The Mutant Companion

An Offer of Employment

Joffrey Wantage stared at the window. Not that there was anything beyond the dirty yellow smog swirling through the street to be seen. It masked almost everything, leaving only vague shapes as the street steamers moved along the road, belching their contribution to the smog. And it matched his mood at the moment. The ‘victim’ of a rather unusual mutation in his genes, he had every appearance of manhood, bar one. His genitalia were, in appearance and functionally, female, although he was genetically and physically, male and therefore incapable of pregnancy. His was an increasingly common deformity, and he had suffered a great deal because of it through his childhood and youth. When abroad at any public function he found it best to wear a prosthesis to avoid attention though he found it uncomfortable. 

The problem was complex, first he was possessed of both male and female organs, though his ‘penis’ was small and largely concealed within his ‘vulva’, the lips of which were very prominent even when not aroused. The “vulva” and its associated pubic area was unusually large, considerably larger than a normal females, a development since puberty. Indeed, until puberty he’d been able to disguise his mutation quite easily. Puberty had changed that, his penis being engulfed by the growing ‘labial’ lips his foreskin had become, and the thickening and enlarging of the heavy outer lips that formed his ‘vulva’. His vagina was fully developed, but though he had no uterus or ovaries — his prostate mutated into a sort of uterus — he produced sperm, the mutated testes located in his pelvis being responsible. The combination of his organs meant he generally produced male hormones, but with abnormally high levels of female as well. And that produced another problem — from his perspective — when he engaged in sexual activity. Yet, despite all this, he had no discernible breasts, and a very athletic build, typically ‘male’ with narrow hips, slim waist and broad chest and shoulders. 

The need to disguise his ‘deformity’ which could be all too evident in the tight fitting clothing necessary beneath the smog suits everyone wore, was necessitated by laws which discriminated against ‘mutants’ like him. It had been a painful, and very difficult, journey from childhood into adulthood as a result. Early on he’d developed a taste for fetish sex, which had ultimately led to his exposure as a prescribed mutant. Now ‘rehabilitated’ and with a new identity, he still struggled to avoid once more succumbing to his fetish desires — at times a severe challenge. 

The high levels of atmospheric pollution, coupled with the poisoned water and ground made wearing a ‘Smog Suit’ out of doors essential — actually vital on a bad day. Even on a good day, it paid to wear thigh length boots, with a leather overcoat to protect one’s clothing. At the very least a breathing mask was essential outdoors. The invention of steam power had been a blessing and a curse. The ‘blessing’, if such it could be counted, was the vast range of mechanical aids to manufacturing and the improvement — for some — of living standards. The price was the belching smoke and other pollutants. Indoors, of course, these outer garments were shed, and one wore soft indoor pumps with trousers, shirt and coat. His usual mode of dress was conservative and neat as befitted the profession he’d been trained to fulfil. 

Having made the mistake of revealing his mutation and his fetish to someone he’d loved, and thought loved him in return, Joffrey had found himself betrayed and confined to a Recreation Centre. His mutation carried with it several complications — especially when engaged in intercourse. Not least that his hormonal balance was on a knife edge, and intercourse tended to tip it toward an insatiable sexual appetite, something the Centre had exploited to their clients kinky tastes. Thankfully he’d been rescued, rather dramatically, rehabilitated, and given a new identity, but the fetish urge remained strong, and he found it best to avoid sexual contact with another.

He turned at the sound of the door opening.

“Mr Wantage?” The newcomer had removed the helmet of his smog suit, but was otherwise still fully attired for the street. “Konsbruck.”

“I am he.”

“Good, good. Lord Fontlebois sent me. He asked I convey his apologies, he has been called away, but wishes to meet you.” The newcomer produced a ID Reader. “May I read your chip?”

“Of course, sir.” Joffrey had been expecting this and offered his wrist .

Holding the chip reader briefly to the proffered wrist, the newcomer read the display and smiled. “Thank you. I have a transport outside, Mr Wantage. Do you have a smog suit, or should I have one sent in?”

