Click And Collect Vacbed Delivery

[Recap: Tom and Hayley offer a very specific personal service, turning people into living items of furniture, as a side hustle to their day job at Harbinger's Home and Garden store. Their commissions have been getting more elaborate recently. Working so closely together, the line is blurring between their personal and their professional lives. This installment follows on from Max and Clea's request in

Storage Solution

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This story contains themes of forniphilia, bondage, latex confinement, orgasm control and woodworking, though not graphic woodworking]

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We parked the Harbinger's van in the driveway, backing up to the garage doors. I turned off the engine to wait. Hayley was scrolling through her phone, ignoring me.

"Look," I said, "Can we just get through this job, and then we can have a talk?"

"Depends. Is there something you want to talk about?" Hayley shot back.

"Hayley, you're not being very fair."

"In what way?"

"What you expect."

"Oh, don't worry, Tom. I'm not expecting anything from you."

I let out a low breath, but I didn't reply: it seemed pointless.

"I guess, is it because you're the boss? You don't want to be seen screwing the crew?" Hayley pressed, "Or am I just some kind of game?"

"Look, you know what I think. I'm...."

"Uptight," Hayley interjected, "I know. All this shit we do to other people, hell, that stuff you did to me. I can tell how it turns you on, I can see it. But you never want to do anything about it. If it's about screwing the crew then here's the newsflash, Tom. That horse has bolted. You may not have physically, but you have done everything else. You get that, right?"

She huffed, folding her arms over her chest.

"We're up to our necks in something amazing, you and me. We are so far beyond the standard employment contract, Tom. If the regional management turned up at Harbingers and discovered our little order book, it wouldn't be dismissal, it'd close down the entire company. Thirty-something manager of a local homewares store chain and his female assistant running a side-business where they turn people into kinky human furniture, you know, right? It'd be on the web forever."

Her expression softened, and she looked across at me for the first time since we'd arrived.

"We are so utterly, completely fucked, Tom. We left normal behind a long while back. We can't even see it in the rear-view mirror anymore. I need to know where we stand. This is my life we're talking about as well as yours."

I watched as she slumped back into the van's passenger seat, her attention drifting from me to the view through the windscreen. In profile, I studied her delicate face, the curve of her neck, the mass of auburn hair gathered back in a ponytail. She was younger than me, but that had become less and less of an issue. The fact that I was her boss was also less of an issue now. All those roadblocks had eroded away as we'd ventured further and further into this strange, secret world we'd discovered that existed behind the curtains of ordinary suburban houses like this one, waiting for Clea to arrive so that we could begin.

I had something important that I needed to tell her, something that had been going around and around in my head for months now. My pulse quickened as I summoned up the courage. It was only a few words, all I'd need to cross that gap between us. I just needed to say something that there was no going back from, I just needed to finally put it all on the line. I opened my mouth.

"Hey, Hayley," I began.

"Heads up, she's here," Hayley interjected, "Show time."

She opened the passenger door and stepped onto the driveway as a red car pulled up at the curb, leaving me disorientated in the cab, so close to exposing how I really felt. The moment was lost.

Hayley got down to business. She straightened her Harbinger's uniform, smoothing the grey skirt down her thighs, adjusting the collar of the blue and white shirt. The only incongruity in her appearance was her choice of footwear: four-inch stiletto heels. I opened the driver-side door and got out too.

Clea tumbled out of the car in a rush, apologising profusely as she made her way up the drive.

"Sorry, I'm so sorry. It took forever to drop the kids off. Only Dad was there and they tend to play up when they see Grandpa," Clea began, "Have you been here long?"

"Nah, just a few minutes," Hayley replied.

"Yeah, sorry. Toddlers."

"At least they're out of the way."

Clea halted in the driveway.

"Yeah, I guess," she replied, eyeing us both and then the van, "There's that to it. They can't see this."

"How long before Max is home?" Hayley asked, business-like.

"Oh, he should be here by five. It's great that you could do this on a weekend."

I stepped around the van and gave her a polite smile.

"It's all part of the service," I said, "We want you to be comfortable with it."

Clea didn't move.

"Shall we get on with it?" I asked.

It seemed to rouse Clea from her inactivity. She nodded.

