Foreword: These are stories I had previously posted on another site, as are all my stories. They are cross posted there and here. As always, Constructive criticism is appreciated. Enjoy!
*****
I love my job.
Really, I do. Sure I complain about the schedule, the long hours, being on call essentially 24/7. But hey. The perks are great, and can't really beat the pay. I'm what you'd call a hiring manager for an... entertainment company. Problem is, we don't always have the staff on hand for what our clients demand. That's when I'm tapped with a set of requirements and a timeframe. I get my briefcase, and I drive off looking for talent.
Finding talent isn't all that hard. I'm a 6'6" guy, with enough time to stay in the gym fairly often. Blue eyes and short brown hair. A quick wink, a few words, and most women are putty. Not all, mind, some don't like my equipment, or some are dedicated to some joe. Never go after a married woman or one with kids, first thing you learn on this job. Not because of morals though. Clean up is a nightmare. The husband or kids will ALWAYS come looking. Nah the hard part is getting all the requirements on call. Sometimes though, it falls into your lap... Just like Elisa did.
I met Elisa at a coffee shop. Your typical post-highschool independent chick. She'd died her ass length hair a strong blue, jeesus that had to be a lot of dye, and wore these funky thick rim glasses. Some sort of eastern european decent, strong jaw line. All american mutt though, the sort of girl you'd expect in a college town studying 'art' or 'philosophy'. Lots of freckles, check. Thats one requirement down. Freckles are hard to add in post-hire procedures. Tattooed freckles look weird, and they're far more trouble than their worth. Best to just find someone natural.
Tits were tiny though. That was a problem... Tits were easier to fix than freckles though.. and a hell of a lot easier with the tools the company provided than growing hair. Skin looked soft, another check. Her eyes were green, another check. She'd fit the bill nicely. At least as nicely as any vanilla girl did. Girl had hips and curves though, damn. Even without a pair of so much as A cups, her hips and waist swung for the fences. Her ass was a little small, but again, easy enough to fix. Living tissue was simple stuff. You'd think cosmetic shit like hair and freckles would be first thing the company got, but nah, they pushed for the hard stuff. I guess since longer hair and freckles are easy finds, makes more sense to invest in something complex. Corporate logic.
It only took an hour before I invited the girl back to what I called the 'conversion' house.
"So, Elisa?" Names catch attention, more you say someones name, more they trust you. Easy to overdo it though.
".. Huh? Yeah?" She perked up. I made it a point to only say a marks name before a compliment. Makes them anticipate it.
"I was thinking... I've got a good set of paints and a few spare easels back home from an ex that ran off with some high school crush.. Think you'd be interested in those?"
Elisa brightened up, "Hell yes! Those things get expensive!"
Caught.
I flash a winning smile, "Here... you got a ride?"
"I usually take the bus." she replied. Perfect. No need to call the company towers to fence the car out.
"Ahh, don't bother with that," I say, standing up. "I'll give you a ride and drop you off at your place after."
"Awesome!" she exclaimed. At this point, she's probably sizing me up for boyfriend material. Giving, makes her laugh, looks well off.
A half hour later we pull into my garage, the door winding closed. She doesn't think anything about it.. but it's the last time 'Elisa' is seeing daylight.
"I seriously appreciate this," she gushes, walking behind me into the kitchen, well stocked like a photograph of a chefs house, "This is really going to help this month's budget."
"Glad to Elisa. Anything for a girl as gorgeous as you." I say with a wink.
Elisa flusters, blushing and curling up her hands. Shy. That won't last long.
I chuckle, leading her into the basement. The room is dark, almost too dark to see. I'm used to it. I know where everything is. ESPECIALLY the chloroform. Brutal. But fast.
"I can't sMMMFPH! MMM! HMMFMM!" her complaint is muffled before it can really begin, and her cries for help are silenced in a few moments. Soon she goes limp in my arms.
"Welcome to the business Elly." I quip. I've always said that, my mentor said it too. It might be a company tradition.
I strip Elisa down, have to move quickly. Scissors make short work of some supposedly vintage t shirt of a no name band or other.. and the same for her tight jeans. A thong and no bra. I pause for a moment, looking her over for any birthmarks or imperfections. Aside from the tiny ass and tinier tits, shes a perfect match. Freckles all over her chest and face and hips. A shaven pussy... or waxed, looking at it now. Waxed legs too. She was looking for some dick this weekend, I'd be willing to bet. A flick on my cellphone takes a picture of her 'before' for the client to be sent as a comparison. I drag her towards the... well. I call it the 'fixer'. It's a modified set of cuffs and clamps to keep her from struggling. One cuff around each wrist and ankle. One around her neck, one around her waist. The whole setup keeps her bent at the hips like she's begging for a good rutting. With that, she's set. I give her a couple of doses of 'prepper'. It's some black and white murky liquid that 'softens' her up for what comes next.. It also has the annoying side effect of waking her up.
"W-wha.. Ugh.. My ass... Why does my ass hurt... W-what the?!" she barks out, startled, trying to squirm around as she pulls on the bindings. Not that it'll do much good, they're rating for something like a bull. "Let me out of here!"
"Relax Elisa. It's just an interview."
"Interview?! What the hell.. Get me out of here you FREAK! HELP! HELP!" She cries out, not yet realizing her fate.
"Soundproof basement. Won't work." I say with a weary tone, rolling my eyes as I walk over to the wall, opening a closet and pulling out a set of piercing tools.
"Wh-what are you doing with those?" she asks, worried. She had no piercings to begin with. More work, but it's so easy anyone can do it, really. I keep my tools clean, can't have the talent getting an infection after all.
"Oh this? Oh. The client asked for a girl with piercings. And you don't have any." I say, walking over to her, reaching under her. She struggles a bit, pulling at the binds again.. before she freezes, feeling the cold, sterile steel on her clit hood.
"Wait wait I do-AH!" comes the cry. Mild pain, quickly dulled by the prepper fluid. I leave a clean hoop, gold as requested by the client, in the hood, flicking it. She jumps in response, pleasure tingling her "Ah! S-stop that! Let me go!" she commands.
"Can't. Already started the processing." I reply. I am a businessman after all, can't disappoint the client. I kneel at her side, looking at her not-quite-there buds. ".. Hmm.. Those are smaller than I guessed. Oh well. Just means a bigger dose. Ever wanted a boob job?" I ask Elisa with a smirk. Her eyes go wide.
"No no! Let me go! I'm not letting you cut me open!" she protests. Her struggles get more intense.
"Please. Cut you open? Barbaric." I huff out, walking back to the closet and getting a vial and a syringe. I find that the insulin ones work best. More accurate dosing. I know some of my coworkers like using IVs, but that's overkill to me. I kneel beside her as she stares.
