Club Amazon is perhaps the most famous of the planet's attractions. An establishment that caters to just about everything an adult could want, it provides food, drink, music, dance, and most of all, sex. The carnal desires of every man, woman, and every other gender can be found and explored therein, in safety and comfort. It was only inevitable that you would pay the club a visit one day, and when you did you indulged yourself with relish and abandon. A good time was had by all - rather too good a time, as it turns out. When the morning came, finding you a little hung-over, it brought with it a staff member with your unpaid tab, and it's one that you sheepishly admit you can't afford to pay. As you wither under the glare of her arched eyebrow, she speaks over her earpiece to her boss, before eventually telling you to put on a dressing gown and come with her.
The boss's office is tastefully decorated, but you're not really in the mood to be appreciating the decor just at the moment. The club's boss sits behind her desk, staring down at you. Her expression is friendlier than her underling's was - one might even call it understanding - but you think you detect a hint of a smirk about it, which worries you rather more than the steep bill did.
"We take proper payment quite seriously here at the Club, as I'm sure you can appreciate," she explains to you. "I am certainly glad your first visit to our little establishment was an enthusiastic one, but I'm afraid we cannot simply overlook your payment. I am, however, willing to overlook your impecunious state - if money does prove insufficient to cover costs, we're also willing to accept payment in service."
Well, that doesn't sound so bad, you think. A day or two working off your debt shouldn't be too arduous. You wonder what you might be expected to do - serving drinks, washing dishes, cleaning floors--
"Sexual service, specifically - and I think you can start by servicing me!" The smirk returns full force, and you boggle at the suggestion.
It's not just the request itself that staggers you, but the logistics of it. The people of this planet are giants compared to you - though built in similar proportion and anatomy, their species' average height is twice as tall as yours, and the boss is no exception. Even sitting down, she towers over you, and if she were standing up you'd only come up to her waistline. The thought cannot help but cross your mind: what can you possibly do for such people? How can you possibly fill their desires?
It seems you're soon to find out, as the boss calls for another underling to take you off to be dressed for your new role. You are whisked off through the building to the "dressing room" on one of the lower floors. The room is decorated in shiny white tiles, and a faint tang of lubricant and polish hangs in the air. In the centre of the room stands a raised circular platform surrounded by machinery. You don't know what it does, but you suspect you'll soon find out.
The underling stands before you, arms folded. "Alright, then. Take off your clothes and enter one of those booths." She points to one of the walls, wherein several frosted glass doors are set.
You try to shrug off the embarrassment of being naked in this situation, handing her your pyjamas and dressing gown before obediently entering one of the indicated booths. The door seals shut behind you, and from a hidden doorway in one of the walls slides out a toilet. Given your nervous state of mind, it's quite a welcome sight, and you take the opportunity to relieve yourself. Once you've dealt with your business and flushed, the toilet retracts back into the wall. For a brief moment you are alone in the empty booth, until a set of metal arms descends from the ceiling, surrounding you and each bearing an array of shower heads. Warm soapy water begins to trickle out of each one, rapidly gaining pressure as the arms start to rotate around you. It's a clinical experience but a cleansing experience, and as the jets of water turn to hot air to dry you off, you're left feeling quite refreshed. Once you're suitably washed and dried, the arms retract, and the booth opens up again.
The underling beckons you out. Your clothes are nowhere to be seen. "Nice and clean? Good. Now, stand on the platform and hold still. This shouldn't take long."
She points to the platform in the centre of the room. You take your place on the metal grating in the middle of it all. As you do, she operates the console attached to the unit, and a set of laser probes descend from the top to scan your body. Their invisible light washes over you to build up a 3D image of your form, before retracting once they're done.
Attached to the unit's console is a small door no bigger than a toaster. It opens up and the underling removes something shiny and white from it - it unfurls in her hands and is revealed as a set of latex briefs. You can't help but notice the complex-looking arrangement built into the inside that is no doubt intended for your most intimate areas, and as the underling applies a dollop of lube to a generous-looking buttplug, she grins salaciously at you. She approaches you, briefs held out before her, and she lifts your feet one after the other to slide them on. You can't help but feel almost like a dolly playing dress-up in her giant hands. In one smooth movement she lifts the briefs up your legs, and you manage to suppress a yelp as the tip of the buttplug prods your butt. You know that's only the start though, and you hold your breath as she presses the anal intruder into your waiting hole - it's not too large and slides in easily, but it makes for quite a filling presence once it bottoms out in your bottom. You don't have much time to muse on the sensations though, as the underling works your genitals into the front of the briefs, gently working thin, short tubes and moulded rubber into place around your privates. With one last tug of the waistband she settles everything firmly into place.
