This is a work of fiction and any similarity to real people is coincidental.
Melanie Jenssen was in trouble, or more exactly, her company, D-Flowco was. Just two years ago, she had signed a seven-year contract with the provincial government. The government at that time, was a free-enterprise party that believed many government functions could be delivered at a lower cost to the taxpayers, if private companies did the work. After months of negotiation, her company won the contract to provide all computer systems hardware and software, from mainframes to smartphones and everything in between, to all provincial government offices.
Part of the reason her company won, was due to the high efficiency and productivity in a corporate culture that included mailgirls. These eight young, beautiful, athletic women did deliveries throughout the office, seven days a week, in a uniform of just a smartphone and a smile — they worked naked.
Research in many businesses in several countries proved the concept boosted profits, and Melanie was a believer. She studied everything she could find by Dr. Sarah Scott who had written about her years working as a mailgirl. She met with DumpsterDawg Enterprises CEO Dan Evans, and negotiated a contract to start a mailgirl program at D-Flowco. It included having Naomi Oyama, a former DDE mailgirl working in human resources, come to D-Flowco to manage the mailgirl program.
When Dan asked Melanie whether she expected legal problems, she said nudity was just not a big deal anymore. “Christian crusaders protested against nude sunbathing on Vancouver’s Wreck Beach in the 1970s, but it is now accepted,” she told him. “Nude dancers have been part of the night club scene for decades.”
Since introducing mailgirls more than three years ago, her board of directors had good reason to be happy because revenue and profits were up. The workforce, primarily male, was happy, too. They enjoyed competitive wages and benefits in a modern, attractive workplace. The eye candy running around all day long was a bonus. Staff turnover and use of sick days was low and morale was high.
Many people on staff started their days early to see the nude yoga show with their morning coffee. A twenty minute yoga stretch in a heated, carpeted area of the upper atrium is each mailgirl’s first assignment of the day, after passing the uniform inspection in the shower room. Led by a yoga teacher, there are three shifts at 6:40am, 7:00am, and 7:20am with two or three mailgirls at each. There is no glass barrier between the mailgirls and the spectators, and the yoga poses totally expose the beautiful, young women.
When a provincial election was held one year into her contract there was a change of government and the new party made it a priority to have the composition of staff of large private companies doing business with the government reflect the adult population of the province. D-Flowco had more than a hundred employees so was required to comply.
Meeting the ethnic targets in the new law was no problem. Her workforce already included a good mix of talented Asian, Indigenous, Caucasian, and Black people. The issue was women. Quite a few drifted away to other jobs when the mailgirl program started, and not very many women applied to work there anymore. Melanie had only two years to transform her workforce to a more even balance between women and men. She had to meet the interim one year targets, too. If she failed, she risked having the contract cancelled and that would ruin the tall, Nordic blonde financially.
Looking for a creative way to meet the gender equality target, she decided D-Flowco would be the first company in the province to try naked mailboys. She hoped to make her company a place where women would want to work again.
****
“Oooh, that’s so cold,” Tim grunted. Now known as Mailboy 21, he was kneeling in the change room, a bowl of ice water between his legs, his cock and balls dipped into the icy cold. This was a daily part of his mailboy routine. Erections outside the change room were prohibited and having his bare ass paddled would be the consequence if he broke the rule. The spanking bench with bright lights shining on it was a constant reminder to obey all the rules, or be punished.
He was surrounded by naked women walking between the showers and the change room. Chilling his genitals was what he had to do to fit himself into the metal cock cage. He closed his eyes to try to take his mind off the beautiful bodies around him, and for the second time that morning, tried to stuff his cock into the cage with the help of some cooling lubricant. The first time he tried, he got hard again too soon, and had to start over again in the ice water. It hadn’t helped that Mailgirl 3 had playfully given his shoulder a squeeze as she walked by. This time, he was successful and he locked the cage in place. He did not have a key. He would stay locked until the end of his shift when Mistress M unlocked him.
