don’t you use the bathroom and clean up while we’re waiting?”
By the time I finished in the bathroom breakfast had been delivered. Graham was having eggs, bacon, and toast, while I had one slice of dry toast and a dollop of yogurt. I looked longingly at Grahams breakfast while I nursed my piece of toast, taking small bites to make it last. I realized that being a world class enterologist could be a very hungry business. When Graham finished eating he took the saw and hand cart and we went to his car. He opened the boot and put the cart and saw in, and then motioned for me to get in.
“We don’t have to keep me a secret at the trade show today. Can’t I ride in the front seat?”
“We don’t need to pack you in a box this time, but your appearance could startle other drivers in traffic. I think it’s best if you ride back here. Hop in and let’s get going. Aren’t you anxious to find out if you still have the same audience appeal now that the novelty has worn off?”
Actually the novelty wasn’t the only thing that had worn off. While inspecting myself in the bathroom mirror, I had noticed that the wear and tear of yesterdays performances, combined with the morning showering, had already begun to fade my body paint, making my nipples much more obvious. Not only that, but with all the twisting and turning involved in my performance, the glue holding my pussy shut had begun to work loose at the edges. I was eager to have access to my pussy again, but between that and the fading body paint, today’s performances and displays were going to be significantly more risqué. There was nothing I could to about it now though, and as they say, the show must go on.
I looked out through the curtain to gauge the audience, hoping that the second day of the show would be tapering off. I was amazed to see that the audience was larger than the day before. Not only that, but there was a decidedly rowdy aspect to the audience, with some men whistling and one calling out “Come on, bring her out. Let’s get this show on the road.” I was glad I was going to be securely sealed in plastic for my own safety. I had a few minutes to do a bit of stretching, and then it was back into the grind of being dumped into the compactor, writhe, compress, and rotate on display. After a couple of cycles of this, Graham was waiting for me as I was sawed out of my box, and doing my high speed turnaround, talking to me as I was moving. “I sent a couple of my marketing people into the crowd to find out why the large turnout. Word has gotten around the industry, with friends calling friends last night, telling them to leave the wife at home and come out to the trade show to have a look. Many of these guys wouldn’t be here otherwise. Give them the best show you can. Emphasize the writhing!”
By afternoon I scarcely needed to writhe anymore than I was. The convention center bar was doing a brisk business, and the audiences were becoming so raucous that one would think I was performing at a strip joint, rather than a trade show. I felt physically safe inside my box, but I could hear the men’s comments as they looked me over, and they were often quite explicit, typically focusing on my pussy as it rotated around on display. Occasionally someone who had spent a lot of time in the bar would shout something like “Hey baldy, whatcha doing tonight? Wanna come over to my place and do the splits?” Graham finally had to station a couple of his staff at my display stand to help control the crowd and keep it moving. Fortunately the trade show closed at 5 pm the second day or we might have needed the riot police. When my last turn on the display stand was finished Graham sent the entire crew out from backstage to close down and pick me up because he was concerned that a couple of the more drunken audience members might try to make a grab for my box and take it home with them.
Once safely backstage, with the crowd filing out of the convention center, Graham helped me out of my box for the last time, and positively amazed me by actually giving me a hug.
“Congratulations, this has been a huge success.” Graham grinned. “I know it’s the result of my creative genius, but I am willing to admit that you did play a part in it. I know you must be feeling a bit hungry by now. Come back to my office with me, clean up a bit, and I’ll take you out to dinner. Your clothes and wig are still in my office. Let’s celebrate and take advantage of my expense account.”