She steps back to admire her work, and you look down to do the same. Your hips are sealed in shiny white rubber, and your genitals are concealed beneath a gently protruding hump, leaving you with an androgynous bulge over your usual equipment. You take a look behind you, to see your buttocks perfectly defined and highlighted by the snug latex. It's perhaps not the friendliest way to find out, but your butt does look good in rubber.
"We're not done yet, friend! Stand up straight and hold still - this should only take a minute." At the underling's bidding, you stand to attention on the platform as she presses a few buttons.
A wet "schllorp" sound emanates from beneath you, and a mechanical hum heralds a metallic ring rising up from underneath the grate. As it ascends past the thin metal bars and your ankles, you feel a wet sensation crawling over your feet, soon replaced by an unmistakable tightness identical to that around your hips. You hazard a brief glance down, and true to expectations the ring is filled with a sheet of shiny semi-liquid latex, extruding itself over your body as it slowly lifts up around you. Your ankles, your shins, your knees, your thighs... the cool rubber layers itself tightly over your skin, cleaving to every contour and quickly absorbing your body's warmth as it dries on you. It seals smoothly over your briefs and leaves no bump or seam to betray its presence. The ring doesn't stop there, though, creeping up over your tummy, your arms, your chest, sealing everything under smooth, shiny latex.
"Keep your mouth closed."
At this warning, you can't help but hold your breath in anticipation of it covering your head. Just as the ring reaches your neck, an apparatus of thin metal arms lowers itself to face level. The first two arms, on either side of your head, dart forward to press soft plugs in your ears. You barely have time to notice this before the rubber reaches your chin. You press your lips firmly together as latex is extruded over them, and your nose soon follows. More of the arms do their thing, pressing two metal eyelets into your nostrils and one between your lips, allowing you to breathe clearly. By now you can see the rubber moving up to eye level, and you shut your eyes tightly as the shiny black surface engulfs them, washing over your temples and forehead like the surface of the ocean. As the rubber seals up over the last of your body, a pair of surfaces press themselves gently over your eyes, and you feel the cool air of the room on you eyelids as they come away. You open them and your vision is unimpeded. You see the ring, now devoid of the extruding rubber, retract back down in the platform's workings, as one last machine descends and presses itself over the lower part of your face for just a second, before it too retracts back in the machine.
You glance at the underling. She looks you up and down, clearly approving of what she sees. "Well, well - you turned out pretty nicely. Want to see for yourself?"
She presses a button on her console, and a set of panels on the wall in front of you retract to reveal a mirror, and your reflection. From head to toe you are sealed perfectly and seamlessly in rubber, gleaming in the room's light. The tight layer encapsulates and shapes your body, squeezing it snugly into a sensuous form, an idealised version of your normal body sculpted by the all-encompassing layer for maximum aesthetic appeal. Beyond the general shape of your body though, the shining form you see rubbing itself reverently in the mirror is a generic, almost featureless one - no identifying marks of features mar its smooth texture below the neck. Your head bears the only markings and features of this new form, and even then only a few. Your eyes gaze out from small cut-outs just big enough to admit unrestricted vision, and your ears and nose are still visible as subtle bumps in the surface of your head, the latter bearing the eyelets that now pass for nostrils. The third such eyelet, its matte coating blending into the black latex surrounding it, marks the position of your mouth, now smoothed over and invisible beneath the latex. Painted over the area between your nose and chin is a white capital A in an elegant copperplate font, the emblem of Club Amazon, marking you as their staff - or their property.
While you're still admiring yourself in the mirror, enraptured by your resplendent rubberised reflection, you barely even notice as the underling holds up one last item, until she closes it around your neck and fastens it shut - a thick leather collar, buckled snugly around your neck. A metal ring hangs from the front, to which the underling clips a long leash.
"Come along, sweetie, no time to admire yourself. You've got work to do!"
With that, she leads you back through the club. The latex of your suit squeaks and creaks as your legs brush against each other, and the tight material cleaves to your skin in rubber's insistent way. It's hard not to feel turned on, and were it not for the bulge sealing your bits away, you might have trouble keeping your hands away.
Soon enough you've returned to the boss's office. The boss herself has moved from her desk to a couch by the wall, upon which she reclines with casual elegance. As the underling leads you into the room, she spies your newly suited form and admires the sight.
"Well, didn't you turn out nicely! Now you look the part."
The underling leads you over to the boss and hands over your leash, before bowing and leaving to return to her own duties. Now alone with you, the boss pulls you in a little closer and looks you up and down. Under the latex, you can't help but blush under her gaze.
"Now, I suppose you've been wondering how exactly you'll be servicing most of our clients, given our relative sizes?" The boss is quite right - even sitting down, she's almost half again as tall as you. Most of the customers of Club Amazon are of the same stature as her. You like to think that you're pretty capable at sex, but it's still going to make things difficult.