"Yeah, sure. Let me show you where," she said.

Hayley flashed me a puzzled look as Clea passed her to open the door. The women went into the house together and I followed along behind.

Clea's house was nicely furnished, but not as extensive as her friend Bethany, the reason for our meeting in the first place. We'd turned up to Bethany's house on a service call for a previous job, to find the mistress of the house had secreted her husband away in clingwrap under the kitchen sink, turning him into an oral sex appliance. Clea had discovered Bethany's marital secret and had asked me for my business card on the way out.

She led us into one of the back rooms. It was furnished with a desk and chair, and a set of bookshelves.

"This is the home office. We, uh, Max was was thinking that we could have the bed folded up against this wall, so we can pull it down when we want it. We can shift all this to the other side."

Clea stood in front of the wall that faced the door, indicating the bookshelf and desk with a hand, then turned to face me.

"I want to be able to see it as soon as you walk into the room," she finished.

I nodded, stepping past her and tapping on the wall.

"It's full brick," Clea supplied, "Max tested it. How long do you think?"

I gave her a little shrug, replying, " Maybe an hour. I'll need to get the masonry drill out, put in some anchor points first. The bed'll need to be firmly attached to the wall if it's fully loaded."

At the last word, I noticed Clea shift, just a subtle movement. Hayley noticed it too, approaching Clea. There was a strange, soft smile on her face.

"We'll make sure it's secure, Clea," she told the smaller woman, "You'll be perfectly safe when you're in there. It's important that you feel safe when you're fully sealed up in the mattress. You won't be able to free yourself, you see. You won't even be able to move once you're installed."

Clea's eyes darted nervously from Hayley to me and then back again.

"Really?" she asked, but her voice came out in a squeak.

"You'll be stored and helpless, Clea, until whenever someone decides to let you out."

Hayley smiled down at the slight blonde woman in front of her, and there was something in her eyes that I hadn't seen before.

"How long?" Clea asked, her voice tiny.

"How long can you be stored for?" Hayley asked.

"Yeah, how long can Max keep me in there?"

Hayley rested her hand on the other woman's shoulder.

"That's just it, Clea. When you're in there, you don't get any say. Once you've been turned into the bed mattress, your husband could keep you in there for an hour or a week. I'll give him the links to the things he might need, like feeding tubes, or waste pouches."

Clea's eyes went wide, all her attention fixed on my lovely auburn-haired partner-in-crime.

"How would that work?" she murmured.

"Oh, you just get fed a little, watered a little, the waste bag changed. Other than that, you're trapped in place, stored in the bed. It'll be hard at first, and you'll find yourself straining to hear even the slightest sound, to know if he's coming back to free you."

Hayley's smile faded, replaced by a strange intensity.

"You try to hold on to those little things, but you can't and eventually you slip. The hours go by and you lose track of time. You try so hard not to, but you can't help it. You might be in there for days, or weeks, or it might just be hours, and to you, it all feels the same, with your senses cut off, folded up in the dark inside the bed. You can't see, or touch or smell or taste. All you can do is listen, and that's the worst part, hearing the normal world carrying on nearby, as you sink into the soft, warm latex."

Clea seemed rooted to the spot, hypnotised by Hayley's eyes like a mouse in front of a cobra.

"If your husband leaves you in there long enough, you'll start to melt away. You won't know where you end and the latex begins. All you're left with are those little sounds of life outside the bed, and that deep untouchable need between your thighs, trapped in the dark, unable to cum, unable to escape, powerless."

Hayley smiled again, turning away from Clea, walking back to the door. Clea stood there, watching her go, her mouth open. Hayley paused in the doorway and looked back at the other woman.

"So, that's the full product disclosure statement," Hayley said, "Are you ready to take possession of the merchandise?"

I jerked into motion, following along behind Hayley, back outside to the van. She opened the back doors to reveal the pieces of the fold-up bed stacked neatly in the rear.

"What was that?" I asked.

Hayley grinned at me over her shoulder.

"Just selling the features, Tom. I think I nailed the sales pitch."

She grabbed one side of the wall frame and I lifted the other, manoeuvring it out of the van and into the house. She flashed me a smile, but I didn't reciprocate. Hayley's behaviour in the little office room had exposed something I hadn't seen in her before.

