This is a Flashback Friday to my discontinued series 'Bunnimacher Modelling'. You can find all the captions on my index page.
“Did you check with the organiser about payment?” Matt whispered to his partner with the subtlety of a ventriloquist. His speech was subdued for two reasons. Firstly, they were in the process of posing for photos in front of a big gaudy Roman chariot and if he messed up the pictures, they would only have to endure the tedious process all over again. Secondly, and more to the point, the corset of his bodysuit was so tight when combined with the breast moulds that catching his breath was difficult and often painful. Fortunately, their role was one that demanded they be seen far more than heard and the sexy outfit and beaming smile that they sported for the photographs were enough. Finally, the pictures were over and the grin stayed on the blonde bunny's face as he turned to Paul, the brunette co-owner of Bunnimacher Modelling. “I still don't understand how bunnies fit alongside Centurions, maybe it's supposed to be a Caesar's Palace reference, but this convention is proving to be a nice little earner.”
“Maybe it's because guys think about the Roman Empire almost as much as they think of sex...” Paul smirked. His breast forms were even larger and bulged uncomfortably out of his red bodysuit – not to mention his tightly tucked crotch that was actually starting to resemble something of a camel toe. The convention centre's lights were hot and their waterproof makeup clung to their faces in spite of a thin layer of perspiration. And yet their happiness stayed as fixed as their cosmetics. It was so much easier to take pleasure in even as frequently humiliating work as this when they knew the fruits of their labour would end up in their bank accounts.
When Matt and Paul joined the world of bunny girls ten years ago, they did so less than voluntarily. Trapped into ironclad contracts by the wily Herr Bunnimacher, they spent nearly half a decade as little more than feminised escorts, stuck doing a seemingly never-ending string of ridiculous call-outs where they were mocked and groped, all while wearing the company's signature bunny-girl costumes. When the old man finally died, they thought they were free at last. However, to their amazement, the old German left them everything in his will – his fortune, his company, and all his business contracts. And that was where things got messy... The fortune was tied up in the company shares, the price of which being subject to its ability to honour its existing and ongoing client contracts. And so Matt and Paul were left with a choice – sell Bunnimacher Modelling for pennies on the dollar and move on with their non-feminised lives having no work experience to speak of except being employed as glorified escorts for half a decade, or keep donning the ears and tails and reap the rewards of lucrative long-term business agreements.
“You even think we should have called a day on this?” Paul asked as a man dressed as a Gladiator marched past. “I mean, I do worry about the long term effects these heels are having on my feet, and the hormones are probably shaping my body is ways I don't even want to think about, but what was the alternative? Working in fast-food?” He paused as his friend adjusted his bow-tie. “I suppose we could hire. But where are we gonna find guys willing to put themselves through this for a pay check...”
