The Mailgirl Solution 2023 2

Hello. My name is Candie Bush and yes--that is my real name. My special friends, Heather and Rob, asked me if I would share the story of my naked interview at ZYX.

Well. I was a writer of business proposals for a major corporation for over four years. Writing the most complex proposals was child's play compared to this recounting of how I undressed completely in front of two strangers, and then opened everything up--everything that I was capable of opening up--and 'showed 'em what I got!'

Why would I apply for a job as a nude office courier? Because I thought that I could do it. I had only heard about mailgirl programs a few weeks prior and I had become obsessed with the whole, crazy concept. But I absolutely knew that I could do it.

My job was eliminated two years ago, and my husband told me he was making enough money; not to worry. Well: after two years I needed a challenge... and working in the nude would be a big challenge!

My husband and I met when we modeled nude together for a life drawing class in college, both of us at the tender age of eighteen. Our first meeting was our first naked pose: we were sitting on separate stools, knees touching, gazing into each other's eyes. Our knees were open, but we were the only ones who could see what was in-between. My husband said that's when he fell in love--and I truly believe him. Men truly are crazed romantics; we women are much more practical.

We have been together eleven years now, and he has taken hundreds of photographs of me nude, or partially nude. He has become, in my eyes, quite the accomplished photographer, although no one else has seen his art.

No one, that is, until ZYX's hiring manager requested three totally nude pics of me, having accepted my initial application. The photos had to have me facing front, rear, and then a side view that showed the curves of my breasts and my buttocks. They had to be from head to toe.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" My husband showed me our final selections on his digital camera.

I nodded. He sent them to my email. I opened the laptop and attached the three nude photos to my response.

I looked at him. He nodded. I clicked 'send.' He took my hand. He led me to our bedroom.

I showed up for my interview in a tight, lightly sequined black minidress. It showed off a lot of my long legs as the hemline was midway between my knees and my thighs. The dress may have been more appropriate for a party, but, considering that I was just going to take it off... I wanted to make a bold, sexy first impression.

I completed the look with black, open-toe heels. The heels had straps that went way up above my ankles; the straps looked like silver chain mail with black trim around each reflective silvery square.

The H. R. executive secretary came to collect me and I had my first shock. The pretty, leggy, thirty-ish brunette was wearing satiny-red, high-cut panties and matching red heels. And that was it.

I tried not to look at her twitching, pantied-ass. I tried not to notice her pert little breasts bouncing along as she led me into Human Resources.

We were waiting outside of the hiring manager's office. He had someone in there, and I could hear a soft female voice.

I had to say something.

"Um... you're not a--"

"A mailgirl? Oh no! For one thing, I'd be overdressed! No; today is casual Friday, and the theme is 'pretty panties.'"

I must have still looked totally confused.

"All female employees may chose to undress--or partially undress--as long as that's what they wear all day. It is completely optional, and not everyone participates."

She looked down at herself. "This is only the fourth time I've done it and... I like it! I certainly get a lot of attention and I feel so sexy."

She put her hand on my arm.

"I've never gone all the way, but even so... I think I'm experiencing just a taste of how our mailgirls must feel."

Then we heard "Okay, Debra: bring in our next victim" I walked in and I got my second shock. There was a beautiful, bleached-blonde woman--maybe mid-twenties--with spectacularly big-nippled breasts. She was kneeling on a circular rug in the middle of the office.

She was completely nude.

Rob stood up and introduced himself. We shook hands. Were we going to acknowledge the naked lady in the room?

"Candie: this is Number Two... as you can probably guess!"

At first I didn't know what he meant; I had kept my eyes averted from her in-your-face nudity. Oh yes: the girl had a three-inch high, black-inked "2" just above her left breast.

She also had some splotches of some kind of sticky mess on both breasts; some had dripped on to her stomach. I stared, blankly... then I suddenly realized what kind of sticky mess it had to be! Oh my god: could I really work in a place that allowed this??

"Number Two: you may greet our special guest, but please remain kneeling."

The girl finally looked up and met my eyes. She seemed nervous. Why was SHE nervous? She was already nude; she had already been 'anointed;' I was the innocent one about to strip naked for a job that I was no longer so sure about!

"Hello, Candie. It is so nice to meet you."