No, that wasn't right. I'd seen it in her, I just hadn't acknowledged it. Ever since asking to be stored in the vacuum cube in the under-floor space beneath the office at work, she'd changed. Her time in the cube had done something to her, the days in the black latex prison forcing her to turn inward. She had shown a satisfaction in turning our customers into furniture before, but after the cube, she'd come to relish it, as if her time trapped helpless in latex had finally brought deeply-buried needs to the surface. When we'd started this, Hayley had been nervous, hesitant, and now she was weaving her words like a professional.

We worked quickly, getting the frame bolted to the wall first and then bringing in the pull-down mattress frame, and then the mattress itself. At that point, Hayley stood back.

"You good from here, Tom?" she asked.

"I guess, why?"

"Thought I'd have a sit down with Clea, and a bit of a talk."

"If you want, yeah. She okay?"

Hayley shook her head, smiling, replying, "Like I said before, oblivious, Tom. You didn't see? She's shitting herself."

"I, uh, I guess," I fumbled.

"We're about to make her fantasy real. It's a massive step. I'm gonna go check in on her."

"Yeah, sure, that's... uh, yeah. Good idea. I'll just get the rest of this together. I'll give you a shout."

"Always able to rely on you, Tom," Hayley replied, flashing me her cute little smile as she left the room.

My eyes were drawn to the way her backside wiggled in her company-issue grey skirt. Then she flicked her hand through her auburn ponytail and glanced back at me over her shoulder and I realised I was being played.

"Call me if it gets too hard," she purred.

Hayley disappeared, leaving me standing there with a screwdriver and a hard-on. I wasn't sure which one was more rigid.

I set to work assembling the bed mechanism, but as the time ticked by my thoughts kept returning to the tight curve of her rear in the grey skirt, the shape of her calves in those high heels. Hayley was going all out, and I had to admit to myself that it was working. I reached down and adjusted my crotch, trying to get more comfortable.

"Tea?"

I turned, to see Clea in the doorway. Hayley stood just over her shoulder, taller by half a head, with a mug of tea herself. Looking me dead in the eye, she raised the rim of the mug to her mouth and enfolded it with her soft lips, pursing suggestively.

"Uh, no. I'm good," I muttered, turning back to the task at hand.

"Okay, Tom," said Hayley, a tinkle of amusement in her tone, "We're just having a chat. Let us know when you want us back in here."

I nodded without looking up, feeling my manhood rock hard again, crouched down with my back to the two women. I felt a little uneasy, like there was something else going on, and I wasn't authorised to know. I tried to get my thoughts back on track.

The modifications I'd made to the bed were extensive, removing the back board under the bed and instead building the metal frame into the mattress itself. The reason for this was evident when I finally had everything in place and raised the bed into its folded position. The mattress was set into the frame and covered with an enveloping layer of shiny white latex. In the middle, the padding had been removed to create a space just large enough for a woman's body to lie face-up when the bed was horizontal, but then having the back of her body revealed to the room when the bed was folded upright.

There was a pop-seal running the length of the side of the mattress to allow entry and then to create an air-tight seal, and a little electric motor mounted into the wooden frame with a hose that led to the mattress to empty out the air once the woman was secured inside. Folded down to the horizontal, there was a hole and a neckpiece through which she could stick her head, but the rest of her would be trapped inside her latex prison until the vacuum was removed. Seeing it assembled and in position gave me a little warm glow of satisfaction at a job well done.

"I'm done," I called out through the open door, and began to pack away my tools.

I heard footsteps approaching and then stop, and I turned to see.

"Oh."

Clea came to a halt in the doorway, bringing her hand up to her mouth, staring at the slick, featureless white surface in front of her. She seemed frozen to the spot.

"It's ready," I told her gently, "Would you like to come and look?"

Her attention snapped to me, but she still didn't move. There was a hunted look in her eyes.

"You can take as much time as you need," I said, "We can just leave you with it if you want."

The corners of Clea's mouth turned down, unhappily.

"Or if you've changed your mind, that's okay too," I continued, keeping my voice low and even, trying to read her expression.

"Uh. No," Clea stammered.

