Factotum

My usual deliveries are garages, service stations, factories, transport yards, not plush mansions in the leafy suburbs. I deliver oil and grease, for cars, machinery, trucks, excavators. That has nothing to do with the story other than, I pressed the button on the intercom and waited for a reply.

High brick fences, covered the front of the huge block. Topped with ivy and studded with cameras and sensors, the wall prevented any good view of the house within.

“Yes?” A voice emitted from the ornate chrome grill of the intercom. It was a woman's voice.

“Good afternoon, I have a delivery for this address... Oil, from Victory Oil.” I told her the company I worked for.

“What type of oil?”

It was warm, I was in good time. I looked into the camera lens, which flashed quickly, and read the items on the delivery docket in detail, viscosity rating and all, smiling cheekily as I did so.

The gate swung open. “Very well... Go around to the back of the house, you’ll see the garage there!”

“Thank you! ...I’ll need a signature from someone.”

There was a pause... I looked along the concrete drive way to the house. It was big, grey and fortress like. Narrow windows with dark glass appeared as firing slits. The door was obviously around the back, as there was no front door. It matched the two and a half metres walls with the cameras.

“Someone will meet you.” Then, a click.

I thanked the voice, into a deaf device.

“...kool!” They sounded efficient. I glanced at my watch, good timing! “Dump the stuff and head home! My last delivery, close to home... Pay Day! Yes... Friday!... Yes! I climbed into the van, and drove sedately down the driveway. A small wooden hut was revealed by the closing gates.

Outside the wall, I’d wondered what a residential delivery wanted with such a large order. Inside... looking at the raw concrete walls and scowling architecture... I wasn’t so surprised. The mansion was so severe and fortress looking I wouldn't've been surprised if they'd ordered gun oil for machine-guns and hydraulics for a cannon recoil recouperator. Victory Oil supply that, by the way...

Either side of the driveway were flower beds and manicured grass. Statues and fountains dotted the lawn. A bitumen path withered into a dirt track as it disappeared behind a domed cement outbuilding. A heavy chrome garden setting was neatly place under the only tree in front of the “house”.

If this ain’t a movie set, or a Government installation.... These people are more than a bit eccentric! It was one of those suburbs that I never went to. I had no need, it had no shortcuts through the maze of Courts, Circles, Circuits and Groves. I knew that it was massively expensive and that the Federal Police patrolled it because of a few Diplomatic Residences, but this was the first time I’d ever been in the area.

I was wondering how thick the walls of the house actually were as the driveway curved closer, behind the house. More cameras on the flat roofs, satellite dishes and what looked like a radar array.

Behind the house was a courtyard of concrete and more smaller low buildings. One main building was higher and much larger, but dwarfed by the house. No signs, but everything was swept and neat. No-one was in sight. One large door was open, I saw the tail end of a truck on stands.

I swung the van in the opposite direction and reversed across the door. Whistling through my teeth, I walked around the van and slid the side door open. The ordered lubricants were ready at hand, my last order placed  close to the door of the van.

"It's a fine day!... To be knocking off early, on a Friday afternoon." A female voice came from the darkness of the workshop.

"It is!" I answered, looking into the shadows. "Now, where would you like this lot?"

“In here... Would you be a darling, and place them on the shelves for me? You'll see the P.O.L. Area at the back, on the right.”

I wheeled the drums in, past the truck and gave a low slow whistle as I saw the cars.

“...excuse me?!” The voice came from under the truck.

“Wow!” I blurted. “Is that a real Cobra?”

“Number 27, according to the paperwork...”

“Kool!!”

I stacked the drums onto the well organised shelves and went back for the boxed items via a slow closer perusal of the collection of classic cars. There was a shuffling under the truck as I passed.

“Did you bring any brake fluid?!”

“I have a box full of Racing Formula... 12 one litre bottles.”  I read the full description. “Is that what you were after?”

The shuffling grew louder. “Hell yes! We've been waiting for that!”

“Well, apparently, at $100 a litre... it's not a shelf item.” I retorted as I filled the trolley with cartons.

