Coated

Author’s note: This story is a sequel to my previous work, “Barrel Monster”. It also makes reference to my stories, “Ariel” and “Just Rewards”. While you do not have to read those stories to enjoy this one, it is highly recommended. So, go read those, then come back. We’ll wait. It had started the year prior as little more than a randy prank when Bella got Candice to take the role of the Barrel Monster at the haunted house where they both worked. She had originally been meant for herself to use it for a night or two of kinky fun, but when Candice showed up late and needed something to do Bella decided to put her in the rigged costume and see how she took to it. Her gamble paid off as Candice responded well to the stimulating rubber suit and vibrating inserts. Bella was overjoyed. She had found a playmate with equally twisted tastes. ...

Rita stepped out of the trailer gingerly, slowly feeling her way down the short iron steps to the ground. Her costume was difficult to work with, and she wondered as her enlarged, fur-covered feet barely found traction on the steps if this wasn’t the wildest gig she’d ever taken. An aspiring actress, Rita had been working in Vancouver for several years, determined to have her “big break”. What she’d found were a series of minor roles that catered to her height. At nearly six feet and with an athletic build, Rita was ideal as a college basketball player or Viking warrior. But these were all background roles, non-speaking parts where she was typed as “the tall one” of a group behind the stars. But she did get such parts regularly, to the point where she was getting noticed. Always she hoped that a casting agent who could think outside the box might offer her a role as the quirky neighbor on some cable sitcom, or the evil “heavy” in an episode of some spy drama. Anything to break the ice! ...

It wasn’t the cool breeze off the ocean that was giving Nicole the shivers. She hadn’t seen Carla in nearly two years, not since they had graduated from the arts academy together. Carla had scored a job with some big production company that ate up all her time. Nicole, on the other hand, had a series of near-misses and also-rans that made her wonder if she was ever going to have more than the menial jobs she worked to barely made the rent. Between her hectic schedule and the hush-hush nature of Carla’s job they’d had little time for socializing and had drifted apart. So it was with no little amount of excitement that Nicole accepted when Carla called out of the blue and mentioned a “fun opportunity” she wanted to put to her old roomie. The idea of hooking up with her old friend for a bit of adventure caught her fancy. ...

Lana and Lisa were always a bit competitive. Identical twins, they were close and shared the bonds one would expect of two people who had known one another since before birth. But in their teen years a need to establish their individualities set them on a road that saw their relationship become strained. They were both overachievers in high school and both were first in their class at one point or another. They would go out on their own to get a new outfit or hair style, only to come home and find the other had made a similar choice. Even when they argued they often ended up saying the same things to one another at once. It was quite vexing. ...

The late evening gloom that hung over the empty parking lot was swept away by the glare of headlamps and blare of music as the white minivan careened across the empty expanse and parked at a side door of the darkened factory. Gears ground and lights dimmed as the seven members of the Phi Lambda sorority tipsily stumbled out of the vehicle. Each was dressed identically in Phi Lambda tee shirts and denim short shorts, and all sported shaven heads. ...

Natalie Pizer was doing her best to keep it together. Had she been told a year prior that she would be the Vice President of America she would have laughed. A junior Representative from a non-battleground state, she was as surprised as anyone to be chosen as the Vice Presidential candidate for her party’s ticket. Eagerly she accepted. It had been a long and nasty election, with all sorts of mud and invective flung at her. Her brief record of service in public office and squeaky-clean persona worked in her favor and she had come through relatively unscathed. The usual accusations of fraud and the close count of the votes made for some rough times leading up to Inauguration Day. ...

Emma approached the office door with trepidation. The CFO, Miss Mercier, had asked her to stop by for a moment in that way that seemed more a summons than a request. The young accountant had only been at the firm a few months and was nearing the end of her probationary period. She liked her job and had striven to make the best impression, but it had not been without difficulty. Miss Mercier was a strict boss who insisted on only the best from her staff, not only in their work but in all aspects of office life, even to dress code and deportment. No sneakers and jeans in Mercier’s department! Office attire was the norm, and there were no “casual Fridays”. ...

Ariel staggered through her apartment door in an exhausted huff. Things were not exactly going the way she had hoped. Three years since she had graduated from design school and she had been unable to break her way into the fashion industry. It had taken her almost a year to get the unpaid internship in a Manhattan design house that had itself eaten another year of her life in a series of menial tasks and drudgery. Right when her internship was ending (and her chance to join the company seemed imminent) the economic recession crashed down on them with layoffs and lost opportunities. She had spent the last year working a series of low-paying temp office jobs, sending out resumes that never brought a reply. Her portfolio sat in a corner, gathering dust, her designs ignored. ...

