Gromet's PlazaMachine Stories

FutureCom's New Barista

by LFW

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© Copyright 2019 - LFW - Used by permission

Storycodes: Machine/f; office; contract; service; ai; bodymod; controlled; mind-control; enslave; bond; cuffs; prepare; transform; insert; bladders; breast; lactate; milk; costume; objectify; drink; dispenser; tease; torment; orgasm; shock; cons/reluct; X

Clara's brow furrowed slightly as she answered the questions on the touch screen in front of her.

Have you had any children? – No.
Are you on any hormonal birth control? - No
Do you live alone? - Yes
Any family or siblings? - No siblings.  Parents passed when she was a teenager.
Do you have any piercings or body modifications? - No
Have you had any severe injuries or surgeries? – No
Any fears or phobias? – Can’t think of any.

These seemed like strange questions for someone applying to be a barista.  Granted, the position read "In-house Personal Beverage Service Operations", but still, these seemed strange.

As if reading her mind, Karen, the personnel worker across the desk from her, piped in: "Yes, I know some of the questions are a bit personal, but FutureCom is a very unique company and we need to know our employees almost as well as they know themselves to make sure they will fit in." 

Clara looked at Karen.  She was a tidy professional.  Attractively built, blouse, pencil skirt, and hair in a tight bun behind her head.  She was all business.  But it was the circular electronic device that appeared on her temple that helped make her point about FutureCom being a different company.  As far as Clara could tell, Karen didn't have any input devices on her desk.  Other than the tablet in front of Karen, the one in front of Clara, and something that looked like a hand scanner to Clara's right, Karen's desk was devoid of any mice or keyboards.  Clara deduced that either she didn’t need them to do her job, or that unique device on her temple did it for her.  FutureCom's motto also came to mind: "FutureCom - Where technology drives us".  Seemed subtly backwards to Clara, as FutureCom was known for developing cutting edge technologies.  Wouldn't they drive the technology?

It didn't really seem to matter, though, as Clara's degree in American literature had not brought her here to participate in developing new technologies.  No, she was here to serve coffee.  As depressing as it was, it had been the only job Clara seemed able to apply for.  Even that was pushing it as most service businesses had replaced their workers with bots and serving stations since the minimum wage had been doubled ten years ago.  She wondered why a company as high tech as FutureCom needed or wanted people to serve their coffee.  Again, she didn't want to know.  She just needed a job.  Any job.

"It's all confidential information, of course." Karen added. "The data will be restricted to our internal systems and not available to any internal or external persons except on emergency need to know basis." 

That did make Clara feel a little better.  FutureCom was also considered one of the most secure organizations in the world.  Governments routinely trusted FutureCom with their data.

Clara looked back at her screen and answered a few remaining questions and hit the "complete" button at the bottom.

Karen responded immediately. "Excellent.  This all looks good.”

Clara asked nervously, "So when will I know if I got the job?"

"Our system has verified your compatibility and information.  If you'll read and accept our terms of employment and confidentiality agreements, we can start your integration immediately".

"Wow, that’s fast!"  Clara said excitedly.

"Technology makes for efficient business!" Karen responded.  "That and a good cup of coffee!" she added with a wink.

Clara's excitement to have a paycheck, any paycheck, overwhelmed her mind as she hurriedly flipped through the contract in front of her, reading almost none of it.  When she got to the bottom, the screen went blank and the hand scanner to her right lit up.

"If you'll confirm your agreement to the terms by placing your hand on the scanner, we'll get you started immediately" Karen directed.

Clara was put back by the quick disappearance of the contract as well as the sudden increase in pace.  She hadn't thought she'd be starting today, but the sooner she started, the sooner she would get paid, she thought.  It didn't even occur to her that they had not negotiated compensation as her hand reached for the awaiting scanner.

As Clara pressed her hand flat on the scanner, a green line scanned from top to bottom and then back again.  A sharp "Pssst" sound emanated from it just as Clara felt a prick in the center of her palm.  "Ow!" she yelled, recoiling her hand.  "What was…." was all she got out before her body went limp and she slumped back in her chair.  

Karen spoke without getting up from her station.  "Excellent.  Welcome to FutureCom!  I’ve been informed that the initial integration process will go better if you're not awake but, rest assured, Jarvis will take good care of you during the process. Thank you again for joining our company and I look forward to working with you!"

Clara's gaze slipped to her side and her vision began to blur.  Just before it all went dark, she thought she saw a door slide open to her right and a man push a cart into the room. 


Clara woke with a start and tried to sit up.  With a jolt she found that everything but her arms and head were restrained to whatever she was laying on.  As her eyes cleared, she found that she was looking through lenses.  She could see the lights on the ceiling above her clearly, but everything was slightly tinted by the transparent material.  Bringing her hands to her face, she felt a thin but rigid mask.  She felt along it discovering it extended from her hairline to the top of her neck and behind her head over both ears to the base of her hair in the back.  With her fingers she could feel cables of some kind extending to a collar below it.  Looking at her hands, they were normal except for two metal cuffs on her wrists. 

When she began to try and speak, Clara realized that her mouth was plugged and tightly restrained within the mask.  She also had the feeling something extended into her nostrils.  She could breathe easily through both her mouth and nose, but making words was quite out of the question.  She could move her neck somewhat, but the cables limited range and her search didn't show her anything more about the room or her situation. 

Moving back to the collar she had found, she began moving down her torso, feeling with her hands.  She appeared to be wearing some kind of rigid metal suit that extended from her collar down.  It felt rigidly adhered to her along her back and spine.   As she felt around, she noted that her breasts were exposed, though there appeared to be straps extending from near her armpits out to and covering each nipple.  She noted with a wince of pain that whatever was at their ends was adhered to each nipple and tugging on them was not pleasant.

Getting nervous and frustrated, Clara struggled again and grunted against her gag.  What the hell was going on?  What was all of this?

As if in response, the lenses in front of her eyes lit slightly and a heads-up display blinked to life.  The image that appeared was of a woman's form, laying on a table and struggling, her arms moving about trying to get herself up.  Clara froze as she realized she was seeing an image of herself from above.

The mask on Clara's face was painted to look like her face: skin color, make up, lipstick, all like she would have done it.  The eyes, however, looked like greyed out lenses and the mouth was fixed in a slight "O" shape with some kind of hole or socket in the middle.  Whatever the material was, it was surprisingly thin for its stiffness as she could not move underneath it, but it was thin enough not to significantly distort her features.  It followed her hair lines exactly, covered her ears, and appeared seamless.  On her left temple was one of the pucks Karen had been wearing.

Thinking of her legs for the first time, Clara saw two black high heeled platform boots extending from her upper thighs down to her feet.  Trying to wiggle her feet, she noted that they fit her feet down to the shape of her toenails.  Almost as if they had been filled with putty as they were put on.  There was also no slipping to be found anywhere else within them.  The soles of the boots appeared to be fixed to a small platform below and small cables or straps extended from the top edges of the boots to the suit covering her body, not unlike garter straps.

Clara's midsection from collar bone to groin appeared to be covered in a rigid, shiny silver, one-piece shell.  It fit her every curve perfectly and, like the mask, was incredibly thin and rigid.  The suit was open around her upper chest, breasts, and her belly.  From her groin, two silver lines passed up, out, and over her pelvis and around to the sides of her hips where they met the back of the suit that extended up her sides and fully covered her back.  Another band passed just beneath her breasts.   She noted that her breasts seemed perkier than usual, though she had no idea why.

