I'm new to this, it's my first smut story, and my first time playing with this concept, obviously. I tried keeping as true to the genre as possible, while making it my own, but I know there's some staples currently missing... I'm planning on rolling those out as HR decrees as we go along, almost like Apollo is starting out wading in, and we'll eventually get to the deep end.
I also have to thank lizstanton8181 and her stories, as well as the original "Mailroom Girls" by Cambridge Caine. I borrowed heavily from Liz's concepts, USF's Mailgirls being my inspiration to even do this. And of course this genre isn't a thing without Cambridge Cain's original concept. I know there's others in the genre, but I haven't gotten to read most of their's yet.
The space stuff was just something I came up with on my own.
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Mailgirls In Space. Part 1.
Year: 2100 AD.
Humanity and global warming have finally ravaged the Earth. The human population has been reduced from 8.2 billion through war and natural disasters to just under 2 million. A large portion of the surface is unhabitable. Although settlements remain in portions of Europe and Asia, South America has now been made into one giant oil drill site, Australia is fully submerged under water, and Russia and China nuked North America into oblivion. A large part of humanity now resides in space, among the stars, in a series of large technologically advanced space stations.
The largest of these is Andromeda Station. After that are Vector Station, Orion Station, and Aurora Station. Other satellite and support stations are joined by these, but these are the primary ones and where most live and work. Although there were many scientists and military personnel, most people still worked jobs--regular, boring old jobs.
Landon Davidson had been one of them. Perhaps he still was, or at least until last month. He was an HR recruiter for one of the medical companies that now run the hospital at each station. He was still in HR, but his recruiting had become more interesting. He was now head of a team working for the company that owned two of the four stations, Apollo Industries. In their Human Capital division. He was recruiting mailgirls instead of nurses and medical technicians.
Most of humanity had still clung to the dying rock they were orbiting until about six years ago, when the space station program was launched. The Great War of Russia and China vs the US, along with some hefty natural disasters for good measure, had wiped almost everyone out. The remaining Americans, Europeans, Asians (who weren't China aligned), basically anyone not Russian or Chinese, all went to the space stations. Russia and China got to keep the hunk of rock that was now Earth.
After three years, everyone was homesick, they'd lost family and friends, and morale was dropping. Apollo Industries wanted to change that and devised several hare-brained schemes.
Back on the surface, one of the things that had started to pop up, particularly in Asian countries, was this concept of "mailgirls." It started simple enough, attractive young women were recruited to work in mailrooms in offices. The catch was they had to be completely naked. Hot girls delivering mail naked quickly morphed into varying levels of depravity, with the girls in question ceasing to be normal employees and becoming essentially property of the companies holding their contracts. They were often treated more like naked human pets at best, full-on sex slaves at worst. Most programs were somewhere in between. This had started to spread worldwide and was picking up steam and doing well, even reaching the former United States of America and grabbing a foothold there. Until the Great War and apocalypse, at least.
Now Apollo Industries execs thought bringing a mailgirls program back would help cheer everyone up. To start with, they'd roll it as a pilot. If it worked, it would be tweaked and eventually rolled out in full. If it didn't, they'd find something else. That's why Landon and his head recruiter, Jillian Mitchell, were staring at a list of women to recruit. If Landon had his way, he'd find 30 lingerie model-esque women and call it a day. But two things: First, they had to do this quickly. The deadline was tight, and his team would be replaced soon if they didn't start getting girls involved within the next week or two. Secondly, Apollo brass had made it clear they wanted more diversity than that. So, the list was made, and now recruiting would start.
Landon looked up from his tablet at Jillian. She was young, tall, slim, and blonde. Mailgirl material, but also entirely too important to him as a recruiter, at least for now. He'd have gotten nowhere without her, and he knew it.
"So, I figure we'd start with six girls first. Then every month or so bring in six more until we have all thirty." Davidson handed Jillian his tablet. "Most are Apollo employees. Some outside recruits, we shouldn't have a problem with luring them on board as well. Here's the first six names I want."
