Naww boy you thought we were just being playful when we asked you if you wanted to go all the way and finish the conversion? We really weren’t… and with that suit locked on your back and the pills we gave you earlier I must say there’s no way back boy! You should’ve thought about it a bit better you know… looking at that boner you’ve got now those pills already start to work. It’s nice stuff you know! Really enhances all the physical arousing feelings and causes you to fall deeper and deeper into that bliss. It definitely messes with your mind tho, you’ll get all fuzzy, foggy and ehh well… blank in a few minutes. That’s then the perfect time for us to put those visors on and start the reprogramming. I bet you’ll bw a very good drone for us boy! No need to worry about that! No need at all, there’s nothing you can change about it now! So ehh, lean back and enjoy the ride
Let it in. You know there's nothing you can do except let it in... the lust, the sensation, the ecstasy of your new rubber skin, the horniness surging through your body that you know is being induced by the musty vapors I'm feeding you. You love the firm, wet sucking sensation around your cock—that cock that is so hard and needful that you can't hold onto a single thought for more than a moment. Your starting to accept the uncontrollable pulsing from your ass as the electrified butt plug makes you sphincter tighten and relax.
Accept the happiness that comes from the feeling of the straps around your ankles and wrists, the collar around your neck, the straps holding your thighs tightly to the chair, and the pads holding your legs apart.
Enjoy the struggle as you have no choice but endure this rubber ecstasy. Breath in those vapors. A couple minutes ago I raised the machine to the level three setting. Are you ready for level four? Should we jump straight to five?
I told him it will not work, but he insisted i give it a try. Just to prove him wrong i agreed. I did at first not understand why he wanted me strapped and locked like this, but... Last i heard before disappearing in the virtual world was: Let's see how you do when being exposed continuously for the next 72 hours to the extensive hypno- and brain wash techniques. I still did not think he'd succeed though.
However, every weekend i felt the excessive urge to not only return to his place but beg im to strap me in again and again. no matter how much i told myself during week that i would not go back, come Friday i stood right at his doorstep again, sometimes even asking myself why i did so, still going through with it as the urge was stronger than any worry i had.
Two months later then i quit my job, knowing my Master requires me to be full time serving him and after another two months permanent intense hypno and brainwashing, i now have no idea who i was, that there was anything before this at all, i kno wi have been all my life that obedient slave of his and would not even imagine anything else existing.
“I still can’t believe you’re actually into that hypno shit.”
Ryan’s laughing like it’s a joke, sprawled out shirtless on the couch, skin still flushed from his workout. He smells like cologne that’s mostly faded into pure heat and boy sweat. His chest rises slow and steady. Relaxed. Confident.
Logan’s next to him. Cockier. Gym shorts slung low. Hair damp. One socked foot rests lazily against my thigh like he owns the space. The fabric’s warm. Slightly damp. I don’t move.
“It’s real,” I murmur, keeping my voice casual. “I’ve been practicing.”
Logan smirks. “So what… you’re gonna like, snap your fingers and make me bark?”
Ryan laughs again. “Do it. Logan’s brain’s empty already, bro.”
“Fuck off,” Logan shoots back. Then looks at me again. All swagger and teasing grin. “C’mon, then. Hypno Daddy.”
My pulse kicks up hard.
He doesn’t mean it.
But I do.
I lean in. “Just breathe for me.”
Logan chuckles under his breath, but inhales. Once. Twice. His chest expands under the loose tank he’s half wearing. Pecs tight. Sweat glinting in the dip between them. I drop my tone.
“That’s it. Let it in. Let it settle. You don’t need to think. Not right now. Just listen to me. Just… drop.”
His eyelids twitch.
I watch him soften. Shoulders loose. Mouth slightly parted.
Ryan laughs. “No way.”
But Logan slumps back against the couch. Eyes fluttering. Muscles slack.
He’s under.
My breath catches. I shift forward. Heat rushing through me.
“Logan,” I say softly, “you’re not Logan right now. You’re just a horny little twink who woke up in a hot jock’s body. All you can think about is how good it feels. How hot you look. You love showing it off.”
A little grin curls his lips.
And then, slow, deliberate, he peels his tank top over his head. One motion. It sticks slightly to his skin. Damp with body heat. His abs flex as he tosses it to the floor. He stands up.
Bare chest gleaming. Body humming.
“God, I’m so hot,” he murmurs. Voice thick. Lazy. “Like… who even gave me this body? Mmm, feels so fuckin’ good…”
He straddles my lap.
Just slides onto me.
His breath smells like spearmint gum and Red Bull. His chest is right there. Skin warm. Pecs twitching as he breathes shallow. I’m frozen. Heart hammering.
Then he leans in. And kisses me.
It’s not shy.
It’s needy.
His tongue slides past my lips like he’s been waiting his whole life to do it. I moan without meaning to. My hands move. Find his abs. Hard and tight under my fingertips. Slick. Real. I grope them, feeling the ridges, the strength, the smooth heat of him.
He gasps against my mouth.
I slide my hands up to his pecs. Heavy. Round. Flexing under my palms. His nipples are hard. His hips grind against me, and I can feel the heat from his cock through those thin shorts.
He’s panting now. Whispering.
“Thank you, bro… fuck, I’m so hot… feels so good…”
And then Ryan loses it. “Bro. I’m… this is insane. I’m filming this.”
His phone’s out. Aimed right at us. He’s laughing so hard he’s shaking.
I glance over Logan’s shoulder.
“Ryan. Deep breath.”
Ryan’s laugh cuts short.
Eyes wide.
Then blank.
Phone slips to the floor.
He slumps in his seat. Body loose. Eyes heavy.
“Good boy,” I whisper. “You’re just like him now. Just another sexy jock twink who got lucky. Hot body. Dumb brain. Horny all the time.”
Ryan grins. Slow. Eyes half lidded. He pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it aside. Flexes both arms. Then licks his lips.
You can hear me, right? Nod if the earbuds are working. Good.
Now that you're in the suit, you've got to try this next part. Trust me, you're going to love this. You'd be so bummed if you missed this experience. Just climb up here. Sit down on the edge here. I know you can't see. I'll guide you. Lean back... scoot back just a bit more.
There! I'm just tucking your feet in here. That's great. One quick pull of the zipper... Feels nice and snug, huh? I'm just going to secure a few snaps to keep you from moving out of place.
You're going to hear some cool music now. Just listen to the throbbing of the beat. You may hear what sounds like voices in the background, but just keep focusing to the beat. Let your breaths come in nice and slow and deep. Breathe in and out. Don't worry if you smell something. You're going to feel like you're floating a little bit, and your skin is going to start tingling.
I can see your cock is responding nicely. You're beginning to really like these feelings, aren't you? Just wait as all the sensations start cranking up. Just keep breathing in with nice deep breaths. That's very good. I'm so proud of you.
