Chapter 1: The Unreal Experience
Chapter 1: The Unreal Experience
“Okay, you can take it off now.”
I lift the handkerchief up from my eyes and look around. After all this lead-up—riding blindfolded in his truck to wherever this place is, striping all my clothes off, and then being led down a series of stairways and hallways—I’m eager to see what sort of a playroom or dungeon or whatever he has. And I’m not disappointed.
This room is dimly lit. We’ve got to be underground, not just because I felt like I was constantly being led downward, but also because the ceiling and walls are all made from the same cut grey stone. There are some large old wooden support beams at intervals, reminiscent of some old mine, albeit a very fancily done one. There are small steel conduits running electricity for lighting, and I can see plumbing for a sink in the corner.
One wall is covered with shelves and hooks displaying a huge collection of harnesses, chains, ropes, are articles of clothing: most of them black and almost everything made of rubber. A long low wooden bench runs along the full span of the wall, much like a locker room bench. In the center of the room there’s a workbench with a variety of shelves and cupboards sporting an assortment of tools and toys. From the opposite wall hangs three large rubber objects that approximate size and shape of a human body. One is obviously designed to strap a person down into a tight cocoon with sleeves intended to hold arms and legs tightly together against the body. Another looks like an elaborate full-body straitjacket.
Travis is standing in front of me, measuring my reaction to this place. I also take him in: he’s dressed in a simple black rubber full-body catsuit. It’s remarkable in how completely seamless it is. From his hands and feet all the way up to the top of his neck, it’s perfectly smooth as though made from a single piece of material. The gloves and booties appear to be made from a slightly thicker and heavier material, but the effect is really subtle. The only exception is the addition codpiece plate over his groin.
“Man, that outfit’s hot.” I stammer, a little shyly. “And this place is…”
“Oh fuck yeah!” I say, “This place is amazing.”
There are doors on both ends of this room: big old oak doors with black metal frames and rustic handles. I go over the the nearest one and open it, seeing a small bathroom with two large shower stalls, a toilet and sink. Over the sink a shelf supports an interesting ornate silver rack that holds a series of flasks and vials, each filled with some colorful liquid.
Then I check out the other door. It leads to a small room. In one half there’s a low padded cot with a metal frame. It has a small padded-rubber pillow, and sitting on the floor next to it there are two massive rubber boots. On the other side there are two contraptions: the first is a classic leather sling with four steel chains running up to rings embedded in the ceiling. The other is a large chair with big padded armrests and two extensions at the bottom that are meant to hold the legs out to the sides with big metal stirrups at the ends. Along all the sides of the chair I can see a multitude of straps designed to hold its occupant tight.
I can hear Travis walk up behind me as I’m looking in this room, his rubber outfit making those soft but telltale squeaking sounds of rubber rubbing against itself.
“Yeah, this place is amazing.” I say again, and then something occurs to me. “Hey, how’d we get in here?” There are only these three rooms. I didn’t see any sign of stairs or any other entrance!
“That would be telling!” He says with a mischievous smile. “That’s part of the reason for the blindfold. It helps with the overall effect.”
I look back over the central room, examining the wall with the bench and all the hanging clothes, looking for a secret door, but there’s nothing obvious.
“Man, this is so cool! It’s like one of those ‘escape rooms’. I love those!”
“Well,” Travis says, “I promised you ‘the most intense rubber experience in the world’ and it’s good to start with a good setting. But now it’s time we got down to the real business at hand. Come here…” He leads me into the bathroom, where he grabs one of the vials from the silver rack. He pours half of its contents, a viscus blue syrup, into a small glass and hands it to me. “Drink this up.”
“Like the dungeon, it helps to set the stage and heighten the experience.”
I look at him with a little bit of hesitation. This is shifting from just being cool and exciting into being a lot more real. But I can’t deny this whole thing is a huge turn-on for me. I wouldn’t have been enticed about his claim of ‘the most intense rubber experience in the world’ if I didn’t get excited by the idea of kink and restraint. I’ve always fantasized but never before dabbled before this, and this feels like a leap.
