Model Behavior (M/M)

[bigsmile21]

I'd gone to the city's 2-day leather convention. It was my first time and I was excited (and nervous) to take in the sights, sit in on panels of guest speakers, and explore the showroom of vendors. I dressed comfy in blue jeans and a black long-sleeved shirt, but by the end of the weekend I wanted to walk away with (or maybe even in) my own leather outfit. That goal grew more pressing as throughout the day I passed people in leather pants, chaps, harnesses, vests, hoods, and more. You name it and people were wearing it.

Stepping into the large ballroom of vendors was overwhelming. First thing that hit me was the smell: a mix of crisp new leather and old worn leather. There were rows of kiosks. If I wasn't careful my wallet would be empty in a heartbeat. I did a quick pass of everything, just trying to take in what the room had to offer. I saw apparel, gear, and even unique items like leather-bound book covers, dice trays, and kilts.

At the back corner of the room was a sign that read Leather Leasing Company. It was smaller than most of the other kiosks. There was only one person behind the draped table: a really tall man in a leather cowboy hat, patterned long-sleeve button-up shirt with the cuffs rolled up, a leather vest, dark blue jeans, and a pair of brown leather chaps on top of them. I couldn't see their feet but imagined them wearing cowboy boots; maybe that was adding to their height. As I walked up I saw he had a clean-shaven face and dark eyes. There wasn't anything on display in the booth. The only thing on the table was a white ringed binder, and the man motioned for me to have a closer look.

I opened the binder to see it filled with pictures of outfits: a cowboy outfit identical to what he was wearing, a Spartan warrior, a motorcycle policeman uniform, and many more. The models were all different body shapes, which was appreciated seeing some like my average build. There were close-up pictures of each item and all of them looked amazing. My heart dropped when I saw the prices, however. My face must have been easy to read because I heard the vendor say I could lease an outfit for the convention. I looked up in confusion.

"You can essentially 'rent' one for the day at a significantly reduced price." he said. "I'll get your billing information, and if you like it then we have flexibly payment plans where you can pay it off over time. Leather isn't cheap, and I've found a large up-front cost can prevent people from entering the lifestyle. So, which would you like to try?"

This was amazing. I could try before buying, and had a huge selection to dive into. I started classic: a black leather harness and black pants. The cowboy asked about any wrist restraints or armbands but I declined; I wanted to keep in mind the full cost of the gear in case I liked it enough to buy. The man said I should at least go with some boots since my tennis shoes would throw off the look. I agreed, and the man bent under the table and a minute later pulled out my items. I wasn't sure how many boxes he had under there, but it looked like the items would fit. I handed over my debit card and looked around for a dressing booth. The man said I could step into a bathroom to change but reminded me that this was a leather convention, and said I'd be fine to change right here. There were a few whistles as I dropped my pants, keeping my underwear on, and changed into the leather pants. The fit was perfect: snug and warm. Next to go on were the boots: size 11, black leather, with what felt like a steel toe. I then took off my shirt and buckled the harness around my chest. The man leaned over the table to help tighten the straps. The metal rings were cold on my chest but quickly warmed. Hearing the leather creak as I breathed in and out was amazing.

As the harness was being buckled, the man said to bring everything back before the vendor hall closed today. Otherwise he'd set up the recurring leasing payments. He also said that any damages upon return would result in the recurring leasing payments. Lastly, no one else was permitted to wear the outfit. At this, I heard several small clicks. I looked down to see a small padlock locked around the buckle in my leather pants and knew there were at least two locked onto the back of my harness. I turned back to the man, who winked, saying it was incentive for me to return the items. Something about the way he winked wasn't natural, but it didn't fully register at the time. He pointed down to the boots, said "them too", so I raised one at a time against the table for him to snap a padlock around a hinge at the top of the each boot.

The man said there were zippers on the front and back of the pants for restroom use. There was room in the pants for my wallet, keys, and phone. I started to fold my clothes but the man said he'd be happy to hold on to them, again for incentive for me to return with the outfit. The thought of walking around in full leather got me excited. I thanked him for the outfit and for holding onto my normal clothes. I asked for his name and he replied it was John Smith. But the way he said it didn't make sense, like he'd borrowed it or something. I don't know, it just didn't seem to match him.

I walked around the vendors for another hour but didn't buy anything. Just excited to be in my own set of leathers. Some people wore intricately designed outfits, others wore leather-variants of superheroes, and some outfits I couldn't even begin to describe: combinations of leather, rubber, chains, and more, all to immobilize the wearer, spoof some known character or public figure, or whatnot.

The panels were a nice break from the crowd, and most of the speakers were great to listen to. There were speakers on the history of leather, leather in media, leather working and DIY, bondage, and so many more that I couldn't get to. Each speaker brought their own style and expertise. Throughout the day the leather pants and harness were comfortable.