The door to the admissions room opened slowly as Janice peeked in, eyes darting about nervously. The room was rarely used at this time of night, but she couldn’t take any chances. This evening had been months in the planning, and nothing was going to stop her from achieving her desire. Seeing that the room was unoccupied, she slipped inside and locked the door behind her. The ceiling sensors detected her presence and brought the lights up to full glow, revealing a desk and control panel to one side, with cabinets large and small lining every wall. But it was the cylindrical sarcophagus at the center of the room that fixed her gaze. This was the processing unit for unruly patients. It was designed to prepare them for admission to the asylum, outfit them with the required uniform and restraints, and place them in an appropriate cell or pod. It was of the latest design, quick, quiet and efficient, optimizing both patient and staff safety. It was known by the staff “The Pacifier”, and it held a special allure for Janice. ...

Another Saturday night, and Sandy was bored. It had been nearly a year since Paul had gone from her life, leaving her alone in their remote Vermont farmhouse. It had been what she wanted; he didn’t contest her terms for their divorce. But after a year of loneliness and boredom, with little more than the television to distract her, she was getting a little antsy. They had both worked for a big computer company near Boston, where they first met and fell in love. Luck was with them, and they cashed out right at the crest of the dot-com fiasco before it all went bust. Flush with cash, they decided to “get away from it all” and buy a place in rural Vermont, far away from the hustle and hype. They found a cozy house on an old farm that was an hour’s drive from the nearest town. Perfect! They said farewell to their friends in Boston, packed everything up and headed north. And that’s where the trouble began. Alone with only one another for company, the flaws and mismatches in their relationship began to surface. At first they set it all aside, throwing themselves into modernizing the house with vigor. But once they had finished they had nothing else to do and began a slow decline. Within a year they realized the mistake they had made and divorced by mutual consent. As far as divorces go, it was relatively civil and drama-free. Paul had taken his half of things and moved back to Boston. Sandy decided to hang onto the house and land and make a home for herself. Not wanting to go to seed, she kept her figure trim with daily walks in the woods or on the treadmill in the basement. And she filled her time with small projects in and around the house. But the months passed slowly in her mostly-empty house and no one made the trek to her remote hideaway to see her. She was starting to regret her decision and in desperate need of a change. Her choices were few. She could make the effort to visit either Boston or Montreal for a while. But that meant a long drive and spending cash. She didn’t mind the drive; she was always the type who enjoyed long, rambling excursions to new and exciting places. Money was another issue; finances were getting tight, and jobs were few in this part of the woods. So that left her with the other, all too familiar option of a weekend with her television. She had just settled down in front of the tube with a bowl of microwave popcorn when a sound like a derailing freight train came crashing out of the nearby woods. Startled from her torpor, Sandy jumped to her feet and ran to the window. The sound was echoing off through the woods, and in the distance she could see a bright bluish glow, intense at first but fading as she watched. Thinking that an airplane may have crash-landed, she grabbed her coat and a flashlight and ran out the door. Dashing across the field towards the wood’s edge, Sandy saw the silhouette of a person stumbling towards her through the trees. “Hang on, I’m coming!” she shouted as she ran, hoping the dazed person was not badly injured. Medical services were a long, long drive away. When she reached the wood, Sandy saw that the person before her was a petite woman of her size, an unmistakable fact despite her full-face helmet, considering the skintight flight suit she was wearing. Sandy got to her just as the pilot collapsed. Catching her as she fell, she supported her as best she could and began moving back towards the house. “Are you all right? Was there anyone else on the plane? Don’t worry, we’ll call for help when we get inside.” The pilot attempted a reply, but seemed to speak in gibberish. The opaque, full-coverage flight helmet didn’t help matters. “She’s out of it”, thought Sandy. “I hope she doesn’t have a concussion!” They made it back to the house in a few minutes. Sandy brought her into the bedroom and laid her down on the bed. Despite the seriousness of the situation, Sandy couldn’t help but notice the attractive shape of her charge’s body, or the way her flight suit added to her attractiveness. But such thoughts would have to wait; the pilot was in obvious distress, holding her gloved hands on her lower torso and moaning in pain. “Hang on, let me help you”, said Sandy as she reached to remove her helmet. This seemed to add to the pilot’s distress but Sandy was having none of it. This was the most unusual helmet Sandy had ever seen; it was a blank, featureless oval of shiny black, and covered her entire head and neck, apparently made of two pieces of some hard substance that fit together seamlessly. Feeling around for a latch, she found two small buttons protruding on either side of the neck. Pressing both in at once split the helmet apart. Sandy lifted the front of the helmet and nearly jumped out of her skin at what she saw. It was a woman’s face, with an elegant shape and high cheekbones. But her skin was ashen, almost a reflective silver; her eyes large, almond shaped and entirely black; her nose unusually thin, as were her lips; and her head entirely without hair. