Author's Note

Handler's POV

Handling It: 21

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Since I am the handler of the Submissive named Miss April, I am handling most of her affairs outside of the Hive and Dungeon. This falls under my responsibilities.

Of course, to her; I am Handler.

I had been walking her, outside of the dungeon; in order to help her, adapting to the outside world from where she came. She needs to be fully adapted, before we could once more release her, into the city where she is living her life.

To me, and everyone else at the dungeon; Miss April is a Submissive. I handle her, as her Handler. Thus, I am known as Handler to her. Just as she is known, as Submissive to me.

“Handler; this crate needs to go with us, on the plane to the Opera house of Moscow!” Assistant explains.

“Yes, Assistant; I will see to it, personally!” I respond; “This crate will be on the plane to Moscow; following us on the flight to our destination, at the Grand Opera house of Moscow!” I add.

While you may find it odd, or even disturbing; loading the girl in a crate, and transport her as mere cargo? It is not a matter of saving funds; it is a matter of how she is prepared, for the stage ahead of her.

She can not be air-sick, in this crate; because she is in the state of a Doll, for the duration of the trip. She does not have to eat, drink or breathe; either, of cause. She will need no pass-port, or other personal documentation; when she is crossing the borders on the trip. Just a cargo manifesto, stating the cargo contains a doll.

Would we suffer a delay, or any other incident; she will not even know of it, in her current state.

Since the crate, in which she is stored is so light; I can easily carry her around, to the awaiting vehicle on the back. All cargo is picked up, on the back; since we prefer to keep the shipments, well out of sight. This time; we are using a black mini-van, suspiciously similar to the kind of truck you transport caskets of the deceased in.

As I arrive, on the back; the truck is already waiting, the double doors on the back wide open; so I simply place the crate on the floor of the cargo-hold and close the doors behind her.

“Thump!” I hear the muffled sound; almost as if the dead would be more sensitive to these noises, than we as the living are.

I guess I find this amusing; as I walk up to the left side of the mini-van. The door slides up, just as I am approaching; I slip right in, and pull the door shut behind me.

“Handler?” Driver pronounces; “The crate, with the special delivery is safely inside?” she inquires.

“She is safely contained, within the crate!” I respond; “I placed her in the back, of your mini-van!” I respond.

“Thank you, Handler!” she responds; “Yes, she is safe in the back!” she then adds, after the green light is coming up a moment later.

“Then we can be on your way; she does have a flight to catch!” I put forth.

“Just a moment, and we will be on the road!” she offers, as she is hitting the ignition and pushes the car into the gear.

As she is hitting the ignition; the doors are locked, and the gate before us is sliding up. I watch her step on the accelerator, and the car is slowly moving out onto the road.

“I never bothered, to acquire my licence to drive!” I ponder; As a Handler; "I am used to walk the Girl, to where I am taking her!” I continue, with a muffled chuckle.

How could I reintroduce the girl, into the life of the City; if I drove her to a location, in a fancy car? I need the walk, and so does she. It is the way it is done, and I am sticking to the tried and true in this matter.

“Black leather!” I ponder; “I love the semi-mate finish of the material!” I consider.

This mini-van is classy, to maintain the image of the vehicle it is supposed to mimic. If it had failed, we would not be in business. Or, we would have to get a different vehicle for this job.

“It’s the kind of vehicle; people only notice momentarily, before they unconsciously look away!” I ponder, as I enjoy the ride.

A massive V-8 engine, powering the vehicle is a first-class deal. It is commonly maintained on a very low rev, making the vehicle sound like a cat purring. Once the driver is flooring the accelerator; the engine will roar, like an angry Lion. I have heard this once, on a special demonstration.

Within the city-limits, we’re cruising in a fairly moderate speed, no point in calling attention upon us now. The driver knows where she is going, and she knows the route chosen by heart. I trust in her completely; just as I know my Mistress, and our Queen does. She is the driver, picked for all my personal needs as the Handler.

While she may not take the direct route to the air-port; she is still taking me there, in good time. I could have gotten there faster, if it had been that urgent; but I prefer to plan ahead, and get out early. I may spend a few minutes more in the traffic, this way; but I am getting there, safely and under the radar.

Just that an air-port never is found within the city-limits; for the obvious reasons, such as the noise of the planes, aside from the hazard of the one in a million accident.

She is taking us out onto the country-road, through the densely forested area and a few hills. At least, this will take out most of the noises from the flights, of the air-port. I am most thankful, of this feature.

In the end, the landscape is smoothing up and the trees are thinning out to a few spares trees. She is driving over the now clear field; towards the building where the passengers are cleared for access to the air-port.

If I had known, I could have stated; that this feels more like a Limousine-ride than the ride in a mini-van marked to carry the casket of a newly deceased. Of course, I did not know. I am still enjoying the smooth and quiet ride.

I do like the smooth, quiet ride. She is just driving to the air-port; with me as her passenger. The cargo, the crate; containing the girl Miss April is still behind me. She is quiet, unassuming; where she is stored away, for this trip.

The mini-van soon turns in on the road leading to the cargo-port. The officer, stopping us for a routine control. The driver is presenting the documentation for the cargo, explaining the delivery.

“Okay, you are cleared!” the officer puts forth.