Following the edges of the suit under her breasts, along her sides and back towards her groin, she could find no seam or gap between the suit and her skin.  If it weren't for the sci-fi like over exposure, she thought she would have liked the look. And wondered how it was made to fit her so perfectly.

"It was grown" a male computerized voice answered.

Clara froze.  She hadn't voiced the question.  So how could someone answer it?  And where was this person talking from?

The video display disappeared, being replaced with a text overlay that matched the voice as it spoke.

"I am Jarvis, the FutureCom operations AI.  I can read your questions through the cerebral interface on your temple and wirelessly communicate with you and all FutureCom personnel via wireless access.  Yes, they named me after the Iron Man AI and no I don't know why or what it means."

Clara blinked in disbelief.  It was reading her thoughts and answering her questions as she had them.  Her mind reeled.  Then, with some effort, she cleared her thoughts and focused.  She wanted to know what was going on and what had happened to her.

"You have entered into employment with FutureCom.  Your position is In-house Personal Beverage Service Operations and it is a full-time position.  You have been modified to facilitate performing your duties."

"Your duties include providing personal beverage service to the FutureCom employees at this facility."

"Your modifications are not permanent, though they cannot be removed without significant effort and not until the completion of your contract.  Their functions allow for ergonomic support, beverage transport, and command , control, and communication functions."

"No, you cannot go home or leave this facility until the completion of your contract."

"Your lease has been suspended and your belongings moved to storage."

"Social media access may be allowed pending good performance, though all messages will be monitored and filtered to maintain FutureCom security."

"This room will serve as your workspace and quarters when you are not elsewhere in the facility."

Before Clara could think of the next question to ask, the table she was laying on began tilting forward to vertical. As her weight shifted forward, she realized her suit was attached to the table by a junction at the center of her back.  When it reached vertical, two protrusions extended slightly forward of the surface near her hips.  Without only soft beeps as warning, the cuffs on her wrists were drawn to the protrusions and fixed to them with a clank.

Clara grunted again in disapproval, but Jarvis paid little attention.

"We will now test your systems and prepare you to begin service."

"Nutrition input system"

A small robotic arm arrived from behind Clara's left ear and pointed itself towards her mouth.  It had a tube along the arm ending in a flange.  It moved towards her mouth and she felt it click into place over her lips on the outside of the mask.  She then heard a hissing sound and saw a brown substance travel along the tube.  When it reached her mouth she felt the sludge exit the gag and fill the back of her throat.  With little other recourse, Clara hurriedly began swallowing the thin peanut butter like contents before it made her choke.  Between swallows she noted that it didn't have much of a taste.

"More pleasurable nutrition is dependent on your performance."

When the food ended, it was followed by water, which Clara took without issue.  Then the tube disconnected and returned behind her head.

"Waste management."

Clara heard another hissing sound and then felt her bladder and bowel begin to fill with cool fluids. Clara jerked in shock and panic but could find no freedom or relief as her bladder and bowel were filled to near capacity.   Feeling the pressure, well beyond her normal thresholds, Clara groaned and shook in her restraints while she was held in inexorable discomfort.  Then, moments later, the pressure subsided, and the fluid was drained.  Clara panted in relief as the last of the fluid exited.

It suddenly dawned on Clara that she had no idea how her suit was supposed to help her do her job serving beverages, or why it was so integral to her person that it controlled her mouth, bladder, and bowels.  It was then, as she wiggled against her constraints, she discerned that in addition to the catheter there were tubes extending into her anus and vagina. 

"Fluid containment"

Before she could ponder them further, she jerked in surprise as the two objects quickly grew into her. Like inflating balloon-animal balloons, they widened as they extended through her openings filling her interior spaces. Clara's breathing quickened as she felt the fluid filled object in her groin swell, extend into her vagina, then open her cervix, and extend into her womb.  She screamed into her gag and jerked violently against her restraints.

"Your contract specifically granted full bodily access for the term of your employment."

Clara instinctually tried to widen her legs to make room for what felt like a giant shaft having been shoved deep into her sex, but she couldn't alter her position.  As the pressure in her rectum also increased, she struggled to lean forward and keep from bearing down on the egg shaped mass growing there. 

When their growth stopped, Clara was left struggling and panting to find relief.  Seconds seemed like minutes before Jarvis returned.

"Additive generation"

Still fighting to relieve the pressure below, Clara missed the small injection that was made in her back.  When she felt an ache and looked down, however, her eyes went wide seeing her breasts were now a full cup size bigger.  She howled again as her nipples came alive. The devices on them sucked her nipples erect, vibrating and electrically shocking them in the process.  

"Intermix and dispensing"

Hearing a mechanical sound below her, Clara’s mind diverted momentarily from her discomfort. Blinking and breathing in short breaths she watched a tube extend upward from between her feet.  The 4 inch diameter opening of the tube stopped just below her groin.  It was then that she noticed a small spigot protruding from the suit’s surface near her sex. 

The surfaces of her sex came alive as the suit vibrated intensely from around the spigot and electrical stimulation lit up her nervous system from her groin outwards.  As her breasts heaved fluid into the sucking devices, Clara tried to arch her back and moaned loudly into her gag as her body shuddered in near instant and continuous orgasm.

If she had been conscious enough to observe it, she would have seen the flow of frothy milk and water pour from the spigot between her legs and into the waiting tube.   Instead she could only shake and moan for the better of a minute as the plugs in her deflated, her breasts were sucked dry, and the frothy brew was dispensed from her most erogenous of zones.

When the dispensing was finished, Clara was spent.  As the last drops departed, she watched them leave, hanging loosely in her shell and breathing heavily.  The plugs were empty, and the mixing system had turned off.  Only the aches in her abdomen and now even more tender breasts remained.  

Clara's mind dully considered her situation.  What was going on? Why had she just been brought to a mind blowing, if nonconsensual, orgasm by a machine?  Why were fluids being pumped into and dispensed from her body? What would happen next?

"After a brief cleaning cycle, you will be dressed appropriately and put into service."

Dressed appropriately? Clara thought.  Well, yes, a form fitting silver suit with exposed breasts and belly weren't the professional look she expected at a company like FutureCom.  She didn't see any clothes in the room though.

Before she could think much further, she yelped again as cool fluids were quickly pumped into the bladders in her bowel and vagina again.  This time the volumes were very small and were quickly allowed to drain into the tube below her through the spigot.  The process was repeated several times, allowing her to surmise that the bladders were being flushed clean.

Clara grimaced thinking of herself as a machine with tanks, dispensers, and systems, but given the situation, what other description was there?

"You will now be released to clothe yourself for service.  Do you understand?"

Realizing there wasn’t much to argue about, Clara nodded in agreement.

The tube between her legs retracted back into the floor.  Then, with several clicks of mechanisms unlocking and disengaging, Clara found her back and wrists released.  The sudden removal of support sent her stumbling.  Walking in the stiletto platforms with a rigid torso was a new experience and it took her several moments to recover and stand still without issue.

Clara looked around the room, taking in her surroundings for the first time.  Behind her was the stand she had just been freed from. In front of her were several display panels on the upper wall.  To her right was a single sliding door, and to her left were a series of doors, like a cupboard or chifforobe.

As if answering her curiosity, one of the doors opened, reveling clothing hanging from within.

"You will dress in these clothes for today's service."  Jarvis added.

