Chris was lucky the university rugby team he was a part of was on a short break for the time being. He struggled to get changed for his classes, analyzing every inch of his body to make sure his outfit was rid of rubber evidence before he stepped out of the apartment. He swapped through three different jumpers before settling on the right one. One that covered enough of his neck and just enough of his arms were covered if he pushed back the rubber sleeve to just about where his wrist cuff stopped. He wouldn’t be able to lift his arms up or bend over, risking exposure of the rubber catsuit he was trapped in, but that was just something he’d have to keep in mind going forward. The jeans were a simple thing and a few pairs covered his whole lower half, eliminating the ones that had rips at the knees.
But what worried him the most was his rugby uniform. There was no way he would be able to hide the harness and restraints much less the rubber suit. Against pleading and begging from Chris, Mr. Grey or “Sir Grey” as he now wanted to be called, let him know there was no way he was going to be let out before his trip was over and he could get his hands all over his new “toy”. As Chris made his way to his first class, he thought about his first night in the suit. He tried on the rugby uniform, against his best judgement he had hoped it wouldn’t be noticeable but his sight in the mirror confirmed what he already knew deep down. There was no hiding it.
The latex sleeves caught the light beneath the short cuffs of his Oxford jersey no matter how many times he tugged the fabric lower. The thick red restraints wrapped around his thighs sat proudly beneath the hem of his white rugby shorts, impossible to mistake for compression gear or athletic tape. Then there were the boots. Towering black and crimson motorcycle boots laced nearly to his knees. They looked ridiculous beneath a rugby kit, and Chris knew it.
He stood frozen in front of the mirror, one hand pressed against the bridge of his nose as if he could massage away the reality in front of him. Every shift of his weight reminded him of the rubber coating his body. Every breath stretched the glossy material tight over his muscular arms and legs.
Against every ounce of common sense, he'd hoped pulling on the familiar navy jersey would somehow make everything feel normal again. Maybe the uniform would disguise enough of the suit. Maybe, if he kept his sleeves pulled low and his movements small, nobody would notice.
But the mirror was merciless. The obvious legs and arms were one thing, but what worried him most was stepping back into the Oxford changing room looking like this. He imagined the usual chaos before practice: lockers slamming shut, teammates throwing tape rolls across the room, Mike cracking some stupid joke while everyone changed. Someone was bound to look up.
"Mate... what exactly are you wearing?"
Chris already knew who would ask first.
Mike noticed everything. If someone got a haircut, Mike noticed. Changed deodorant? Somehow Mike noticed that too. There wasn't a chance he'd miss the gleam of black rubber beneath Chris's sleeves or the red restraints circling his thighs.
He looked down at himself again.
The jersey still fit perfectly across his chest. The shorts hugged his powerful legs just like they always had. From a distance, maybe nothing looked different. Then he'd move and rubber would shine. The restraints would peek beneath the shorts. The boots would give everything away. There was no hiding it.
If he showed up to practice like this he would be the laughing stock of Oxford rugby, and even if nobody guessed the truth, they'd know something was wrong. There simply wasn't an explanation anyone would believe.
But as he came to class he wiped the idea from his mind. That was a problem for the future. All he had to do was find a seat and lay low until the class was over. When he walked into the large lecture hall it felt like all eyes were on him. He knew that wasn’t the truth, people huddled in conversations or noses pushed into their text books, but he couldn’t help the feeling that everyone already knew. Like they were judging him. So he slinked to the edge of the class and up the stairs to the far back row of the class. This way no one would be looking at him.
It was good at first but five minutes before class a friend sauntered up to him. Mike. Friend since freshman year, #6 back on the rugby team. He was a hulkingly large man. Chris was muscular but Mike made him look small. He was wearing the usual. His Oxford rugby sweatshirt and shorts, even though it was the middle of winter.
“Dude what’s up! You ready to finally start again in a week?” Mike said walking up to Chris with a smile, dapping him up.
Chris stayed seated his face flushed with emotions. Would Mike notice? Chris picked apart mikes expressions over analyzing each time he looked at Chris.
“Yeah I’m… super excited,” Chris said faking a smile. His eyes darted to the front of the class looking to see any sign of it starting to get him out of the conversation. But when his eyes flicked back Mike had a confused look about him… shit.
“What’s with the boots?” Mike said kicking the black and red motorcyle boots he had trapped on his feet.
Chris felt his face redden.
“Dude no judgment if you’re tryin something out but-“ Mike didn’t get to finish his sentence.
“I have a motorcycle.” Chris blurted out his lie and as it left his lips it didn’t feel right.
Mike looked at him skeptically.
