"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?"
