"Welcome to the crew new girl," I say as she sits down across the table. She looks nervous, and a little giddy.
"Hi... thanks?" She glances around the room quickly, taking in the rest of the performers. More than a few eyes look back curiously.
"It's not quite how I imagined. Everybody seems... so normal. Nice, even."
I respond with a nonchalant shrug. "We're all here to earn a paycheck. When we aren't getting our guts rearranged, it's pretty much just home for most of us. You'll learn soon enough but we're a pretty tight-knit lot."
She doesn't respond, and after a moment I go back to eating. She takes a few distracted bites, but her mind clearly isn't on lunch. A minute later she starts to speak again but trails off after a few words.
"You look like you're trying to figure out where the monsters went. You know that's only at show time right? The rest of the time we're just people."
She looks a little sheepish, and makes herself stop gawking. "Sorry. I'm probably making a spectacle of myself."
I put my spoon down and peer at her. "Are you bought?"
Her head snaps up and she shoots me a piercing and guarded look. I flap my hands at her, brushing aside her suspicion. "I'm not trying to get an angle on you, I'm just trying to figure out how you ended up with this job. You don't seem like you know much about it."
She shakes her head cautiously, and I nod, a little relieved. "Good. The ones who get sent down here by owners... don't always last very long. They burn out, or get hurt. You need to be able to call your own shots in this job, take a rest day when you need it."
I nod my head slightly to indicate the rest of the crew around the room. "Nobody here is going to try to get an angle on you. We're all safer as independents, and we have to be able to trust each other to work together. There's some rules to this job you'll want to learn, that's the first one. Everyone's independent and we like it that way. Accidents happen to the ones who don't respect the rules."
She looks a little unsure at this idea. Native-born Zayiri struggle with this one a little bit. In a city where people are bought and sold as often as loaves of bread, being on the lookout for someone trying to force you into indenture-ship is a necessary survival instinct.
"Just the pit crew though. Us, the display meat. The handlers and other staff, you have to watch them. That's another one of the rules: the rules only apply to us, and we don't talk to others about them." I stared at her intently until she gave a little nod of understanding.
When she does, I relax my gaze and soften my tone. "So how did you end up with this job?"
She blushes and looked down at her half-eaten meal. "I knew... I met someone once, who did this. They said it's not as bad as it looks, that you get used to it, and that the money's good. I need the money, and I think I can do it."
I can't help but give a little chuckle. "And now you're wondering if you're in over your head." She nods.
"Time will tell. There are some old-timers here who started out just like you. If you're made of the right stuff, you'll do okay."
"Have you had any work done?" She looks nonplussed. "On your body, girl. Have you ever had a vivimancer work on you?"
She shakes her head slowly, and I suck my teeth. "They'll probably limit you to penny shows for now. Bondage and dungeon stuff, low budgets and cheap tickets. The pay isn't great, but it'll be all professionals so you'll be in good hands.
"You can make enough to live comfortably on with that stuff, but if you want to get into the hard core monster shows, the right play is to save every coin until you can go to the weird-beards and get a rubber cunt.
"They don't work cheap, but the show-masters usually won't let you sign on for big ticket stuff unless they know your body's been prepared to handle it."
Her eyes slowly get bigger as she processed the words. "Do they... is it really rubber? down there?"
Her naivete gets the better of me and I laugh out loud at the question. "No honey, it's not really rubber. They just magic your body up to make you extra stretchy so you can take rough handling without getting hurt. They can do all kinds of stuff to you if you've got the money. I'm fully custom downstairs, all pleasure, no business. "
"Does everyone get a rubber cunt? Is it required?"
"Well the boys mostly get other parts worked on. I think there's at least one boy with a vagina hanging around still, but I'm not sure I've seen him recently. But no, not everyone. It depends what sort of shows you're interested in.