“Really? I didn’t pin you as the motorcycle kind of guy…” Mike squinted his eyes slightly giving Chris the look down.
“I don’t ride it often in the winter.” Chris said doubling down.
“Yeah but we’ve known each other since freshman year and this has never come up?” Mike said adjusting the backpack slung over his shoulder.
“It’s new. Recent. Over the break.” Chris mumbled.
The professor coughed at the board to queue the settling of the class.
Mike looked at Chris once more before turning to find a seat.
Chris knew his secret was blown, or at least some form of it. He might not know he got tricked into Chasity and a rubber suit but he defintley knew something was up with those boots.
Class from there on out was a nervous mess for Chris. He awkwardly shifted in the latex under his street clothes most of the time, wincing at any hit of a squeak from the rubber. The worst part was the cage between his legs. There wasn’t really a way to sit for it to be comfortable. The way it rested between his muscular thighs was a constant reminder that it was there. It felt heavier this way. And Chris hated it. The eroticism was gone in this moment. All he could feel was embarrassment. But lucky for him the class ended quick and he made a swift exit, not waiting for his buddy Mike to catch up. He needed to leave on his pretend motorcyle, get home and work something’s out with Sir Grey.
Chris practically flew back to his apartment. He got back and locked himself in his room peeling off his sweater and jeans, getting down to his new naked skin. He plopped down on his bed and took out his phone to text the man who had put him in this predicament in the first place.
“Sir Grey. Sir?” Chris texted repeatedly.
After ten minutes without a response he sent another.
“Please sir. I need you…” it felt desperate as he typed it out but there was no other way he felt. He needed him to satiate the situation. The quell the hunger of his cock straining in his cage and the embarrassment in his head of the entire situation. The two feelings, usually polar opposite mixed in confusing ways in Chris’s mind.
“What is it boy,” Sir Grey responded firmly over text.
“I don’t think I can do this sir. I’m horny. So horny and when I was in class it felt like everyone knew what I had going on and I ran into this friend. I’m pretty sure he knows.” Chris confessed candidly.
“Oh? Another boy in the picture?” This was all Grey texted back.
“No. Nothing like that. He’s a friend from rugby.”
“Mike and I can’t show up to rugby practice like this sir.” Chris pleaded back.
Grey’s texting bubble flickered on and off for about five minutes. Chris could tell he was mulling something over.
“When’s your first practice of the new season?” Grey asked.
“Five days from now.” Chris typed. After he sent it he knew he should have lied. Maybe he would’ve gotten out of the suit earlier.
“Okay well I’ll see you in four days then. Maybe if you prove yourself to me I’ll take off a few of those items you look so submissive in.” Grey teased back.
Chris found himself slightly rubbing his rubbered and caged crotch across his bed, slowly humping into the mattress.
“Thank you sir.” Chris responded.
“But don’t think that cage is coming off any time soon boy.” Grey said firmly.
Disappointment shot through Chris but he knew he should take what he could get. The disappointment fleeted quickly when a photo came in from Grey.
Sir Grey sat in what looked like the marble restroom of some impossibly expensive office building, still dressed like he'd stepped out of a board meeting. Crisp white shirt. Black tie hanging perfectly straight. Tailored trousers. Polished Chelsea boots planted firmly on either side of the toilet, one tilted up pressing slightly against the screen. His leather jacket hadn't even come off. It was tightly fitted to him. The fitted racing jacket hugged his broad shoulders, its deep red leather contrasting sharply against the black panels running down the torso and sleeves. Cream accents broke up the darker colors, giving it an expensive, unmistakably European look. It wasn't flashy, but it demanded attention. The jacket fit him perfectly, looking just as at home in a luxury office as it probably did behind the wheel of some sports car on a mountain road.
But the angle made it worse. The feeling knotting in Chris’s stomach of unmistakable erotic tension.
The camera rested low on the floor between Grey's boots, forcing whoever looked at it to stare up at him. Even through a photograph, the man somehow managed to look composed, confident... superior. His hand rested softly on his crotch, the dress pants grey wore pulling tight against a clear bulge.
Chris stared at it for far longer than he cared to admit. He couldn’t take his eyes off the image. It made him feel less than but in a sexually gratifying way he hated to admit. There was sort of a casual air about it. It reminded Chris that while he'd spent the afternoon spiraling over classes, rugby, and whether anyone would notice the rubber beneath his clothes, Sir Grey had been carrying on with his day entirely unbothered.
Emotions mixed. Equal parts embarrassment, admiration, and the uncomfortable realization that Grey occupied far more space in his thoughts than he wanted to admit.
A second notification buzzed before Chris could lock his phone.