Clara approached the clothes slowly, still unsure in her footing.  What she found was a one piece, knee length blue business dress with mid length sleeves, not unlike something an airline stewardess used to wear.  There was also a wide silver belt. Very tidy, she thought.  Inspecting it further she noticed it was slightly modified.  First, she noticed a gusseted opening in the center of the back.  Feeling behind her, she found a protrusion of some kind in the center of the back of her suit.  Probably where she connected to the stand and the suit kept it's power and communications, she thought.  There sure wasn't room for them anywhere else.  Then she noticed another opening.  As she held the dress up to her body, she realized with a mixture of embarrassment and disgust that the hole would land exactly over her groin and the spigot protruding there.

Clara thought about arguing for a moment, but quickly deduced that she really didn't have a choice.  Chances were that Jarvis controlled the door out of this room, and any other doors in the facility for that matter, and she was stuck here until he let her out.  Jarvis's silence seemed to confirm her analysis. So, reluctantly, Clara pulled the dress over her head, adjusting it into position with the gusset over the protrusion on her back.  Then the skirt portion, and then the belt.  As she closed the somewhat elastic belt just below her breasts, she felt it click closed and heard a beep. Then the belt suddenly shrunk tight around her, quickly cinching just below her breasts.  Clara tried to move it and found it stuck to her suit below.  Similarly, she could not move the dress from underneath it.  At this point, Clara's surprise at anything in her situation had run out and she simply accepted that her clothes were part of her new suit until Jarvis decided otherwise.  Finding a small hair tie on a shelf in the closet, Clara pulled her hair back into a ponytail.  There was also a small white name tag that said "Clara" with "Service" in small print below. She pinned it to her blouse over her left breast.

Turning back to the room, Clara flapped her arms in a childish "what now gesture" mirroring her thoughts.

"Your first order has been placed. Marty, 3rd floor, desk C19 would like coffee, black.  You will reengage with your service stand and collect the order. Then you will deliver it."

Clara didn't relish the idea of stepping back into the stand, but it seemed like the quickest way out of the room.  Gingerly she approached the stand, stepped onto its base and turned herself around.  Squaring her feet, she wiggled her back slightly until “shell found stand” with a click. The sound and sudden immobility made her shiver. Closing her eyes, she took a breath and waited for what she suspected happened next.

Behind her, as if in another room, she heard a faint grinding noise followed by the hiss of water moving.  She quickly deduced that coffee was being brewed somewhere nearby.  Another wave of disgust passed over her as she again thought of herself as a human coffee pot.  Then, without fanfare, another hiss preceded the sensation of a warm rod slowly entering her vagina.  Clara gasped slightly and cupped her hands just above her groin as the warm rod slowly grew into her core.  She let out a muffled "ah!...   Ah!..." from under her mask as it opened her cervix and bulged slightly into her womb.

When the filling stopped, Clara allowed herself to breath out again.  While not as big or as uncomfortable as the test earlier, she now felt as though a large and incredibly warm dildo was lodged deep within her.  Her legs shook slightly as the stand released her, allowing her to step down.  As she stood, prodding her exterior with both hands and feeling the warmth spread through her lower abdomen, she noted an equal but opposite cooling sensation in the suit behind her. 

“The suit has thermal control features to keep your body temperature stable”.  Jarvis inserted.

Makes sense, she thought dryly.

Jarvis continued with directions.

"You will now deliver the beverage to its destination within three minutes.  Please follow the map provided." A 3-minute timer and a map appeared on Clara’s heads up display with a yellow line indicating her path to the nearest elevator.  The main door to her room slid open with a quiet hiss.  After a moment's pause to register her new condition and directive, Clara groaned and began an unstable walk towards the door.

As she reached the door, supporting herself on the frame with one hand, she peeked out to see where she was. Her room was located off a main hallway on a lower floor of the building.  Several people passing by either ignored her or briefly smiled at her and continued. Clearly none gave a thought to the idea that she was a newly made cyborg, a prisoner (albeit a contractually legal one), or that the glowing plug in her nether regions was starting to make her lady parts throb uncontrollably.  Not knowing what else she could do, she set off to the left, as indicated on the map. 

Walking in the suit and its high heeled boots would have been difficult enough, but the distracting mass swollen within her made it impossible to achieve a smooth gate.  Instead she repeatedly hobbled a few steps and stopped before having to get her balance.  Not far down the hall, she came to a set of elevator doors and the map indicated turning into one.  She didn't have to press a button to call the elevator or command it to the third floor.  Apparently, Jarvis took care of all that. 

When the elevator doors closed with Clara inside and alone, she leaned forward with a hand on the wall.  This was crazy. Was she really delivering a coffee to some guy by carrying it in her body?  Just then the extractors on her nipples came alive and she yipped with a start. A few seconds later she began to feel the bladder in her backside swell.

“What the hell is this!?  Why am I being filled with my own milk?! And why are you making me make it at all?!” She demanded mentally.

"Many people prefer their beverages with milk additives. In order to keep your milk production at capacity and fresh, your breasts need to be periodically stimulated.  Unused milk will be stored onboard until it can be used or discarded."

"Great," she thought darkly "cow and can all in one".  She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth against the gag as her breasts shook ever so slightly in their torment. It was then that she noticed several small indicators in her view, as one of them was slowly increasing.  The other showed “1 cup”. She quickly deduced that these were volume indicators and monitored how much she was carrying.

By the time the elevator reached her floor, the breast pumps had stopped, leaving her with what she guessed was a baseball sized knot in her rear. The indicator that had moved before now read 7 oz. Before she could ponder how she produced so much, the doors opened, and her map directed her down the hallway in front of her.

If her walking was uncomfortable before, it was a circus of odd sensations now. Every step made her more aware of the swollen bladders.  Every step was a struggle not to bare down and try and push them out.  More than once she stopped to put her hand on a wall to keep upright and regain some composure, never getting more than a glance from passersby.

Mercifully, her destination was not far from the elevators.  As the hall opened into a massive room of open desks, her map directed her to one to her right. Clara found the desk in her view and saw a young man, maybe late twenties, sitting and staring at the monitor in front of him. Like Karen's desk it was devoid of input devices, but Clara could see his eyes darting left and right over the display and the lights on his temple we're blinking furiously.  Other than the monitor, a large coffee cup was the only thing on his desk.

"Please arrive at the location marked next to his desk and stand at attention."

Seeing that the map indicated a position at the edge of Marty's desk, Clara began a clenched hobble into the room.  As she arrived at the spot, Marty made no sign he was aware she had arrived but continued furiously scanning his screen.  Slightly miffed, Clara stood straight and began to unruffle her attire.  Just as she was going to try clearing her throat to get his attention, she heard two beeps and a clank as her wrists were sucked to her hips at the 4 and 8 o-clock positions.  Simultaneously she was jerked to a fully erect position as her boots, torso, and head all snapped straight.  Aside from the wiggling of her fingers and the motion of her chest and abdomen, she was effectively now a living mannequin.  Behind her mask, Clara let out a muffled and wide eyed squeal.  In response, Marty’s eyes flashed towards her and then back to his screen.  A moment after, still staring ahead, he reached for his coffee cup and pushed it towards the spigot in her groin.

Remembering the effects of the test moments before, Clara held her breath in anticipation. Closing her eyes and clenching her fists, she shivered slightly as Marty's cup pressed into her thighs and made a slight clank as it hit the shell below the spigot.

To her disappointment, all that happened was a slight tingle and a relief of pressure as the fluid poured into Marty's cup.  While the bladder deflating had its own mildly pleasurable effect, it clearly wasn't what she had expected. Jarvis explained:

"The daily system test exercises the full capabilities of your modifications.  Pleasurable effects during normal serving operations are proportional to the complexity of the beverage and your overall performance."

Clara pouted behind her mask.