I was exhausted and wanted to go straight to bed, but at the same time, I didn’t want to be alone in the emotional slump that occurs when an intense performance is over and the audience goes home. Back at this office I took a quick shower, put a bit of makeup on to cover some of the skin dye on my face, and put my wig back on. I had to admit that baldness did expedite getting ready to go out. We went to a small place that Grahame was familiar with. Graham ordered wine and appetizers. We sipped our wine and made small talk. I had to admit that the bastard could be charming when he wanted to. Over dinner Graham asked about my career, how I got started in it, how I felt about it, and how I was doing. When we finished and we were walking back to his car he said he had an offer for me, pulled some papers from his coat pocket and handed them to me. “While you were performing I had our legal department draw these up. I’m offering you a retainer. You ‘ll get a steady stream of payments. In return, you agree to make yourself available for photo shoots and appearances, and to present yourself totally bald as you are now to portray the same role you did today as the girl in the box. It will also be beneficial to you to maintain contact with Acme. In a few months we will already begin planning for next year’s event, and give our success this year I’m currently planning to do something along the same lines, and perhaps even more dramatic.”
I felt a warm glow as Graham drove me home. The contract would mean less stress, wondering where the next gig might come from that I needed to pay for the rent. If only I had known then what my continued association with Acme would mean, I might have torn up the contract then and there, but that’s another story.

Chapter 6 The Photo Shoot
Chapter 4 Setting the Stage

Description
body div#devskin0 hr { }

When I awoke I realized I wasn’t in my own bed and felt disoriented for a moment. When I recalled that I was locked in Graham’s storage room I sighed, turned on the light and resignedly lay back down to wait for Graham to arrive and unlock the door. It wasn’t long until I heard the key in the lock and heard a cheerful “Good morning!”
Graham was clearly in a good mood, looking forward to the fruition of his plans for the trade show. Surprisingly, given that I’d spent the night locked in a large closet, I was looking forward to it as well. I’d worked very hard in order to be able to perform this contortion routine, and I was quite proud of what I’d been able to accomplish. I used the shower in Graham’s office to clean up, which didn’t take long given that I had no hair to shampoo and blow dry, and that my makeup was dyed right into my skin. Graham had even brought me a small breakfast, consisting of a biscuit, a dab of yogurt and a small cup of tea, which was probably all I would have room for once I was scrunched up in the box.
We went to Graham’s car and I started to get in the passenger seat, but Graham stopped me and opened the boot.
“I want your performance to be a surprise at the trade show, especially to the other exhibitors. Given your appearance, we’re going to have to sneak you in to accomplish that. I have a box in the boot that we can use to move you into the Acme backstage area as a package. It should be easy enough for you to get into, and there are a few holes in the box so that you can breathe. When we get to the exhibit hall we can unpack you in privacy.”
I wasn’t happy about riding in the boot, but I could see his point. I made quite a sight being bald and wearing only body paint, including on my face. I could hardly walk in unobtrusively. I climbed into the box which was almost roomy compared to what I would be in at the show. Graham taped the box shut and we set off.
The car finally stopped and I heard the boot being opened. My box was picked up, placed on a handcart, and moved to the backstage area where Graham cut the tape and released me. I climbed out and as I took a look around I noticed that I was getting a few looks as well from the backstage crew, who were appreciating my costume, or lack of it. I saw the rubbish bin that would carry me to the compactor, and I pulled aside the curtain to see the compactor, with its lid open to receive me. Graham came up beside me. “Eager anticipation? You do certainly seem to enjoy your work.”
I blushed, knowing that he was aware of my erotic reaction to being compacted. Changing the subject I asked “Is that the stand where my box will be displayed?”
“Yes, we were fortunate to get a stand with a turntable. Once the stagehands have your box centered on it, they’ll turn it on, slowly rotating your box. The goal is to have people stop to see a full rotation, getting them to spend a bit more time at our exhibit. Even if it’s not the compactor they’re looking at, a crowed at an exhibit attracts even more people, wondering what they’re looking at. You’ll notice that we have positioned it as far forward as possible to give people a good view.”