“So what, you’re a hypnotherapist?” Keith brought the beer to his lips and took a slow draw, not dropping his gaze from this guy. Keith had never seen him before at this bar. He would have remembered. Xavier’s appearance was as exotic as his name.
“No. A hypnotherapist does it professionally. That requires a license, strict attention to protocols... boring stuff. Let’s just say I’ve made a life study of it.”
Xavier met Keith’s gaze coolly. It was unnerving. Then again, Keith was typically so shy he couldn’t believe he was talking to this guy in the first place. Not that it was easy—he could hear the thumping of his pulse in his ears. His best strategy was to keep Xavier talking. Short questions: “So what’s an example of when you would hypnotize someone? I mean, if it’s not part of some therapy.” Keith felt he was rambling but couldn’t stop, “then I guess there’s party tricks, planting suggestions in peoples’ minds, and that sort of thing.”
“There’s all sorts of fun that be had poking around in someone’s mind.” Xavier gave him a seductively evil stare, “How about a quick example?” Xavier was already grabbing both of their drinks before Keith could react, “Let’s go into the other room. It looks quiet in there and the chairs are more comfortable.” Keith just watched as Xavier walked across the room. He sat still for a few moments and then surrendered to following the handsome, mysterious man into the other room. A minute later he was seated in a low, comfortable chair, ten times as nervous as before.
“Let’s start with just seeing if we can get you to relax.” Xavier pushed him gently but firmly back into the seat, walked behind the chair. “We’re going to gradually descend into a calmness as we count down from ten...” Keith felt anything but calm and relaxed. “...nine...” This sexy, charismatic stranger was holding Keith’s head in his hands, gentle but strong fingers massaging his temples. “...eight...” Keith’s mind was a din of voices, worries so loud that they blurred together. He could hear Xavier saying something, but he couldn’t make out the words. He was completely unable to focus, and the thoughts in his head began to sound distant and incomprehensible... he was losing track of...
One.
The first important thing is that you will remember none of this, alright? When you wake up you will assume you’d nodded off, and you’ll decide to go home. You will not remember meeting me or talking to me on this night. You will not remember falling into a trance. All that happened tonight is that you came to this bar, you had a single drink by yourself, and then you went home.
Now I want to talk about what will happen the next time you see me. When you next see my face and hear my voice, I will be paying a visit to your home. This will happen sometime in the next few days. Whomever I tell you I am, whatever story I give you, you’ll believe me completely. You will trust me. Nothing will seem suspicious about my appearance. You will feel no hesitation in inviting me in.
Now, this is going to sound strange, so I’m going to go through it slowly. Although this is unconventional, when the time comes—when I visit you and you’ve invited me into your home—you will do the following without even realizing you’re doing it...
Saturday. Man do I love Saturdays. I sleep in until nine, cook a sinful breakfast like pancakes; I sit and read the newspaper slowly from end to end. No stresses, no anxieties. Nothing. This morning I got up early. I slept so well last night. Man was I tired last night, I actually nodded off at the bar! I went straight home, slept like a coma victim, and I feel like a million dollars.
I’m munching on a bowl of Captain Crunch when I hear the doorbell. Who on Earth could that be? Probably some neighborhood kid raising funds for band uniforms. I go over to the door and look through the peephole. There’s this guy in motorcycle leathers, holding a helmet. He looks European. I can’t exactly say why I think that. His hair is black, slightly curly and a bit long. He’s got dark skin.
I open the door. The peephole didn’t do him enough credit! This guy’s hot. And typically, like a moron I can’t even talk without stammering: “Um.. uh.. yeah?”
“Heya, I’m sorry to bother you. My name’s Xavier.” He’s definitely got an accent from somewhere, not American, “There’s another apartment in this complex for sale, and I thought I’d talk to some of the neighbors. You know, check and see if this is a friendly place to live, that sort of thing.”
“There’s no bother! Come on in.” I open the door wide and beckon him in before he can change his mind. “Um, can I get your coat? Oh, would you like anything to drink?”
“No, I’m fine, thanks.” He saunters into the living room and sits slowly on the couch, never taking his eyes off me. I pull my shirt off in one motion, step out of my pants, and peel off my underwear, freeing an erect cock that sprints out and bobs up and down a couple times before further stiffening and pointing skyward. “I’ve got a question for you,” he asks with a knowing grin, “Why did you just take your clothes off?”
“It just seemed a little warm in here. You don’t mind do you?” Something in the back of my mind is telling me this was a stupid response, but I’m too busy focusing on my guest. “You’re sure I can’t take your jacket?”
He doesn’t say anything for the longest time, just watches me. Then he puts down his helmet and takes off his gloves. It’s hard to describe the effect this has on me. As each hand is revealed I feel a tingling sensation of excitement. It’s like being five years old again and impatiently waiting for the wrapping to be removed from a Christmas present. I yearn to see his arms, his chest, his back, his legs. I can’t keep my mind from imagining what his cock must look like.
The sight of my skin will create a special excitement in you. The more of my skin is revealed, the more of a frenzy you will work up. If you only see my face you will find yourself sexually aroused. Each additional inch of flesh will make you hornier, and you will feel all the more motivated to get me to take more off. Once half of my body is showing you will be so desperate to satisfy these cravings that you will be willing to do anything.
Still without talking, he reaches up and slowly pulls the zipper down his jacket, stopping three-quarters of the way down. I can see a hint of his bare chest, the curve around his sternum that just suggests large pecs. This is the kind of guy who’d have those perfect washboard abs. I’m sure of it!
“I think you’re going to have to work a bit before I give you my jacket.” He digs into his coat pocket and pulls out a plastic vial, tossing it to me. “Rub this all over your body. It’s massage oil. When every part of you is covered I’ll take off my coat. And take your time, I want it to be sensual.”
This is torture! I flip open the cap and pour a generous amount of oil directly on my chest and rub it into my skin. The oil is cold, but not for long. My skin feels like it’s burning. I try to focus on making a sensual performance out of this, but my brain can’t get the thought of ripping Xavier’s clothes off him.
“Patience!” He pulls his zipper up a few inches, hiding his sternum again. The admonishment makes my heart sink. “Imagine that when you rub the oil into your skin you are actually rubbing it into my body. Enjoy the experience. And remember, once you have every part of your body covered, I’ll give you my jacket.”
Now I’m putting every ounce of passion into the act. I pour oil into my hands, rub them together and slowly explore my own face, the back of my neck, every curve of my own shoulders. It feels as though I’m touching his body and at the same time he’s touching mine. I spend some extra time lingering about my own nipples, circling around them with a light touch of one finger. As a reward, Xavier unbuckles his boots. I pour a generous spill of oil directly onto each leg, bend over and work in into my feet, my ankles, up to my knees. As I get to my thighs I see that both of his boots are off, and he’s unzipped his jacket all the way. I was right about that washboard stomach.