Marty withdrew his cup and brought it to his lips, all without removing his gaze from the display.  "Thanks" was all he said after a sip and placed the now full cup back on his desk.

Clara took half a step backwards as her constraints were released.  She stood for a moment, blinking as she tried to absorb what had just happened and wondering what she should do now.  Jarvis chimed in with the answer as the map returned with a new yellow line leading back from where she had come.

"Your service here is complete.  You will return to your station for reset and prep for the next order".

Still in a daze, Clara made a slow 180 and began walking back towards the elevators.  It was much easier to walk with a butt plug than a dildo, but she still felt like she was waddling like a child to a bathroom.

As she rode the elevator back, she was brought out of her haze by another jolt to her nipples and a size increase in her rear. As it stopped, she rubbed her breasts through her blouse and winced at her general discomfort.

A few minutes later, she was back in her room where Jarvis instructed her to return to the stand. Some of the milk in her rear was removed, while her vagina was put through several cleaning cycles of cool water.  Her bladder was also rinsed again.

Jarvis informed her of her next delivery:  Coffee with milk to a woman named Sandy on the 15th floor.  Clara closed her eyes and clenched her fists as a new warm mass filled her nether spaces.

Knowing what to expect made this one easier, but it was still a trial to move with any stability with the glowing mass making her throb and the periodic milking and filling cycles.  When she arrived at Sandy's desk, she was again brought to attention, but it took several minutes before Sandy looked up from her work and realized her service had arrived.  With an "Oh, sorry!  Didn't see you there" Sandy shoved her cup between Clara's legs and the flow started.  The delivery was more pleasurable this time, as the mixer turned on to mix the coffee and some milk, but it resulted more of an increased desire than any form of satisfaction.

It was on the 6th or 7th delivery, sometime around lunch, that Jarvis's instructions included more than one destination for the first time.  In this case, she was to deliver to two people on the 5th floor, and 1 on the 12th.  Already strapped into her stand and being cleaned, it took Clara a few seconds to arrive at the implications.  Just as her eyes went wide with the understanding, her filling began.  Clara squealed into her gag and pressed on her lower abdomen as the volume quickly surpassed her previous levels.  To her initial surprise, the "shaft" passing into her womb only got slightly larger than before, but she could now feel a warm ball growing within her womb.  Watching the volume indicator for her "coffee tank" go past 1 cup for the first time, and press towards three, she went wide eyed as she began to feel the taught ball of warmth swell under her skin.  When it reached three, it stopped, and her restraints were released.  Stumbling off the stand, Clara's hands prodded the warm ball she could now clearly feel just below her belly button. 

Pondering for a moment, Clara realized the bladder must be in the shape of a mushroom, or even a water tower like shape, and grew mostly in her womb when the volume exceeded a cup or two.  There was no pain, but the warmth, weight, and motion of the ball and shaft as she moved was distracting to say the least.

Jarvis wasted no time in giving her new directions and time limits, snapping Clara out of her bewilderment.  As she started out the door and down the hallway, she found herself leaning back slightly and making a sort of belly forward walk.

The deliveries were uneventful, except that the woman at the first stop wanted to talk for minutes before getting her coffee.  This was both ironic, as Clara clearly could not respond, and irritating, as it meant Clara had to walk faster to make her other deliveries in time.  This, in turn, made the new masses bounced around inside her.  The shaft's resulting motion in her vagina made her even more frustrated.

As the afternoon went on, the pace of deliveries slackened and eventually came to a halt.  Her final delivery was an iced latte that made her belly ache as she delivered it to a late-night worker on the 20th floor.  But, at last, she was empty, and Jarvis let her know her service for the day was complete.

Upon returning to the room, Jarvis had her plug in for a feeding and final cleaning.  It was then that he let her know that functional checkouts were a twice a day routine, once morning and once at night.  She barely had time to react before he inflated both her "tanks" and began pumping milk.  She jerked in torment for several minutes before the tube arrived between her legs and she "dispensed" her load to another orgasm.

Once released, Jarvis had Clara return her clothes to the cabinet and provided her with wipes to wash her exposed skin with.  A small door opened in the back of the room providing a sink and towels in which to wash her hair.  He also provided lotion which he required she apply to her exposed skin, especially her breasts and stomach.  Finally, a bed extended from the wall in front of the stand and Jarvis instructed her to get some rest.  Mentally and physically exhausted, Clara collapsed on the bed and quickly fell asleep.


The next morning, Jarvis woke Clara with soft music.  Momentarily forgetting her circumstances, Clara went to wipe her eyes and had a moment of panic as they found the outside of her mask.  She couldn't even properly yawn with the gag fixing her mouth.  Her mouth also ached.  Mentally asking Jarvis what was going to happen to the muscles in her mouth and back, where she couldn’t move, Jarvis replied that this had been thought of and muscular stimulators had been installed in her shell to allow regular exercise of the muscles.  He asked if she would like a "session", as he called it, and she agreed.

Expecting shocks, Clara was pleasantly surprised when her jaw and back began to be "massaged" by their own stimulated movement within the shell.  It was quite pleasant.  Over the course of 10 minutes or so, the intensity increased until it was a real workout, causing her to wreathe and moan on her bed.   When the session finally ended, Clara stared blankly at the ceiling, feeling the most limber she had felt in a very long time.

Jarvis returned and directed her to the stand for morning feeding and checkout.  Clara decided the food still wasn't great, but there wasn't much like a massage followed by a good stuffing and a body shaking orgasm to start your day, even if the latter was a bit harsh.

Clara was released again to clean up and new, but similar, clothes were provided for her to wear.  Jarvis even provided a morning news feed in her heads-up display while she prepared.

Around 7 am Jarvis indicated it was time to begin morning services and directed Clara back to the stand.  Somewhat jarringly, but understandable for a morning coffee rush, her first several runs included 3 and 4 cups each. Though, thankfully, they started closer to her station and got farther away, and each set of stops were closer together than yesterday’s.  Clara decided that Jarvis must be optimizing her trips to save time and effort.  He was nothing if not efficient, she thought. 

He also seemed to time the milking's to when she was alone in an elevator or back at her station.  This was something of a curtesy, as each time it started, she still nearly fell over and went cross-eyed for several seconds.  That said, she was becoming accustomed to the persistent volume in her rear and noticed that accommodating it, particularly when on an empty return trip, seemed to be making her walking more seductive.  At least as much as it could be given the rigidity of her hips in the shell.

About halfway through the morning, there was a lull in the orders and Clara had a moment to think, which lead to her asking Jarvis some questions:

Why did FutureCom need a person to do their beverage services? There were stations and bots for that.

Then why didn't she just push a cart or machine around to people’s desks?

Ok, so why modify me to hold the drinks? Couldn't I wear a tank or something on my back.

That last bit annoyed Clara.  She didn't like to think of her private parts as usable space.

Wait, you said something about multiple beverages.  I only have two… tanks, and one is for my milk storage.


And why breast milk?  Do they know what they are drinking?


Ok, so then why the gags, restraints, and glasses?

So, I am a slave.

Pot-ay-to  / pot-ah-to…

Was that an attempt at humor?

I am going to get paid for this, though, right?

Clara did the math… 24 hours a day 7 days a week with no expenses. Even at minimum wage…  Wow, she wouldn't have to work for years!

Hrm, she'd have to think about that one.