"I don't know how many shows you've watched but they aren't all about getting crammed full of cock. There's snuff shows, torture shows, tickle shows, all sorts. Most of those are specialty stuff though, smaller audiences paying premium prices, and less demand for crew.
"Some of it takes a lot of money to do, some of the regular performers go through two or three bodies a week, with full-service soul projections and all. The really bloody shit, the audience pays big money for it, and some of them bring an oculus with them. They want to feel sure they're getting the real thing.
"It takes balls of absolute steel to do those shows, more than I've got. The crew that does them, the ghouls, deserve your respect, even if some of them seem creepy."
I return from an unintended distant stare with a little shake of the head. "Anyway, enough about that stuff. What sort of shows do you enjoy?"
She turns beet red and struggles to answer. I pat her shoulder gently. "Aw babe everyone here is some kind of freak, nobody's going to judge you for watching them lick sweat off a horse's balls or whatever. I go to Jane's shows all the time, right Jane?"
Across the room, a red-headed man with luscious full lips and delicate features looks up and gives me a thumbs up. "He's such a vision. He can cum on command, it's really something. He's usually doing shows where he's being hypnotized or mind-slaved. I love when he shuffles around like a zombie. And what a cute butt!"
She tries to speak but only manages a hoarse croak. Screwing up her eyes she tries again. "I saw a lady have sex with a man with a dick as big around as her thigh. She looked like she was about to die from pleasure. I sort of... wished I was her. When he went inside her it looked like she was giving birth, I couldn't stop thinking about it. Does it feel really good?"
I give her a little smile. "If it gets you off then maybe it will. If you want to you can always get yourself modified to make it feel better. Some of the crew gets g-spots in their throats to make sucking dicks more fun. You can tell who because they get horny when they eat.
"If getting stuffed like a turkey sounds hot to you that's a great place to start. Some people tend to settle on the things they're hot for, some people go for stuff they just don't mind doing every day.
"You'll find your thing eventually, whether it's that or something else, but it sounds like a nice stretchy snatch should be your first mod. Once you know what works for you, you can start saving for more dates with the weird-beards.
"The big boy shows always sell well and some of them you could start doing right away without any other mods. They do 'No Tribute' a few times a week--that's a solo show, where they put you in an open ring with a pack of those lion men from up north.
"They chase you around for a while and then round you up and take turns shooting loads in your pussy while you moan and yell for the audience about how you're getting extremely pregnant.
"It's pretty easy, the lion boys get a cut of ticket sales but they do all the work. All you have to do is be able to put on a sexy face while you're being railed by a lion for an hour."
She utters a shaky little sigh and seems to relax a bit. "That doesn't sound too bad I guess..." I shook my head in concurrence. She eyed me up for a moment, working up some nerve. "So... what kind of shows do you do?"
"I do a bunch of stuff, but mostly the 'survival' competitions. They set up a sort of obstacle course and a bunch of us line up and race to be the one to 'escape' while we're being chased by whatever monsters they decide to bring out.
"I'm a ringer, the monsters always catch me early while the fast ones try to escape by tripping each-other to slow down the chasers and whatnot. It's not a bad job. The runners' job is to look desperate and betray each-other to excite the audience and build tension. Mine is just to get fucked til I'm stupid and sloppy so the perverts have something to get off to.
"It's pretty easy honestly, I just find the slimiest monster with the biggest dick, and then I trip right in front of it and squirm and moan while it tries to shove my ovaries up between my lungs. I'm all custom inside, I've got a nice deep slippery cunt that goes all the way up to my neck, so I can take all kinds of dick and feel great. The hardest part is acting like it's a new experience for me every time."
She gulps audibly. "Wow. That sounds... intense. You're really fine with it?"
A languid grin creeps on to my face. "It's not bad. I kind of love it actually. I get off on strangers watching me be the world's biggest slut. I want them to leave knowing that they'll never have sex as good as it looks with me. I like thinking that I'm making a little hole in their hearts that they can never, ever fill."
