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.
Naomi Oyama worked with the list of employees using the loan program and scanned their social media photos to find the most athletic, beautiful women available. Called in to her supervisor’s office for a meeting with Ms. Oyama, their supervisor, and the HR director, each woman was told they were about to be terminated for real but exaggerated problems with their performance. Supervisors were motivated to be convincing because they earned a bonus for each mailgirl recruitment.
The tactic worked most of the time and once the contract had been signed, Mistress M arrived to take over. Each new mailgirl reluctantly stripped, folded her clothes on the desk, removed any jewellery and had her collar locked in place. It was a most uncomfortable experience being the only one naked in the office. Her mailgirl number was written on her body so she could be easily identified as a new mailgirl. The number on the large dog tag hanging from her collar would be adequate ID, once people recognized her. She was to be referred to only by her mailgirl number and she was to refer to every D-Flowco employee as ma’am or sir, unless invited to call them by their surname preceded by Ms. or Mr. She was never to sit on the furniture.
Within two weeks, D-Flowco had eight mailgirls. Each one of them walked into their supervisor’s office dressed in smart office attire and walked out naked with their arms at their sides fighting the urge to cover up. Their co-workers had a wide range of reactions. Most were surprised, a few teased, and some expressed support; particularly other women, who were relieved that they were not the naked one.
When the mailboy program was announced, Naomi started searching for men who were vulnerable because they were using the loan program. The first mailboy had been caught red-handed so was very easy to recruit. Now, Ms. Oyama needed three more.
It was expected that some of the existing men at D-Flowco would have to leave to make room for new women to meet the gender equity target. Fortunately, several men quit when the first mailboy started working. Their actual reasons were unknown, but they did not seem to like having their average or below average body shapes compared to the naked mailboy who was in excellent physical condition.
Some husbands and boyfriends of the women at D-Flowco were also unhappy with the mailboy, but their unhappiness got them nowhere. The women noted their men had not objected to naked mailgirls in the workplace so they could hardly complain about a mailboy.
The physical part of mailboy and mailgirl training was tough. There was language to learn, too. Mailboys and mailgirls were addressed by their numbers, not by their names. This applied to former coworkers, too. Mailboys and mailgirls were required to speak of themselves in the third person.
Any failure was the mailboy’s fault. “This mailboy is sorry for being late ma’am. This worthless mailboy was too slow and stupid to find his way here before the deadline,” 21 said, after a late delivery that earned him three demerits. “According to regulations, this incompetent mailboy is to be addressed only by his number,” he said, after someone he used to work with called him by name. Years of refinement with the mailgirls meant D-Flowco knew exactly how long it would take to travel between any two offices. For the mailboys, theoretically a bit bigger and faster, they reduced all the timing by five percent. They took the stairs, not elevators between floors. If a group blocked a hallway, the mailboys were not allowed to ask for room to get past.
All the time on deliveries their mailboy management unit, or MMU, was counting down the seconds remaining and everyone knew being late meant demerits, and it didn’t take very many to earn a trip to the spanking bench for correction. Most people were decent about it most of the time, but a friend of his former girlfriend would keep him waiting until his MMU flashed red before she would put down her phone to accept a delivery. Sometimes, the delay was long enough to earn multiple demerits. Anyone requesting a delivery could specify mailgirl or mailboy but, except for upper management, not a specific one. As the only mailboy at first, it was easy for this woman to get him sent to her desk. They both knew he’d be getting a spanking in public she could watch and tell her girlfriend about. Mailboy 21 had cheated several times and his girlfriend found out. Punishment deserved, they thought.