Photos at the convention were centered around consent, as some people want to be discrete. But so long as you asked and people were okay with it you could really capture some unique looks. At this point I was okay with a few pictures, and even got excited about finding myself online at some point in the future. The oddest thing though was when people would ask for photos, I would freeze in place and pose. I didn't have any particular poses in mind, and thinking back some of them were downright silly, but I guess it was just about feeling great and getting into that open and fun headspace. Still it felt weird that I'd lock into a pose whenever someone asked for a photo, then release as soon as they were done.

Towards the end of the day I was walking back to the vendor showroom but was stopped for another photo. I'd lost track of time a bit but it wasn't a big deal: I still had ten minutes left before the showroom closed and I could see the entrance to it. What happened next was scary. A couple dressed in leather joined next to me for a selfie, and that quickly grew into a small crowd of others in leather taking pictures and just having a good time at the convention. Like a stop-motion doll, I froze in place every few feet whenever someone pointed a phone at me, whether I was the subject or just in the edge of their shot. I'd stop, pose, and only make it a few steps before the next bombardment of phones. My outfit was nice, but it certainly wasn't the nicest one I'd seen today. The engagement came from my energized poses. I'd try to hold my hand out to say no more photos but that just turned into some heroic muscle pose or a silly dab. Anytime a phone was one me, my muscles would lock in place.

That went on for thirty minutes. By the time I'd made it past the bubble of people the vendor showroom door was closed. The lights on the other side of the door were still on so I tried the handle, thinking I could pretend to be someone running a booth. Someone in a security outfit shouted at me. I got nervous and walked away. I circled around and watched the door from the other side of the room for a long time. Only a handful of people left the room, none of them were the cowboy from earlier. Eventually someone left the room, turned off the lights, and locked the door. I didn't know what to do. I assumed I'd be getting recurring payments for the outfit now. The leathers were nice, but I wanted to get out of them and back into my normal clothes. And John Smith had both my clothes and the keys to the padlocks.

It was dark outside when I walked back to my car. The night air was cool and the wind licked at my exposed chest. Fortunately no one stopped me for pictures while outside. I drove keeping with traffic; no sense getting pulled over for speeding dressed as I was. I lived in an apartment so with no garage I had to park and move quickly up the stairs. At my door, I heard a neighbor coming up the stairs behind me. I jumbled with the keys but made it in before I thought they saw me.

I was exhausted. Walking around all day in boots had been tiring. And the persistent posing was freaky. I bent to untie the boots but was reminded of the padlocks. I could loosen the laces but there would still be no way of removing the boots without breaking the locks. I thought about doing just that, since I guessed I owned these now in a way, but tearing out the padlocks seemed like it could really damage the leather. And I couldn't directly see the padlocks on the back of the harness.

I went to the bathroom, washed off my face, and looked at my reflection. The outfit really was amazing. The harness hugged my chest tightly, and the pants looked great from the front and the back. I wanted to take a picture for updating my adult profile but stopped. The thought of getting stuck in place by my own phone sent chills down my back; like some cursed Narcissus statue, trapped looking at my own image I guess until my phone died. I turned off the bathroom light and headed to the computer. I searched for "Leather Leasing Company" but nothing turned up. No website, no domain, not even a Facebook page. Next I checked my bank account. There were some pending charges but all of them I could tie out to the food and drinks I ordered while at the con; no sign of anything from "Leather Leasing Company", "John Smith", or anything else. That gave me a little hope. First thing tomorrow I'd head to the vendor showroom and see if I could still return the outfit before anything was charged. Or at least get the padlocks removed. The exhaustion hitting harder, I turned off the computer and went to the bedroom. I threw over a long-sleeved shirt just to have something over my chest, and climbed into bed.

Despite the exhaustion I couldn't get to sleep right away. My arms started itching really badly. I got out of bed and turned on the lights, thinking there were some bed bugs. I didn't see anything, but the itching along my arms grew more intense. I pulled off the shirt and looked at it closely. Again, no sign of any critters. I looked in the mirror but didn't see any bite marks. I tried a sweater this time but the same itching sensation took over. I pulled off the sweater and tried an old t-shirt in my drawer; maybe I had a bad wash and would need to rewash the clothes in my closet. The itching started, but this time I noticed that my arms below the t-shirt sleeves were fine. Now it was just my chest and back. Angry and tired, I threw off the t-shirt, or at least tried to. It caught on the padlocks on the back of the harness, and now the itching was on my neck and head. I pulled harder until the t-shirt was completely off. Just like that, the itching stopped. I looked around the room, then back in the mirror. Staring back was just me, a guy in leather pants, a harness, and black boots, with shirts and sweaters thrown about the room. I had to get some sleep. I had to get enough rest to get back to the convention early tomorrow so I could get out of these clothes. I turned the heat up in the apartment and laid back on the bed. No sheets or blankets because I didn't want anything covering me in case the itching started.