I got no reply, so I wheeled the last items to the store and stacked them neatly. “That's the lot!... The new stuff is at the back, for stock rotation. I'll need a signature for proof of delivery...”

“Certainly!” The voice was unexpectedly directly behind me.

I had not formed an image in my mind of the face behind the voice but it would not have matched what I saw.

Kneeling at the bottom shelf, I turned to see a well polished but old and comfortable pair of black lace-up work boots and the neatly bloused legs of some grey overalls. I looked up as I stood, noting the overalls were not tight but definitely close-fitting on a set of long slim legs.

Thin cotton gloves with rubber palms cover her hands holding a greasy rag and a fist full of tools. A wide belt, festooned with pouches and tools, was slung low about her hips. The overalls hid her waist but not her breasts which filled the top of the garment.

I handed her the delivery pad as I noted the black skivvy at her neck. She smiled as she took the electronic pad and flourished on the signature box.

Her face was not young, maybe late-thirties or early-forties, but strong with a firm jaw. Dark hair, unkempt but practical, framed her high forehead.

“It's good to see some technology being used...” As she passed the pad back.

“Receipt?”

“No, thank you. I can see everything is there.” She pointed. A light on her oversize wristwatch blinked green.

I looked at my device to see that it now read ALL ITEMS DELIVERED: NO BACK ORDERS and then saw the scanners either side of the shelf.

“So!? You like the Falcon Cobra?”

I grinned “I'm a child of the 60's... In the Seventies, my brothers raved about the XB and the XC... As well as Deep Purple, The Ramones, the Dukes of Hazzard,  A-Team and Star Trek.”

Her skivvy looked thin and shiny, non porous.

“Ha! Me too! But I'm a few years later.” She smirked. “We have a Shelby Cobra, out the back...”

“Kool!” I replied. “But gimme an aussie muscle-car over a yank one any day!”

“True...” She looked left and right, as if checking no-one was watching her. Gazing directly into my eyes she asked “Umm... What are you doing, next?”

I shrugged and told her “Home for beers and the weekend... Why?”

She looked about again and blushed. “Want to give me a hand with something?”

Thinking there was something too heavy for her to lift, I nodded “Yeah! Sure.”

She flicked her head toward the back of the garage. “Kool, thanks! Come on...”

I followed her toward a door, watching a nice set of legs and a trim arse. She dropped the rag and tools on a shelf by the door and hung her tool belt on a solid hook. She produced a set of keys. With the door slightly ajar, she turned and asked “Feeling open minded?”

She seemed taken aback at my instant answer of “Always! Why?”

“OK... Trust me?”

“No. Seriously, I don't know you; ...never met you before! You could be Hannibal Lecter or the Reba the Bird-girl, for all I know.” I gave her a direct stare, leavening it with raised eyebrows an open-handed gesture with a smile.

She grimaced, “Fair call! Very honest...” she said, staring straight into my eyes. She'd stopped and facing me, blocked the doorway. “The question is, then... Do you want to trust me?!”

Breaking eye contact, I looked her up and down, wondering what was going on. I stopped at the turtle-necked shirt that she wore under the grey overalls. It was not only non-porous, it was shiny and looked to be made of rubber. She was pulling at the fingertips of her gloves, still staring back at me, watching me, checking her out.

“Yes. Yes, I do!..” I finally answered.

“Good!” She stated. “Leave your ego at the door. Come in, enjoy!”

I watched her do an about-face, wondering what she meant by that as she disappeared through the door. “OK...” I murmured and followed.

It was a small room, three meters by two, the roof was much lower; another stronger looking door faced us. A keypad and a small hatch was positioned to the right of the door. She waited until the door swung shut behind me and closed with an ominous clack. “What's your name?”

“Pete.”

“Pete. I'm Rachel.”

“Hi Rachel.”

“Here's were the trust bit comes into play! Get undressed, Pete. Take your clothes off!”

I blushed. “Umm.. argh... OK...” I felt my cock thickening as I realised I was potentially in for some form of sex. Feeling bold and suddenly horny, I unbuttoned my collar and pulled my shirt over my head.

