Body Rentals - A Gal At Madame Maxine's - Part 1

[Briefly jumping ahead to a future in which the Body Rental's devices are common and commercial. This is the story of a girl who works at a club that uses the technology. Our hero works hard, happy to allow patrons to borrow her body to have fun and socialise - for a fee.]

“Why would I give you a freebie again?”

“Because I’m really, really into it.”

“Doesn’t sound like a good reason to me, buddy.”

My friend Mia was negotiating with a new guy. It was a slow night, so the two of us were sitting with four or five other girls in the lobby of Madame Maxine’s. The four or so girls who’d already been rented were still in their rooms, so it wasn’t exactly kicking off out here.

When Mia had told me she was working for one of those new Body Brothel’s I wasn’t surprised -- she was always into weird shit. When she managed to convince me to do a trial shift two months later, I was shocked that I went along with it.

While some people kind of liked having a job where they could just sit back and let somebody move them around, I always had a lot of initiative -- and independence. But when the recent round of layoffs hit, and it was this or McDonalds. Fuck it, I thought.

The way it worked was us girls would hang out in the lobby, drinking and chatting with clients, or johns as Mia called them. This gave us an opportunity to vet the people who’d have control of our bodies beforehand, and gave the johns an opportunity to see us as real people, rather than just bodies to be worn.

If john liked the look of you, and you were okay with him (or sometimes, her) jumping into your skin, they’d pay at the desk and disappear into a backroom. Meanwhile, you’d go into another room with a bed, a mirror, and a bunch of other amenities and toys.

The john would then take control of your body for 15 minutes. At least.

There were rules of course. No sex without outsiders was one. Kinda ironic for a brothel, I know. I mean, sure, the clients could masturbate if they wanted, or go back out into the lobby and find another girl to make out with, but no sex, you know? It was supposed to be a classy place, and nobody wants to find their body was used by some lame-ass girlfriend to give a blowjob birthday present for her ugly-ass man.

All the girls were clean, and the clients would have to make do with just some fondling between us girls. No outsiders allowed.

They also weren’t allowed to do anything to the body that lasted too much beyond the session. No injuries, obviously. No haircuts. Not even shaving, unless it was cleared beforehand.

My first night I was so nervous I nearly puked. See, the girl’s get to decide if we want to be awake while we’re controlled, or just black out and wake up afterwards in whatever position the john put us in. Some girls even do their settings so that they think they’re doing everything of their own free will, which sounds fucking nuts to me.

Anyway, I’ve always chosen the ‘blackout’ option. The idea of somebody controlling my body, making me flirt, making me masturbate, checking out my ass -- nah man, I’m happier just waking up after, $100 richer.

I know $100 doesn’t sound like much, but man, that’s for 15 minutes work. And there are cameras and people looking after my body, so it’s pretty safe. I’m amazed more people don’t do it, to be honest. Now that I’ve actually gotten in, and seen from the other side what it’s like, it’s like, what was I worried about?

But, yeah, on my first night I was sitting here all nervous like. I hadn’t really learnt how to chat up the john’s yet, you know? There’s a skill to it. The fast spend or the fast rejection is what you want. You have to charm them quickly, because you’re on the clock. I didn’t know any of that yet, so I was just lounging around, quietly chatting with different guys as they arrived.

Eventually, one guy asked if he could rent. (Nowadays I usually ask first because it’s quicker). Anyway, he asked if he could rent, and I was all like “Sure, babe, let’s go.” and inside I’m panicking. This guy is going to control me? He paid at the desk and I hid away in the smallest back room I could.

I remember looking down at myself and thinking “Holy shit, somebody else is going to have this view in a moment?” I kicked my feet and cupped my boobs, and giggled nervously. It takes a few minutes for them to set up the john in the other room, but all of us girls are already hooked in wirelessly to be rented at any time. Which means I have a few minutes to sit there and panic! I imagined waking up outside, somehow, or to a broken arm, or all manner of things. I stared down at my skimpy dress and wondered what a guy would do if he had this view.

An instant later I found myself back in the lounge. Naked. And standing on a table.

