Last Train to Grimsby

Packaged Story Contest 2005 Entrant

The train clanked on through dark, damp countryside towards its unattractive destination. Scattered sparsely around its seats, the passengers were largely late-night commuters, looking tired in business clothes.

Joe had been unobtrusively watching the woman who sat opposite him several seats away on the dimly lit, rattling train for some time now. She was clearly tired, and hadn’t noticed him. She wore a demure yet stylish blouse and skirt, and elegant heels. As he turned the page of his newspaper and flicked another glance her way, she shifted in her seat and gave a sigh. In his mind’s eye, the sigh came filtered through a thick layer of packing material, and the slight movements of her body were against the ropes that held her tightly balled. In reality, she crossed her legs, took a sip from a bottle of water, and rested her head back against the headrest, eyes closed, oblivious of his attention. 

As the train plunged into a tunnel and the lights flickered, Joe stood up and walked unsteadily up the corridor towards the next carriage.

Marie opened her eyes as the train drew to a standstill at yet another tiny rural station with an unmemorable name. Travelling at night was depressing. At the end of her journey, only a hotel room to greet her, and a tedious meeting in the morning.

She noticed that she was now the only person left in her carriage. Glancing over her shoulder, she could see that there were other passengers in the next carriage, so she relaxed and looked down again at the file open on her lap. Strange. Lying on top of the report she had been reading was a folded piece of paper. Vaguely curious, she picked it up.

'I’d like to wrap you up, nice and tight, and keep you safe till morning. Does that sound better than wherever you’re going? If not, I’ll leave you alone. If it does, then come with me. There’s a large black case on the luggage rack in front of you. You should fit inside it nicely. You can trust me, I promise'.

Marie’s heartbeat drummed hard in her chest as she read the handwritten note, the hand that held it unnaturally still. Slowly, she lifted her head and there, right in her line of vision was the luggage rack, with one sole case standing at ground level. 

The train was speeding up again, rattling her onward to her destination. Dark shapes fled past the windows and the wind buffeted the carriage angrily. She must be mad to think the case looked more appealing than her small but clean hotel room…

She was just lonely, that was all. Tired, travelling late at night, cold, and with a long week ahead of her… Thoughts of warm, safe cocoons often assailed her in her miserable moments. This was just one of them. There was nothing wrong with that, surely.

It must be a joke, she thought, and stood up to examine the case. A strong feeling of unreality descended on her when she put an unsteady hand to the zip, and opened it to reveal the empty space within. Heart thumping once more, she returned swiftly to her seat, resolutely ignoring the case till the next station.

Madness, sheer madness. No sane person would put themselves at a stranger’s mercy like that. And yet, and yet…

Two women entered her carriage at the stop, and Marie was half relieved there was someone there to stop her. But twenty minutes later, they got off the train, and all there was between her and the final stop was the case…

Of course she wouldn’t. Just because a stranger had propositioned her with the very thing her heart at that moment desired most was no reason to put herself in danger. She shook her head and settled herself back down again to read.

It was then that she noticed him. Sitting in the next carriage along, elbows resting on his knees, chin in his hands, watching her nervously. A youngish man, dark hair, soft features. Safe. Comforting. And what was more, she recognised him. 

They’d chatted before on the late train to Grimsby, she recalled. And that one night, when the train had broken down, and no taxis could get through the snow, when they’d had to stay in the small station hotel – separate rooms, of course – and they’d got resoundingly drunk together in the bar, neither of them used to drinking, but somehow comfortable enough in each other’s company to let go. What had they talked about? Sex, she knew; everything after that was a haze. Had she confessed her strange desires? Apparently so… They hadn’t met since, and she’d been too tired to notice he was on the train now.

Marie watched him for several moments, turning thoughts over in her mind till he raised his eyes. As their eyes met, he stood up slowly, and turned away. Giving her the privacy she needed, thought Marie…

Lightheaded, not quite believing what she was doing but intent upon it anyway, Marie tidied her papers away into her bag. She knew deep inside that she could trust him, but it was still folly to do what she was going to do. With a feeling of vertigo she slid her bag far underneath her seat, keys and money and everything all shut within it. If she was going to do this, she was going to do it properly. He might never ask again.