“I have one, thank you.” Joffrey hesitated. “I was told to expect some token of identity if his lordship was unable to meet me.”

“Ah. Of course, of course. My apologies, Mr Wantage, most remiss of me.” The man delved into the pouch at his belt, and presented a badge mounted on a leather wallet. “His Lordship had intended to be present himself, but has been delayed in his meeting. He ordered me to offer you his apologies, and hopes you will wait upon him at his out of town residence.”

Noting the badge and the name on the leather, Joffrey nodded. “Of course, Mr Konsbruck. The agency warned me he might not attend himself.” Picking up the bulky suit laying neatly on the chest provided for this purpose in the waiting room, he continued, “Give me a moment to don my suit.”

Restowing his badge, Konsbruck nodded. “Certainly.” Deftly he raised and refitted the all enclosing helmet, taking care to reseal the neck, all the while watching as Joffrey unfolded his suit, and carefully avoiding contact with the exterior surfaces, slipped into the rather cumbersome and old-fashioned suit of leather and some synthetic material outfit, the bronze fittings and fastenings contrasting with the dark leather.

Securing the fastenings, Joffrey raised the attached helmet and eased his head into it, making sure the orinasal mask sealed to his face, and the eyepieces settled into place on his eyes. It was a cumbersome process, but the suit was easy to fit and sealed effectively. The one disadvantage was he could no longer speak and must rely on signs to communicate. Signalling that he was ready, Joffrey bowed.

“Ah, those old suits were good, but make communication impossible. Follow me, please, the transport is not far, but the smog today is the worst I’ve ever seen it.”

Joffrey knew. He’d had to walk to the agency through the greasy yellow-black blanket, guided by his small, but very effective way finding device, and the special filters he’d developed for his goggles. Even so, it had taken a considerable amount of caution to negotiate the several streets, an open space that had once been — or so he was told — and luxuriant park, and finally the long avenue to the agency, the agreed meeting place.

The agency secretary had been cautious. “I don’t know a great deal about this client. His Lordship is extremely wealthy, of course, and that means he has the means to keep his , ah, privacy well guarded. He has given us a rather specific commission to find a valet-companion. Specifying that the person is to be a mutant, appropriately trained, personable and intelligent.”

Joffrey had waited in silence. He certainly fitted all three of the criteria. Though, on the first, no one would have known unless specifically privy to the particular form of mutation he had been cursed with, that he was even a mutant. He’d listened to the rest of the information, then agreed to be available for an interview. That had been two weeks since. Today, the smog was worse than usual, even worse than on his previous visit, and now he was about to discover whether or not the prospective employer was sincere. To himself, he said, “At worst he will decide that my mutation is not acceptable, or sufficient.”

That, he had to admit, was a serious risk. Most with his mutation found employment in houses of “gentlemen’s recreation” as the euphemism termed such places. Joffrey had been exceptionally lucky to escape that fate himself following what he regarded as the folly of giving his heart to an unsuitable, and treacherous, suitor. His mother’s determined efforts had saved him from that fate, but not before he had been compelled to experience the life, albeit briefly. The stigma had meant leaving his home, and finding anonymity in the life of a servant, even though he had been born to a well connected family of modest wealth. An adequate income from a trust fund allowed him some scope. He could pursue his scientific and academic interests independently of his employment, or, as now, live quite reasonably while technically unemployed. 

In accepting the offer of an interview, he knew he ran the risk of being compelled to accept the risk of once more falling into the trap of becoming too attached to an employer. The pain of that early betrayal made him exceptionally wary.

The transport vehicle was unusual. It lacked any visible smoke stack, and was entered through an airlock. Larger than any normal private vehicle, it proved, once inside, to be quite luxurious.

Sealing the airlock, Mr Konsbruck removed his helmet. “You can remove the suit now. We won’t need the protection until we reach our destination, and the passenger cabin is a clean environment.”