"You seem stressed, boy."
Chris looked back at the photo.
He hated how right Sir Grey was.
“Yes sir.” Chris texted back.
“Why don’t you get on your knees and send me a photo and I’ll relive some of that stress.” Grey teased back.
Before Chris finished reading the text he was already propping his phone up and kneeling on the floor of his bedroom. He spent a second getting in a pose he thought Grey would like. First it was simply just sitting on his thighs, then he tried a few bent over, another few with the zipper between his legs unzipped leaving his cage hanging. He wanted to desperately please Grey. To satisfy them. To make him think about Chris as much as Chris thought about Grey. After about 10 minutes he finally found a pose that would accomplish just that.
Chris posed with his hands behind his back, crotch thrusted forward on his knees exposing his locked cock peaking out from above the band of his rugby shorts. He decided to put on the entire uniform, shorts, shirt on top of the latex to illustrate his point. It was a sort of defiance. A example of how the catsuit would never work but also a display of his helplessness. Chris felt like it was the perfect mix for Grey.
When Chris sent it he didn’t get a response immediately. 10 minutes went by of Chris waiting on his knees anxiously tapping his phone to see if any new notifications came in until he got one.
The picture was an up close shot of Grey’s cock. The first time he had actually seen the thing. Half hard, uncut and leaking precum draped across the seat of the toilet between his muscular hairy legs. Chris could tell he was stroking himself for a bit by the flush Grey’s skin had.
“Hmmm you do look submissive in your uniform. Surprised your rugby boys don’t try and rip it off your body in the locker room. The thought gets me hard.”
Chris felt a slight vibration around his cock. At first he thought it was his imagination but his cage was shaking. His cock immediately got hard before being stopped by the right confined of the cage. He bit his lip and bucked his hips into the air, rocking his junk trying to stimulate it with anything possible. A soft moan escaped Chris’s lips.
“You like the buzz?” Grey texted.
“Yes sir. Fuck that feels so good.” Chris’s fingers trembled as he typed his response.
“You wanna show me how good it feels? Why don’t you send me a video and we will see if I wanna make the vibration stronger.” Grey sent back.
Chris hearted the message but couldn’t bring himself to reply, already beginning his recording. It was a strange thing. He never performed for a camera. The device pressed into him. It felt more awkward than the regular eyes of a man. Felt more voyeristic than he expected. But the slight increase vibration around his caged cock pushed him past the realm of uncomfortability. This much attention to his cock made it feel like his balls were going to explode. He found himself thrusting into the air, biting his lips and palming his face ashamed. He moaned softly grabbing his junk and tugging on the device. The metal contraption never moved but it still felt good.
With unexpected imporveivosation Grey’s name escaped Chris’s lips. The revelation shocked Chris for a second, stopping his movement like he was caught doing something he shouldn’t be doing. Was he actually developing feelings for the man who put him in this situation? Any right minded person would hate Grey. He wasn’t feeling any romance at the moment but he definitely had developed lust for the older man. Lust that was becoming uncontrollable.
Chris continued like nothing had happened and then when he felt like the video was long enough he sent the thing to Grey, his cage still pulsing with vibration. All he could do was breathe through the feeling. Being brought to the edge and walked back from it. No matter how fast or slow the cage vibrated there was no way Chris would be cumming without his cock being erect. He hadn’t known it any other way and while he felt like he was going to burst the cage was always there to stop it.
Suddenly the vibration skyrocketed. Chris let out a loud moan, doubled over satisfied, panting. He clutched the side of his bed for support and gasped as frustration welled up inside him. His cock pulsed almost painfully. His face flushed and his skin turned slick with sweat.
He was close. So close to cumming.
His body trembled and his mind went blank. He desperately thrusted against the side of his bed, begging and whimpering to cum.
Suddenly, the pleasure that consumed him stopped replaced by an abrupt shock. Chris let out a painful scream pressing his head into his comforter. When the pain was over and done his cock returned to its flaccid state within his cage.
Chris sat disappointed and horny at the foot of his bed. He breathed deep and hard catching his breath. He hadn’t noticed but a small pool of precum had formed on his floor, dripping from his caged cock. It became apparent to him that he was even more out of control in this situation than he thought.
A small chime came from Chris’s phone. Another text from Grey.
“I’ll be back Monday. Be on my porch at 9am.” -Grey.
Attached was a picture of Grey’s cock. It was bigger than Chris had previously seen, now fully erect and out of the pants. He could guess by the image it was around 9inches and as thick as a can of coke. It was pinched around its base by a thick metal cock ring and laid on the seat of a toilet covered in cum.