The interior of the case really didn’t seem big enough for her. She laid it down on the bottom layer of the rack and opened the lid as far as it would go. Driven by a compulsion she didn’t understand, she stepped delicately into it, her feet by the wheels. She lay down on her side, her knees drawn tightly up to her chest, her head bent forward, pressed against the sides of the case from all angles. It would be too much work now to sit up and take her high heeled shoes off to give her more room, so they stayed on, restricting her space even more. Breathing fast, watching the light fade from the case, she pulled the lid down on top of her and worked the twin zips round with her fingertips till they almost met in front of her eyes.

For the few minutes before the train pulled into its destination, Marie lay quivering inside the case, feeling herself turn from person into package. As the train slowed down, barely glimpsed fingers zipped the case completely closed, inserting a small padlock through the rings at the ends of the zips. There was nothing she could do now but go along for the ride..

Joe hadn’t known if she was actually in there or not till he tried to lift the case and found it heavy as a human being. A grin spreading across his face, he manhandled it from the train and set it upon its wheels on the platform, sliding out the telescopic handle so he could pull it after him. The weight of the case, and the way it bumped over potholes and kerbs, was deeply satisfying. He traipsed happily across the station concourse and into the car park, thrilled by the fact he was the only person who knew what was inside his luggage.

He had barely believed his ears when Marie had whispered drunkenly to him, that snowy night, that she fantasised about being packed up like an object, but shh, don’t tell anyone. What were the chances of finding someone potentially willing to submit to his own need to pack up women in unfeasibly small containers? Their slurred conversation had quickly turned to other things, but he remembered that moment with crystal clarity. And now, he had her locked in his case…

Looking down at the silent, still case sitting beside him, he began to hum. With one swift movement, he heaved the case up into the boot of his car, then slammed the door shut with no more regard for the contents of his case than if it really had been a week’s worth of clothes. Oh, this was fun…

Locked in the boot of Joe’s car, the case containing Marie was driven for several miles out into the country before it was wheeled into his house. Marie, curled up inside in the pitch black, experimented with escape, found it was impossible, and moaned gently to herself.

Inside, Joe wasted no time in setting the case on a low table, and unlocking the padlock. Eager as a kid at Christmas, he wanted to examine his surprise. Blinking up at him from her foetal position, her business clothes so incongruous, Marie was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

He helped her silently down from the case, her legs a little wobbly after her confinement. She looked around, taking in a large open plan kitchen that merged into a living room with a real coal fire. Underfoot, her heels rang against large, square flagstones that made up the floor of the converted cottage. A grand, yet somehow minimalist space.

Wasting no time – for this was a long-held fantasy, for them both – Joe had turned away and was now picking up a box and showing it to Marie. A perfect cube, about two thirds of a metre wide, made from inch thick, featureless plywood painted a beautiful pale blue on the outside. He’d prepared it the day after the snow, never imagining he would get to use it.

He turned his generous, enthusiastic face towards her.

‘Would you like to spend the night all wrapped up in here?’ he asked directly, as Marie wondered how on earth two people had ever found each other who both thought this was a normal thing to do. She smiled, and nodded. ‘OK,’ she replied, wanting nothing more than to be safely packed up inside it. She’d been devastated when she’d been released from the case.

As Joe gathered the equipment that he needed, and replaced the case with the box on the coffee table, Marie slipped out of her clothes and stood naked before him. With an appreciative gaze, he stepped towards her and gestured for her to open her mouth. She did as asked, and allowed him to squeeze a large rubber ballgag between her teeth. Protruding from the centre was a long, stiff breathing tube.

First he bound her legs, her knees tight together and ankles crossed, her heels drawn up to her bum. He used many carefully applied loops of soft white rope, cinching her thighs, knees, calves and ankles together, then bending her feet back so her thighs could be securely attached to her calves. Feeling herself being rolled up tight, bit by bit, Marie became progressively happier. Unable to talk, and soon unable to move, having all control taken away from her was very potent. The perfect antidote to her horribly stressful job; the perfect alternative to her depressing week in Grimsby.

As she knelt on the floor, Joe put her arms behind her back and made her hold each elbow with the opposite hand. Then he wrapped rope around her parallel forearms till no flesh could be seen between the wrappings. A brace of rope also held her upper arms in position behind her back, so she couldn’t pull them apart and try to wriggle out of the ropes holding her forearms. 

By dint of much muscle power, and thanks to Marie’s natural flexibility, Joe slowly worked Marie’s chest lower and lower until her breasts touched her thighs and were crushed ever more tightly against them. Sweat broke out on Joe’s brow as he looped rope around her compacted body and tied it all into place, but when he stood back he’d done a good job: she didn’t unroll a millimetre. He sat her up so that he could see to her head. Making sure the breathing tube was unimpeded, he carefully pushed her head down towards her knees and secured it there. Her eyes gleamed at him as he did so.

