2017-04-25 - spike - Oh god what a suit Epilogue

Author: spike
Title: Oh, god, what a suit! Epilogue
Date: 25 April 2017

The figure appeared on the busiest high street in London to the shock and disgust of every member of the public who saw it.

A shambling, desperate figure covered head to toe in black rubber with a backpack locked onto its back. Its genitals, also encased, dangling between its legs for all to see. Around its neck, a small silver key.

It continued on its way for a few minutes when suddenly, as if racked by pain, it sank to its knees and began pumping its cock furiously. A huge stream of semen shot out narrowly missing a child. The public fled in disgust. The figure sank onto its back and began caressing itself.

It didn’t seem to have any control over its actions.

The police hauled it into the back of a van of course and took it to hospital where it was put in a private room to avoid alarming the other patients.

The detective faced it and asked it for the twentieth time. “What is your name?” when a head popped around the door.

“What is it, Perkins?”

“We’ve examined the contents of the backpack sir. I think you should see this.” He held the backpack before him.

“Very well, put it on the table.”

Sergeant Perkins entered the room with an orderly who began cleaning and emptied the pack. A funnel with a strange clipping mechanism on the tube end. A couple of lengths of tubing. A couple of tubs of… something, a book entitled “On the treatment and care of a slave.”, headset earphones and microphone and a letter.

The figure held out its hands and began making a typing gesture.

“Perkins. See if anyone has a laptop available!”

“Sir!” He ran out, returning five minutes later. “Here, sir.”

The detective opened the word-processor and placed it before the thing.

Immediately it began to type.

“Help me! Please make it stop! I can’t take it anymore, make it stop, please!”

Again the detective with very exaggerated mouth movements looked it directly in the goggles and said “WHOOOOO AAARE YOU?”

“My name is P” the hands suddenly shot out from the keyboard as if in agony. One began to reach down towards its cock but the detective grabbed it by its wrist to prevent it. Slowly, this pain subsided. Again, it typed.

“My name is Man” and again… Pain? Probably.

The figure’s shoulders slumped in despair and it typed for a third time. “My name is Mary Whitehouse.”

The detective picked up the letter and read it.

“Before you is the most pitiable excuse for humanity the metropolitan police has ever employed. A racist, a bigot and a turd. We’ve had a little fun with it over the past few years. It took delight in deaths within the gay community, often commenting that it was one less to worry about or good riddance. Now, we have done the most poetic thing we could think of to it.

We’ve turned it into a much more pervy bastard than even the worst of us. If the microphone is in the room with it as you read this, it can hear you.

The suit it is sealed into can never be removed. The same goes for the butt plug that regularly administers shocks.

My advice. Don’t try. It’s not worth the cost of the knives you’ll destroy in the attempt. The book in the pack contains all you need to know to keep it alive.

Oh, its name now isn’t what it was. It’s Mary Whitehouse. A more fitting name we couldn’t possibly coin and it was its partner who came up with it.

Let this be a warning. We will not stand by and watch policemen like him belittle, insult and delight in our suffering again. Root them out and sack them unless you wish to find them in a similar state.

P.S.
If you wish to hear what it has been listening to for the past five years, I suggest you put on the headset.”

Curious, the detective did so. It was a message on a ten second loop.

“Ejaculation will stop the pain
Then the pleasure will start again.”

Perkins looked at the thing in horror. “It can’t be can it?”

“Can’t be what?

“Mary Whitehouse? Mansfield! Everyone in the station called him that behind his back. He vanished five years ago when he was suspended! We thought it was ‘cos he’d hired a thug to beat up a fetish shop owner. Then his partner quit a few months later! But Mansfield was a fat bastard! Look at him! What the hell did they do to him?”

The orderly completed his tidying and left the room with a grin. He kissed the fob and put it back into his pocket.
* * * * *
It took a long time to get much sense out of Mary but finally they managed to locate the place he’d been held captive for the past five years. Perkins remembered it once the address became known. They even managed to get a floor plan out of him but when they finally broke in the place was empty, utterly devoid of any hint to what the shop had been used for in the past.