"Well, not to worry, sweetie. There is a solution..." The boss gestures to a machine by the side of the couch. It's a simple-looking machine in the same design as the rubberising machine downstairs, a boxy unit coming up to the level of your chest. Set into the top of the machine's front panel are two round holes, each looking big enough to admit your arms. You glance questioningly at the boss, guessing at the machine's intent. She nods back and gestures to the machine.
You can't help but hesitate, but you've come this far... You reach your arms out and slide them into the machine. They slide smoothly inside, until you're past your elbows inside. The moment your hands bottom out inside the device, the edges of the openings suddenly inflate and close around your upper arms. Deeper in the machine, more such rings close around your elbows. The grip of the machine is gentle and comfortable, but it holds you fast and you don't think you could pull out until it's done with you. You resign yourself to letting the machine do its work. Something warm and heavy spreads over your forearms, pooling in whatever cavities the machine contains and creeping up over your arms to cover them. The weight of it presses in on your limbs, and as the seconds tick by you find that flexing your fingers becomes harder and harder as the substance hardens. Eventually they're pressed together like a mitt, and any movement is resisted by the thick coating around them, barely giving way no matter how hard you push back. Eventually the warmth inside the machine fades, and the inflatable restraints release you. You remove your arms from the machine and see...
...Dildoes. Your forearms have been turned into massive silicone dildoes. All the way down to your elbows has been moulded over with the distinct features of a phallus. The head replaces your hands down to the wrist, veins run along the length of the thick shafts your arms have become, and just to complete the look, a hefty set of balls dangles from each elbow.
You stare aghast at the boss, and she can barely suppress a snigger at your brand new accessories. "Looks like you're pretty well-endowed now! That should allow you to satisfy our larger customers. But just to make sure... " The boss pulls her pencil skirt up and works a hand under the waistband of her underwear. She works them down her thighs and deftly throws them across the room with one elegant kick. She spreads her legs to show off her uncovered vagina. Her smirk takes on a distinctly salacious air as she pulls on your leash to draw you irresistibly in.
"Go right ahead, sweetie. Put your new dildarms to work..."
You're not going anywhere with that collar around your neck, and the boss's shins gently entwined around behind you. And now that you've got these dildarms, you can't help but want to try them out. You reach out hesitantly, prodding at the boss's pussy. Being what they are, you can't help but feel as though you're fistbumping her clit. She wriggles into a more comfortable position, sliding down to put herself in easy reach of you. You take the implicit suggestion, and press your dildarm inside her. She moans softly, and rubs her leg along your own. Buoyed up by her positive response, you press in a little harder, a little deeper, working your dildarm's head slowly in and out, in and out, between her pussy lips.
"Mmmmhh... ohh yeah, you're getting the hang of this..."
She slides down the couch a little further. Her broad buttocks come into view beneath the pussy you're diligently working. You detect a subtle suggestion, and you hazard rubbing her butt with the tip of your free cockhand. As the head brushes over her butthole, she lets out a little gasp. You smile a little under your hood, and press gently deeper into her back passage.
The boss writhes on the couch like a cat enjoying a sunbeam, and is practically purring just like one too. You pump your fat dildarms alternately in and out of her two holes, filling one as you draw out of the other. The soft, smooth surface of your silicone schlongs glides easily into each tight hole. The boss's pleasured purring is turning into a symphony of moaning and gasping at your ministrations, a glowing review if ever there was one. You're really getting into the swing of things now, and you decide to quite literally go balls-deep.
As your dildarm reaches its out-stroke in her pussy, you draw it almost all the way out... then shove it firmly all the way in. It slides deep inside her, and even with her giant anatomy you're surprised your limb doesn't bulge out her tummy. Regardless, your efforts bear fruit when the boss lets out a shuddering gasp as your dildarm plunges into her. As you pull your limb back out, you shove the other back in with equal gusto, ramping up your rhythm.
By this point, the boss is practically screaming. As you pump in and out of her with all your might, you get the feeling that she's getting dangerously close to climax. Listening to the tone of her moaning and panting, watching her writhing and squirming, you carefully choose your moment. You draw both dildarms out to their tips, and finally ram both of them home. She cries out long and loud as she cums, and as the orgasm fades she gently slumps back on the couch. You slowly and gently withdraw your dildarms from inside her, both coming loose from her orifices with a gentle "pop." The boss remains reclining on the couch for a long while, riding out her afterglow. As she gently lifts herself back up, her brow still glistening with sweat, she smiles blissfully at you.
"Mmmm... nicely done, sweetie! Looks like you've got this thing figured out." She tugs you forward on your leash, pulling you into a kiss. Her lips press against your "A" and the rubber-covered lips underneath.
As she disengages, she smiles naughtily at you once again. "As much as I wish I could keep you all to myself, I think we'd better get you cleaned and polished and ready for business. Something tells me you're going to be very popular..."