Travis says, “It’ll help relax your inhibitions. It’ll also alter your perceptions a little. For most guys who are into rubber, it makes them really horny.”
I decide to toss it down quickly, which is a good idea because it tastes really foul.
Then Travis adds, “Actually, I wanted you to drink it because it’ll make you more obedient and pliable. Just to be honest.” He places his rubber-encased hand on my shoulder and moves it down my chest in a slow, stroking motion.
I think we both notice that I’m starting to sport an erection. I say, “Well, I don’t know if it’s because of that drink or not, but I’m already feeling horny.”
“Fuck, we’re just getting started! Now go into that other side room and sit on the cot. I’ve got to grab a few things first.”
I walk across the big central hall toward the opposite door. He walks by a couple of the benches and picks up various large black objects. I scan along the walls again to see if I can figure out how he got me into here in the first place. I try to remember when I had been blindfolded and led in here if I’d heard the clicks of any doors, but I just can’t figure it out.
As I enter that side room with the cot and the sling, I notice again the pair of huge boots neatly set beside the cot. They must be at least eighteen inches high—I used to have a pair of motorcycle boots that went up twelve inches, and these must go just about to the knee. The shoe size also looks like it’s insanely large, and the material is super-thick. I’d swear it’s nearly a centimeter thick! I feel the ridge with my fingers, and indeed it’s made from high-gauge rubber.
“Aha, great. Just what I wanted you to try on!” Travis says, coming in behind me. He sets a collection of objects down next to me on the cot. He sits down next to me, picks up one of the boots. He’s got a big tube of something in his hand—this is a bit strange—he squirts a bunch of some black gel-like substance from the tube directly into the boot. He then replaces it and does the same to the other boot. “Now, I don’t want you to ask any questions. Just step into these boots.”
“What’s that stuff…?” I start, but he interrupts me, shaking his head sternly.
“I told you not to ask. Trust me, it’ll make sense in a few minutes. Just get into the boots. You’ll see.”
I tentatively pick one of them up, look into it, and then gingerly insert my toe and pull it up. I was right, it’s so high it ends just below my knee! In the bottom of the boot. I can feel that weird viscous stuff on the bottom of my foot and around my toes.
“Now do the same with the other one.” He prods, nodding.
I do the same with the other boot. I’m now sitting on the bench with these insanely large boots on. They’re so big that my feet just flop around inside them. It just doesn’t make any sense. They don’t have any laces or buckles.
“What size are these?” I’m looking down at the impossibly giant-looking feet.
“Technically they would be a men’s size 25. That’s five inches longer than a size 10.”
“I feel kind of silly.” I say.
“Yeah, but we’re not done yet. You’ll understand in a minute. Now, I want you to put your left hand into this…” He picks up what looks like a big black cylinder with a ball at the end of it. It’s made of a similarly thick-gauge rubber, but appears to be slightly stiffer than what the boots are made of. Again, he take the tube and squirts a bunch of that black gel into one end and then positions it in front of my left hand.
“What’s with the black goo?” I ask.
But he just looks sternly at me and shakes it a little. “I told you, you’ll understand soon. Just put your hand into this gauntlet, and when the fingers get to the end, curl them into a ball and make a fist.”
I do as he asks. Like the boots, the gauntlet is so big it stops just before my elbow. At the end, instead of a glove, it stops in a small round ball. I feel some individual finger holes and put my fingers into them. They make the fingers curl inward. By making a fist, my hand completely slips into place. The black goo has pretty evenly coated my hand, and it acts to force all the air out.
Travis has me put the right gauntlet on as well. I have to admit, this whole exercise feels kind of kinky. I feel my heart starting to beat faster. Suddenly I feel a surge of arousal and my cock starts getting really stiff… I mean really stiff.
And then something really weird catches my attention. As I’m shifting my weight around a little, I try to lift one of my thighs up a little, but something is holding it down. I instinctively pull my leg up harder and feel that my foot is somehow stuck to the floor! Moreover, I’m aware that instead of flopping around in those oversized boots, my feet now feel tightly encased in the rubber. The feel of warm goo is gone from around my toes, and instead I just feel a cool—almost chilly—sensation of smooth rubber over my skin.