They'd start with six girls and add more as they went. Six now, six next week, and then another six when the pilot was picked up, adding more at intervals until they had 30. Landon and Jillian figured they'd need about 30 to cover everything reasonably. Six was a start, though. And they'd be rolling it out gradually, so the workload didn't become completely impossible.
"Good idea," Jillian responded. "I'll get to getting them rounded up as soon as we're done here."
Landon nodded. "One at a time. Here in my office. I'll get Mistress Nul in here as well for the meetings. Start with the easy ones first, the five Apollo employees, then for Six, there's one outside candidate that should be easy to rope in. Just get them here, I'll take care of the rest."
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Jillian Mitchell was a junior HR recruiter in Apollo's HR department until last month, when she moved to the Human Capital division. She knew why, too. Why Davidson recruited her, he made it pretty fucking obvious. She was 26, blonde, skinny, and 5'9", which is what makes that man tick. As much as she liked to think it was because she was an amazing recruiter, and she was probably the best Apollo had, she knew it was at least as much that Davidson wanted to fuck her that she was here. Whatever, she'd finish her work here and take the promotion she was promised afterward. At least that was what she thought when she started. As time went on, more and more she knew Davidson would end up at least trying to fuck her, although not exactly sexually. The way he looked at her, she was a piece of meat, just a pair of nice tits and a warm welcoming pussy under her skirt and blouse. She was pretty sure he already planned to make her one of his mailgirls at some point, when she stopped being useful to him. She figured she'd fight to stay useful until they had 30 girls and then take her promotion and be a less misogynist version of Davidson. Or his boss.
Jillian left Davidson's office and walked through the halls to the elevator she took to level 4, where the station cafeteria was, flipping through her tablet and grabbing a cup of coffee once she got there. It was still only 9, after the breakfast rush of the morning and not yet lunch, so the cafeteria was sparsely populated at this hour. Jillian sat down to drink. She wore a basic white button-down, a dark gray skirt that was just long enough to be considered professional attire, a gray blazer, and black heels. Fairly standard office attire around here. She looked up from her tablet and stared at the wildest thing constructed before her eyes. The far wall of the cafeteria was now shared with what looked like a locker room, outfitted with one-way mirror glass. This was "The Terrarium," where the mailgirls would shower and get ready for work. Everyone in the cafeteria or the lobby on the other side could see in and would have a constant view of the girls as they did their routine. Shower, shave, brush their teeth, do their hair and makeup....and use the bathroom.
The Terrarium was an interesting concept. Most mailgirl programs used a version of it back on Earth, so it wasn't surprising here. Jillian looked it over. The mirror glass was one-way, so she knew everyone could see in, while all anyone inside would see was their reflections. In the center were four pillars in a row, each with two d-hooks per side, which Jillian understood to be where each girl would be chained at night to sleep on the cold metal floor of the station. They were technically enough for 32 girls, although Jillian understood there were only going to be 30. To the right and left of that was a wall of shower heads, eight per side, so the girls would have to share. The walls the shower heads were attached to were the same see-through mirror glass as the walls. The space between the showers and "tie-out area" was enough that there would be space for milling about during downtime. On the other side of each wall was a row of eight sinks. Then along each wall across from the sinks were eight toilets. The only thing Jillian found interesting was that there were no actual lockers. She made a mental note to ask Davidson about that.
All these locker room features were in full view of the cafeteria and station lobby on the other side of the 4
th
level. Human Capital was on level 12, there were 50 levels in all on Aurora. Andromeda was a monster at nearly the size of the moon, hundreds of levels, and Jillian was glad they weren't staffing that monstrosity with mailgirls. Although Andromeda was nearly 90% residential, maybe it wouldn't be quite as bad as she thought.
She was staring at the locker room, and her thoughts briefly started to wander to what it would be like in there, completely naked, taking the coldest shower of her life (mailgirls wouldn't be allowed hot water), but she quickly brushed it aside. Davidson might want it to, but no way she was ever letting that happen. She turned her attention back to her tablet and the candidates at hand.
The first five hopefuls, mailgirls 1 through 5, were Apollo employees. Young and ambitious, they could be manipulated easily by dangling raises and promotions in front of them. She hoped. The alternative was much worse. A one-way ticket to the surface was what was being offered to any girl who refused.