I arch my back as I work oil into my lower back, my buttocks, around to the front when something strange happens. For some reason my hands stop before I can put oil onto my cock. I try to will them to action, but they simply hover, frozen about two inches from my engorged penis.
I’m going to give you a couple restrictions to play with. It serves to make things more interesting. First of all, you won’t be able to leave the room you’re in once you take off your clothes. Even if you wanted to leave, your body will simply fail to respond to any command that would take you out of the room. Second, you will be unable to touch your own cock. Your brain simply wont send any signal to your body that will permit your cock to be touched. But the longer it goes unserviced the harder it will get. It will continue to harden until eventually it starts being painful. You will not be able to use your own hands to work your cock, which means only I will be able to alleviate your tension.
“What’s wrong?” He asks me, “You’re almost done.”
“I don’t know, I can’t finish...”
“But you don’t get to see any more of my flesh until you do.”
“Yes, I know, but.”
“Don’t you want to see me naked?”
“I... Of course I do, but...” I feel helpless. My cock is so fucking hard it’s killing me! I want to do what he asks, but I just don’t. I imagine him getting frustrated and leaving. That makes me start to panic.
I stand there, chagrined. I’m so close to getting Xavier’s coat off, and there at the end I’m stuck. My cock just stands there, so stiff I could drive nails into a board with it, and yet it feels like every second it’s even getting stiffer. “You’ve got to help me!” I plant myself next to him, searching for the right words.
He looks up at me and smiles, running his hand across my stomach. The electricity of his touch makes me moan.
“Please, just a little bit lower. Please.”
He stands up from the couch, and with that maddening smile he just pats my chest a few times. Then he walks behind me. He grabs my ass, then works his hands up my back, working his strong fingers into the sore crevices. It feels really good, but I can’t get my mind off the incessant demands of my cock.
He takes a step closer, leaning into me. I can feel his chest against my back, reveling in the feeling of his skin against mine. I lose myself in the ecstasy of the moment as he reaches around and grabs my cock firmly, rubbing the oil into it. He moves his hands back and forth slowly, while leaning into me from behind. Then I notice something between my legs. He must have unzipped his pants because I feel a stiff-yet-pliant object swelling against the inside of my thighs, tickling the bottom of my balls.
While we’re talking about cocks, let’s talk about mine. From the first moment you see me, you will feel a fascination about my cock. You’ll wonder what it looks like. When you first touch it you will have a sudden revelation that it’s home is up your ass. It will be the most profound realization: in all the years that you and I have lived, my cock was destined to find its way into the one and only place that it has ever belonged, and that is inside of you. The moment you first see my cock you will not be able to think about anything except getting it up your ass. Until that is achieved you will be unable to speak, to think, to take any action except getting yourself fucked. For that reason it may take a while before I actually let you see my dick.
Xavier starts nuzzling on my ear from behind, and I start to go wild. The combined sensations of him slowly jacking me off, his chest against my back, his cock rubbing between my legs, and now sucking and biting on my ear—I’m afraid I’m going to explode. He senses that and lets go of my dick. I hear his jacket fall to the floor. When I turn around I see that he’s somehow managed to wrestle that dick back into his pants. But the sight of his bare torso, covered with tight muscles, his eyes, his hair, and that mischievous smile. I want to undress him, to caress every inch of his body.
He steps forward and plants an aggressive kiss on my lips, and I taste his mouth. (There’s a hint of mint.) Our hands fumble around, exploring each other’s bodies. I wrap my arms around him and pull him into me. It feels like glorious hours pass as we kiss, sometimes with a brutal clumsy passion, other times with light, tender touches where our lips barely meet. We fall onto the couch, caressing and making out, and eventually we tumble down to the floor. He holds me down onto the carpet, his hands holding me helpless as he explores every corner of my body. For long minutes he just holds me in place, running his tongue around each nipple in concentric circles. His hair falls over onto my neck, tickling. Meanwhile his cheek occasionally rubs against my osn neglected cock, sending shivers down my spine. My thoughts however keep going back to his crotch. When I felt his cock between my legs earlier something inside me seemed to snap. I dismissed it at first, but my mind kept returning to the thought of his cock. Somehow I knew that he must fuck me. I tried to envision his dick—I wasn’t even sure if it was cut or uncut—and deep inside me I felt this mad itch. I keep struggling to regain control, but he has me pinned down tight. All I can do is surrender to his slow, methodical touch.
Finally his head descends to my crotch, and he lets go of my wrists. I’m ready to twist around and escape when I feel the wet embrace of his lips around my cock. My entire body shudders, and I’m rendered helpless. I’m convulsing lightly; my eyes roll back into my head. Eventually I regain enough control to lift my head slightly and I look down at him. His lips are wrapped around my cock, but his eyes still gaze up at me with a look of total control.
“It’s no fair I’m the only one all greased up. I want to rub that oil all over you.” I protest. For a while Xavier does nothing but watch me through those unblinking eyes as his mouth runs up and down the length of my cock, but eventually he releases me. My cock bobs around a couple times before returning to pointing stiffly upward.
Xavier retreats a few paces, grabs the bottle of body oil and steps into the hallway, just beyond the living room. I jump up and run to join him, when my feet suddenly stop at the edge of the carpet. I’m astounded as I find myself trapped. In the same way my hands are unwilling to grasp my own cock, my feet refuse to clear the last meter to where he stands.
“You performed such a good show for me earlier, I think I’ll return the favor. Damn, don’t you wish you could be right here with me?” he taunts, pouring oil over his shoulders and chest and rubbing it into his skin. His dark complexion looks twice as exotic with the shine of the massage oil. I can smell a hint of eucalyptus as I absent-mindedly stroke my left nipple with my finger, unable to do much more than that. I’m about to protest his teasing when he suddenly grabs the top of his leather pants and pulls sharply down, letting spring his cock.
It’s beautiful! It’s large but not impossibly so. It’s also uncut. He grabs it with an oily hand and pulls the foreskin back, yanking back and forth a few tugs with both hands until it too glistens with oil, and then he lets it spring away out of his grip. He pulls his pants off and finishes oiling up his legs, but all I can look at is his cock. My mind goes blank. All I can say is “You have to fuck me.”
“I know.” He smiles back at me, “But first we’re going to tie you up.” And he turns to walk back into the other room. I notice that one foot is standing on his discarded jacket.
He’s surprised by what I do next. Hell, I’m surprised by what I do, but my brain is in a frenzy. I can’t take anymore of this teasing, this torture. I can’t conceive of the idea that he might tie me up and make me wait an eternity before we fuck, and what if he left?