Did the gel cause some chemical reaction to make the boots shrink to fit my feet? I bend over to look down at my feet. The boots still look just as huge as they ever did. Travis’s feet nearby look small in comparison. I’m still shifting around, trying to lift both of my feet but they’re stuck to the ground. The bottoms of the boots are so flush with the concrete that I can’t even see a seam where one ends and the other begins.
“What the fuck is going on!? I’m… stuck!”
“That often happens. It’s an interesting feature of those boots. The bottoms can conform to another surface so perfectly that it acts like a suction cup. With practice, you can hold on or let go by will. But since your body is tense right now, you’re instinctively holding on. It’s a pretty cool effect.”
“But, how can they be so tight? They’re still huge.” I ask.
“Maybe your feet grew to fill them. Or maybe the rubber became really thick. Maybe it’s magic or maybe your perception is somehow being fucked with. But watch this…” and with that he kneels down in front of me and runs his hands along both of my feet, very lightly brushing his fingers first from my toes up to and around my ankles, and then slowly up my calves.
The sensation is so unexpected: I can feel his individual fingertips through the cool rubber as though he were stroking my skin directly, or as though the boots were made of then thinnest layer of latex. But the rubber material simultaneously feels just like it looks—hard and thick.
This is so fucking weird, but it’s also exhilarating and erotic. My cock is pointing skyward. I instinctively want to grab it with both hands, but they are being held into tight fists by these gauntlets.
Wait! I’m suddenly realizing just how tight my fists are being held. Just a minute ago my fingers were curled around that gel inside the ball-shaped gloves, but I can’t feel the goo anymore. Just like with the boots, when I wasn’t paying attention something changed and the sensation changed from loose, warm, gooey rubber to this cold, tight, firm feeling. I hold my hands up in front of my face to look at them. These gauntlets are completely seamless and form-fitting, all the way up to my elbows.
“What the fuck?!” I repeat.
Travis just laughs, ”It’s like a magic trick. It all happens at the moment when you’re not paying attention.” He sits down next to me and looks at my cock. “Now for your dilemma: without the use of your hands, what are you going to do about this stiffy of yours?” I helplessly paw at my dick. The feel of the rubber mitts against it is exhilarating but also frustrating.
He now runs his hand up and down my shaft a few times, and my whole body shudders from the sensation.
He then stands up and says, “That’s all you’re going to get unless you do now do exactly as I say.”
I’m still struggling, trying to lift my feel off the ground and futilely trying to push against the cot with my balled fists. I look up into his eyes, into the firm expression on his face and I try to stop fighting.
“I’m not going to tell you to calm down. That would be impossible with all the sensations your experiencing right now. In fact, that’s part of the whole experience—the excitement and panic and uncertainty and arousal. I’m going to help you embrace all of that, but for the next few minutes you are going to be cooperative and obedient.”
All I can think of to say is “what!?”
“Remember that draught I had you swallow earlier? Its effects should be kicking in by now.”
“Yeah, I remember…” Do I feel any different? Is there maybe a general tingling I feel in my head? I’m not sure.
“It’s going to make you very obedient and pliable. You’re going to be very cooperative. I need you to follow my instructions so we can proceed to the next part of your experience.” He kneels back down on the ground and puts his hands around my right ankle. “You’re going to relax this foot so that it lets go of the concrete floor. Rather than pulling, relax your feet. Flex your toes a little bit. Feel how supple and flexible the boot’s rubber actually is. Now roll your ankle slightly upward. There!”
My foot is now separated from the ground. I flex my foot and test wriggling my toes. The boot is still very firm, but at the same time I see that it’s got some flexibility—although I can’t actually feel my individual toes or move them around too much.
Travis puts his hands around my other foot, and this time I have an easier time getting it to release the ground. He gets to his feet and gently puts his hand on my shoulder. “Now for the next part, you are going to sit in this chair. Hop up into that for me, okay”
I’ve been thinking about that chair, ever since I first saw it. The padded armrests and the similar individual leg supports with the stirrups. I get up and go over to it, standing between the legs. The seat is kind of high off the ground, and with my hands balled up, I try to figure out how I’m going to climb into it.