Over the next few days, Clara quickly fell into the new routine.  Wake up, intense massage, even more intense orgasm, work (while increasingly hot and bothered), lunch break, work some more, make the world spin orgasm, sleep.  Her service got up to 6 cups at once when a group of engineers decided to have an “emergency meeting” at one of the group tables in a common area, but for the most part she had a morning rush of 2-4 cup runs and an afternoon march of one-zie-two-zies.  The milking never quite got comfortable, but as her production leveled out, Jarvis optimized it to 3-4 sessions during lulls in the day and just before and after bed time.

Staying so busy, it wasn't until the first Friday evening that Clara realized she wouldn't be going home for the weekend. Her evening ended early and she found herself watching TV on her room's monitors and surfing the internet on her heads-up display.  What would she do for the weekend?  Could she have any kind of off-time life?

Saturday morning, Jarvis let her sleep in a couple hours, gave her extra time in the massage and more time getting ready.  He even gave her a more comfy, but still professional (ignoring the hole over the crotch) waist to knee length pleated skirt and loose fitting blouse.  It turned out the boots could change color, as well as be modified by swapping or removing the heel and platform, making them a more comfortable moccasin like design or anything in between.  Jarvis explained the lift was less for a professional look and more to bring her spigot to an optimal height.  Still a little dressed up for her average weekend, but at least she didn't feel like a wrapped sausage on a Saturday.

To her surprise, she had several single deliveries to make as a few dedicated people put in extra hours.  Even more to her surprise, Jarvis stopped fully restraining her to attention and allowed her to stand on her own power, if she stayed put and didn’t dawdle. The people working weekends seemed genuinely thankful for her arrival and tried to at least "give her the time of day" as it were.  Mid afternoon, one tried to ask her how she was doing, and Clara was stumped.  After a few seconds of trying to figure out how to respond, she finally raised an OK sign.  The woman sipped her coffee and responded "good, glad to hear it.  And thank you again for the coffee" with a smile, before going back to work.

On Sunday, the facility was on lockdown and there were no deliveries.  Jarvis explained it was company policy and allowed the cleaning and computer systems to catch up for the next week.  After her morning routine, she was given sweats to wear (no holes!) and even allowed to walk around the building on her own.  It was expansive and had many floors and different layouts of cubicles, offices, labs, and common spaces.  Many she had been to during the week, but many more she had not.  On a whim, she took the elevator to the top floor and found a door that said, "roof access".  She fully expected Jarvis to protest, or at least lock the door, but to her surprise he opened it for her, allowing her to explore the roof and view of the city.

It wasn't bad, all this, she thought.  Lonely, impersonal, and a bit repetitive, but not unbearable. 


Another two weeks stretched by with the same routines.  Clara was becoming accustomed to her new life and efficient at getting her job done.  Her new freedom to gesture meant she could acknowledge people being nice or politely walk away from people sucking her time when she was in a hurry.  That said, she longed to speak to someone like a normal person.

One uneventful Thursday evening, Clara returned to her station in a bit of a slump.  She really wanted to talk to someone besides Jarvis.  Just as she had disrobed and was less than enthusiastically stepping onto her station for evening cleaning, the sound of a ringing phone played in her ear.  Then again.  Then a voice came on:

"Hello?, This is Kate, who is this?"
Clara was frantic.  It was her best friend Kate from college.  Jarvis had called her, but how was she supposed to respond.  It was just then that another voice responded in sync with her thoughts:

"Hey Kate!  It's me Clara!  I wish you could hear me!"

"Wish?" Kate responded. "I can hear you just fine!  It's been forever, how are you?"

Clara reeled.  Jarvis was reading her mind and generating her voice for her.  She could talk!

"I'm…. I'm good!  Few weeks into a new job…"

Jarvis made an unpleasant beeping sound in her ears.  The message was clear, careful what you say about your job.

"It keeps me so busy I haven’t had time to talk to anyone so I thought I'd catch up with you!"

The conversation continued while Clara listened to Kate fill her in on the last year or two.  Clara made up simple lies about her job at FutureCom and that it was good but kept her busy and they had given her an apartment on campus so she didn't get to leave much.  But mostly she was glad to hear a friend's voice and feel part of the world again.

When they finally hung up, Clara looked at the clock in her mask and realized they had talked for over three hours.  Jarvis ran the cleaning and milking cycles, with an almost gentle touch.  Still in a daze from her conversation, Clara finally whispered "Thank you".

"My pleasure" Jarvis responded.  "Would you like to skip the test cycle tonight?"

"Yes, please".

Jarvis let her off the stand and she quietly finished her cleaning before going to bed. 


On the Friday morning of the fifth week, as Clara was getting dressed, Jarvis stated that today was the first Friday of the month and as such, there would be a board meeting at 8 am.  It would include 20-30 of the company’s top executives and take place in the top floor conference room.  Clara was to provide their beverage service.

Clara started thinking.  It was a long trip from her station to the top floor and twenty or more people could drink a lot of coffee, especially if it was a long meeting.  She would be full and running all morning at 5-6 cups per trip. 

As she thought all of this, she absentmindedly moved herself onto the stand and plugged herself into place.  Jarvis completed her cleanout and feeding, while she blankly calculated what she thought her workload would be.  Her stupor was suddenly ended as her wrists clanged against the side restraints of the stand.

"Hey, whats going on?" She thought.  Jarvis had not restrained her since her first week on the job.

"I'm sorry Clara, but today will be challenging.  As you started to deduce, the workload for this meeting will be extreme.  My analysis indicates that only two or three trips will be allowable during the meeting.  As such, you will be required to produce and transport significantly higher volumes than you are accustomed too."

"What?... Wait, how much more?" Clara was beginning to feel panic.

"I will not hurt you, Clara, but you may find this… unpleasant.  Your normal morning runs have been cleared in order to serve the board meeting".

Without further warning, Clara's nipples were sent into overdrive.  She howled into her mask and jerked against the restraints, but she could do nothing to resist.  A hissing sound indicated a new injection into her back and Clara felt a warmth spread over her body.  While calming, it also seemed to increase her sensitivity.  Taking a few deep breaths, Clara looked down and was dumbfounded to see her breasts growing before her very eyes.  Once B cups nicely matching her frame, they were now nearing DDs.  Their production had increased significantly, and she could feel the flow leaving them in heaves.

As Clara felt the bladder plump in her rear, she noticed that the volume meters in her heads-up display were gone.  Perhaps wisely, Jarvis didn't want her knowing how much she was taking. She only had feelings to gage her fullness by. Her rear tank reached "normal" fullness in moments, but the swelling didn’t stop.  Clara began to groan as it passed normal, passed maximum she had felt before, and entered new territory.  She had lost the ability to estimate its size somewhere around "grapefruit" and was clenching her eyes and fists in agony, sure she was going to split apart. 

Finally, the swelling stopped, but the breast pumping didn't.  She could only guess that it was being stored elsewhere for later.  Wiggling to get any relief and sobbing between breaths, Clara froze in terror when she heard the grinders begin.  If she had to hold this much milk, then…

The pumping began at the same pace it always did and a thick shaft of warmth crawled into her groin.  Her panting started early as she anticipated what was coming.  Clara recognized the fullness of several, then five or so cups as she felt the ball growing within her.  The flow stopped momentarily as more grounds were made.  Then it continued.  Clara felt the weight of the bladder in her belly begin to push down on her pelvis as it grew out enough to bulge her skin.   On the third injection it began to press up on her diaphragm and she could feel her breathing being affected.  Fighting her restraints had been replaced with a head back moan and cry as the volume continued into a fourth and fifth cycle.  The weight and the heat were intense as her belly began to round outward like a beachball.  Finally, on the 6th cycle, it all stopped.