When my mind hits that thought I dive to the floor where his jacket, the jacket he’s standing on, lays partially in the hallway, but partially in this room. I grab the sleeve and pull with all my might, tripping him and knocking him to the floor. As he falls one leg juts out at me. I grab the ankle and pull him back into my room. Then I climb on top of him. He tries to grab me, but his hands just slip over my body, and he inadvertently hits my face.
I don’t care. He’s on his back, flailing his arms and legs around. I don’t give him the opportunity to regain his bearings. I sit square on top of his stomach, and grapple with him, holding on tight. We’re a mess of arms and legs. I find his head, grab both sides of it with my hands and pull his mouth into mine. For a moment his arms stop moving, and he kisses me back. Then I tighten my legs around his thighs, shift my weight and pull downward. In a moment I feel the end of his dick almost where I expected it. It stabs my right buttock, just an inch away from my ass for a moment before springing to the side. I shift to the left. He’s now aware of what I’m doing and I can feel his muscles coil to throw me off.
With one sharp lurch downward I impale myself onto his dick. One smooth motion and it slips into my ass. My mind explodes and everything is good.
For a second neither of us is able to act; we’re both in shock. Then he starts to shift, trying to get away from me. A dig my fingers into him and pull down hard, knocking the wind out of him. Then with almost a convulsion I pull up and back down, sphincter strangling his shaft as it stabs back into me, and he surrenders. I move my body rhythmically up and down. We kiss and I enjoy the feel of his hands caressing my sides while my ass caresses his cock. I enjoy my small victory, finally in control of the situation for a while.
But my domination isn’t destined to last for long. Xavier is restless, then aggressive. I think we can both feel this invisible fire that burns inside his cock, and his patience for being teased is obviously shorter than mine. Besides, his obviously far stronger than I am, and I’m not likely to enjoy this advantage for long. He shifts his weight and rolls us over until I’m on my back. He pulls his cock out of me for a moment, but I’m not worried. It takes a moment as he reaches his hands behind my lower back and with one very strong pull, guides me back into position. Then he dives forward, letting our greased bodies slide into each other. With incredible strength he begins to pump into me. I flex my back to get the angle just right, and then I simply enjoy the thrusts as he drives himself repeatedly into me.
His cock is home. It’s where it belongs. The tragedy of its absence is over and I’m so euphoric that for a moment I laugh. His face briefly twists into surprise and then mischief as he drives into me even harder.
I absently try to grab my own cock but discover my hands still refuse to touch it. Xavier notices and in a few moments he pulls back out of me and guides me to sit up, placing my hands on the back of the couch, my knees into the cushions. The from behind he mounts me. His arms wrap around my waist and he grasps my cock and starts pumping it with his own hands. His body is leaning hard into my back and it takes all my strength to push us both away from the couch. His head falls into the back of my neck and again I feel the tickle of his long hair as it falls onto my shoulders.
And I can feel the entire musculature of his frame as he holds himself onto me. He thrusts forward and his cock slides along my back until it gets caught in the ridge made by my butt. We both feel his positioning. With one great pull back and a thrust forward he stabs through my sphincter, plunging back into my ass. This time I can feel the head of his cock rubbing against my prostate and I go wild, almost dropping us to the floor. He senses the excitement and starts thrusting harder and faster. I hear his short, quick breaths in my ear. I feel the urgency in his hands as he grips my cock harder, clumsily pumping up and down. A shudder runs down both our backs as we both start to shoot.
I swear I can feel his cum searing inside me, leaving an invisible but permanent mark. Inside my mind I can hear the sound of glass breaking and I’m over-cum with a strange serenity. I breathe in his natural musk and relax into a dazed euphoria.
If I cum inside you, you will always keep part of me inside you. Our bodies are like the barriers you place around your mind to protect it. If I penetrate those barriers and leave part of myself in you, your mind will be forever vulnerable to me; my words will always sink to the core of your subconscious, as though you were hypnotized again. I will reign freely in your mind. If I tell you the sky is red, it will be red. If I tell you to suck my cock you will do it without thinking, unaware that I even gave you the command.
Now you will emerge from this deep state of hypnosis. You will awaken and go home, and I will see you tomorrow. Remember, you will remember nothing of this night.
The shower is long and lazy and slow. It takes a long time to wash the oil off our bodies. I think my skin must have soaked most of it up. I towel-dry myself off and look at this strange man who just an hour ago appeared from nowhere. I don’t know if I’ve ever felt as content and as relaxed as I do now. And then I feel myself begin to get hard again. I’m torn between lying on the couch and sleeping for the next few days and pleasuring myself again.
“Xavier, suck my cock.”
He looks back at me and grins, “It only works one way, you know.”
I look him in the eye and smile, “A part of you exists inside me now. A part of you that you will never get back. I’m keeping it. I own it. I control it. Now drop to you knees!”
Xavier drops onto his knees, shocked. It takes a moment for him to gain his balance. He looks up into my eyes with a strange look. Surprise. Confusion. Excitement. Obedience.
How does Jockification take place? It usually starts very subtly, maybe you start to notice weird behavioural patterns, maybe you no longer like your clothing and find greater appeal to wearing sports gear. Before you know it you're lying in your bed jerking off more and more and with every climax you fall deeper and deeper into jockification. This is what happened to the straight A nerd Christopher.
Christopher was extremely proud of his achievements in academia he was a true braniac and a massive teachers pet studying Economics in University now. One day though Christopher was walking back home and bumped into his classmate, a total jock called Mike, Mike was a business student and only shared one other module with Christopher in Economics... but Mike clearly got in on a sports scholarship... Christopher always wondered how his bully got into a business degree...
"yo! what's up Kris Brah huhuuh!" Shouted the jock in a very dumb tone. Christopher rolled his eyes years of being intimidated and bullied by Mike finally boiled over as Christopher said "My name is not Kris, it's Christopher... how many times do I have to tell you this? And we're not bros! You bully me on a regular basis!"
The dumb meathead just chuckled and said "maybe if you didn't act like a pent up nerd, you wouldn't be such an easy target huhuhuhu... but don't worry *you'll be such a good dumb bro like me soon huhuhu*" after saying that Mike just walked off leaving Christopher to think over what he just heard.
Next day Christopher woke up, he still was contemplating his encounter with Mike the other day... "You'll be such a good dumb bro like me soon"... is he mad? questioned Christopher... then he approached his closet and looking through his clothes he thought how unremarkable and boring they were... maybe he should invest in something more comfier then these buttoned up shirts and jeans are becoming more and more uncomfortable... surely he could get a pair of sweatpants and t-shirts to walk around in... maybe even get some gym shorts and a tank top...
"gym shorts and a tank top?... why would I wear those I don't even go to the gym..." he got weirded out by this thought as he'd never have contemplated wearing gym shorts and a tank top... but he didn't give much thought to it and went off to college in a fresh buttoned up shirt and jeans.