Easing himself carefully out of his suit, Joffrey gave a sigh of relief. The suit was heavy, and tended to trap the body heat. “Thank you.” Carefully folding the outfit he admired the suit his companion had now removed, aware the vehicle appeared to be moving. “How long is the journey?”

“Depends on the roads, but about an hour.” Sliding open a panel, Mr Konsbruck indicated the comfortably appointed seating area. “We can make ourselves comfortable. Something to drink?”

“Thank you,” Joffrey took a seat carefully. The prosthesis he wore to hide his unusual deformity was uncomfortable, one reason he only wore it when attending any public place or event. “Something cool and soft, if possible, please.”

“Certainly.” Opening a small cabinet, the man produced two glasses, then a bottle of a well known cordial. “I’m partial to a cordial myself.” Pouring two measures, he topped them up with soda water. “Lemon and lime, very refreshing. A little ice?”

Carefully schooling his face, Joffrey hide his astonishment. “Ice? Why thank you.”

Accepting the glass he sipped carefully, relieved to find it was exactly the product on the label and not an alcoholic mixture. “Refreshing indeed. Is this something his lordship enjoys?”

“Yes, his favourite during the day. Nothing alcoholic when he is out or working.”

Joffrey sipped the drink appreciatively. It was refreshing, and the vehicle had the smoothest ride he had ever encountered. Used to the usual surges of acceleration and deceleration of the street steamers, this vehicle’s motion was different. He mentioned it, while taking in the luxurious appointments of the passenger space.

His escort smiled. “Yes. The future his Lordship hopes. Less polluting, and far less fuel hungry. The steam is used to generate electricity, and the main propulsion is electric. Easier to regulate and more efficient.”

As the journey progressed, Joffrey probed gently for information on this mysterious possible employer. Trained to be discreet, he enquired subtly about the household, the preferences and the dislikes, and formed an impression of a rather severe man of great wealth and influence with interests in many fields of science. He was thus better prepared when the vehicle finally drew to a halt. A noise as of high pressure water against the outer skin of the vehicle followed, and when that ceased, the vehicle moved smoothly forward and stopped. A green lamp flashed on above the door, and Mr Konsbruck suggested they disembark.

“We won’t need to suit up, the engine house is fully atmospheric controlled.” He smiled at Joffrey’s surprise. “I will have one of the technicians give it a thorough cleansing and service while you see his lordship.”

“Oh? Oh, thank you.” Joffrey accepted this gratefully. He took great care of his smog suit, not only because it was expensive, it was a matter of life and death to do so. “It has some special features of my own devising, please alert the technician to the vision enhancing and way finding systems — they are extremely sensitive.”

Ushered into a large room lined with books, Mr Konsbruck, checked. “Mr Joffrey Wantage, My Lord.”

A man only a few years older than Joffrey turned from his study of some engineering drawings and smiled. “Thank you, Konrad. Mr Wantage, my apologies for not attending our assignation in the City. I hope your journey was comfortable?”

“Indeed, sir, it was. Mr Konsbruck took care to attend to my comfort.” Joffrey bowed, his sharp eye taking in his hosts handsome face, his physique and the neat, yet casual appearance of his dress.

“I’m sure he did, Mr Wantage. Please, do join me in some tea. As the agency has, I have no doubt, informed you, I am seeking to employ you as my companion and assistant.”

“They intimated as much, sir.”

“Did they also ‘intimate’ that I had specified someone unusual?”

Meeting his lordship’s eye, Joffrey saw the mirth lurking in their depths. “Yes, sir, they did.” He wondered what this prospective employer knew about his mutation. His genitals were most unusual, in fact, at his birth, had occasioned a lot of comment and debate. They had also caused him a considerable amount of trouble at school and played a major part in his subsequent problems.

Leaning back in his leather covered wing backed chair, his lordship steepled his fingers. “And still you accepted the invitation to be interviewed for the post?” The lurking smile appeared, and the face seemed younger, almost beautiful. “Excellent, so you like intrigue, Mr Wantage. Your agency profile suggested as much. And you are something of a technical wizard I discover. Where did you learn that?” He paused as a mechanical figure entered bearing a tray with a silver tea service. “Thank you, Number One. We will serve ourselves, I think.”