A few moments of strained breathing passed before Jarvis returned her display to normal.  30 cups of coffee, 10 each of three different blends.  50 ounces of milk "stored onboard", estimated 50 at the ready "in production" and another 100 in station storage. 

Clara's breathing was short and quick as she struggled to breath around the new mass inside her.  The heatsinks in her back were doing overtime and she felt like she was leaning against a block of ice. When the restraints released, she stumbled forward and fell to her knees, catching her fall with her hand on the edge of her bed.  Her remaining hand went to the new protrusion in front of her.  Her ribs-to-knee pencil skirt was stretched tight against her skin and she felt like her weight had doubled.  Her rear end wanted to split.  Everything inside was so tight there was no "to bear down or not", there was only flesh stretched over mass.

Jarvis returned, sounding sympathetic but focused on the task at hand.

"Your discomfort will subside.  You have not been injured internally or externally as this was anticipated and prepared for".

Clara thought about the lotion and the cleaning cycles, wincing as she tried to lean back to vertical.

"It is 07:30am.  The executives will begin arriving at 07:45am.  It will take you at least 10 minutes to reach the conference room in this condition.  You must leave now. Failure to complete your task will have consequences."

Clara whimpered at the last part, but then, taking a few extra breaths, tried to stand.  Like a baby dear standing for the first time, it took a few tries and looked anything but lady like, but she eventually stood under her own power.  She took a few more breaths and started a waddle to the door with both hands under her belly.

Her movement was arduous.  Waddle waddle stop to breath.  Waddle waddle stop again. Waddle waddle wait for elevator.  As the elevator door closed, Clara was greeted with her reflection in the polished doors.  What she saw blew her mind.  Turning to one side she looked like she was 6 months pregnant.  Her skirt was stuck to her like it was painted on and her breasts looked like two large grapefruit, lightly bouncing with her breathing. Unable to reconcile what she was seeing; Clara spent the whole ride gazing at the doors and absently rubbing her distended parts with her hands.

When the doors opened, Clara's blank gaze fell on a middle-aged woman waiting to get on.  Seeing Clara and her condition, the woman jumped back with a start, exclaiming "Oh my, I'm sorry, I'm in your way.  Good luck, dear!"

Clara, unable to think of a response, much less give one, simply started waddling out the door, panting and holding her abdomen in her arms.  Once past the woman, her map directed her down a long hallway to the edge of the building where a large conference room was surrounded by 3 glass walls inside and one wall of windows to the exterior.  As she entered, Jarvis got to business.

"You've arrived before any of the executives.  Please take position on the stand near the corner next to the refreshments table."

In the far corner, Clara spotted a small table with coffee cups and an assortment of pastries, bagels, and other meeting foods.  There was a small box next to the table, clearly reserved for her to stand on.  As she waddled towards the table, she dully wondered "I bet they didn't have to carry those in in their stomachs".

"Of course not" Jarvis chimed. "That wouldn't work.  Despite my best efforts, catering is still a bot delivery operation".

Clara reached her designated position, stepped onto the box, and turned back towards the room.  For a moment, she realized the view from here was quite nice.  Not as expansive as from the roof, but still quite nice.

"I did try to think of that for you" Jarvis put in. "Especially since the first time will likely be unpleasant."

Clara was about to give him a mental dissertation on her "unpleasant" state, when her body was snapped to attention by the suit and her hands were jerked to the back of her waist.

"Hey!  What did I do wrong?" Clara thought.

"Nothing" Jarvis answered. "However, given the high profile of this event, I cannot risk your departure from protocol or otherwise interrupting the meeting.  Please note that in addition to your restraint, any attempt to make verbal noises will result in the closing of your airways."

Clara's eyes went wide. What?!

"I am sorry.  But it is to protect your own dignity as much as it is to maintain protocol."
What?!  What did that mean?... Hello?  Jarvis was ignoring her.

Clara was the epitome of uncomfortable.  She imagined she looked like someone had made a mannequin at a business clothing store look 6 months pregnant. She couldn't move.  Her breathing was coming in short heaves, and she thought her pelvis would explode. 

Absently, she let out a groan at her displeasure.  As promised, her verbalization was instantly cut short with a quick snapping shut of both her mouth and nasal passages.  In a brief panic, her eyes bulged as she tried to push out against the closed airways.  Only when she stopped and sucked back in did they reopen. Her breathing was even more labored, making a “hiss-hiss” sound, as she recovered.  Ok, Ok, no voice.

What did he mean my dignity?  I'm a walking coffee pot with my crotch exposed and my belly and boobs jutting into the room.  What dignity do I have?

Before she could consider this further, a man and woman walked into the room from the far end, talking to one another.

"Did you have a good time at the retreat last week Susan?"
"Oh it was a blast.  You should have come and brought your kids!"

As the two bantered Clara watched them cross the room towards her and the table. They were clearly high-end businesspeople.  Suits, tidy, and confident.  Like all employees they had the communication pucks on their temples, though their lights were not a fury of activity as they made small talk.

"Oh good, they have my favorite!" The man said as he picked up a donut from the table.
The woman picked up a coffee cup and then looked at Clara with a blank look for a moment.  Her temple blinked quickly for a second before she moved again, this time towards Clara.

"Excellent! They have the Northern roast latte today…"

The woman put her cup towards Clara's groin like so many before, but what happened next was anything but what Clara expected.

As the cup seated under Clara's spigot and pressed into her thighs, her nether regions came alive like never before.  The mixer came on with such veracity, she could feel the vibrations shaking her whole mid section.  Her fluid filled belly resonating like a bell.  An electric charge shocked Clara's core, starting at her labia and ending at her diaphragm.   Her whole belly was clenching in response. 

Clara tried to scream as the pleasure and pain merged in her core and quickly began forming into an orgasm, but was immediately cut off by the valves in her airway.

Vibrated, shocked, restrained, and now gasping, Clara could do nothing but shake in her locked position as she was rocked by a 30+ second full body spasm.

The woman seemed not to notice, as the mixing noise drowned out any others and she assumed the vibration was part of the operation.  Her focus remained on the hot frothy mixture of perfection that slowly filled her coffee cup.

When the pour finish, Clara's stimulation halted, and her airways opened.  Leaving her wide eyed and panting, but still unable to move anything but her fingers. Her breathing continued to make a "hiss-hiss, hiss-hiss" sound as the air flowed in and out of the mask.

The woman took a sip of her coffee and raised it in a "cheers" like fashion before adding "Thanks!" and heading to find a spot at the table.

By now, the man had put his snack on the table next to where Susan was heading and had returned and selected a coffee cup.  Clara tried to whimper as her went blank like Susan had resulting in her air getting cut again.  The man made his order and approached her with his cup.

Again, Clara was jolted into full body shock and awe. Her fingers, hidden behind her, shot straight out and tried to bend backwards.  From the tips of her toes to the ends of her hair, every nerve was on fire.  Her mind thought nothing as it felt everything.  She didn't know a state like this could exist, all tension, all pleasure, and all pain. It all became one bright white light.

Then it ended, and she could breathe again.  Hiss-hiss.. Hiss-hiss.

The man found his way to the table without fanfare and picked up the chit chat with Susan.

Clara's eyes went wild.  What was going on?  What was this?

"I know that this service can be unpleasant for you." Jarvis returned. "Especially when I have to restrain you and keep you at this facility.  So, I try to make it more pleasurable to keep up your morale.  FutureCom does want happy workers, after all, and you, like any other, should find pleasure in your purpose, your service, and your help to others.   Do you think this is wrong?"