There was still a bit of time before the first performance so I looked for a spot in the crowded backstage area to stretch. I had to be as limber as possible. Even though I had gone through the compaction process several times now, it was still at the limits of my ability. I was lost in thought, concentrating on my stretching routine when I heard the announcer begin his spiel. The stagehands helped me into the rubbish bin. I focused my mind on what I had to do as the bin was wheeled out to the compactor, picked up, and I was dumped in. The lid slammed closed cueing me to go into my routine. As I twisted around I noticed that there was a sizable crowd, but I began to feel the same arousal again, and soon my writhing inside the compactor was as much an erotic reaction as it was a performance. I heard the lid latches click, and I struggled to concentrate, reminding myself that the power of the compactor was a very real danger. As the piston of the compactor compressed me more and more, my arousal only increased until once again I had an orgasm as my box lid clicked into place. I was in a daze as my box was picked up, placed on the display stand turntable, and set in motion, going slowly round and around, displaying me to the crowd.
Sealed in my box and tightly scrunched up with my head between my legs, I was only dimly aware of being looked at by people passing by the Acme display. I tried counting the revolutions of my box to pass time, but being able to see very little, scrunched up as I was, I soon lost count. There was nothing to concentrate on except my breathing, and the wait was interminable. Finally, the turntable stopped and my box was picked up, put on a cart, and moved backstage. The power saw cut my box lid free and the box was turned on its side to make it easier for me to get out. I lay on the floor breathing deeply again now that I was no longer crushed inside. Graham leaned over me and said “Congratulations. Dynamite performance. It’s a shame you couldn’t see the crowd reaction. You’d better hurry up and get ready for the next performance though. You’ve only got a couple of minutes before it begins.”
“A couple of minutes?! I thought I was only going to be on display for a few minutes until the crowd dissipated.”
“What can I say? You were such a hit that the crowd never broke up. We certainly weren’t going to bring you back here to sit around when you could be pulling an audience to our booth. The crowd appeal of a practically naked contortionist on display in a Lucite box exceeded our wildest expectations.” Graham extended a hand down to me as I was still lying on the floor next to the box. “Come on, let’s get going. I can’t wait to see if the second performance draws like the first one, or if the novelty wears off.”
I hurried to the bathroom to relieve myself and take a small sip of water. As soon as I got back the stagehands put me in the refuse bin, and it was off for another turn in the compactor. I felt the brutal caresses of my mechanical lover again, and once again I was in an orgasmic daze as my box was placed on the turntable. This time I was resigned to the possibility of being there for quite a while. It was gratifying to be such a hit at the trade show, but I hoped that the novelty of the performance would wear off and I could get out of my box for a break between performances. I was dismayed though as my box just kept going round and round and round. I was finally hauled back stage, sawed out, and dumped out onto the floor again. I looked up and saw Graham standing over me with a big grin on his face. “Incredible. It was even better than the first performance. I think most of the crowd from the first performance came back, and brought their friends as well. I was watching the crowd moving past your box on display, and many of the men passed by several times for a better look. I’ll have to get the stage hands to set your box down with a different side up each time to give the repeat viewers something a little different to look at. Do you think you can manage it if you’re upside down occasionally? Never mind. Hurry up and get ready, the next performance is about to start.”
As I was dumped back into the compactor I wondered if being crushed in the compactor would become routine, and I would stop having an orgasm from the experience. I got my answer as the machine’s piston crushed me into my box again, and once more I exploded into an orgasm. I wondered how many orgasms were possible in a day, and if it death by orgasm was a danger. I was put on the turn table once more, but this time instead of being in a position that could be described as sitting with my legs crossed, head between my knees, contemplating my navel, I was lying on my back with my legs in the air, scrunched up, contemplating my navel. This had the effect of putting my glued shut pussy on display.
This time when I was hauled backstage and sawed out of my box I found the Graham has reorganized the layout so that my box was lying just outside the bathroom door. As I tumbled out of my box Graham stuffed a piece of a roll into my mouth and said “Here’s lunch. Chew it while you’re using the bathroom.” as he picked me up and pushed me through the bathroom door. As I came out he handed me a glass of water. “Quick! Take a gulp as you get back in the rubbish bin. You’re due for your next performance.” Before I knew what was happening I was dumped into compactor again, and orgasmically entered my box. This time the stagehands did set the box on the display stand with me upside down, my pussy pointed up, though it wasn’t as bad as you might think, since I was scrunched into such a tight ball that blood rushing to my head wasn’t an issue.