It was Rachels turn to look me up and down. She nodded approvingly as she saw a fairly trim torso. “Keep going.” She commanded.

I looked into her eyes and said “I shave!” blushing slightly as I knelt to unlace my boots.

“Good! So do I!” She chuckled. “Even better, it means you won't have to.”

I placed my boots and socks next to my shirt and loosened my belt, pausing.

“Well?! What are you waiting for?!” She snapped. “Keep going.”

I dropped my trousers and stepped out of them, sliding them beside my boots. In underpants only, my cock was beginning to strain at the seams.

“One more piece to go, Pete! I want you naked, before this door opens. ...nice legs, by the way! I like the fact that you are shaven, chest down!”

“Thank you, Ma'am!” I smiled as I stripped my briefs.

“Pete!” She exclaimed. “You called me 'Ma'am'... I like that! Thank you, Sir!”

I stood before her, without a stitch. My bare manhood showed, shaven and proud, as I tried to keep my composure.

“I'll show you something...” Rachel smiled, removing her gloves. “I'm sure you'll like it!... I have a good feeling about this, Pete.”

I saw she was wearing a pair of thin black rubber gloves. She winked and unzipped her boots, placing them and some thick woollen  socks neatly beside mine. I saw she had socks that matched her top and gloves. I was watching that as Rachel relieved herself of the overalls. I'm not sure that my eyes did not pop out of my head as I realised the top and socks and gloves were joined as part of a catsuit.

She stood before me, kind of naked, but neck to toe to fingertips in gleaming black rubber. All revealed; but nothing shown.

“...struth!” Was all I could say as I stared open mouthed and stunned.

“I told you, you'd like it!?” Rachel grinned.

I thought I'd found my words, but blurted “That's... wow! Hell's Teeth! I'm... You're... Whoa! Umm... To say I'm... Damnation!”

“Relax Pete!... Relax.” She smiled, looking down at my twitching, erect cock. “It'll happen. But you need to relax and be patient.”

“...ok... It's not that simple...” I drew a deep breath and stretched.

Rachel nodded knowingly and opened the small hatch beside the second door. “This may help!...”

She held a set of handcuffs. “Turn around!” she commanded in a take-no-krap suddenly serious tone.

I did as instructed and felt the cold steel close on my wrists. I actually felt calmer, oddly; but having Rachel secure me like that made my hard-on harder.

“Stand up straight Pete! It's only handcuffs, not a yoke and ball and chain...”

I realised I was stooping in submission. “Sorry...” I straightened, taller and proud. “Is that better, Ma'am?!”

“Much better...” Rachel actually rubbed her chin in contemplation; eyeing me with a frowning thoughtful look. “You keep calling me Ma'am, Pete. What's going on there?”

I blinked rapidly, realising she was right. “...it seems... appropriate... Rachel.”

“Hmm... OK. Are you ready?” She grinned, an excited mischievous wink.

“No, but handcuffed and this far... Let's go!”

“Ha! I like your honesty Sir!” She was keying a code into the pad, covering it with her lithe body so I couldn't see. With a beep, buzz and click the door swung open. “Come on in.”

The low roof continued. We walked into a lounge area. Low couches and coffee tables. Everything was covered in shiny material, the furniture, cushions. Only the walls and doors, there were four, were painted in a matt pale pink. “Don't mind this! Just the Rest Area... but prop here for a second. I'll be back in a jiffy!!”

Rachel strode to a very heavy door and keyed a long code before slipping through. It buzzed and locked behind her.

I looked around, naked and handcuffed, with a hard-on. As with all rest areas, a few magazines lay on the tables, a couple of coffee mugs, a lunch box, an ashtray with three butts. I noticed two of the cig-ends had lipstick on them. The sight of everything covered in shiny material intrigued me. I looked closely to see that it was all rubber, polished and shined. I wondered What-The-Fuck!? But couldn't help liking this new world. ...but, seriously!? WTF?!

I flinched as the door buzzed and clacked again. “Just admitting your entry, Pete. As you might've figured, we run a tight security regime here. I've vouched for you to allow you your presence. Otherwise, the 'security Nazis' will go fucking spare!” She flicked her head in the direction of the door she gone through and rolled her eyes.