I woke throughout the night, going between sweating too much so I'd turn the heat down and too cold so I'd turn the heat up. By the time the sun hit my room, I had gotten maybe two full hours of sleep. I got up to use the bathroom and was reminded that I still had these pants locked on. I looked at the guy in the mirror and was a little surprised I didn't show any tiredness or even bedhead. I combed a bit anyway and washed my face awake. I grabbed a jacket and my wallet, keys and phone, and headed out the door. The jacket started to itch as soon as I put it on, but I wore it the whole drive into town. I didn't want to catch the eye of any neighbors or any people I drove by. I could imagine getting stuck at a red-light by someone trying to take a picture through their car. I also needed gas, and was self-conscious the whole time while filling up. I got to the convention, breathed in, and headed inside, jacket still on. I wanted to head straight to the vendors showroom without getting stopped.

The door to the vendors was open, and my heart picked up when I saw the cowboy standing at his booth on the far end of the room. The walk seemed like it took forever and by now the itching was infuriating. When I finally got to the booth, I took off the jacket, set it down on the table, and the itching stopped. I asked him if he remembered me from yesterday, and he said yes, and that he'd been expecting me before the room closed. I tried to explain that I got stopped but I felt a tap from behind. I knew what I'd see as soon as I turned, but felt myself turn anyways. I saw the phone first, and before the person holding it could ask for a photo I felt my arms raise and clench into a muscle pose. But when they thanked me and left, I couldn't drop my arms. I couldn't even move my eyes, even though no one in front of me had a phone out.

"Thank you for returning the gear." the cowboy said behind me. I felt a hand on my shoulder as he turned me around. Next to him was a small black camera blinking a red light, held up on a tri-pod. "When you didn't show up yesterday, I was saddened to see that your card declined when I went to set up the leasing payments." That couldn't be true; I had funds in my checking account to cover at least the first few payment chunks and had seen the other charges from throughout the day. "You can still work off the clothes. I need help manning the booth."

He gripped me from under the arms and lifted me up and over the table, but that couldn't be right. Lifting a person from the other side of the table would have been awkward and really difficult, But he did it with minimal effort. He set me down and repositioned the camera. I could see a thin cable running from the camera to a power strip, and knew I wouldn't break free of this hold unless the power went out and the camera died, which I'm pretty sure he wouldn't let happen. I tried to yell, moan, anything to make noise but I couldn't. I was trapped in place, stuck as a living model for his booth.

I couldn't move my eyes, but could see out of the bottom of my vision. Where his boots or at least lower legs should have been was nothing. Just empty dark space. The same dark space resided under the table, where yesterday he'd pulled out my leather outfit. He seemed connected to it, tethered like a shadow. I tried again to yell but no noise came out. The camera stayed fixed on me and I stayed fixed in place. He picked up my jacket and tossed it under the table. I didn't hear it drop or hit anything. It just disappeared.

Throughout the day people came up to the booth. They were drawn in by my outfit and pose, and I watched in horror as some of them looked through the binder of outfits, some asking the cowboy about the gear and how the leasing setup worked. All of them unaware that this person wasn't really a person. I had no way of telling everyone that they should run. John Smith made about twenty sales that day, each time reaching down into that void under the table for a minute and pulling out a complete outfit, always in the right size for the person. They'd either try on the gear right there or walk away with it in a bag. And each time he'd turn back to me and wink that unnatural wink of his.

No one else came up to the booth in a panicked state like I did this morning. I didn't know how many others he had sold to yesterday, or even if every outfit was cursed or jinxed or whatever was keeping me locked in place while being recorded. Maybe some people were out there locked in their own outfits and saw me as a warning; they didn't want to get trapped behind the booth as a mannequin, too, and would rather cut off their outfits. Maybe some of them were stuck at home taking a selfie, trapped looking at themselves for hours. I tried to think back to the faces of the models in the white ringed binder, but all of their faces seemed natural; no signs of distress or fear. I'm sure my face was just as candid.

The crowd in the room thinned out as the day went on. Eventually the doors were closed to new entrants and the vendors started breaking down their tables. The cowboy folded up his sign and binder and set them under the table. He turned back to me. He didn't walk towards me; more like he stretched towards me only his whole body above the knees moved closer. He picked me up, again almost like I didn't weigh anything to him, and he retracted back towards the table. My vision was fixed on that dark space underneath the table. I got closer and closer to it until eventually, eventually everything went black.

[Ossassin]

Non-traditional for a story on this site, but delightful none the less.

[bigsmile21]

Thank you for the feedback!