“Here, like this. Turn around this way.” Travis turns me around so my butt’s against the edge of the chair. Then he kneels and uses his hands as a step for my foot. “Push up now.” With his help I’m able to lift myself up and sit into the chair. He keeps a hold of my foot afterwards and pulls it up into one of the stirrups and then fastens two straps, one around the top of my foot and the other an inch above the ankle. I let him similarly guide my other leg into place and strap it down.
From the small pile of stuff he had brought in with him, he grabs a roll and then wraps a bunch of thin plastic film several times around my left calf and the leg rest so that it’s held so firmly in place that my leg is completely immobile. He does the same around my thigh, binding it to the chair, then going around my knee and down until I look like my leg is part of the chair.
He starts on my other leg as I look at the film—it’s so black and smooth, hard to distinguish from the boots themselves.
“Now for your arms. Hold them flat against the padding.”
Again, he first secures some straps, one just above my wrist and two more over my forearm. He really tightens them down down hard agains the gauntlets, but the rubber is so stiff and thick that I barely feel anything. Then he does the same wrapping around my arms.
“Everything okay?” Travis asks, for the first time showing any sign of caution or concern.
“Yeah, it’s just… so intense.” I’m referring to my cock, which is pointing so firmly skyward. I think he understands me, and briefly he grabs my cock and strokes it a few times. I moan and involuntarily start to struggle against the restraints. I try to settle myself down, looking fearfully back at his face, but he doesn’t seem upset at me.
“That’s okay, go ahead and struggle. In fact, I want you to fight it. Revel in how powerless you are!”
And then, reinforcing that point, he pulls a lever and the chair reclines, drawing my chest and torso and head back while simultaneously making my legs lift up and spread outward. My ass is completely exposed. I now notice that there’s a large mirror spread across the ceiling and just the right angle so I can see myself, spread-Eagle in the chair. I can’t help but notice how pronounced the proportions are between those huge boots and the rest of my body.
He goes and brings a new item to show me, standing in front of me in the new wide space between my legs. I look at the object in his hands. Its function of this is pretty obvious: it looks like some sort of giant cock sheath, again made of thick black rubber. I can see that there’s a pouch on one side of the hollow end to accommodate the balls. For effect, he holds it up against his forearm so I can see that it’s as long as the distance from his elbow to his wrist—around a full foot in length!
“And by now you’ve gotten used to this part…” he says as he turns the object over and from the big black squeeze bottle, squirts a copious amount of black gel into it.
Something inside me tells me this is going to be more intense than anything I’ve experienced before. I start struggling helplessly against the restraints, only my head is able to thrash around.
“Uh, I’m not sure about this…” I stammer, but he just grins at me as he turns it over and slowly lowers it over my cock. I can feel the gel coating my cock as he very slowly lowers the sheath farther and farther down. When he gets down to my balls, he grabs them in his hand and stuffs them into the pouch.
“Feel your cock getting stiffer and stiffer.” He says in a commanding voice, “You didn’t think it could get any harder, but it will. And you know how this works now…”
“It’s like a magic trick. The moment you aren’t paying attention to it, the magic happens!”
I realize I have to focus on the sensations in my groin. I feel my cock and the warm, wet, sticky feeling of the gel. I feel how stiff it is, and it keeps feeling like it’s growing stiffer every second.
Travis now starts running his rubber-clad fingers lightly along my feet—revealing just how sensitive they are and just how much I can feel through the boots, almost like the boots somehow were my feet. The sensation of rubber on rubber is cool and tingly, and intoxicating… and distracting!