The automaton placed the tray on the table, and his lordship waited until the mechanical figure had withdrawn, then confided, “I have several such, but we have been unable to get the programming right when it comes to pouring single cups! They are superb in the cleaning role though. Very efficient, as I am sure you will discover.”

Accepting the proffered cup, Joffrey said, “I see, sir. The house is maintained by automata? Why then would you have need of a companion-assistant?” He felt some alarm at the fact he found his lordship extremely attractive. Inexplicably his pulse quickened and his thoughts confused at the hunger his lordship’s appearance raised in him. 

“Direct to the point of fault, Mr Wantage, but honest as well.” The laugh was gentle, and not mocking. “Automata are useful, but hardly what one would choose as a companion.” He caught Joffrey’s astonished look. “I shall be direct. You are highly recommended for your intellect, Mr Wantage. More than that, I am told you are loyal to a fault, even at your own expense and suffering. Is my information correct?”

“If one is not loyal, sir, then one is worse than a footpad.” Joffrey wondered at the possible source of his lordship’s information. Not even when stripped, humiliated and raped in the ‘conditioning’ to force him to accept the role demanded of him. It had taught him caution. In his new profession, he took pride in being the model valet. Reserved to the point of rudeness, utterly private and always aloof. He’d learned things about his most recent employer that, if repeated to the wrong ears, would have devastated the man and a considerable portion of society, but he would rather die than reveal a single thing. “You seek a companion, sir? I am a valet, and take pride in being discreet, sir. A companion is not normally a part of my role.”

“Indeed, it is not, Mr Wantage, but not so very different, and you are a man of many talents. Well born — yes, I am acquainted with your family — yet choosing to hide your talent in matters of engineering behind the facade of a valet. You are, I believe, the owner of several patents for items my manufacturies produce.” A soft whistle interrupted the conversation as his lordship answered a speaking tube attached to the arm of his chair. “I see! Yes, yes, most useful, thank you, Konrad.” He replaced the whistle and secured the tube, then spent a moment studying Joffrey quizzically. “But you make a fair answer, Mr Wantage. I am aware that you have not been well served by your previous employers — and friends I believe.” He held up a hand. “Neither shall I ask you to reveal any of it. I shall not ask you to go to the same lengths, I assure you. I place as high a value on loyalty as you do.” Hesitating, he watched the emotions and the slight tremble as Joffrey replaced the cup in it’s saucer. “I see I have shocked you by knowing as much as I do. Yes, I did know of your previous history, and the fellow responsible for almost destroying you. I assure you I am nothing like him.”

“I understand, sir.”

“Do you? I hope so. Now, Mr Wantage, I have a contract to offer you. It is for a companion, as it says.” He watched the reserve shutter his visitor’s face. “I am seeking someone who will be a friend and an assistant in some of my enterprises as well. When one is as intimate with his employer as a valet must be, I would think you will have learned that it is sometimes a difficult position for employer and employee. It is my hope we may build something more upon this, perhaps becoming much more than simply employer-employee.” Proffering a folder, he continued, “I would add, that your interest in scientific research, in technology and engineering — as evidenced by your modifications to your smog suit and your patents — lead me to believe you will be an extremely valuable companion and assistant in my own work. Read the contract carefully, Mr Wantage, then we may talk further.”

  The contract was detailed and set out a great deal. While much of it dealt with matters of privacy, some of it was new to Joffrey, such as the provisions for him to have a part of each day for his own recreation. There was provision too for ‘further education’ and ‘personal development’ and ‘attendance at lectures and conferences’ and the overriding clause which required him to assist his prospective employer in the development of new technologies. The stipend made him raise his eyebrows, especially when he reached the clause which gave him his own self-contained suite, an allowance to cover any clothing requirements, and provision for all medical needs.