Every room stripped bare, not a shelf, not even a piece of junk mail on the mat. Their attempts to locate the owner or previous tenants also proved futile running up against brick walls at every turn.

One shell company owning another down a chain that was always broken.

Even the attempt to follow the money ran into those same brick walls.
* * * * *
He’d found out very quickly what work the objects under Master Q’s ownership would be put to. Be they blanks, numbered or subhuman. It didn’t matter at first. All the filthy, toxic, disgusting smelly jobs. With no sense of taste or smell, it didn’t even phase him.

The island Master Q called home had once been a tropical paradise and for a few miles around the slave compound, it was. Now. Their job. Decontamination. A chemical weapons plant run by some nation Master Q chose never to disclose had exploded wiping out all life on the island twenty years ago.

With the help of the suited slaves, that life was now returning but there was still a hell of a lot more work to do.

He now knew what the primary purpose of the suits was.

Protection.

Nothing could penetrate them no matter how corrosive or poisonous. With the less hazardous but still unpleasant stuff, the suits protected them fully without additions and with the more toxic, filters or air hoses could be clipped into their nose tubes and then the thing that’d caused him so much distress that first day, the closing of the nose tubes could be activated.

That had a purpose other than torturing a slave to obey too. It sealed the filters into the tubes so nothing could dislodge them.

Even the head tube could be sealed off in extreme environments.

Of course, that was only the work. The dungeon and other facilities in the slave compound made the one in the shop look like a Blackpool back street amusement arcade and the three golds were treated as Master Q’s favourites, regularly talking and even playing with him in person.

The island also had beaches. Lots of them. Many in the habitable part and with those came various water sports. The non-fetish variety. Jetski, windsurf, swimming and canoeing were all available when the slaves were given a rest day.

That was the least of it recreation-wise. The gym, the football field, the boxing tournament. God. It was heaven here.

Four, five and six stood before an array of suited figures. sixty in total, some numbered, most blanks. All the numbered ones silver apart from those three.

They began handing out the work assignments for the day. After a year there all three had been elevated to object handler and work foreman status. That didn’t mean they didn’t have to put their backs into it themselves of course. As each received its job it left the room.

The proper slaves in Master’s compound were only good for household duties, cooking, cleaning, serving drinks, sex and entertainment. If anything, four considered himself superior to them now and many of them feared him. Especially after they’d been forced to witness what he’d done to Ginger and Flash on his first day there. What he’d done to nothing.

Four took the work detail sheet off his clipboard, applied a line of tape to it and stuck it to the back of the thing squirming on the other side of the room.

He activated his mesh glove and gave it a swift punch in the head to get its attention. “Slug, get that to Master Q. You have one hour or by god I’ll make you suffer.”

Five shuddered as he always did when he witnessed this. Even after all this time, four still delighted in its suffering. Still took his anger out on it.

It certainly looked like there was a human inside that thing, it had a transparent quality and it was plain there was a form within it. No skin was visible, just the green of another suit. Those same goggled eyes, the head tube, nose and capped mouth tube, the back end of the plug in its rear and the smaller tubes where the heals of the feet would be, all sealed to the outside. It was a sleep sack. A very constricting one. No zips were visible, the thing inside permanently sealed into it in much the same way all the objects had been permanently sealed within their suits.

It rolled onto its side, possibly in an attempt to gain some traction to reveal its genitals. its cock, constantly dribbling piss. It struggled for another minute before collapsing back onto its front and attempting to wriggle away leaving a trail of piss behind it.

The last of the objects was gone and the trio from the fetish shop were just about to chat when…

“Hello four.”

It was an unfamiliar voice, one with a slightly artificial sound to it.

Four turned in surprise to find a new slave in the doorway.

He turned his back to reveal a large golden number 10, walked directly up to four and patted his head three times.