Clara's mind reeled on pace with her still strained breathing.  Yes!... Wait.  No!... I don't know… I…

Clara's internal battle distracted her enough that she didn't register the five more people that entered the room and had formed a line next to the snack table. When her eyes snapped to the man approaching with the next cup, she was so startled she didn't have time to take a deep breath.

One after another, 26 people entered the room, chatted, grabbed a snack, and ordered a cup of coffee.  And each one shook Clara's world upside down. After 10 or so, Clara's breasts were sore with fullness and her rear tank was half empty.  As a result, extraction was added to each orgasm / dispensing cycle, though they still took more than she made.

By the time the last one was getting their cup, Clara's orgasms had deteriorated from "blast into space" to "melt and whimper".  Though not once did Jarvis allow a sound to escape her mask, besides the hiss-hiss as she tried to catch her breath between orders.  By the last cup her recently distended abdomen had returned to near its previous size and the monstrous volume in her rear had reduced to "normal".  Panting and exhausted, she hung in her prison like a dejected cat as the last person found their seat at the table.

As she dimly watched, a woman stood up at the head of the table, thanked everyone for coming and stated that it was time to start before sitting back down.  Just then, all 26 people sat up straight and had a blank look come over their face as the devices on their temples lit up like Christmas trees.  This continued in silence for several minutes with the only change being the occasional person moving to take a bite of their snack or sip their coffee.

"What's going on?" Clara mentally asked Jarvis.

"As you've noted, most employees can command systems and send communications via their cerebral interfaces but prefer to still receive data via monitors.  Higher level executives have elected to both send and receive via their interfaces, allowing for much greater speed and efficiency.  I can also filter and monitor their transactions with the intent of detecting and reducing selfish motives and politics, resulting in more logical and effective decision making."

Clara had little energy to ponder this.

Just then, her restraints released, and she fell forward onto her knees, with a groan.

Apparently, she could make noise now, she thought dryly.

"By my calculations, they will be in deliberations for at least 45 minutes before they break for additional refreshments.  You have that much time to return to your station, refresh, refill, and return."

"Return?!" Clara cried inside.

As if to prod her, Clara's nipples came alive again, causing her to yelp and jump slightly.  In their highly productive new state, it was only seconds before she felt the plug in her bottom growing again.

"At the rate you are producing, you will exceed your capacity in 15 minutes.  If you do not return to your station and purge, the pain will become… quite unbearable, shortly thereafter".

Clara was relieved to feel her sore breasts deflating, but realized her rear was going to fill up quickly at this rate.  With considerable effort and wobbling, Clara stood and started limping for the door.  By the time she got to the elevators, she could stand straight up and walk without a limp, but her bum was already returning to unpleasant capacity.

Clara was gritting her teeth into her gag and cupping one hand over her rear and one over her breasts as she quickly shuffled into her station.  As quickly as she could muster, she positioned herself on the stand.  The tube extended upward between her legs and she moaned in relief as her excess milk was spilled into it.  Moments later, her breasts were milked again, easing the pressure within.  This too was evacuated into the tube.

For a few minutes, Clara simply slumped in her stand and breathed. 

This was nuts.  What was happening.  Did she like this?  Yes.  Well, no.  But yes.   She couldn't decide.  She just tried to breath.

"I'm sorry, Clara" Jarvis returned. "but we must return for the mid-meeting break."

"Wait.  No. Please…  I can't" Clara pleaded inside. But the grinding had already begun.

This time, with her hands free, Clara could feel directly under her fingers as the volume of her belly bulged forth.  Trying in vain to open her legs, Clara could only shiver in place and tilt her head back and moan as cycle after cycle of coffee pumped into her belly and grew under her hands.  Clara gaged a "Huuuuugh!" as the volume reached 30 cups, and then cried as another grind began.  When it finally stopped, and she opened her eyes to see 40 cups register on her in-mask display she could only whimper in disbelief and stare down at her now even larger belly stretching her skirt out before her.  Then, just as quickly a flow of milk from the station storage began to fill her rear.  She had little time to contemplate the new sensations as it was no time at all before 60 ounces onboard read on her screen. 

Clara couldn't make a thought.  She wanted to explode.  She thought she would.  As the restraints released and she fell onto the floor again, her belly touched the ground.  She was so big, she could hardly keep it from touching with her hands on the floor in front of her.  She quickly struggled to the edge of the bed to lift herself off her distended belly.

Why was he pushing her so far?  How much more of this could she take?

Jarvis sent a short snap to Clara's nipples to snap her out of her self-pity. "You must return for the mid meeting break.  If you do not". Another snap. "Your discomfort will only increase."

Clara grunted and pulled herself up and out the door.  She could see only one way out of this agony, and it was at the top of the building.

10 minutes later, an overstuffed Clara opened the door into the conference room with her belly, carrying it in both hands, and waddled into the corner.  As she performed a 10 step turn into position, she struggled to catch her breath.  The room was exactly as she had left it.  No one had moved except to sip coffee or bite their snacks.

Clara had only seconds before she was snapped to attention again.  This time was even more excruciating than the last with her further distended stomach aching to have her bend forward or sit down.  She thought she would fall forward over her toes without the ability to actively balance, but apparently Jarvis had expected this when he included restraints in the box on which she stood.  She groaned slightly when she also realized the “more optimal height” of her nether region.

A few minutes stretched as Clara just tried to breath and hold it together.  Then, without prelude, everyone snapped out of their gaze and began looking around.  The woman at the end of the table stood and addressed the room. 

"That’s great everyone, I think we are off to a good start.  Let’s take a 30 minute break and reconvene.  I see our coffee has been refreshed, so please have at it."

"I'm not just a coffee pot, damn you!" Clara thought.  "Really, I'm not!"  But her internal tirade was cut short as two men approached her.  She closed her eyes, held her breath, and braced herself for what was to come, but there was no point.


4 years and 8 months later


Clara's eyes opened to see her morning display.  News, messages from Kate and a few other friends, and a pretty background of flowers.

"Thanks for the flower's Jarvis, they’re nice" Clara said happily.

"Your welcome" Jarvis responded.  "Shall we get ready for the day?"

"Yes please" Clara answered.

Clara rose from her bed and stepped into the shower in the corner of the room.  As she rinsed her hair, face, skin, boots, and the outside of her body suit, she gazed out of the shower window over the city below.  It was the same view as the rest of the glass wall in her room but somehow the view from the shower always seemed more novel.

She exited the shower, toweled off, and made for the station in the corner of the room.  It was different now.  There were no restraints at the bottom or on the sides.  Only one strut extended from the floor, ending where the back of her shell would meet it.  A small hole in the floor was the only sign of the waste tube.

Clara mewed softly, enjoying the sensations as the machine performed its morning cleaning cycle, flushing her insides as it always did. 

Leaving the stand with a “click”, she then went to an opening in the wall where a plate and glass where waiting for her.

"Oh, bananas foster this morning, Jarvis?  What's the occasion?" Clara inquired.  Taking a few bites and a gulp of the orange juice, she placed the plate on a small table nearby and headed for her closet.

Jarvis did not immediately reply, as Clara went to the closet and dawned her clothes for the day.  

"Jarvis…  what’s up?" She asked again, pulling a blouse over her head.

"Today is 90 days to the end of your contract.  It is time to evaluate your performance and decide if it will be renewed."

Clara’s motion slowed as she clipped on her belt and name tag on her outfit, considering his statement. She had become accustomed to her new life and forgotten it had an expiration.

"I've done well, haven't I?"  Clara said, looking around at her now windowed office on the top floor.