I realize I’m starting to pant from the exertion! I can’t help but struggle against my restraints as my body squirms from the intense sensations in my cock and my feet. I also feel like my brain is struggling with itself. One part of my mind is flooded with panic, fighting and struggling and instinctively railing against this feeling of helplessness. The other part of my mind… fuck this is hard to admit, but part of me is loving this. I’m so fucking turned on by it all—my huge feet encased in this living rubber, my hands completely locked into useless balls, the overwhelming feel of rubber all over my body, this crazy battering-ram of a cock protruding from my groin. And right in front of me, there’s Travis in his full-body rubber outfit, looking hot as fuck…
“So what do you think so far?” Travis asks. “Is it measuring up to my promise of being the most intense rubber experience in the world? You can’t tell me you aren’t enjoying it.”
“It’s… intense…” It’s all so overwhelming, I’m having a hard time even talking. “It’s… so… hot…”
“And guess what?! We’re not even done yet! We’ve got two more things to do before you’re completely prepped and ready.” Travis walks back to his pile of objects.
“Prepped?” I feel that contradictory mix of panic and excitement.
Travis ignores that and comes over, showing another black rubber contraption with heavy straps protruding from a cup-shaped object that itself has a single round protrusion coming out of it. He brings it up to my face, the protrusion pointing at me. “We’re going to put this in your mouth. You’re going to find that it feels really good to suckle on it.”
I try to keep my mouth shut, my only available act of defiance. He calmly walks behind the chair, pulls my forehead back until my head is back against the headrest, and then moves the hand down over my eyes and suddenly pinches my nostrils shut. I try to hold my breath and continue to struggle.
“Come on,” he urges me, “I promise you’re going to enjoy this. Just try sucking on it, and you’ll see what I mean.”
And then I realize what just happened. He’d distracted me—got me to stop concentrating on the cock sheath, and just like before, something happened. I no longer feel the mix of gooey gel and warm rubber against my cock. It’s gone, replaced with the cool perfect feel of pure rubber. My dick doesn’t feel like it’s growing inside that big black battering-ram, it is the big black battering-ram, at least 12 inches long, thick, and smooth. I can feel the cool air against the rubber outside.
It’s all too much for me! I open my mouth, drawing air sharply in and start to moan while he pushes the object into my mouth and then pulls the straps of the muzzle back around my head and tightens them. The pecker bit of the gag is just long enough to push my tongue into place. The cup-shaped piece goes over the lower part of my face, wrapping around the bottom of my chin, and up over my nose. I feel two small protrusions fitting up into my nostrils. I’m able to draw air in through my nose, so I realize these must be some sort of air tubes. I smell the strong familiar scent of rubber.
“Come on, start suckling.” he commands, “Just let your instincts kick in.”
And with that my mouth starts salivating and I suck on the gag bit, first gently and but then a little harder. What a weird sensation… it’s like a cross between sucking someone’s cock and regressing back to the earliest instincts of a baby sucking a pacifier. The feel of soft rubber feels soothing, although there’s a slight additional flavor, like something just a little acrid. I suddenly notice that I’m not struggling against my restraints anymore.
“There you go. Good. Just let it happen. Doesn’t it feel good?”
I nod a little, trying to take in all of the sensations. I don’t fight as Travis places a large strap around my forehead, attaches it to the headpiece of the muzzle in two places, and secures it to the headrest so that my head is completely immobilized.
“Good. That’s very good.” Travis runs his hands down my chest—just about the only thing not encased in rubber—and then leans over and strokes my cock. I start moaning, but almost no sound escapes. I just breathe heavily through my nosepiece. “Let it all in. Just let it happen. Don’t freak out. Just keep sucking.”
Don’t freak out? I think that ship sailed a while ago! Or is he referring to something else? I continue to suckle on the rubber gag, creating a suction with my cheeks. Wait, is something happening? I’ve got so much physical stimulation happening all over my body, and that drug he gave me is still making me feel a bit tingly and light-headed.
Travis is still standing behind me. He’s lightly stroking my chest and sometimes the side of my face. I’m really desperate for him to do something about my cock; it’s still painfully erect and starving for attention. It had felt so good when he’d been stroking it. But he’s just standing there, looking down at my face with an attentive look, like he’s waiting for something.