He didn’t have to wear the uncomfortable cage. There was an anti-erection pill he could take instead, but the effects sometimes tended to last longer than the twelve hours the pill was supposed to protect him from erections. He didn’t have a girlfriend at the moment, but wanted to be able to have sex if he met someone unexpectedly after work.
Tim was caught using the D-Flowco computer system to access provincial government databases to get the address of a former girlfriend he was stalking. He didn’t have access, but when a co-worker who did have access stepped away from his desk one day, Tim did a quick search. That night, he showed up at her front door with a dozen red roses. She was not amused, but guessed correctly how he’d found her. She knew where he worked, knew his boss from a Christmas party, and called him the next morning to complain. She thought that would stop the stalking more effectively than going to the police.
His boss knew the mailboy program was looking for athletic men and, after a quick investigation confirmed the snooping, proposed Tim to Naomi Oyama as the first mailboy candidate.
Tim was summoned to Human Resources that afternoon. John Gilmour, the HR director was sitting at his desk and Ms. Oyama sat in a chair. An attractive, dark-haired woman stood nearby and he recognized her as Mistress M from the mailgirl program.
Not invited to sit, Tim denied everything at first, but what he did not know was the camera on all workstations recorded an image and a screenshot every time someone accessed that restricted database. The security cameras in the room confirmed it. Mr. Gilmour gave him a choice: fired and turned over to the police, or sign a two-year mailboy contract.
Fifteen minutes later, he was naked on his knees facing the wall with his hands resting on his thighs. A large number ’21’ had been written on his lower back and upper right thigh with grease pencil. He wore a smartphone on his upper left arm, a metal collar around his neck, and a steel cage that tightly held his cock and balls. His ass was uncomfortable too, where Mistress M had given him a couple of smacks with her heavy, leather tawse when he was not fast enough attaching the cage. “Hesitation is punished the same way as disobedience,” she told him.
The new Mailboy 21 had often watched the mailgirls in the shower from the coffee shop in the atrium. The large windows were reflective from inside the shower room so the girls couldn’t see who was watching them wash and shave their bodies every morning. This time, he was the one on display, and a large crowd had gathered when word spread through the office that the first mailboy was being trained.
Training with Mistress M was a workout. He worked on the knees position, kneeling on the floor with his knees wider than his shoulders. His cock cage was a shiny reminder of his fall to a much lower status. A quick smack from the tawse emphasized the instructions from Mistress M to keep his back straight and his eyes down. He moved to feet, standing with his feet shoulder-width apart, chest up and eyes down, his hands behind his back, with his right hand gripping his left wrist. Next was toes, up on the balls of his feet with his hands behind his head, elbows out wide and fingers interlaced.
This was the inspection position. Anyone from the company could order him into the toes position to check his hygiene and send him to the showers if he didn’t measure up, despite the inevitable perspiration from dashing up and down stairs from office to office. He cycled from knees to feet to knees to toes until his body glowed with sweat. All the time he was working, Mistress M was telling him the rules he would have to obey every minute of every workday.
After half an hour of working on positions, he was sent to the shower — cold water only — to wash for the next step in his indoctrination, and dry himself with a very small towel. Mistress M unlocked his cock cage so a male esthetician with a portable massage table could give him a total manscaping. Mailboys were not allowed to have body hair. Slowly, and sometimes painfully, Mailboy 21’s body hair was removed from under his arms, his back, chest and legs, and, of course, his groin. He was placed on hands and knees for plucking some stray hairs on his scrotum and anus. Once he passed Mistress M’s inspection, he was returned to the cold embrace of his metal cock cage. “Mailgirl 7 will join us in a moment, and take you out to continue your training,” she said.
****
Mailgirl recruitment at D-Flowco was a carrot and stick process. The hours working naked were long, frequently including shifts on the weekend, but a generous completion bonus would be paid at the end of the two-year term when mailgirls would be welcome to return to their previous clothed position. About one third of D-Flowco employees had taken advantage of the company’s low interest loan program to help them buy a home, a vacation, or pay off debts. Remaining an employee with good performance evaluations was a condition, and breach of that could trigger a repayment demand at retroactive credit card interest rates.