“Thank you!” the driver responds.

A moment later, she continues to drive through the gate. The gate is closed behind us, as she continues towards the terminal, where the crate is supposed to be delivered for our flight.

A few flights come, and a few flights go; as she continues to drive up, to the designated parking she had been given.

Once the vehicle has come to a full stop, at her parking-lot; I open my door and step out, in search for the trolley I need to pull the cargo to our flight. A moment later, I find one; just waiting for me, to claim it for the job.

As I reach the line of trolleys, I stop; picking up the card, as I claim the trolley for myself. With the trolley cleared, I return to the vehicle; where Driver is waiting, as she has just opened the back-doors to permit me to pull out the cargo-container.

“Good!” Driver exclaims; “Do you need help, with pulling her out of the trunk?” she inquires.

“Yes, please!” I respond; “Thank you, Driver!” I add, as she is helping me pull the container out for me.

“No problem!” she responds; “You are quite welcome!” she adds.

“Thanks again, Driver!” I offer; as the cargo had been loaded onto the trolley, and I am pushing my cargo before me.

“You are quite welcome, and have a nice flight!” she responds.

“Thank you!” I respond; as I am moving on towards the check-in, where I am supposed to check in the cargo for the flight.

A moment later, I am approaching the building. A modern structure, of steel and glass; just as I had been expecting, out of the air-port terminal before me. No mere rustic wooden structure would make due here. Not that I care all that much, but it is the image in the public eye; they desire to maintain, at premium.

“Maybe it is not Marble; but it is a durable, and a beautiful stone floor!” I ponder.

The floor had been laid with a solid, dark stone. Large tiles, easy to maintain both hygiene and replacements; if, and when need be. Otherwise, the lobby feels a bit like a greenhouse; a stainless steel frame, holding up the large glass windows.

Monitors in the ceiling are showing when and where the flights are, letting me know where I am going, and how much time I have to get there. I guess it is a classical air-pot style.

Everywhere I see, people are gathered in small, intimate groups; chatting about their lives, and the plans for the flight before them.

I blatantly ignore them, as I am navigating towards the luggage check-in terminal for the flight I am attending.

As I arrive, I place the crate onto the counter; watching her slide down towards the scan.

The customs officer is scanning me, as I place the one, large crate onto the counter; then turning her attention towards the screen, looking for any indication as to what the crate may contain.

“Blip, blip, blip!” is heard, from the customs’ station; and a clear green light, is lit.

“That is the largest doll I have ever seen!” the officer exclaims; “and the oddest position I could have imagined!” she continues.

“She will be five foot five, when she is unpacked!” I offer.

“Sounds like Girlfriend material.. if you know what I mean!” Officer responds, with a crooked grin.

“She is to die for, if that is what you mean!” I put forth.

“Certainly not the common mannequin, or the foot tall girl’s toy here!” she agrees.

“She deserves more attention.. center stage, to be exact!” I offer.

“Center stage, you say?” she responds; ”I think I could see that, even with the contorted view; caused by the highly unorthodox posture, she is in!” she points out.

“Easier to transport, in this position!” I concede; “She can not be dismembered and put together at the arrival!” I explain.

“The container is much more compact!” she concedes; “That would make her easier to transport safely!” she agrees.

“Of course; so long as you don’t know what is inside the box, it is completely inconspicuous now!” she offers.

“I guess, that would not exactly hurt!” I concede.

My crate had already left the scanner, and the next crate is starting to slip into its place. The officer is losing interest, as her job is reasserting its hold.

“If she had not been crated up, in that posture; I could imagine her, living with me!” the officer ponders, as she is realizing exactly what she had seen; even if it never hit home that it had been a real and living girl in the crate.

Since the officer is looking at the new crate, entering the scanner; I am walking along to my destination further, on my way towards the check-in desk.

“Maybe the pose had been a better idea, than I had been expecting; it is not just a conveniently formatted crate, it makes it harder to figure out what is actually in the crate!” I ponder, as I am continuing along the way.

A few minutes later, I find myself at the airlock; leading into the passage into the plane I had intended to be on. My flight is not due, just yet. Still. Though I am happy, I am in time for the flight. Mistress would not be pleased, if she had been forced to delay the flight, or leave me behind.

I feel the changed air-pressure, as the doors slide up before me. A moment later, I am crossing the threshold and enter the ramp on my way in. The doors close behind me, and the pressure is normalizing, as the doors quietly seals the small, cramped space. This may be a good twenty five feet long, but it is still fairly cramped.

As a Changeling, I am comfortable in cramped spaces like this. It is commonplace in the Hive, in which I live.

“Clonk, clonk, clonk!” I hear, as I am walking the short distance through the passage towards the plane.

The double doors slide up, and I am approaching the entrance into the plane. I see the open door, into the place as I take the few steps towards the plane. As I step over the threshold, I am entering the plane and the doors once more are closing behind me.

“Boarding-pass, please!” the Stewardess prompts, as I am stepping into the plane.

“Here you go!” I respond, as I am offering her my boarding-pass for this flight.

“Seven B, by the window, on your right!” she responds, pointing in the direction towards my seat, indicating where I should be heading.

“Thank you!” I respond, as I continue towards the seat.

“You are quite welcome!” she responds, as she is turning her attention back towards the door.