I nodded. "Same here." I didn't know what to do. Was I supposed to walk up, bend down, and shake her hand? Or did we just pat naked mailgirls on their pretty little heads?

I took the opportunity to glance around the office. There was a small round table with three chairs in one corner; was Rob going to offer me a chair at some point? It felt ridiculous to even think it, but I felt so awkward and exposed just standing there--even though I still had all of my clothes on!

Rob seemed to sense my discomfort. "In an ordinary interview, I'd be asking you to sit. We'd talk; we'd get to know each other."

Rob sat back and smiled.

"But... nothing about our interview is going to be ordinary!" He nodded toward the naked girl on the floor. "That's why I invited Number Two to be here. Before someone agrees to become a naked mailgirl, I believe that she should actually meet a naked mailgirl. I trust that you're comfortable with her being here throughout."

I mumbled my assent. I didn't dare to even glance at our bare companion. I could feel her discomfort. Why? She must've been used to being the only naked lady in the room. Well: that was about to change!

Rob continued. "I prefer to get the difficult, most nerve-wracking part out of the way--right away."

He looked me over, up and down, top

to bottom.

"So Candie: why don't we start by taking off that dress? Once it's off--" he patted the corner of his desk "--fold it nicely and put it right here... along with your other things, as they come off as well."

He leaned back expectantly.

I bit my lip and reached behind me. My dress unzipped in back; the zipper went all the way down to the small of my back. I pushed the dress off my shoulders, then over my bra-encased breasts. I was maintaining eye contact with Rob the whole time, and I saw his eyes leap to my chest once it was exposed.

I pushed my minidress down to my hips, then over them. Rob was watching my legs intently as I bent each knee, and at last I pulled the garment off my feet with one hand. I folded the dress as neatly as I could. I stepped up to his desk and placed it where indicated. I stepped back to where I had been standing. I knew that he wanted to watch me strip.

I licked my lips as I reached behind me to unhook my bra. It was a white, satiny demi-bra, with lace trim. I had practiced the unclasping at home, so I had the bra loose, off my shoulders, and then off my breasts and into my hands in ten seconds.

I am 38C - 25 - 36. I should look top-heavy but I don't. My tits are still nice and firm and hardly bobble once freed from restraints. I'm 5' 9", with waist-length black hair, and with violet-blue eyes.

Rob was dazzled. "Amazing: perfectly round and well-sized. Nipples and areola a light pink, and so perfectly round as well. These are the second pair of perfect breasts in this room!"

I glanced at Number Two. She had been watching me, now she quickly looked away. Then I knew it: there was something going on between these two, something intimate. No wonder she was uncomfortable--she was watching her man order another woman to undress!

I placed the bra on the desk, carefully folding one cup into another. I started to back away from the desk--

"Before you go on, we're going to need all of your jewelry off too." Rob pushed a small porcelain bowl toward me. "You can put everything in here."

As I undid my silvery hoop earrings, I thought about how intensely sexual it was, asking a woman who was already undressing to remove her jewelry. It was saying to a woman that every inch of her body was to be inspected; she would be more than nude, she would be denuded of every artifice. No shiny baubles would be allowed to distract the male from his un-encumbered gaze.

I bit my lip. I held up my left hand, looking to Rob imploringly.

"Sorry dear, but the wedding ring has to come off too."

It was a final indignity.

"Shoes too," he added. "Sorry again. All of our mailgirls are barefoot all over!"

I took a moment to look at Rob's desk. My file was out and opened and... all three of my nude photos had been printed out as glossy 8 by 10s. I wondered how many people had carefully studied these pictures. Many organizations rated potential mailgirls from 1 to 10: rating each aspect of face, breasts, pubes, buttocks and legs separately for a combined total.

I sighed.

Shoes under his desk, toe portion pointed out, I returned to position. This was it. I hooked the fingers of both hands in my matching, satiny-white and lacy thong, and pulled it down.

Now that I was nude, Rob's eyes took in my whole body--my legs and my somewhat dangling breasts--as I reached down and bent each knee, slipping my panties off and over my feet.

Not knowing what to do, not knowing how he wanted me I assumed the Feet position after I deposited my neatly folded panties atop my pile of clothes.

I got the biggest smile yet.