The quick turnaround routine went on until I lost track of the number of performances and orgasms. I consoled myself with the knowledge that at least the show ended at 8 pm and I would be free for the night, until the performances began again the next day. Finally my box was hauled backstage and not immediately sawed open. Instead of the frantic pace that had been the norm, I heard Graham talking to his crew, congratulating them on a very successful first day of the show. Then I heard him say something that gave me a chill. “It’s been a long and busy day today. I want everyone to go home and get a good night’s rest. I’ll look after Katie and we’ll see you back here first thing in the morning.” I expected Graham to saw me out, but instead he loaded my box onto a hand truck, and then set the saw on top of it. He wheeled the hand truck out to his car, and heaved my box into the boot, followed by the saw and hand truck.
Back at Acme Graham unloaded me from the boot and used the hand truck to haul me up to his office. He bent down next to my box and said “I know you’re expecting me to saw you out of your box for the night, but I’ll be using the cot, so I’m going to let you sleep in your box. It’s a bit snug, I know, but you handled yourself so well today, that I know you’ll be just fine there for the night.”
I tried to protest, but compressed as I was, I couldn’t manage much more than a whisper. Graham gave my box a couple of taps, said “Have a good night and sleep well”, turned the lights out, and went off to sleep on the cot in the storage room, where I had slept the prior night. I struggled frantically, but of course I couldn’t budge the box in the least, and I could only manage a tiny wiggle for all my efforts. The only result of my struggling was that I became more and more aroused as I realized that I was implacably held, with no hope of escape. Finally I had one last orgasm for the day, gave up on my struggles and finally dozed off.
I awoke when I heard the storage room door open and Graham moving about the office. After he had washed up and gotten dressed, he used the saw to cut the lid off. I had been in there so long by now that tipping the box on its side wasn’t enough to get me out; he had to turn the box upside down and pull it off me, leaving me lying on the floor. I slowly began to move my arms and legs, feeling the tingle as the blood began to flow into them again. Graham looked down at me.
“Good morning! How is my star performer doing this morning?”
His chipper voice grated on me as I lay there struggling to move again.
“This wasn’t part of the deal! How dare you keep me imprisoned in that box all night?”
“Actually it was part of the deal. Apparently you missed that clause in your contract, giving us the right to set the conditions of your performance, though I must admit, the contract wasn’t structured in such a way as to make it obvious. Actually, my decision to keep you boxed for the night was really a spur of the moment thing. I was standing backstage watching the crowds you were drawing when on display. It set me to wondering how we could build on this for future promotions, and I wanted to know how long it might be possible to put you on display for. Now we know that at least ten hours is possible, and probably twenty-four hours or more, given that you had already spent most of yesterday in your box. The possibilities have already given me several ideas, but we can discuss that later. I’ve ordered some breakfast delivered. Why don’t you use the bathroom and clean up while we’re waiting?”
By the time I finished in the bathroom breakfast had been delivered. Graham was having eggs, bacon, and toast, while I had one slice of dry toast and a dollop of yogurt. I looked longingly at Grahams breakfast while I nursed my piece of toast, taking small bites to make it last. I realized that being a world class enterologist could be a very hungry business. When Graham finished eating he took the saw and hand cart and we went to his car. He opened the boot and put the cart and saw in, and then motioned for me to get in.
“We don’t have to keep me a secret at the trade show today. Can’t I ride in the front seat?”
“We don’t need to pack you in a box this time, but your appearance could startle other drivers in traffic. I think it’s best if you ride back here. Hop in and let’s get going. Aren’t you anxious to find out if you still have the same audience appeal now that the novelty has worn off?”