I look up at that mirror on the ceiling and back at my own face, my eyes peering out over the big round shapeless rubber mask, my hair poking through some of the spaces between the straps. I see the top of Travis’s head, as stares down at me, his own rubber-encased arms reaching out as he touches my chest and the side of my face.
What’s he waiting for? I try to take inventory of my body as best I can. Is anything happening? My feet feel the same; my hands are still held in tight fists; my cock is still painfully stiff. My mouth…
Wait! I stop simply sucking and try to swallow. How did I miss this?! I try to move my tongue around, try to swallow, try to make a sound. It’s all impossible. I now realize I’m no longer just suckling on medium-sized rubber pacifier. No, somehow it’s growing and pushing farther and farther down my throat! Somehow my gag reflex has completely gone away, and I’m deep-throating a giant phallus.
I try to scream, but my larynx is held open so even moaning or grunting is impossible. I’m completely mute.
“Shhh. There now, it’s all going to be okay. You’re past the scary part.” Travis says. “You’re going to see how awesome this is. You don’t realize it yet, but you’re going to be capable of deep-throating the biggest cocks in the world, even one of these….” He leans over and grabs my cock and my body convulses (or tries to convulse) in ecstasy.
“Okay, just one last thing before we’re done. You’ve done so well so far. I’m really proud of you!” Travis walks outside of my constrained field of vision and then reappears in front of me.
I have to point my eyes as far down as possible and can still barely see him since my head is fixed in a mostly-upward angle. He holds up what looks like an impossibly large black dildo. It’s easily as big as his forearm. He takes the familiar tube of gel and squirts a bunch around the end and spreads it along the surface.
“This time, you’re going to feel what’s happening to you. It’s not going to be one of those when-you-were-paying-attention sort of things. I wish I could say this isn’t going to hurt, but at least it’ll be over soon enough.”
I can’t see the object anymore. He’s positioned it downward and suddenly I feel it pushing lightly against my ass. But it’s way too big to do anything except push against my buttocks. Travis rocks it around, tilting it this way and that. I can feel the gel coating my ass cheeks, and just the smallest end occasionally rubs against the outside of my sphincter.
Something’s happening. The end has got the smallest amount of purchase around the mouth of my sphincter, but it’s holding it open a little bit. And then there’s some more that’s gotten in and then… ouch! I’m being pried open! Travis isn’t pushing it in. No, something is literally snaking up into my ass on its own, and there’s nothing I can do about it! I can’t scream, and I can’t move against my restraints, but every muscle in my body is flexing and spasming.
Travis isn’t between my legs anymore. He’s beside me, attaching something to the top of my muzzle. As I pull air through the nostril tubes and into my lungs, I smell a strong chemical. My head starts spinning, and I feel a rush of euphoria that helps with the pain. I stop caring that some large living thing seems to be crawling up my ass, and I just focus on the sensation as I get opened up and filled and opened up even more!
Travis is standing between my legs again, pouring something over my cock now. I’m worried for a second it’s more of that crazy goo, but it’s cooler and thinner. It’s just lube, and now he’s got both of his hands around my dick and is working it hard, up and down. It feels so fucking good. Oh God please, please keep going. It was such agony to have my cock swollen and starving like that. Yes, keep doing that. Then he moves his hands down to my ankles and my now-huge feet and does the same to them, rubbing hard up and down and all around. Fuck, that’s crazy! It feels almost the same as when he was pumping my cock.
I’m getting really light-headed from that gas he’s force-feeding me. Every part of my body is tingling, inside and out.
“It’s almost over. The transformation is nearly complete.”
I can feel the thing reversing course now, flowing slowly out of my ass, leaving a sensation of emptiness that’s somehow worse than pain from being stretched wide open. I feel something strange around my groin and waist, and then I see something in the ceiling mirror. In my reflection I can see something like a black flowing liquid running around my thighs and my hips, up to and underneath the plastic bindings that held my legs to the chair, around the rubber cock, slowly stopping just under my navel.