Turned out they cut that session off early because the john was ‘Recklessly endangering the worker’s safety’. Funnily enough, that made me feel way more confident about the place, because all he’d been doing is dancing on a coffee table in stripper heels. Nothing I hadn’t done before, haha. But it wasn’t allowed -- he’d been jumping about and shaking my boobs all over. If he’d fallen, I could have been hurt, so they kicked him out of my body, and I got to wake up naked on a table.

Usually they send them back to the room first.

My next few rents went pretty smoothly. One was a bodybuilder who came in looking for the “Smallest, weakest girl I ever saw” and he chose me, the bastard. I woke up after that one with every muscle in my body completely wrecked. Turned out he’d rented me for like two hours! And he’d spent most of that time finding out that, yeah, small women can only lift a few kilograms. Maybe he got off on it, I don’t know.

They didn’t kick him out because ‘all he was doing was exercising’, but fuck, I felt sore for days after. He’d made me do squats, jumping jacks, situps, weightlifting, deadlifts… and apparently was completely amazed when he couldn’t do a pushup. Yeah, fuck off, skinny girls can’t do push ups, okay? He apparently didn’t know that, and my friend Kiera told me he kept trying to, over and over, giggling the whole time. He used my skinny arms to push me up a little bit off the ground and then fall back down onto my boobs. Again and again. Yeah.

At the opposite end was this big fat guy who wanted to be small and skinny. He picked me too for some reason. I was really nervous beforehand that he’d gorge my body on crap, but he was a pretty friendly guy and literally negotiated how much chocolate and shit he would be allowed to eat in my body. He had a fantasy about eating chocolate off a hot girl, apparently, but was easily embarrassed and didn’t actually want the girl to be there while he did it -- so his plan was to do both roles in my body. Eat chocolate off a hot girl, alone, from inside the hot girl’s body. Hah.

Anyway, we pissed around for a while chatting about it, and eventually I get him down to just one of those small packets of family chocolates. He protested until I showed him how large the packet was compared to like, my whole head, and he relented, lumbering over to the back room to be hooked up.

I took the chocolates to one of the bedrooms and quickly changed out of my good outfit -- this arsehole was going to get chocolate all over me, I didn’t want it ruined. I was rushing to do up my leather body suit when the rent signal hit my brain.

Instantly, I found myself lying on my back, on the bed, and covered all over in this sticky brown goo. One of my hands was holding a tit, and the other was in my mouth. I could taste the chocolate -- not bad, actually -- and I could feel the john’s leftover arousal pulsing through me. Usually I woke up feeling pretty satisfied (if a bit sore and used) but apparently fatso had spent the whole time on his chocolate fantasy and hadn’t finished masturbating. He’d probably run out of money.

The cleanup from that was a nightmare. He’d somehow got chocolate all through my hair, in my butt crack, between my toes, all over my face… I felt full and bloated the whole time I cleaned myself up from somebody else's' festivities. And I was still damn horny!

It’s weird waking up horny. It’s not like when you wake up from sleeping next to a hot guy and in the mood. It’s waaaay more intense than that! It’s like waking up right in the middle of having sex, except that you’re literally in the middle of doing all the movements yourself, and probably pretty close to cumming.

I don’t know how to describe it. Imagine the horniest guy you can imagine -- this guy thinks you’re a bloody goddess sent from heaven. Ordinarily he couldn’t get within five miles of a girl as hot as you, and he’d be right -- no way you’d touch him sexually, even if you were getting paid. But now he’s in you -- and there’s no hesitation or embarrassment since he’s alone. No shyness, no being careful or trying to get the other person off or anything. It’s just him, and your body. He’s having the fucking time of his life, moving your arms about, fondling your tits and sticking your fingers in god knows where. He’s just about to have the orgasm of his life…

Then his allotted time runs out, and you wake up right in the middle of it.

It’s fucking intense, let me tell you.

That’s part of what keeps me in this work, I’ll admit. I don’t have to actually let anybody touch me or have sex with me -- it’s all just my body, and man do they get it off. Sometimes guys are a bit too rough for sure -- once I woke up with four of my fingers in my pussy -- but the johns almost always play nice. Madame Maxine’s is a classy place, after all, and they won’t want to be banned.

Anyway, I was going to tell you about what’s happening with Mia and this guy with a kink for it. He wants a freebie because he says we’ll have such a good time being controlled by him. Yeah, right. I’m getting called over, so I’ll tell you more about it in a moment.