"You have, Clara, you've performed far and above what was expected. FutureCom, and I, have become quite fond of you. Really, the question is, do you want to continue?"

Clara began brushing her hair and putting on her make-up.  As she did, she thought back on her time at FutureCom…

The beginning had been rough, there was no doubt.  The shock of her modifications, the discomfort of its operations.  That first board meeting.  Long monotonous days and empty personal time.  Always wondering if she would ever be free from her contract and feel the sun on her face again.
But then she had adapted to her situation and Jarvis had adapted to her.  Yes, she was still a glorified beverage cart, but now she had amenities, a wage that she could retire early on, a sense of purpose, control over her free time… It was a life wasn’t it?

Her work had gotten easier. Jarvis had installed stations all over the building, making it so she could make discrete but efficient trips to anyone, anywhere.  Someone could wave her down as she walked by and place an order.  She’d slip around some random corner, fill up, and return with a smile.  8 months in, Jarvis had removed her mask (a somewhat painful two week ordeal) and given her a pair of next generation glasses that replaced her heads up display.  Now she could speak, eat, breath, and be mostly human.  Jarvis had even let her have friends visit and spend time with her in the common areas.  Some creative clothing and careful hugs and no one were the wiser.

Sure, it could still be uncomfortable at times. She had come to like being filled, but the workload could still get hard.  Busy times, long hours during a development push. Big meetings or events could always be a challenge.  And it had taken a while for her to fit in. That is until the Christmas party…

It was a Saturday night late in her first December when several of the mid-level tech. executives had decided to throw an impromptu party for their teams to celebrate some recent product release and the upcoming holidays.  The party was a last-minute idea, so the 100 or so people were told it was BYO and Jarvis and Clara were unaware.

One of the team leads and two of his engineers decided to solve the problem and bring several kegs. Unfortunately, in their rush they forgot to get a tap, and by the time of the party it was too late to go back and get one.  Being engineers, they began looking for parts in their lab they could use to pressurize and tap the kegs.  Jarvis noticed their activity, searched the buildings inventory, and informed them that there was only one combination of hoses and valves in the facility that would do the job.

Jarvis woke Clara, who had dozed off watching TV in her quarters.  He explained her service was needed and had her get dressed quickly. Then she made her way to a lab on the fifth floor to collect some hoses and tools before heading to the party on the tenth.  By the time she had arrived, Jarvis had directed the engineers to move the kegs and a nitrogen tank to a small alcove on the edge of the common area where the party was being held.   The engineers connected one hose to the first keg and the second to the nitrogen tank. Clara presented the terminal on her back and one of the engineers snapped the other ends of the two hoses into Clara’s terminal.  As he stepped back, Clara leaned back on the counter in front of the tanks

Jarvis then used the valve assembly in Clara’s back to perform several cycles of pressurizing the keg by passing the nitrogen through her system and into the keg and then releasing the now pressurized beer into Clara.  Caught up in the hurry to do her job, Clara simply closed her eyes and tried to breathe steadily as each cycle filled her further and further. As subtle waves of pleasure and discomfort washed over her, she cooed, grunted, and sighed in response, all the while rubbing her rapidly growing abdomen through her dress.  When she had reached full capacity, she was holding a 6 months with twins sized belly and, by the flush on her face and the sounds she had made, had mostly enjoyed the transition to her new state, though it had clearly involved some effort.

Clara opened her eyes to see a room full of men and women, all statue still and staring at her.  She quickly realized she had made two miscalculations:

First: While one or two of them may have seen her this big before, this was the first time anyone had watched her be filled.  This was a new experience for them, even if it was “normal” for her now.  Apparently, by the tents two of the younger men were sporting and the flushed look on many of the women, it had been a good show.

Second: In her haste to get dressed, she had put on one of her more casual off-duty blue dresses.  While its low back gave easy access to the terminal there, it didn’t have an opening to access her spigot.  Worse yet, at only mid-thigh length to begin with, her massive belly now lifted the front enough for those sitting down to get their first real look at how modified she was under it all.  It would have been a full panty show and then some, if she worn any.

Thinking quickly, Clara reached behind her and pulled the hoses from her back. Then she stepped forward and took a beer mug from one of the gawking men’s hands.  With a wink, she leaned forward slightly, held her dress against the bottom of her distended belly with her free hand, and pushed the mug between her legs.  As the beer filled the glass with a frothy hiss, Clara closed her eyes and made a satisfied “mmmhh” as her volume decreased, and Jarvis gave her another good tingle.  When the flow stopped, Clara lifted the mug to her lips, took a deep gulp, smiled broadly under a fuzzy mustache, and looked around asking “Damn that’s good! Who wants one?”
A few surprised gasps, some laughter, and even a few claps later, the party moved on.  Clara began to serve each of them a beer, getting questions, awe, and thanks all around.  She spent the rest of the night refilling, serving, mingling and laughing.  Aside from the ever-varying size of her belly and the “insta-pregnant hot chick” and “pull a beer from under my skirt” shows, she was just another one of the team. When someone arrived with Vodka, the resulting white Russians were a hit, and a relief for her, to boot.

That had really broken the ice.  They had seen the most private part of her modified existence, asked a lot of questions, and were more appreciative of what she lived with to serve them. Now she had friends here at FutureCom.  She knew about their kids, saw pictures of their vacations. They were always happy to see her arrive with the fuel that kept them focused on the task at hand, or on occasion the beverages that helped them celebrate and relax from their hard work.  Many stopped by to see her during off duty hours and she had become a staple, serving or not, at any company gathering.

And then there were the private perks.  Jarvis had long ago forgone activating the stimulation systems in her suit at full blast during morning and evening checkouts or high-profile servings in lieu of a more subtle and nuanced approach.  It had gotten to the point where he could read her subconscious mind (it wasn't that far from her conscious one he had access too after all) and warm her up with subtle tingles, pressures, and pleasures throughout the day.  He could (and did with satisfying regularity) wake her with pleasure, give her the perfect nooner, rock her all evening long, or make her explode in the length of an elevator ride.  Could there be a better lover?

Well, yes, she thought, he could have a body and a penis, but Jarvis could get her anything, show her anything, and blow her mind any time, anywhere.  Besides, they had learned together that the right combinations of moving fluids in and out of her tanks or from one to the other at the right frequencies could make a very good simulation of one or even multiple male suiters.  Clara smiled and blushed as she remembered when he had offered to remove the cuffs and boots. She had thought better, pointing out that they had other, less professional, uses she had come to enjoy.

The only thing, then, was her freedom.  She couldn't leave the facility.  Jarvis had come to explain that integrated into a piece of proprietary company technology as she was, she could not be exposed to the public. Not like they would understand if they did see her.  Unlike the other FutureCom employees, they didn’t understand FutureCom or her role there because they didn’t know FutureCom, or more specifically, Jarvis.

No, if she left the suit had to come off, and that was a process that probably couldn't be undone.  It might even have risks.  But why would she do that? She had all the facilities she could ever want.  Workout, games, social time, gourmet food, and they had even built an arboretum on the roof.  It really was quite nice living here.

Clara left her revere and made for the table with her breakfast.  She stuffed a few more bites and then made for the stand again.  As she turned into the locking position to receive her first orders of the day, a smile crossed her face.  Jarvis would already know her answer.

Clara’s eyes closed and she breathed a seductive “mmmMMMmmm” as the day’s first deliveries filled her world.

"So, you think you can put up with me for another five years, then?"  Jarvis asked almost sheepishly.

As the flow stopped, Clara sighed, opened her eyes and smiled.

"What would you think about ten?"

The end

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