After class Christopher was returning back home, he was thinking of maybe going to the library after coming back and getting some lunch at his dorm, however his thoughts soon shifted to a desire to walk into one of the sports shops he was passing by. He walked right into the shop and bought a bunch of gym clothes without a thought, only realising what he did when he arrived back to his room
"why did I buy all this stuff?? I never wear any of this and now I have like 5 pairs of gym shorts and tank tops!" Christopher soon felt a desire to put the clothes on, "actually maybe on second thought I might put it on..." he put on the gear... figures he bought gym gear 2 sizes larger then his for some reason... but wearing it felt really good...
Christopher became very aroused quickly which took him off guard as he rarely jerked off and it was usually when he wanted... this time he became erect almost without thinking about it... he lay down on his bed and started vigorously jerking his 3" pole soon cumming all over his new black tank top. "Ugh... guess I have to wash it now huhuhu..." He didn't realise how dumb he sounded after his climax... he also didn't realise as his body became more defined as he began to have an outline of a six pack on his stomach, his dick also grew from 3" to 5"... Christopher thought where he wanted to go before he came back from his classes... the library was it?... nah he thought of going to the gym instead...
After coming back from the gym Christopher was a sweaty, smelly, horny mess... usually he'd jump right under his shower to wash the smell off but instead he flopped himself on his bed to satisfy his lustful dick in his new gym shorts. He started jerking off, his grunts and moans became more audible, his voice became deeper and deeper his balls began to fill up and expand with testosterone, lust and extremely viral cum. He blew yet another load onto his gym clothes out of his now 7" dick but he saw that he was still very horny so proceed to jerk off again..
This time he didn't notice as his muscles began to expand while her jerked off. He now had a cobblestone six pack of abs on him, two huge dominating pecs protruding out of his chest. His arms pumped up from useless twigs into two beefed up weightlifters while his legs became so muscular that you'd never even know that Christopher never ran a mile in his life. His face shifted also and became extremely well defined and moisturised, his pimples evaporating into nothing as he lay there jerking his rod... which now finally expanded into a 10" cum cannon. Christopher finally came, this climax leaving him looking like a jock.... Now all he needed was to embrace being a jock mentally...
After opening his eyes from the climax Christopher noticed how he was now lying naked on his bed covered in cum in an extremely hot body... Which turned him on again as he grabbed his rod without thinking about it.
As he jerked off he began to smile and laugh but then something hit him... "Wha... what is happening to me?? I look... like a jock??... I... I am a nerd?!" He said panting between the words, he tried to stop jerking off but to no avail... it was like his body wanted to jerk off and his mind couldn't stop it...
As soon as his mind tried to put any resistance to the Jockification process it started to change... it began to be assaulted as all of Christopher's current knowledge began to be drained into his balls. His mind now said that he was a football player on the Uni team and he was doing a business degree. He only got into college cause of his sports prowess on the gridiron in his high school. He loved football as well as all sports... but particularly football... him and his best bro Mike played together on their high school team and usually fucked after every practice in the steaming showers when all the other teammates left, "that was the best part of practice huhuhu" he thought to himself... of course now he was called Kris... Christopher was such a nerdy name and Kris was no nerd...
"buh... but I am a nerd!..." Christopher has a brief moment of lucidity, his scared and anxious eyes looking around trying to stop what was happening to him... to no avail... he finally closed his eyes and when he opened them again they were full of cockiness and lust "I'm such a fucking BRO!" He shouted as he thrust a large wad of cum out of his cum slinger solidifying his new persona.
With cum and sweat still all over him Kris grabbed his phone and immediately texted his bro Mike "yo Mike... you coming to practice tonight?" To which Mike responded "I see you've finally become dumb a bro huhuhu! fuck ye bro! Wouldn't want to skip the post-practice 'workout' session with you huhuhu!"
Kris playfully smirked at the text from his bro... he knew he'd enjoy this evening with Mike today... he loved their little rendezvous after practice in the locker room... yea he was finally such a dumb jock... such a dumb bro huhuhuu:
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…”
“You approve?”
“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.”
“What is it?” I ask.
“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 ooze around 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 and squish 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.
“Oh man!” I moan.
“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 hips spread out wide. My ass is completely exposed. I now notice that there’s a large mirror mounted above me on 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—well more than 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…”
“No… I’m afraid…”
“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. It’s already as stiff as I’ve ever felt in my life. But I’m also feeling that telltale tingling feeling that I get when my dick is still growing, and I swear I feel the sensation of the skin of my penis rubbing across the rubber and goo as it drives further and deeper into the sheath. It feels like it’s growing and getting stiffer every second, onward and impossibly onward. I start to tremble as I helplessly stare down at the foot long club sticking outward from my pelvis.
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.
But then it does.
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…
Chapter 2: Robot
Where am I?
I’m chilly. I open my eyes and stare at a stone wall. I’m lying naked on a small cot without any blankets, except…
I’m naked, except there’s something covering my hands, holding them into tight fists, and my groin feels weird. Oh wait!
I roll over and see the sling and that chair. I’m in that room! It’s all coming back to me. I instinctively put my hand down to my groin, but my hand is still bound up in that tight rubber mitt, which ineffectively paws at my cock. I look down at my cock. It’s huge like before, covered in that huge rubber sheath. I don’t know if the sheath is some strange foot-long prosthetic or if my cock has mystically doubled in length, but it looks and feels like I’ve got a huge 12-inch rubber cock, and it’s aching. God, talk about blue balls!
I wiggle my toes and realize I’m not wearing the boots anymore. I clumsily figure out how to get myself up in a sitting position and look around, the boots are against the wall nearby. I look down at my feet and wiggle my toes again. I’m not sure, but I think my feet are larger than they used to be. Actually, I think they’re a lot larger than normal, but it’s hard to remember exactly what the normal proportion of a foot is.
How long have I been asleep? And that stuff that happened before… how much of it was real? Did all that really happen, or did Travis give me some powerful hallucinogen?
I remember how it all felt, and my cock still feels the same. My ass feels different. It feels… what? Empty… needful.
I swallow and realize how novel it is to be able to do that again. It was such a strange feeling with that gag going all the way down my throat. You’d think I would be happy to free of it, but that too feels… hungry or lonely or something.
Fuck, I’m feeling horny all over!
And I’ve got to pee like a race-horse. I stand up and walk over to doorway. The middle room looks the same as before. All those accessories and clothes and gadgets. So much rubber! I cross the room to the doorway on the other side that leads to the bathroom, eyeing those three huge rubber pieces I’d noticed before: the full-body straitjacket and the two different cocoon-like body sacks. Something in me stirs; I eye them both wearily and longingly.