Actually the novelty wasn’t the only thing that had worn off. While inspecting myself in the bathroom mirror, I had noticed that the wear and tear of yesterdays performances, combined with the morning showering, had already begun to fade my body paint, making my nipples much more obvious. Not only that, but with all the twisting and turning involved in my performance, the glue holding my pussy shut had begun to work loose at the edges. I was eager to have access to my pussy again, but between that and the fading body paint, today’s performances and displays were going to be significantly more risqué. There was nothing I could to about it now though, and as they say, the show must go on.
I looked out through the curtain to gauge the audience, hoping that the second day of the show would be tapering off. I was amazed to see that the audience was larger than the day before. Not only that, but there was a decidedly rowdy aspect to the audience, with some men whistling and one calling out “Come on, bring her out. Let’s get this show on the road.” I was glad I was going to be securely sealed in plastic for my own safety. I had a few minutes to do a bit of stretching, and then it was back into the grind of being dumped into the compactor, writhe, compress, and rotate on display. After a couple of cycles of this, Graham was waiting for me as I was sawed out of my box, and doing my high speed turnaround, talking to me as I was moving. “I sent a couple of my marketing people into the crowd to find out why the large turnout. Word has gotten around the industry, with friends calling friends last night, telling them to leave the wife at home and come out to the trade show to have a look. Many of these guys wouldn’t be here otherwise. Give them the best show you can. Emphasize the writhing!”
By afternoon I scarcely needed to writhe anymore than I was. The convention center bar was doing a brisk business, and the audiences were becoming so raucous that one would think I was performing at a strip joint, rather than a trade show. I felt physically safe inside my box, but I could hear the men’s comments as they looked me over, and they were often quite explicit, typically focusing on my pussy as it rotated around on display. Occasionally someone who had spent a lot of time in the bar would shout something like “Hey baldy, whatcha doing tonight? Wanna come over to my place and do the splits?” Graham finally had to station a couple of his staff at my display stand to help control the crowd and keep it moving. Fortunately the trade show closed at 5 pm the second day or we might have needed the riot police. When my last turn on the display stand was finished Graham sent the entire crew out from backstage to close down and pick me up because he was concerned that a couple of the more drunken audience members might try to make a grab for my box and take it home with them.
Once safely backstage, with the crowd filing out of the convention center, Graham helped me out of my box for the last time, and positively amazed me by actually giving me a hug.
“Congratulations, this has been a huge success.” Graham grinned. “I know it’s the result of my creative genius, but I am willing to admit that you did play a part in it. I know you must be feeling a bit hungry by now. Come back to my office with me, clean up a bit, and I’ll take you out to dinner. Your clothes and wig are still in my office. Let’s celebrate and take advantage of my expense account.”
I was exhausted and wanted to go straight to bed, but at the same time, I didn’t want to be alone in the emotional slump that occurs when an intense performance is over and the audience goes home. Back at this office I took a quick shower, put a bit of makeup on to cover some of the skin dye on my face, and put my wig back on. I had to admit that baldness did expedite getting ready to go out. We went to a small place that Grahame was familiar with. Graham ordered wine and appetizers. We sipped our wine and made small talk. I had to admit that the bastard could be charming when he wanted to. Over dinner Graham asked about my career, how I got started in it, how I felt about it, and how I was doing. When we finished and we were walking back to his car he said he had an offer for me, pulled some papers from his coat pocket and handed them to me. “While you were performing I had our legal department draw these up. I’m offering you a retainer. You ‘ll get a steady stream of payments. In return, you agree to make yourself available for photo shoots and appearances, and to present yourself totally bald as you are now to portray the same role you did today as the girl in the box. It will also be beneficial to you to maintain contact with Acme. In a few months we will already begin planning for next year’s event, and give our success this year I’m currently planning to do something along the same lines, and perhaps even more dramatic.”
I felt a warm glow as Graham drove me home. The contract would mean less stress, wondering where the next gig might come from that I needed to pay for the rent. If only I had known then what my continued association with Acme would mean, I might have torn up the contract then and there, but that’s another story.

Chapter 6 The Photo Shoot
Chapter 4 Setting the Stage