I flinched again, as the door buzzed and clacked again behind her. “Didn't I say to relax...? It's OK! You really need to calm down and enjoy.”

“I am trying, Ma'am! ...sorry, Rachel. But this is beyond me... I've never even imagined anything like this... I usually NEVER flinch! I'm sorry...”

Rachel interrogated me with her grey eyes. It seemed to take a thousand years, but probably lasted two or three seconds.

I broke the silence by adding “You're taller, Ma'am!”

She chuckled as she looked down at her shoes. “Yes! By 150mm! My usual attire when I'm not working... Do you like them?”

I looked down at her patent leather 6 inch heel pumps. “Very much so, Ma'am! And the corset is also magnificent, if I may be so bold?!”

“You may be so bold... You impress me, Sir!”

A gloved hand reached out for my arm, guiding me to another door and I heard “We need to talk!.. Follow me.”

Hells Teeth! Right now, I'd follow you, crawling over a thousand miles of smashed ashtrays... just to hear your voice...

“OK! Lead on.”

A simple prefab sliding door on rickety rails led into a large higher room. It held many machines and devices that I couldn't take in as Rachel propelled me toward another door at the rear left side of the space.

'Welcome Home Miss Rachel! ...I see you have a companion. SecGuard inform me that it is Cleared to proceed.' the door announced as we neared. It slid back and closed behind us.

“Secure! Private!” Rachel snapped as she took me by the throat and pressed me against the wall.

“Your domicile is now set to SECURE and PRIVATE... Have a good time Miss Rachel.”

“Thank you, now fuck off.” She told the automated house.

Rachel drew a deep breath, then said “Listen carefully!... I am about to interrogate you. You've no choice, so just go with it! I expect honest and full answers. You'll be connected to biorhythm detectors, so I'll know when you're lying, OK?”

“Yes, Ma'am!” I answered, trying to sound confident.

Rachel smiled, pleasantly, and said “I'm starting to like this 'Ma'am' bit, from you Pete! I won't be offended if you continue..” She winked slyly at me and said “OK. Let's get on with it!”

Without her hand on my throat, or her insistent eyes keeping my attention, I looked around the next room. It was a bedroom, or a 'studio apartment' as my real estate agent called my flat. Similar to mine, it was a bit bigger, and much more tasteful.

Unlike my abode, the bed was folded, raised against the wall; the kitchen area was uncluttered by last nights dishes, and no dirty laundry was piled in a corner.

It looked like an advert; except that it was as kinky and fetishy as the “rest area” I had recently passed.

There was a large chair in the empty expanse of the small room. It looked like a Dentists chair, with a complicated head rest.

“Turn around. I'll remove those cuffs.”

The steel had warmed to me and I felt cold when Rachel removed them. She indicated the Chair “Have a seat!”

I noticed the lower half was split and several straps hanging from several points as I sat on the heavy fixed machine. A few bulges under my arse worried me a bit as I got comfortable and aligned in the device.

“I need to strap you into this for accuracy and safety, Pete. It's OK, I won't hurt you... I promise!”

I was still wondering about the value of a promise when she quickly strapped my ankles, knees, wrists then elbows. “There! Comfy?!”

“Yes Ma'am!... a bit concerned, I admit, but comfortable.”

“That's not unexpected... here this'll help!”

I flinched again, again, as she held a gun! GUN! My mind screamed until I saw it was a hypodermic. It went to my thigh and I felt the quick stab and pressure before Rachel walked out of sight.

The head rest made looking about, mainly for Rachel, difficult but not impossible. I couldn't be bothered as whatever she'd shot into my system took hold...

I was still conscious, aware and considering; but not caring or able to move.

Rachel  returned, I was really pleased to see, and I told her so. “Thank you, Ma'am! I'm a tad scared here... feeling stoned too, from whatever you hit me with... But, I'm OK, y'know... I like you... you're REALLY pretty Ma'am... and you have a good attitude, with a smart brain. Oh... bugger! I'm smashed, sorry... what was in that needle?...”