She stumbled forward, putting one foot awkwardly in front of the other, advancing slowly on the shiny white surface. She reached out a hand and pressed her fingertips against the slick latex.

"It's so soft," she whispered.

Hayley came up behind her.

"Yes, it is," Hayley murmured, "It feels wonderful when it's wrapped around you, holding you. Once you allow yourself to be completely enveloped, it's like nothing on earth."

Clea shuddered, but her gaze never left the white surface.

"Is that how I'll feel in there, Hayley?"

"Yes, I promise. I'll slide you in and then seal you up, just like I said. Then I'll start the motor and you'll feel nothing at the start. Then, bit by bit, your body will have less and less room to move as the air is sucked out. You'll need to lie perfectly still for that part so we don't get any creases over your body. Do you understand?"

Clean nodded, a tiny motion.

"Good. The latex will smooth itself over your bare skin, touching you everywhere. Then, suddenly, it'll go tight and the motor will strain, with no more air to pump out. You'll feel like the latex has bonded to your skin, become your skin, trapping you in the fabric like a fly in amber."

"Then I'm trapped."

"Yes, then you're trapped. You'll be completely helpless until I let the air back in, or Max lets the air back in if you want to stay sealed up tight, waiting for him."

"Helpless?"

"That's right, Clea. You won't be able to escape, no matter how much you struggle and strain. The latex will seal you up and hold you there."

"Oh, fuck," Clea groaned, shuddering.

"Then when you're sealed up, I'll just raise the bed and tidy you out of the way. The only sign that you exist will be the outline of the back of your body sealed inside this surface here. That's all Max will see of his wife when he comes home."

Hayley reached out to stroke the white latex surface too.

"He'll be able to do anything he likes to you."

Her fingers drifted down the shiny material.

"He could stroke you, or tease you, anything he wanted."

Hayley's face drew closer to Clea's ear.

"He could just walk out of the room and leave you like this until he wants to use you."

Clea's breath caught, her cheeks burning now.

"Do you want me to start the process?" Hayley whispered, "Do you want me to envelope your body in this latex. It's going to feel so good when I seal you up."

Clea bit her lip and retreated from the slick white wall, working her fingers on the button of her jeans. I watched in silence as the pretty, unassuming housewife stripped herself, oblivious to our presence now, all her attention focused on the vacuum bed that she was about to be imprisoned within.

She shed her top, already braless, exposing her bare body to us. She was lithe, like a ballerina, slim hips and small breasts. She stepped out of her jumble of clothes and waited.

I stepped forwards and tugged at the bedframe, lowering it to the floor in front of her. Clea's eyes followed every movement, her breath stalling as the back wall was revealed. There were a set of small hooks screwed into the wooden surface. A hook in the middle held the soft white shape of a hood.

"Plenty of storage," I remarked, "You can hang up straps, paddles, cuffs, anything. Then, when you're done, you just fold the bed back up and it's all completely out of the way. There's a lock to stop adventurous little fingers too."

"Yeah," Clea breathed, "They're already getting into everything."

"Your own discreet sex room. How's it look?" I asked.

"Uh, yeah. I just, I don't know what I expected. Uh, it's amazing."

Her gaze shifted from the object on the back wall down to the shiny white mattress, fixing on the shallow depression in the middle. I began to point out the features.

"So, the seal's on the side. The head goes towards the foot of the bed and the feet towards the pillows so that when it's folded upright, you're not upside down."

I reached down to pull up the sleeve of latex attached to the hole in the surface of the mattress.

"Your head goes through here. The latex should roll snug up your neck and form an airtight seal. The mattress is self-reinforced but if you want, you can detach it from the frame and flip it over, to look down instead of up, or out into the room if the bed's locked in its upright configuration."

Clea turned to look at the desk against the opposite wall. Hayley cleared her throat.

"So, Max could put you into the bed, seal you tight, gag you and then get on with his work. You'd have no choice but to hang on the wall, watching him until he noticed you," Hayley volunteered.

Clea shivered a little at her words. I liked Hayley's creativity: she was clearly inspired today. We stood either side of the petite, trembling woman, letting her process in her own time what was about to happen.

"Okay," Clea said at last.

"Good," Hayley responded, taking her hand, but then Clea flinched.