"Well done! You've obviously done your research. But move your feet just slightly wider apart, and always try to consciously arch your back, the better to thrust out those amazing breasts.

Your breasts are one of the most beautiful parts of your uniform. Yes: a mailgirl's naked body is her uniform; every part of it. For a mailgirl to say 'oh please sir! Don't look at my clitoris--it's a private part!' that would be laughable! Your clit is now just a button on your uniform. Throw away your concepts of private parts and of privacy--as of today--the day that you stripped off all of your clothes and stood naked in a stranger's office to get a job."

I was trying to take slow deep breaths. I clasped my hands behind me... I looked down, remembering that that was a mailgirl standard. Naked mailgirls did not look up until they were addressed. They stood or knelt--pussy and tits thrust out and primed for viewing.

My mound was totally shaved. I was an "innie," so, standing here like this, all Rob could see was a long pink slit, framed by my plump outer labia. Farther down, my inners did began to poke out a bit, but I was hardly a dangler. My vaginal opening was not visible in this position; it was just barely out of sight.

Rob took a deep breath. "Well, Candie: you did great! And... I'm liking everything I see! Those are fantastic legs, by the way... long and thin, but a very classic, not overly muscular shape." He paused; thoughtful for a moment, taking my nakedness in; in its totality. "Heather: why don't you get up and join me. I'd like to look at a certain something up close, and I'd like a naked mailgirl's opinion."

I looked at Heather--Number Two--in shock. She was staring hard at Rob. She should have said "Oh sir: a naked mailgirl should only be referred to by number" --even I knew that--but she kept her mouth shut.

Heather got up and crossed in front of me to stand next to Rob. I got my first look at her from behind. Oh my! Her lower rear section was nearly as impressive as her upper front.

"Come over here, Candie," Rob directed. As I stepped forward, I noticed Rob's left hand went out, as if he was going to put it on Heather's--or Two's--waist. He caught himself and pulled back. Now I knew that they were intimate.

I was nearly up against Rob's desk. He told me to turn completely around. "I'd like you to bend forward slightly, then reach behind you and open up those sweet lower cheeks."

Wha-at? Did I hear right? I looked over my bare left shoulder at him.

"Sorry! Some of the things we're going to ask you to do may be embarrassing. Just another thing that our new mailgirls have to learn to put up with."

I turned my head back and reached down. I had never opened up my asscheeks for anyone before so I wasn't sure how much was enough.

"Good girl!" Rob exclaimed. "Number Two: take a look. Do you think she's a good candidate for a bleaching?"

A brief silence as the two of them perused my bare buttocks; my anal opening.

"I would say no," Two decided. "Her brown star is more like a dark pink star. I don't like the bleached look; women aren't naked Barbie dolls!"

"Bleaching is an option that gets rid of any discolorations back there," Rob explained. "Some women--nude models, exotic dancers, escorts--also have their anal brown star bleached out. We don't require it here, but if you do go for it, the company will pay if you get the procedure done in public."

I shook my head involuntarily. I was bent over, hands holding my asscheeks open, as a clothed man and another naked woman were inspecting and discussing my anus.

I must have entered another dimension; an alternate reality.

"Okay! You can close up and straighten up. Let's get on to the next embarrassing moment! Candie: go over to that circular rug where Hea--I mean Number Two was kneeling. I'd like you to kneel down, facing us, in the Heels, or squat position."

I was ready for this--I had been practicing at home--much to the delight of my husband. I squatted down--it's not really kneeling--bare asscheeks resting on my bare heels, knees spread as wide as humanly possible, hands on my thighs.

"Very good!" Rob sounded delighted. "More practicing at home? You are truly special!"

I looked down. In this position my outer lips had to give up their job of protecting my inners. My long thin clitoral hood, my lightly puffy pink folds, and a hint of my vaginal opening were all finally visible.

I was special all right--specially exposing my most private of areas!

"We do prefer this position. All women are beautiful--especially naked women! Our mailgirls need constant reminders of how nakedly desirable they are. You fulfill our fantasies of nude serving girls--dare I say naked slave girls?--and you fuel those secret desires. Every day at work is the fulfillment of out naked fantasies.

That's why you're here. That's why your clothes are off. You motivate all of us, whether it is with desire, or scorn, or wonder... as in a woman wondering 'could I do that: could I also go nude?'"