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to realize that the crash was a UFO, and this woman its alien pilot. “D’ghosh phangla?” the pilot said in between gasps of breath. “I-I-I-” was all Sandy could manage. Seeing the problem, the pilot raised her hand and rested her fingertips on Sandy’s forehead. There was a brief flash, and the pilot lowered her hand and spoke again. “Do you understand me now?” “…yes. Yes! Omigod, how did you do that?” “A talent. Where am I? What planet is this?” “You’re an alien! You’re from outer space! I don’t believe this!” Sandy’s excitement was tempered a bit when she saw the pain return to the pilot’s face, and she tried to compose herself. “This is Earth. Third planet from the sun. You landed in the woods near my house, which is in Vermont, which is in the United States of America. Close to Canada!” “I see. And you are…?” “Sandy! Sandy Bright. I live here. Obviously. Oh, never mind! Who are you!?” “I am called Penque. I was scouting for mineral deposits in this system when something went wrong and my ship’s systems began to fail. This appeared to be the only inhabited planet in the area, so I tried to land and effect repairs. But something happened when I entered your atmosphere; the ship experienced a system-wide failure. The landing was less than perfect.” “Wow! Was anyone else on your ship?” “No, it is a small scout vessel. I usually have a co-pilot, but this was meant to be an easy assignment.” This brought a smile to Penque’s lips, but it was quickly replaced by a spasm of pain. Sandy got worried. “Hey, you’re hurt pretty badly. I should call a doctor.” “No! You must not alert anyone to my presence! I am in this system without the proper authority. To do so could jeopardize my mission, not to mention my life!” Penque reached up as she said this, inviting another round of grimacing and spasms. “But you’re hurt! You might die!” “My injuries are not as severe as you imagine. The flight suit I am wearing has already diagnosed my condition and is affecting repairs. I should be out of danger in a few strohms.” “Your…suit?” Sandy’s eyes again drifted down to the glossy black covering Penque’s entire body. “Yes, the suit and helmet are an integrated unit. They monitor my condition at all times, and work to protect me from injury or infection. It is essential to one in my profession.” Penque looked at her quizzically. “I take it your planet has not yet developed such technology?” Sandy was a bit distracted by the sight of Penque’s suit-encased chest rising and falling. “Not that I know of.” “Mm. I see.” Penque paused, thinking. “If it is all right with you, I should rest for a while. Would you mind closing my helmet for me? It needs to be worn correctly for everything to function properly.” “Sure, okay. Do you want me to bring you anything? Some water?” “Thank you, perhaps later. For now, I need to rest. Promise me you will not tell anyone of my presence here? Please?” She reached out and took Sandy’s hand in hers; the warm, smooth feel of it sent a strange excitement through Sandy’s body. “I won’t tell a soul, I promise. If you need me, I’ll be in the other room.” “Thank you. Now, if you would…” Penque made a slight motion towards the top of her helmet. “Yeah, sure.” Sandy reached up and gently pressed down the front of the helmet, her eyes never leaving those of her guest until the smooth oval obscured them from view. With a soft click, the helmet was back in place, and Penque seemed to relax and breath a bit deeper. Sandy stood up and went to the bedroom door, turning off the light as she turned in the doorway to linger upon the glistening, sensual form stretched out on her bed, still visible as it reflected the moonlight from the window. With a bit of effort, she tore herself away and shut the door. ...

Angela awoke with a start. “Where am I? What is this place?” she asked herself with alarm. Panic was mixing with confusion as she tried to recall her most recent actions, but all was a muddle. She dimly recalled driving along the coast towards her cottage up north, but nothing afterwards. What had become of her? The room was dark gray; the walls, floors, everything appeared to be made of polished granite. She was lying on a slab of the same material in the center of the room. There was a dim illumination, but she could not make out the source. Her body was covered from the waist down with a dark sheet. ...

story from the 2018 Halloween Special The late evening gloom that hung over the empty parking lot was swept away by the glare of headlamps and blare of music as the white minivan careened across the empty expanse and parked at a side door of the darkened factory. Gears ground and lights dimmed as the seven members of the Phi Lambda sorority tipsily stumbled out of the vehicle. Each was dressed identically in Phi Lambda tee shirts and denim short shorts, and all sported shaven heads. ...