I go into the bathroom. I notice the shelf over the sink, that the ornate silver rack that used to have all those vials of liquids is empty except one flask of a familiar looking viscus blue liquid.
I hover over the toilet, try to point my stiff erection a couple degrees downward into the bowel, and am relieved that I can actually pee. There must be a piss-hole at the end of this cock-sheath. (Or, if my cock did get magically transformed into a chunk of living rubber, it still has some anatomical function.)
“Hello? Is somebody there?”
I’m so surprised, the last of my pee misses the bowl. The voice came from behind me, here in the bathroom! I realize someone’s in one of the shower stalls. I walk up and peek through the door. There in front of me is a naked guy, blindfolded and very securely tied-up into a chair with thick nylon rope. I can tell he’s fair-haired and he’s got a really muscular body.
“Hello?” He says again.
“Uh hi. Um.” I feel a bit awkward, “Do you need help? Are you okay?”
“Yeah, well, I’m sort of… could you help me out here?”
“Maybe,” I say, “But don’t exactly have the use of my hands. Uh, bear with me for a sec.”
I try to be inventive with using the sides of my fist-mitts to get his blindfold off, but that doesn’t work.
“Look, that isn’t working. I’m going to try to use my mouth, so I’m going to have to get up close to you. Don’t freak out.”
He nods, so I get up close to him and run my nose along the part of the blindfold that’s near his ear.
“Are you a friend of Travis’s?” He asks while I’m working, but I’m busy trying to get the blindfold in my teeth. I’ve got my arms around his shoulders, and I can’t keep my cock from grazing against his stomach. I finally get what I needed and pull upward. The blindfold is now free from one of his eyes. I can now use my mitt to slide it off the rest of the way.
“There.” I say, as he gets his first look at me. He stares at the big rubber gauntlets on me and then at my cock.
“My God that’s huge!” He says and then looks a little embarrassed.
“I don’t know Travis that well, but yeah. He says he was going to give me this amazing kinky experience, and… well… it’s been a bit of a roller coaster. What’s your story? I’m Doug by the way.”
“Zach.” He says, “Kind of the same. Well, actually I wouldn’t call it a roller coaster. He said he was going to give me this amazing experience, and then blindfolded me and let me here and tied me up. He said it would all make sense if I was patient.”
My mind is wandering a little. I can’t help but look at his body, all tied up. I can see his cock is at half-mast: clearly he had been turned on by Travis’s mysterious and kinky setup. I’ve got this urge to kneel down and suck his cock until it’s stiff and filling that new void in my throat.
“Hey, uh, Doug” Zach says suddenly. “Do you see that end of rope near my wrist? I’m not sure, but I think that’s just a slip-knot.”
I look to see what he’s talking about. I do see that there’s a distinct one-inch piece of rope sticking out from directly above each wrist.
“Hang on.” I say as I kneel down and bite on an end and pull. As first nothing happens, but I turn my head to the side a bit for a different angle, and it pulls free and the slip-knot releases. The loops around his wrist go slack enough for him to wriggle his hand free. I see I help him free his other hand and then bend over and releases his ankles. Travis had been very careful in setting up this puzzle.
“Great! Thanks!” He says, “Um, can I help you out somehow?”
“I don’t know. These are um… tricky” I show him my gauntlets and he explores them with his hands, trying to feel for any buckle or strap or release.
“Wow. I’ve never seen anything like this. It’s…” He looks up at me and blushes, “It’s kinda hot if you don’t mind my saying. I’ve never been with a guy in rubber gear. What does it feel like?” I can tell he’s past the initial surprise in our meeting, and is back to finding this whole scenario exciting and kinky. I see he’s starting to get a full-on erection.
We don’t say anything, just looking at each other. Then he reaches down and gently puts his hand around my cock. My knees almost buckle and my eyes start to flutter. I fight to try and clear my head, but the sensation is too much for me. I want to shake this all off and tell him we’re in danger and find some sort of exit, but I can’t ignore the other urges.
I kneel down and take his cock into my mouth, and just like I’d been trained with the muzzle, I just sort of swallow his cock whole, pulling it deep down my throat. It’s a totally instinctive act and it feels both strange and natural and wonderful. I recall Travis telling my I would be able to deep-throat the biggest cocks in the world, and I now know this to be true. Zach grabs my head gently in his hands and holds it there. I start drawing his cock in and out of my throat, feeling it growing to full strength.
“Oh man this is turning me on!” He says. Then: “Is there any gear that I can try on?”
I come up for air and look up into his eyes. Damn, this guy is handsome! I realize he’s still sitting in the chair he’d been tied up in, here in a shower stall. I turn my head and indicate behind me, “Take a look. It’s a huge collection.”
He gets up and walks through the door to the main room. “Fuck me! This is massive!” He walks around the room, randomly picking up objects. “I wonder if there’s any rubber or bondage toy that’s not in this collection.”
I’m looking around now, for the first time really looking through the whole collection. Of course, I can’t pick anything up because of my fist mitts, but for the most part I can figure out what most things are. Zach is exploring a section that has all sort of rubber clothing—shirts and shorts and fuller bodysuits and all that.
I walk past a collection of interesting objects like gags and restraints and dildos. Some of these things look pretty ordinary and run-of-the-mill, but other objects have… it’s hard to say, but they have a heavy duty quality, like the restraints that are wrapped around my fists or those boots back in the other room, or the heavy sheath that’s still covering my cock. Sparking of which… there is another one! On the bench right in front of me, it’s that same foot-long cylinder with the pouches on the open end for the ball-sack.
Then my eye catches on a collection of masks and muzzles and hoods. There’s one muzzle that may be the one that Travis had put on me—with the pecker shaped gag at the mouthpiece. I remember the sensation of it growing and snaking down my throat. Had that really happened or had it been a hallucination?
While Zach tries on some of the rubber clothing, I keep slowly looking around the gadgets. Another item catches my eye. It’s a hood that entirely covers the head. Inside there’s some strange equipment in the inside, where your face would go. I see two nubs that go into the wearer’s nostrils and what looks like a mouthguard similar to what football players use. The whole thing is heavily padded on the inside, but smooth and featureless along the exterior.
“You should try this on. It would look good on you.” He walks up to me with a latex singlet in his hand. I see he’s already been trying some of the gear on already. He’s also wearing a singlet. It’s got leggings that go just below the knees. Just above the crotch it opens up, exposing his muscular chest. His cock is sticking out a tight gap in the groin.
He’s looking a little embarrassed, because he clearly forgot that I still can’t use my hands. “Do you want to try it? I can help help get it on.” He bends down and holds it out so I can step into the waist if I want. I put one leg in and then the other, putting my balled hand on his shoulder for balance. It has a hole in the groin for my dick to go through, and he helps me guide my huge rubber-encased shaft through it, then pulls the lip around the cupped ball-sack. Finally, he pulls the top up over my shoulders. Mine is more like a traditional singlet without the longer leggings that his does.