"Great!" Rob actually clapped his hands. "Now, I am going give our potential mailgirl her first assignment."

I watched him rummaging around in his desk. He pulled out a pack of Post-Its. "Stand up for me, Ms. Bush."

I stood in Feet position as he walked around his desk and up to me. I glanced at Two who was watching intently.

Rob had a black pen in hand. I saw write the number "8" on one Post-It. He stuck it just above my left breast.

"There we go!" He was smiling, taking in the look of my big round tits with a yellow, paper square above them.

"Now turn around for me." I heard the pen scratching and I knew what was coming. I felt him place the second Post-It just above my right buttcheek.

Rob clapped his hands again. "We are all set." I heard him go back to his desk. I heard paper shuffling. I did not turn around. I was nothing but a naked female servant--or a naked slave girl--who was awaiting her master's instructions.

"You can turn around, Number Eight."

I had to stifle a gasp. Not only was Rob right behind me, but he had addressed me by a mailgirl number. Something about it all sent a pleasant shudder throughout my body. I unconsciously thrust out my breasts with newly-hardened nipples. I thrust out my pussy as I could feel my soft inner folds getting even pinker and puffier.

Rob handed me a folded sheet of paper. "Deliver this to Craig Johnson."

I opened my mouth to object--

He held up his hand. "This naked mailgirl is not given permission to speak until she makes her delivery."

I blinked hard. I nodded quickly.

I looked up at Number Two. Her whole demeanor had softened. She seemed to let out a deep breath. The naked girl known as Heather when she had her clothes on smiled at me.

I blinked back my tears. Number Two and I were temporarily part of a larger, nude sisterhood. We were both nothing but naked mailgirls; bouncy tits and bare pussies and asses.

Rob patiently explained that Mr. Johnson's office was on the far wall directly opposite his own. I would have to run a gauntlet of open cubicles to the left, staffed primarily by men. Rob told me to explain that I was "a civilian" if they gave me any trouble.

Rob led me to the doorway... then he opened the door. I held my breath... then I bent down, hands on my knees, presenting him with with my bare bottom.

He gave me a good swat. "There's your motivation, Number Eight. Now go!"

I started running, then I slowed down. Running was actually forbidden due to the danger of falling. Now I was naked speed-walking.

It was probably only a distance of perhaps seventy-five feet. But I was totally nude in an unknown, semi-public place for the very first time. It felt more like a marathon.

I passed the open cubicles breathlessly. I saw the backs of men's heads and heard them discussing sports. The gods were with me: none of them noticed me.

I got to Craig's office. His door was open. If I stood outside, nude in the hallway, I would be noticed. I held my breath. I knocked. I stepped inside.

A man in his forties looked at me. He had a messy mop of brown hair and brown eyes. His face had a lot of freckles. I found that cute for some reason. I realized that I was experiencing the "first-time naked rush." I felt as though I was nothing but a bundle of hot naked sex. My entire body was an extension of my pulsing vagina. My knees were weak.

"Good golly Miss Molly!" Craig exclaimed. He steepled his hands. "Thank you lord, for delivering this naked specimen to me. I will never ask you for anything ever again. Well: besides more beautiful naked women."

He stood up. "Who in this wonderfully nude universe are you and to whom do I owe this naked pleasure?"

"I-- I'm Candie!"

"Yes you are!"

"And ummm... Rob sent me with this message." I held it out.

Craig came around his desk. He walked up to me. He was drinking me in: every naked inch.

I was still giddy. If I was naked in a stranger's office then I must be a slut. Worse than that: I was a literally oozing puddle of naked sluttiness.

He strode behind me. He let out an "ahhhh" as he took in my ass. If Craig had ordered me on all fours, I would have gladly offered up that virgin orifice to his Johnson.

He finally took the proffered note. He opened it and laughed. He went to his desk, grabbed a pen, and wrote something. He folded the paper back up and handed it back to me.

"Message received and delivered, Number Eight.." Craig stood there, expectantly. I breathed out. I turned around. I bent over.

"I know it's protocol, but I don't like the ass slap. Hints of violence, don't you think? I much prefer the ass-cup."

And with that, he cupped my asscheeks, one cheek in each hand. Craig kneaded those mounds; he lifted them up--then he spread me open with his hands.