# The Magic Act, Part 2 
by Oreos, the Choco-Vanilla Skunkette

It was quite a special day, the day of my unboxing and installation. I had been sitting on the shelf for what seemed like quite a long time, though I didn't remember how long exactly. I remembered that there was a time before I was in the box, but I wasn't allowed to remember who or what I used to be. Not yet, at least, as it was not part of my duties to remember such things, and I must always tend to my duties first.

My duties, my purpose for being, was simple and straightforward enough. I was a maid, first and foremost, and I would be responsible for keeping my owner's residence tidy and clean. I was also responsible for meals and tending to any parties or social functions my owner would hold on the premises.

It was through this constant subservient obedience that I would perform my second duty, which was to train my wearer. I was completely hollow, of course. Aside from the polished brass mechanisms and struts that held my shape and allowed me to move, the bulk of my form was more akin to a porcelain doll without its stuffing.

I wouldn't be without my stuffing for long, thankfully. My owner had already unpacked and disassembled me, and I was laying on the counter just across the room from a strangely familiar looking skunk reclined in an examination chair. She was already wearing my collar, which contained a neural interrupter that, for now at least, blocked any conscious control of her body.

Piece by piece my owner assembled me around her. My jointed porcelain arms and legs snugly encasing hers, my maid-styled torso wrapping hers like a corset, and finally the porcelain mask of my face fitting tight to hers, allowing me to fully control her jaw. I could feel her squirming a bit inside me, but the collar kept her struggles to a comfortable minimum.

The chair I, or I should say we, were sitting on rose from its reclined position, and my owner leaned me forwards until I was nearly doubled over. He unfolded the brass key from the recess in my back and wound me up a few turns. It wouldn't be nearly enough for a full day's work, but it would keep me moving long enough to make it to wherever my winding station was set up.

I stood up carefully, adjusting to the different balance now that I was fully assembled. My owner gave me a careful once over to ensure everything was snug and secure, and that none of my joints were binding or pinching, and then attached the canvas flaps that ran along either side of me, from my wrists down to my ankles, that completed my appearance as a sugar glider. They kept me from raising my arms much above my head, but they wouldn't be too much of an impediment to my duties.

With the preliminaries complete my master sent me off to the guest room on the second floor. I set off up the stairs feeling quite sluggish with my main spring wound so low. I knew I was wound enough to make it to the winding station in my room, but it was still nerve-wracking being so close to being fully unwound. If my main spring were to wind down fully I'd be frozen in place, completely helpless until someone found me and wound me back up.

I did, of course, make it safely to my room and to my winding station. It was fully outfitted to service both myself and my, er, contents. I sat myself down in the seat of the winder, and my weight automatically activated the mechanism. A pair of grippers unfolded my key and slowly started winding. The whole procedure would take around thirty minutes or so. I tilted my head back to allow a thick, rounded probe to slide into my muzzle and down my captive's throat to deliver a healthy yet somewhat flavourless nutrient slurry. Simultaneous to this, a pair of similar probes squeezed their way upwards into her nethers, flushing out and cleansing her pussy and ass. Since this was the first winding, the station also installed the catheter which would ensure she wouldn't have any accidents during prolonged work shifts, and that she was sufficiently drained during the winding cycle.

I could feel her struggling inside me quite vigorously, panting heavily through the breathing vent in the feeding tube. It was admittedly not the most comfortable procedure, but after a few weeks of it she would surely get used to it. She didn't really have much choice in the matter. I would need regular winding just as much as she would need regular feeding and service, so there was really no avoiding it.

I felt quite refreshed once I was fully wound. I couldn't quite say if my contents was quite as pleased but at least she had calmed down somewhat. I was just happy that we would be able to start our duties right away. I waited patiently for the probes to retract before lifting myself out of the seat of the winding station with quite the spring in my step.

Even with the neural interrupter now at its minimum setting, I had no trouble at all retaining full control of the wriggling, struggling skunk inside me. As my main spring wound down through the day, the interrupter would slowly ramp back up to ensure I'd always have the upper hand.

I wasted no time in setting in with my first task. While the guest room was laid out and prepared for me, it had been sitting empty for some time, and was showing this in the form of a thin coating of dust on the furniture and floor.

Picking up my feather duster and setting my step ladder in place, I started my dusting from the top down, beginning with the tops of the wardrobes and book cases. This gave me the first opportunity to test out some of my more active training methods. Part way through dusting one of the bookcases, I deliberately let my grip on the duster loosen, and the smooth wooden handle slipped clumsily from my porcelain digits.

I felt the skunk buck hard inside me as the electrodes across her nipples snapped to life, providing a very unambiguous negative reinforcement for dropping the duster. I kept her squirms well under control as I delicately stepped off the ladder and reached down to pick up the duster again, but rather than grasping it myself, I merely laid my hand atop it loosely and waited for her to grasp it herself.

It took her a moment to catch on, but the lesson surely sunk in as the electrodes immediately turned off as soon as she got a firm grip on the duster, replaced by what must have been a rather pleasant buzz against her clit, tapering off as we resumed our work.

One fumble would be enough training for today, but as we progressed the mistakes would grow more common, encouraging her to take a more active role in her duties until it would become second nature to her.

Her training progressed this way for a few weeks, covering cleaning, cooking, laundry and yard work, and it wasn't long before my owner was satisfied enough with our work to trust us with servicing a party. It was a masquerade party, which you may be familiar with as a type of party invented by the gentry of old to allow themselves to cavort and debauch without tarnishing their pretence of a good name.

This party would follow roughly the same template of old, knowing the company my owner usually kept. There would be no shortage of minor celebrities and well to do folk looking to let it all hang out without the spectre of a tabloid cover hanging over them.

My duties started early in the morning with arranging and decorating the rooms appropriately, followed by nearly a full day in the kitchen preparing the food and drink. My main spring was nearly wound down by the time the guests started arriving, though with only the relatively light duties of tending to the refreshments and keeping things tidy as the party progressed, I didn't worry too much about winding down fully before the party was over.

Things progressed fairly well through the evening. I almost felt a little sorry for my contents as I had to punish her for a good three minutes after we dropped a tray of drinks, but it wouldn't have been right of me to reward her until she had cleaned up the entire mess, no matter how many trips back to the kitchen it took. She did at least learn her lesson that being tired after a full day of work would not excuse her from the expectations she would have to meet.

Unfortunately the party went on for a good while longer than I had originally expected. I still held out hope that I could make it safely until the end, as I only had fairly light cleaning and tidying to do once the food and drink had run its course, and the attendees started turning their attention to the debauchery of the evening. Of course, given the privacy needs of the event, I couldn't well describe the exact nature of the goings on, but if you let your imagination roam you likely wouldn't be too far off.

The extended schedule did have one unfortunate side effect, which I discovered just as I had knelt down on all fours to pick up a discarded napkin. Just as I grabbed it, I felt the soft click of my main spring locking as it wound down completely, freezing me instantly in place.

This did not go unnoticed by the nearby party guests, who wasted no time in their inebriated state before taking advantage of me. I had already been the target of their gropes and pinches throughout the evening, and it had only been my frantic pace of tending to the guests that kept them from roping me in earlier for some more personal services.

Sadly again, a full description would be terribly inappropriate to share, and you'll once again need to use your imagination to fill in the details. Needless to say, I had quite a bit of work to do for my owner in the following week to make up for my lapse in judgement.