Travis once again leaves my field of vision, coming back with a knife. Running the edge along the base of the leg rests, he cuts open the plastic wrapping that had held my legs so firmly against the chair. He pulls away the wrapping, and I can see that now my entire lower torso is encased in rubber. Where the half-inch thick tops of the boots stop just below my knees, a thinner skin of rubber continues, running my legs and seamlessly merging with my rubber-encased cock and balls. Whatever that big dildo thingy used to be, it has now become the rubber “skin” around my upper legs and buttocks and groin,
He positions himself again between my legs and runs his hands along my thighs and up and down my boots, rubbing the lube all over and making my rubber glisten and shine and sending unbelievable sensations all up and down my body. I feel something against my thigh and realize that at some point during this ordeal, during one of those visits to collect the various objects, he had removed his codpiece. I look up at the mirror and observe his own rubber-clad cock. It doesn’t have the same impossibly exaggerated size as mine, but I would guess it’s maybe a good eight inches.
I both watch and feel as he pulls his hips back and then thrusts them slowly forward, and he drives his cock into my ass. This is amazing: I can somehow feel his cock with more sensation and detail than I’ve ever felt before. I can somehow sense and feel every square millimeter of it inside me with incredible detail. That desperate void I had been feeling just moments before abates, and I’m elated. I don’t know what exactly has happened to my ass, but I now realize the need for it to be filled is several times stronger even than my new massive cock’s own hunger.
He starts rhythmically thrusting in and out of me, simultaneously pumping my cock with his one of his hands and holding onto one of my feet with the other.
“It feels good, doesn’t it?” He asks. “I told you I was going to give you the most intense rubber experience in the world, didn’t I? You had no idea how good you were going to feel, did you? No fucking idea!”
There’s nothing that I can do except take it all in… literally and figuratively. I think I would normally grapple with the impossibility of all of this, the extreme vulnerability and all that, but who gives a fuck when there’s such a wonderful feeling of abandon and indulgence. I can’t move. I can’t even talk or even grunt for that matter! I can’t move my arms or legs or head or even my fingers. All that exists is the sensation of rubber all over my body and the wonderful feel of his smooth rubber-clad cock thrusting rhythmically in and out of my ass, his rubber-clad fist pumping up and down my cock, and this other fingers holding my impossibly large booted foot.
How long has this been going on? I don’t know. I just don’t want it to stop.
He pulls his cock out of me, slowly walks around over to my side, and then starts pumping his own dick. With my head fixed in this angle, I can’t see his face anymore—just the overhead view of him through that ceiling mounted mirror. I just look helplessly at my own body, restrained and mostly covered in rubber except for my upper torso and my eyes. My cock bobs back and forth a little bit, pointing desperately skyward.
I hear him grunt, and see several large shots of jiz spray across my stomach and chest. I guess that rubber cock sheath of his must have a piss-hole at the head. He moans a few times—a self satisfied sound. Then he lazily paces around me. Occasionally he runs a finger along my arm or my leg or my chest.
“Time for the next chapter.” He says, “The next phase in your journey: the deprivation phase.”
He leaves for a while, and I strain to listen for any signs of what he’s doing. I can hear him in the other room still. What did he mean by deprivation? God I wish I could dial back the clock to just a few minutes ago. My cock and ass are craving those wonderful sensations, so much so that it’s hard to think about anything else. Please can’t he come back and help me out!? I would do anything for him to fill my ass again with his cock or a big dildo or anything! The emptiness is more than I can bear. And almost as bad is how hard my cock is.
I can hear him coming back here. I wish he would say something. I can sense he’s in the room, but he’s out of my field of view. I can hear him breathing.
“How’s it going?” He asks simply.
Of course I can’t say anything. He’s just waiting. He must be there just watching me. Eventually I try to struggle against my restraints. I can’t really move anything, but my body twitches and my muscles flex.
“You’re feeling a little withdrawal now, aren’t you? Not only are you helpless, but this thing I was doing to you—now you’re beginning to realize how much you need it now, aren’t you? Well, just wait.”
Oh please! Please just touch me! Anywhere!
He walks around me, behind my head. I see him attaching another vial to that attachment at the top of my muzzle. I’m aware of some new scent coming into my nose as I inhale. I’m feeling dizzy…