“It's OK Pete... just relax. Be calm. I will not hurt you... It's a type of Sodium Pentathol... the truth drug, the old CIA used to call it. That's krap, but for our purposes... it'll do!”

“....ok...”

Rachel was fixing 'sticky-dots' to my naked and hairless body. Legs, arms, multiple spots on my torso, a bunch on my face and head. She connected a Medusa of thin cables to each point and told me to “Relax, Sir... you said you'd trust me!”

“...ha ha! Ma'am... I said I wanted to trust you... True?

“So far... you've tricked me, locked me in, cuffed me, confused me, drugged me, bound me, and hooked me up to a WTF machine... but you're doing OK, so far... but don't let me stop you!”

“You're not that stoned then, are you? Probably enjoying this...” She shot me up again, in the other thigh.

The rest was a muddle. Rachel showed me the recording, later, much later... to help my memory.

“Pete? Can you hear me?”

Yes, Ma'am.

“Can you answer some questions for me?”

For you, Ma'am... Definitely!

I realised I'd been blindfolded and was wearing a set of headphones. Her voice was clear, but imported.

“OK... First question!” I pictured her reading from a list, and taking notes.

“Tell me your full name and date of birth.”

I told her, explaining that my birth date was different to my birth certificate.

“Very good! Your doing well, sir.”

Thank you, Ma'am

“Your records show that you left school early... Why?”

I grew tired of the system, to my later discomfit... I was a punk and rebellious... what else would I do?

“You joined the army... Why?”

My Dad was a soldier. He died. I... I suppose...

“Rest Pete... be calm. This is a survey, not an exam... Relax. There is no pass or fail.” She lied.

I was a young punk... I wanted a family, I suppose. The army gave comradeship, a brotherhood... Automatic weapons, high explosives, cheap booze ...friends.

“You transferred from artillery to Armour, in 2066. Tell me why was that?”

I always wanted Armour... Artillery was thrust upon me, although I enjoyed it while I did it. I corp-transferred and saluted my Battery Commander saying 'it has been a pleasure, sir, to serve with you!'

“There's more, Pete!... You are hooked up to bio-sensors... remember?!” Rachel intoned.

He said... 'You can go to tankies, or get a promotion...' He showed me the paperwork and gave me the choice. I took the transfer.

“Very good, sir! ...you can see, I can tell when you don't tell me everything.”

Yes Ma'am. Sorry

“No need for sorry, Pete. But, be aware!”

Yes, Ma'am.

“You left the army... why?”

I loved the Army, more than they liked me. I was caught smoking pot... and kicked out! I regret that.

“Why, sir, do you regret being disavowed from a system that didn't like you?”

I ...miss being part of a team, I reckon. In affect, I kicked myself out!

There was a long pause... “What do you want the most, Pete?” she snapped.

Friend, lover, sensuality... lust...

“That'll do!... We're done... rest for second while I...” I felt a sharp sting on my shoulder.

...”Ow!... I... oh.. oh... oh wow!”

When I woke up, I was blind and couldn't move. Some experimentation taught me I could move but was restrained. That led me to surmise I was also hooded, from the feeling of something tight on my face... I drifted off again.

“Welcome back!”

I opened my eyes but the light was too bright. “Ugh... Thank you Ma'am.”

Small movements let me know I was no longer restrained but a tight feeling all over my body had me wondering what was going on.

“You're not tied up any more, Pete, but I suggest you just lie there for a while... as I explain things.”

“OK... that'd be good.” I smacked my gums dryly. A tube pressed to my lips. I took it and drank. “Mm mm The best, thank you.”

“Now... Pete. You are in my care, at my room, at the property of my employers. The address you delivered some oil to... remember all of this?” Rachel stated.

I swallowed and replied “Yes. You're Rachel, the kinky kidnapping mechanic... What time is it?”

“Ha! Good recovery. It's 1850, on Saturday.”

I took this in... “A day and a bit after I said I'd give you a hand with something, then took my clothes off, and saw you in that fabulous rubber suit... OK.”