“I like that. It makes you look… really hot.”
I’m feeling suddenly a little bashful. This guy is really the hot one. I love how much he’s getting into this. I lamely say, “Thanks, so do you.” Then, “Is there anything else you were looking at? This is a nice start, but I think there’s more that would suit you.”
“Yeah, that’d be great.” He says. “Hey, what was that you were looking at?” He indicates the strange hood I had been eyeing. He picks it up and uses his hands to open up the neck a bit so we can see what was inside.
“I’m not sure. I couldn’t pick it up, but it looks kind of intense. I think your face goes in that end.” In Zach’s hands it’s easier to see the pads that go over the eyes, the mouthguard, and the nubs that fit up into the nostrils.
“Hey look, there’s a visor in here for the eyes. I wonder…” Confirming his suspicion, the two pads where the wearers eyes would go briefly emit some flickering light. Zach turns the hood over and looks at the perfectly smooth exterior. The wears face would appear completely smooth and featureless—no obvious means for sight or even breathing, but the inside visor and nosepiece suggested otherwise. Zach whistles, “That’s so cool! One of us is going to have to try this thing. But first, let’s find me some sort of shirt.”
We go back over to where he was and look through the gear. There are so many different shirts—some with zippers, others that are one-pieces. After a while, he settles on a single seamless long-sleeved top with a long collared neck. It’s very form fitting and the rubber is pretty thick. It looks like it would be a struggle to get into.
“I think you’re going to want to find some lube.” I suggest, “If you apply it to the inside and to your torso, it’ll make it easier to get on.”
“Do you see any lube?” He’s looking around, uncertain, but I know where some is. There’s that strange tube of the black gel that I saw sitting next to that ominous cock sheath.
I lead him over to where those items were. “I think that’s what you want.”
“Oh man, that’s the same as what you’ve got on!” He’s meaning the cock sheath. “How does it feel? Should I try it?”
I feel a little conflicted. I still haven’t said anything about the crazy-intense experience I’d had before seeing him, about how unreal and almost supernatural this stuff was, including the rubber sheath that had turned my cock into a rock-hard twelve-inch club. Should I tell him? I’m tempted, but I’m also really turned on right now.
I punt. “Grab it and you can decide in a bit. Let’s get you into the shirt first. Grab everything and let’s go in here where we can sit down.” I lead him into the side room with the cot.
He grabs the bottle of black gel, the hood, the cock sheath and the shirt and follows me. He pauses at the doorway to the side room, looking at the sling and the other chair with the stirrups. “Whoa!… This place is designed for some serious play!”
“Yeah. Travis had me in that chair earlier. It was… pretty intense.” I can’t think of anything else to say, so I leave it at that and just sit down on the cot.
He follows my cue, and we both choose to ignore the obvious sexual tension. With my fist mitts on, I can’t do much to help him so I watch as he smears the gel over his chest and back along the inside of the shirt. It takes a long time to get it on him. He first has to put his arms through the sleeves and then he stretches the neck as wide as possible as he pulls it over his head. When he’s done, you can hardly notice where the shirt stops at his waste and the legs of the singlet continues.
“This feels great,” He says, “I love how tight all this rubber is. It’s like a sensory overload! Let’s take a look at this hood now.”
“No wait, before you try that, can I get you to try one more thing?” He looks at me quizzically. Giving into a temptation I don’t quite understand, I say, “While you’re sitting here, put those boots over there on. I know they’re going seem way too big, but just bear with me.”
He gets up and grabs the boots, an eyebrow arched as he measures one against his foot and, just like I had before, thinks it’s crazy.
“And one more thing. I know this is going to seem crazy, but just humor me: squeeze a whole bunch of gel into them first before you put your feet in them. I know, it seems really wacko right now, but in five minutes I promise you’ll get it.”
I can’t believe I’m doing this, but I just have to know. I still suspect that the earlier experience before was due to some hallucination from the drug Travis had given me, but this way I can make certain.
“Okay, but this is pretty weird!” He sits back down again, squeezes a copious amount of black goo into each boot, and puts his feet into them. The tops of the boots go up to his knees, just covering the bottoms of the rubber leggings. He flops his feet around the giant cavities for a second just to make the point. “Okay, let’s look at that mask. Do you want to try it or should I?”
I shrug my shoulders, “Whatever you’d rather.”
“I’ll give it a spin, just to see what it’s like. Then if you want, you’re free to try it.” I think he’s just being sensitive of the fact that I’m already pretty vulnerable without the use of my hands, and the hood looks like a pretty intense thing.
He carefully positions it so he can put his face where it’s supposed to be, with the eyes against the pads and his mouth can bite down on the guard. Then he pulls the rest back over his head. Like with the shirt, it takes a lot of pulling and stretching to get it all in place. When it’s all done, he turns his head and faces me. His face is just a smooth, blank surface. It’s simultaneously hot and creepy.
I hear the sound of him breathing. The nostrils must be bringing him air from somewhere, but it’s not obvious how.
“Wow, this is weird.” His voice sounds mechanical and distorted, and not muffled as I would have expected—like it’s coming from the outside of the hood itself.
“How are you talking, I mean with the mouthguard…?”
His mechanical-sounding voice says, “It’s… not too hard. It’s like talking through clenched teeth.” (“Teeth” is sounding more like “teef”, but I can understand him well enough.)
“What’s it like? Can you see?”
“I can. It’s got a video image in the visor. Different though, like night vision goggles. And there’s this weird… flickering. Hard to describe, but it kinda gets in your head. There’s a strange sound too. I can’t tell if it’s static or… it almost sound like voices whispering, but I can’t make anything out.”
He’s quiet for a minute, turning his head from side to side. He looks pretty alien with that hood on, and with the entire rubber outfit covering everything except his hands and his cock. Suddenly I notice his legs: the boots that had once looked loose and oversized are now tightly hugging his calves, just below the knees. I touch his foot with my fist-mitt, trying to see if he’s experiencing the same thing that had happened to me.
“What the… what the fuck!?” He says, looking down and realizing what’s happening. Just as had happened with me, his feet are glued to the ground. He puts his hands around his ankles and feels his feet. “I don’t get it! Those boots… how can they be… did they shrink?”
“No,” I say. I stand next to him and put my foot next to his so he can see how huge his are. “I don’t know how it worked, but I had the same experience with Travis. I couldn’t tell if it was an illusion or I was hallucinating or what. I can just tell you it isn’t a hallucination.”
I can hear him breathing harder, his inhalations amplified and distorted like his voice. “Man,” he says, “This is one hell of a head-trip.”