Reaching the end of the final page, he laid the document on the table before him. “It goes considerably beyond any contract I have ever heard of or seen, my Lord.”

“It does, and I hear the ‘but’ in your statement, Mr Wantage. However, I assure you, there is no ‘but’ and no hidden agenda. I believe that those who work for me are worthy of their employment. I expect loyalty, and I believe it is something precious to be rewarded. That is why I am very selective in my employees, and offer more than an employee/employer relationship. What I am offering you, Mr Wantage, is something more than employment. Bluntly, I am seeking a partner, primarily for work, but conceivably, for fellowship at the very least. I seek someone who shares my interests. Someone I may share my interests with.” Smiling he leaned back. “You have many questions, I can see.”

Joffrey paused. “May I speak freely, sir?”

“I would hope that you will. Be blunt, Mr Wantage. I am offering something unusual, even possibly unwise. After all I know only what the Agency and my inquiries have revealed about you, nothing more!”

“Very well, my lord. Thank you.” Joffrey hesitated, marshalling his thoughts. “May I know the reason you specified a mutant such as myself for this role, sir?”

His lordship nodded. “You may, and I shall tell you.” Sipping his tea, he paused, “I am myself a mutant, though not in the most visible manner, or in the same manner as yourself.” He smiled. “Mine is a defect more easily disguised than most. I may not, however, marry or breed because of it. Thus, the title will, eventually pass to a distant relative, if at all. As to my wealth, that will be held in trusts, as indeed, most of it is now.”

“I understand, sir.” Joffrey paused again. “However, while I am willing, indeed, desirous of companionship myself, I cannot but be aware of the disparity between our stations. Nor can I quite forget what my desire to accept someone into my life led to in the past. I fear the disparity may occasion talk and even enmity in some, and I may not be able to offer anything beyond friendship.” Staring at a portrait, he added softly, “I know you will be aware of the fate our society reserves for those born as I am, sir. It is not a life I would wish to experience against my will again. I had no control over myself, my — er —pleasure, or my life, sir. I was nothing but a sexual toy for the many men of wealth who find their pleasure in using those like myself, consigned to the Recreation Centres of the city. I would not wish to find myself in that situation again.”

“I can readily understand that, Mr Wantage, but perhaps it may be yours to give freely to someone you have formed an attachment for? It must not concern you at this time. I shall force nothing upon you. Anything in that direction must be your choice, and yours alone.” His lordship leaned back. “In some circumstances, the difference in our station might arouse ill-feeling. Let me assure you, however, that Mr Konsbruck and the rest of my staff, have been involved in your selection. If there is any disapproval, it will not come from them!” He smiled, adding softly, “They chose you, Mr Wantage. They have been my mentors, my ‘family’ since my youth. It is their wish that I find a companion and close friend to share my life, my work, my ideas. Are you that companion? Only you can decide that now.”

Joffrey made his decision, aware of the flutter in his pulse and an unaccustomed sensation elsewhere. “I was deeply scarred by the one in whom I placed my affection, sir, in whom I placed all my trust.” Hesitating, he looked at his hands for a moment. “I cannot promise to be more than a companion for the moment, but if that is acceptable to you, then I am willing to try.” 

“Then let us shake hands upon it. Please address me as Devlin from now on.”

Rising with his lordship, Joffrey nodded. Clasping the firm hand, he returned the handshake, once more feeling the attraction. It was a feeling he’d fought hard to suppress, because another feature of his mutation was that he responded sexually as a woman, but unless his minuscule male part was able to achieve ejaculation, he suffered a surge in his female hormones that made him sexually insatiable, something that had made him very popular in a certain house he’d escaped with great difficulty. Thrusting thoughts of possible romance from his mind, he said, “Thank you, sir — Devlin. Please call me Joffrey.”

(If you have enjoyed reading this far, and would like to see more, please leave a comment. This is very much an experimental work, still developing as I explore this mix of steam punk, fetish and ...)