He was keen to finish the job, but couldn’t stop himself from teasing her a little: he gave her tightly balled body a nudge, and smiled broadly as she tipped helplessly over onto her side. The sight reminded him of something. Leaving her on her side, he kneeled next to her and began to work two fat dildos inside her, ignoring the muffled moans that came from her buried face. In his opinion, there was no point packing someone up properly if you didn’t take care of internal cavities first.

An opaque black cotton bag soon contained the bound Marie, now sitting back up with the breathing tube sticking through a small hole in the material. Joe knotted the neck of the bag closed and used it to heave Marie up onto the coffee table, and thence into the wooden box. The breathing tube slotted into a purpose cut hole near the bottom of the box. She was a perfect fit, he realised with a swell of pride. He was getting good at picking them.

There wasn’t much room left in the box, but what little room there was he packed with polystyrene beads, squeezing them in till they were all deformed against each other, holding Marie tight in their embrace. He piled them high on top of her as well, and pushed the lid swiftly down, hoping to trap as many as possible inside the box.

With one knee holding the lid in place, Joe picked up his hammer and began to nail shut the box. Ten nails held each side tightly down. Thud. Thud. Thud. Soon nothing was left of Marie but a wooden cube: a perfect, featureless, tightly packed box. 

Before he allowed himself a proper look at his creation, he cleared the room of Marie’s clothes and all his equipment. Only then did he stand in awe in front of the perfect, pale blue box that sat silently on his coffee table, humming with a silent human energy but otherwise inert. Even the hole for the breathing tube wasn’t really visible, since it was hidden behind a fine gauze in the same colour as the rest of the box.

Joe relaxed into his favourite chair next to the lit fire, with a bottle of scotch and a smile on his face. Was there anything more beautiful than a well packaged woman? He thought not. He couldn’t take his eyes off the box, wondering what she was feeling inside. Totally helpless, held immobile, compacted down into a tiny box sealed shut with heavy duty nails… 

On a sudden urge he stood up, and wandered over to the box, stroking its sides gently. Then he picked it up, and carried it to the middle of the floor. The beauty of a cube was that it was the same from all angles. Slowly, he tipped it over till it came to rest on its side. Then again, and again, and again, till he had no idea what way up it was supposed to go.

Grinning broadly, he rolled the box to the foot of his chair and settled down again, feet resting on it. 

He thought this one was a keeper. Not all of the women who’d agreed to let him pack them up had been too enamoured of the final product. When he’d released them in the morning, they’d been sore with cramp, wild-eyed with anger, and inclined to prosecute – at least till a fat cheque from his inheritance had kept them quiet. But Marie, he thought, she wouldn’t be like that. She’d be sad when he prised open the nailed-shut lid. She was born to be cocooned. Like Sally, Jane and the others whose names he’d never found out, who had all agreed to stay and were still here.

In fact, mused Joe, when I’ve finished this drink I’ll make a start pulling up a flagstone. It will save a job in the morning. After he’d unpacked Marie, told her of his intention, and – assuming she said yes – had repackaged her with catheter, water tube and food tube in place, it would be a blessing to have the square hole under one of the flagstones all ready to use. He’d also weld metal braces round the box to add another layer of protection to the nailed lid. He’d tell Marie exactly what he was going to do, so she’d know, inside her box, how the sounds and vibrations she could feel were making her more and more secure inside.

He’d drop her blue box into the ground by the window, near Sally, because Marie reminded him of her. Then he’d pack the earth in tightly around it, smooth off the top, and heave the flagstone back into place, going round the edges with cement to make it look like it had never been disturbed. 

Suddenly reminded, he made a note to himself to buy more tubing before he unpacked Marie in the morning: he didn’t think he had enough to run from her new home to the power house, as he called it, where the bodily needs of all his women were taken care of. How many times had he done this now? He couldn’t recall exactly without thinking back and counting, but it was a quite a few – and yet not enough. There were a lot of flagstones in his house.

Marie, deep in a trance inside her box, was unaware of Joe’s plans. Would she agree to them? Only the morning would tell. For now, for the next twelve hours or so, she was packed up so tightly, so safely that nothing else mattered. She tried to imagine what she looked like from the outside, and the image of a still, quiet blue box hung in her mind. Sighing deeply, smiling to no one but herself inside her box, she waited. 
 

12.06.05