I wanted to open my eyes but felt it would be painful. I could feel my whole body being squeezed by something but it felt nice. I just enjoyed it as she continued.

“In a nutshell, yes. Your details met our requirements for a new addition to The Household. Don't worry, it's voluntary, and paid. Well paid. This is your interview and offer.”

I lay there with my eyes closed, thinking about Rachel and what she'd just told me. The firm squeeze on my body, even my head and face was feeling more and more comfortable. “What do you mean, 'my details met the requirements'”?

Rachel paused and sighed slightly, then told me “We have access to... extensive records, on nearly everyone. You were assessed on these databases.”

“Why?...”

“As I said, we required another member to The Household.”

“Yeah... but why me?”

“Your service records show high initiative, a good security level, you're unattached, no criminal history... except for that naughty night you had in July '12... which was noted but no conviction. Your bosses at Victory Oil have written several glowing reports on your performance and driving... If you refused this offer, I believe you're to be made a Foreman at the delivery section...”

I imagine it was the after-drugged hangover that had me thinking about the female police officer that arrested me mid-2012, instead of what Rachel was telling me.

“Shall I go on?!”

I shifted my weigh and position on the bed and felt more of the clingy feeling on my body. It seemed to cover every centimetre of my skin. “No, thank you, Ma'am... I believe you.”

Rachel placed a hand on my chest. There was a barrier. I could feel her gentle touch, but it was not skin-on-skin. I thought of her in that wonderful rubber suit she had been wearing when I was brought in here... And then, it dawned on me! “I'm wearing a rubber suit like yours, aren't I!?”

“Yes you are, Pete! How does it feel?”

“It feels very nice!!” I rubbed my hands together and discovered the smooth slippery surface. Touching my stomach and thighs was electric! Exploring, I found I was on a rubber covered hospital bed and every movement was enhanced and exaggerated by the rubber. I began writhing and sliding on the bed, rubbing my legs and arms over anything I could reach. I found myself wishing that Rachel would join me in this pursuit...

I stopped and lay still for a while. “This is fantastic!”

“I did say you'd like it!” Rachel reminded me.

“You were right!...”

I re-thought what she had said. Interview and offer.

“What's the offer?”

“Sit up, open your eyes.”

I did so and saw her sitting calmly in a chair beside the bed. I looked down at my body and saw that I was completely covered in thin black latex, shiny and supple. Rachel wore a similar outfit, but she had added a mask that covered her face. Dark lenses hid her eyes but I could feel her staring at me. She pointed away to the side. “A mirror!...”

I stood and walked to the floor to ceiling mirror to see myself. It was sublime, looking almost as good as it felt. I had to move and touch myself to ensure the anonymous figure in the mirror was actually me.

Rachel stood behind me, close enough that I imagined her body heat transferring through our latex skins. “This was one of our stock items, you were close enough to a standard size.”

“Thank you. It's wonderful! I love it.”

“Here's the offer, Pete... You will be working for me. I am the Werk Boss. There will only be you and I, much of the maintenance, such as mowing the lawns, hedge trimming, edges, etcetera is automated, handled by 'bots. We will mainly fix the 'bots that do the werk...” She held up a hand, to ward off my protestations.

“I'm not a...”

“I know full well, you're not a Tech. Not even a mechanic... but they're simple machines and I will handle the complex stuff that you don't have experience in and teach you along the way.”

I shrugged “OK” still looking at us in the mirror, Rachel behind me.

“There'll be a few general maintenance tasks, fixing doors, oiling hinges, shifting furniture, some driving jobs... Basically, you'll be a General Hand.”

I laughed “General Hand-cuffed!?”

“The employers have a different name for the Job Description, but you'll be my Main Hand. Only Hand, really... but nevermind that.”

In her high-heels, Rachel was taller than me, which added to the attraction. She had appeared to be about my age, when I first saw her and I knew the corset was holding a bit together. I was a bit thick through the midriff myself, so I couldn't complain.

The rubber she wore, she wore beautifully. From the crown of the head to the tips of her toes... Wow!

“...and The Latex?” I asked, wondering why and how I'd added capital letters to her kink.

