"Yes, it's one of
those living ones!"
I barely heard the words
over the hissing of hermetic seals being broken. There was a
mechanical 'whir' as the metallic door slid away and light filled the
compartment I was stored in. Before me stood two women, their dresses
covered in the frills and laces of aristocracy. "It cost as much
as the room, and that's only to rent it for the trip!" the
closer one spoke with an accent to match her attire. "My
allowance only just covered it this week, but Father said he'd buy
one for me to keep if I liked it on the cruise."
"What makes them so
special?" her companion asked. "What's it made of?"
The front one gripped the end of my arm with soft, manicured fingers.
"It reacts to you much better than an AI can. Watch..."
Their eyes bore into that part of me, and my vision followed. We all
watched my blue, rubbery skin mold around her fingertip. The
sweetness of vanilla lotion washed over my senses, and I could feel
myself pressing into the minuscule ridges of her fingerprint; I felt
as though I was sucking on her digits. Then, she let go and pulled
away, allowing me to reform into my prior shape. "It also
regulates your temperature better. As for what it's made of, I'm not
sure. They only label it as 'proprietary biomass,'" she
finished.
"Some kind of mold
or solidified slime, I guess," the other woman concluded with a
chuckle.
"Ew! Don't say that!
Wearing slime would be disgusting!" my apparent owner laughed at
the very idea.
"I've heard the
Buori women wear-" but I didn't catch the rest of it. A button
was pressed and the door once again sealed me in darkness with its
airtight bond. Just before a series of freshness-boosting gases stole
away my consciousness, I began to wonder if the meager pay was worth
this new job.
I watched her undress
with a sense of guilt. My compartment was open, and I was unable to
move myself to look away, but my conscience sat unhappy with those
excuses. I tried to focus my vision elsewhere... however, the
trappings and furniture of her cabin were nowhere near as pleasant to
gaze upon. While she was muted and unassuming for a young noblewoman,
her gene-tweaked body easily outclassed the women usually seen at my
pay grade. Her tall, thin, hairless frame shed her lacy undergarments
without a care, allowing me full view of her genetically-enhanced
assets that swayed freely as she stretched away the discomfort of
her dress. Then, her attention finally turned to me. Sky-blue eyes
studied my form as she sauntered over, brushing a wavy, golden lock
of hair behind her ear. “Well, let's give you a try,” she
breathed, as though she knew I was looking back.
She took me up in her
grasp and removed me from my hanger. I was almost weightless,
fluttering through the air, only pulled down by the heavy boots
attached to my legs. But, she let go and I crumpled to the floor at
once. Not even taking the time to test my length with her body:
clearly this woman was used to exact tailoring.
I felt her dainty feet
push parts of me aside, and then enter the boots that formed my own
feet. As soon as her soles met the bottom, I tasted her. Stale
lotion, day-old sweat, dust from floors and shoes all flowed into my
senses from what had appeared to be a pair of fresh and unused feet.
I squirmed mentally as her toes squeezed and kneaded the plush
insoles that were the bottoms of my own feet, every test of their
comfort forcing more of her scent onto me.
I felt her grip my
shoulders and pull me up. My rubber-like skin folded to her flesh,
clinging to it as I was pulled around her body. I tasted every inch
of her, as though my entire interior were one big tongue that formed
around the woman's legs, her thighs, her glutes, and her abs. Her
arms entered mine, her fingers filled the attached gloves that were
my hands. Finally, she used my digits to grip a zipper that hung
below her womanhood. She pulled it up her body, and over her breasts
until it came to an end on her neck. I was sealed around her as a
second skin.
She moved herself- us- to
examine me- herself- in a mirror. From my vantage on the slope of her
bosom, I learned nothing I didn't already know; she was a very
attractive woman, and I was a deep blue spacesuit that fit her form
perfectly. Instead, I was lost in the sensations of her body. Her
warmth was omnipresent, radiating into every centimeter of my
existence. It brought with it the slickness of her sweat, a
salt-laden moisture that was already beginning to seep from her
tight and intimate areas, only to collect inside my rubbery skin as a
film of microscopic beads. Muscles pulsed against me with her every
minute motion. Quads, glutes, hamstrings, and calves tightened and
relaxed as my wearer unconsciously shifted her weight from foot to
foot, while biceps, triceps and shoulder muscles moved her arms to
our center.
Her fingers used mine to
feel herself, first testing my tightness along her belly, then along
her hips. She moved our hands up our arms, and then my vision was
obstructed as she lowered them down her chest. I cupped her breasts
with her, feeling them shift not only in my hands but within what I
could only describe as my cheeks. I was already learning her body
intimately as clothing, but now I was exploring it as a person would,
even though I had no control over the experience. Our fingers brushed
over small bumps on either of her breasts. They grew from only the
barest touch, pushing into my body such that I felt my cheeks form to
accommodate them. From between the curious fingers, I caught sight of
the mirror again. The two dots showed on me clearly, like seedlings
breaking the soil for the first time. Further down, pelvic muscles
tensed, and the humidity there increased. Our arms slid down her
body, our fingers extending to take up her arousal. I was as
hypnotized as she was.
Presently, a gentle,
two-toned indicator rang from a hidden overhead speaker. A female
voice, tinged with static and trans-galactic accent, softly spoke:
“Dear guests, your captain wishes to inform you that the Splendor
has now reached its designated cruising speed. The safety shielding
is raised, and you may now partake of the exterior decks at your
leisure.” With that, the two-tone played again.
My
wearer and I stood as though awoken from a trance. I looked up at her
face, trying to read her expression from the underside view I
enjoyed. A heavy sigh escaped her lips, forcing a warm,
cinnamon-scented breath over my face. She gave the mirror a smile, as
if to say “I'll be back later.” Then, her leg muscles pulsed
within me, and she walked back to my storage closet. Her heartbeat
slowed, and the pinpricks on my face receded to their normal state.
For a
moment, and as strange as it sounds, I fretted that I was being put
away. But, fortunately, she merely pulled a helmet from where it was
stashed in the compartment. I took a chance to examine it as she held
it in front of me. Instead of the hardened, metal-plated contraption
I was assigned in my regular job, her helmet was nearly all glass, as
though it was made from a fishbowl with a rubber collar. Where mine
required an external oxygen tank and radio, both functions were
performed on hers by a small brass box just below her mouth,
decorated with swirling golden etchings.
I
watched her turn it around and easily slip it over her head. Her arms
rose up again, and I felt her fiddle with the connectors that
attached the helmet's collar to her- my- neck. They snapped into
place, and, as the respirator system pressurized the interior, I felt
like I'd gained a new part of myself. My vision still came from the
top of her bosom, and my cheeks were still filled with the globes
that were her breasts, but I began to feel her breath on my lips and
nose. When she exhaled her warm, used air, I inhaled it; when she
inhaled, I exhaled fresh, cool oxygen for her. I shuddered mentally.
Despite earlier events, this was too intimate for my comfort. Would
she agree to it if she knew I was conscious? It was better than
lugging around a heavy air tank while still in gravity, but was the
proximity worth it? I supposed it wasn't a decision she knew she
could make, and it certainly wasn't a decision I was in any position
to make.
Regardless
of what I felt about our intimacy, my wearer thought it was all
grand. I saw her smile. My eyes bounced as she chuckled with apparent
excitement, and after posing with hands-on-hips for the mirror, we
left her room.