“Rubber will be the dress-of-the-day! Except for minor periods of changing and showering, you'll be wearing latex, at all times!” She suddenly stated. “That is the intent of The Employers.”

Whoa! Did I just  touch a sore point? “OK...” I slid my hands over my self from my knees to my head. “I reckon I'll be able to handle that!”

“Good...” She softened her tone.

“Are we being monitored?...” I asked her quietly, wishing I was closer than whispering distance.

She quickly looked down at a wristwatch device I hadn't noticed she still wore and said “No.”

“These Employers...? Who and what are they?”

“Do you want the job?”

“Probably!... But, if it’s scrubbing shithouses in Siberia for a dollar a day, I ain’t interested.... nor if it's crooked or against the nation...! You're asking me to seclude myself, in rubber, and 'no questions asked?' Ma'am... Come on! You apparently know my history... Tell me what-the-fuck?!”

She stood motionless close behind me, sighed, then touched the back of my hood.

I flinched, again, again, [Damn it!] and heard the familiar “Relax, Pete... I'm not here to hurt you...”

I felt the back of my hood open and Rachel pulled it off my head and face. It hung limply on my chest, from my neck; as I turned to see her doing the same.

Her hair required only a slight shaking tussle to regain its style. “Sit down...” I sat.

She sighed and looked searchingly into my eyes, squinting slightly. “Drink? You've done your last delivery... I've finished for the week. What would you like?”

“Got any vodka?” I figured I wasn't going anywhere soon. Besides, I was wearing a rubber suit and didn't know where my clothes were. I also didn't really want to go anywhere.

“Sure! I'll join you! How do you have it?” She headed toward a cabinet beside the 'fridge.

I was starting to really like Rachel, with her no-bullshit, direct manner... and the rubber she'd dressed me in felt bloody wonderful. I looked at myself in the mirror again and ran my hands over my body. The rubber of my hands, on the rubber of my body was causing my cock to thicken.

“HELLO! When you've finished falling in love with your reflection...! How do you want your vodka?”

“Err, Umm, a shot first! Please... Then with water. Please.”

She turned and I heard the crack of a sealed bottle being opened. Liquid into some glasses. I stood when Rachel turned and handed me a shot-glass. “Sit, please!”

“A toast should always be done standing, Ma'am!” I took a chance, a shot in the dark. “All good Troopers would know that!... Hey? Who were you with? When and where?”

Her eyes widened a bit and I think she blushed marginally. “...I did know that!... But civvies don't! I've learnt to forget lots of things from the Colonial Marines...”

“A toast then, Ma'am!” I stood straight and proud.

My mind raced, trying to remember the old toasts we used to do when I was a Colonial Marine... I looked at Rachel. Hell’s Teeth! She was after-burner HOT! In that suit, with her high-heels and corset. Soft diffused lighting reflected from her polished black outfit and showed off every curve of her impressive body. Whoa! What was I...

“To human-kind!” She said.

I intoned the reply “To Earth!” and we threw back the vodka. I was still looking at her wonderful latex covered legs when she handed me the next glass.

“To the Marine!” I held my glass up as she replied “Bless 'em!”

The shots went down.

Rachel held my gaze for too long, then smiled and filled the glasses again.

She held the tiny shot glass tightly as I accepted it. “Do you know where this is going?!” Still a firm grip on the glass.

“I've a strong idea... and I'll admit, it scares the fuck out of me!”

Nothing to do with the Allied Earth Colonial Marines... I knew that Rachel and her “Employers” had been keeping some kind of an eye on me.... for a while.

She let go of the tumbler, still with that gaze, and said “Kameraden!” [Comrades]

I replied “Passed and gone, always here!”

The flashbacks... Many planets, many friends, many battles... I dropped my arse onto the bed... Old stuff assaulted me. Ignored memories lashed at my heart. “It's not the vodka” I said as I went down, spinning...

“Pete?!” I heard a wonderful sound. “Pete! Can you hear me?”

I smacked my dry mouth and tried to answer. “All good!” But it didn't work.

“Rest, Pete. Be calm. It's OK!”

I could open my eyes but it did no good... I was blind. I tested my arms and legs but they also did not answer my call. Blind and paralysed. Fucking fabulous! I thought bitterly!

“Ah! You're back with us!” Rachel commented as I woke up and tried to move. “You may as well just lay still! You won't be able to move much...”

Unsurprisingly, a few feeble attempts proved her right. My head ached. I could feel a latex skin over my entire body.

...then I thought of Rachel, and recognised the voice.

“Water?” I croaked.

I cool liquid dribbled into my mouth. It wasn't water, it had a slightly sweet taste, but it did the job of whetting my whistle.

“This is the second time you've slipped me a mickey!...” I didn't really mind; I was actually enjoying it. “If I didn't like you so much... I'd say 'sneaky bitch' but I'll settle on 'sly wench' Ma'am!”

“You recover well, from the effects of being drugged, Sir!”

I thought about that and that she obviously had experience in drugging people. “Most drugs are designed for folk that don't usually use them... The attributes of a mis-spent youth!”

“You're wearing VR-goggles. I'll turn them on, so you can see yourself, shall I?”

“I'm not sure I want to open my eyes... I've a splitting headache!”

“OK... we'll try this then...”

I heard a slight hiss and cooler air passed into whatever was letting me breath. A few breaths and my head was clearing; a few more and I felt fine.

“Pure oxygen, for a hangover!”

“Mm-mm! Splendid, thank you!”

An image formed before my eyes. I saw Rachel from slightly behind and above. She was standing next to a gloss black rectangle. The horizontal shape contained the vague shape of a vacuum-packed male body... Every details was perfectly formed by the shrunken rubber. I could just make out a mask of some form and headphones.

“Like it?”

Then I realised I was looking at myself from a remote camera. I struggled a bit, to align my movements with what I saw. It coincided. “That's me!”

“That's right...”

“...I do! I do, indeed.” I closed my eyes and moved slightly, not resisting or forcing my bonds, just feeling the confines. I felt my manhood filling with blood and growing by the second.

“I can see, Sir!” Opening my eyes again, I saw Rachel reaching down to touch me.

The disembodied view collided with my sense of touch as I felt her hand brush along my thigh. “Oooh!”

“...and I can hear you like it, too!”

“Very much so, Ma'am!”

I thought I heard a slight snicker as I saw her move away and sit beside the shiny black shape. “You have doubts and questions...?!”

Why can't you keep stroking my trapped rubbery body!? Was the first thought that sprang to mind, but I asked “The Employers, as you call them... Who and what are they? What is going on here? Why are they so secure? What-The-Fuck, in a nutshell!”

“...Hmmm. Earth born and bred... The Employers, run this place on a free-hold title from the Central Administration. They perform, or once performed; ...unspecified tasks, for CenAd, and are rewarded.

“The Employers are... hedonists. A bit eccentric, if you like. Security is due to the unspecified tasks they performed. That is ALL I know, Pete. Honestly.

“As to 'what is going on'? I tend to mind-my-own-business... If you know what I mean! That is what-the-fuck.”

I thought about that for a while... During my time in the Marine, I'd seen plenty of weird stuff, much run by un-named sections of CenAd. Some very suss meetings near the Border, where a Square of heavy Armour and a Form of Grenadiers guarded a landing zone; one that received Raskosian shuttles at a regular rate during Konfrontasi. Not so strangely, the Empire and Allied Earth ceased hostilities soon after.

We thought nothing of it, until an anonymous General gave us a speech about shutting-the-fuck-up!

Unable to move let alone stretch or pace, I could only draw a deep breath. “Remind me about my role in this...”

“In short, your role is to shut-the-fuck-up about here, do what you're told, when you're told... relax and enjoy.”

“That doesn't seem too hard!” I sparked up. “And to werk for you, Ma'am?! Fixing 'bots and doing odd jobs?”

“That's correct.”

“But wearing rubber, all the time?”

Rachel nodded in my external view of her as she looked down at my supine encased form. “Also correct...”

“I'm in!...”

To be continued!

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21.05.15