“Maybe you should take the hood off, if it’s getting too intense.” I would help him if I could, but again I’m reminded of my helplessness with these fist mitts on.
“No,” he shakes his head, “It’s intense… but… it’s also… really erotic. There’s something else: I think…” he pauses and takes in a few more deep breaths, “There’s this smell. I think I’m being fed some sort of gas. I think it’s getting me high… I’m feeling really good. Like, really good!” His body must be relaxing, because he’s able to lift one of his feet off the ground. He arches and flexes his foot a little bit, and then rubs it with his hand.
He’s quiet for another minute. I sit back down and watch him. Then I ask, “How are you feeling?”
“Amazing.” He says simply. Then, “Though, it’s getting harder to speak. Mouth guard is pushing my tongue down more.” I can tell—it’s actually a lot harder to make out the sounds. “But… don’t need… talk. I… oh—kay.”
He makes an a-ok sign with his hand. He then picks up the cock sheath that was lying next to him, squirts a bunch of the black gel into it, and lowers it over his cock. He stretches the cupped part around his balls and then tucks the last part of the flange under the seam of the rubber pants. Then he leans back and puts his weight on his hands and looks still for a moment.
“Oh god,” he says, barely understandable, “So hard! Keeps growing! Just… keeps… growing…” He moans, grabs his new monstrous cock in in his hands and starts pumping up and down.
I sort of paw at my identical phallus with my rubber mitts. I lift my leg and start stroking his feet with my own naked foot. For a long time he just keeps moaning, writhing a bit where he sits. Then he slows down. His head turns slightly in my direction, and I think he’s looking at me—it’s hard to tell for sure with that smooth rubber mask covering his face. He reaches over with one of his hands and starts stroking my cock. It feels so great that I start writhing as well. I just want him to keep doing that forever. Please don’t stop!
He stops and stands up, gently pulling my cock so that I stand up as well. He then puts his hands on my shoulders and holds me in front of him, still staring with that intensely blank look. His movements are so slow and deliberate.
“How are you feeling? Are you okay?” I ask.
He nods his head slightly.
“Can you talk anymore?”
He shakes his head slightly now: no.
“Is it that mouth guard? It’s grown so you can’t talk?”
He nods. Yes.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” I ask.
He starts gently guides me a few steps backwards. He’s turning me slightly but still walking me backwards, and I know where he’s guiding me: that chair with the stirrups. For a moment I hesitate, resisting a bit, and he too stops, but then he resumes pushing my shoulders back gently. He turns his head sideways a little bit.
I step backwards and let this resume. He places my gloved fists on his shoulders and then grabs my hips and lifts me up and into the chair. One at a time, he gently takes my feet and places them into the stirrups, fastening the straps around them—and then around my calves, and then around my thighs. He does the same with my arms, setting them against the arm-rests and then fastening straps around my wrists, and then my forearms, and then my biceps.
Then he stops, and he turns and walks out of the room. A minute later, he’s back with these thick gloves that go up to the elbow. They’re made of a really heavy-gauge rubber, and they make a telltale squeak as he handles them. He takes that tube of the strange black gel and squeezes an ample amount into each glove and then puts them on.
Now he’s completely encased in rubber. I hear the squeaking sound of rubber from the gloves, and I can imagine them tightening around his hands and arms, just like what had happened with the boots and the cock sheath. He walks back up to me and pulls a handle, causing the chair to recline backwards and my legs to swing outward and upward.
Again I’m looking upward at that mirror on the ceiling, seeing the reflected images of me, tightly fastened into the chair and Zach, a smooth, featureless figure of black rubber. I watch as he does exactly what Travis had done—putting the muzzle on my head with its huge pecker gag going down my throat; then fastening my head against the headrest.
He walks back in front of me, in between my helpless legs. He takes the tube of black gel and pours some over my sheathed cock and rubs it all around it. I moan, again overwhelmed by the powerful sensations. Then he pours more gel over his own cock, rubs it around, and finally guides it into my ass.
Oh fuck yeah! I feel every inch of that huge thing snake up into my ass. It’s so thick and so long that he has to do it with a series of slow partial motions in and out… further in and a just a little out, further more in… At the same time, I feel the gag of the muzzle snaking down my throat again, impossibly far. I don’t know how I’m not choking, but it’s just happening.
Zach is all the way in now, driving rhythmically in and out. He puts one gloved hand around my cock and pumps it while the other explores my chest. I look at his reflection in the mirror, seeing the scene from the overhead angle: his legs planted apart, his groin effortlessly pivoting in and out, his huge booted feet.
“Just as I had planned it.” I suddenly hear Travis say from the entryway to the room. I would just jumped if I hadn’t been completely strapped down. Zach’s pace doesn’t change at all—he just keeps fucking me with the same intensity.
“I’ll admit, I wasn’t sure whether you or he would try on the hood, but this turned out perfectly.” Obviously I can't ask or say anything with the gag down my throat, so I just look at him. “You probably guessed, the hood has reprogrammed him. It’s a combination of visual and audio signals, mixed with the drug he’s been breathing in. Right now, he’s just a happy rubber drone. I’ve given him three programs: the first is to revel in the sensations of rubber; the second is one of strict obedience. And the third… the third program is for him to become completely obsessed and infatuated with you.”
“Yes,” he continues, walking up to me and rubbing my chest with one of his hands, “I have plans for you that will involve a lot more converting and conditioning—processes that will go on for weeks, maybe months, and this drone will be ever diligent to keep you on your regimen.”
He pauses and lets that sink in. Then he walks out of my extremely constrained field of view for a minute, returning with several vials in his gloved hands. I vaguely remember something about vials that looked like that the last time I was in this chair. He takes one and attaches it to something at the top of my muzzle. I get a whiff of something that smells sweet and yet sour, like tangerine. Then the smell becomes really intense as I can’t help but pull the air in through my nose.
“I’m afraid for this next part of the conditioning, I’m going to have to erase your memory of this place. It’s a pity, because I’ll be erasing a lot of amazing experiences. Unfortunately, we’ve got to return you to a certain stage of innocence before we can proceed properly.”
Travis puts his hand on Zach’s shoulder lightly. Zach pulls out of me and steps to the side as Travis moves in and takes his turn fucking me. I look into his face as he holds firmly onto my thighs and fills my ass with his large rubber-sheathed cock. I’m mesmerized by his face… so handsome. I feel so grateful for all that he’s shown me. There’s this warmth I can’t explain. I’m transfixed, barely able to register the fact that Zach is attaching another vial to my muzzle’s air intake. All I want to do is feast on the image of the man fucking me. My brain is taking on a strange sort of hunger…
Chapter 3: Roommate
I wake up and get out of bed. It’s Saturday. I’m glad that I don’t have to think about work for a couple of days. I pull on a t-shirt and some sweat pants and head to the kitchen.
As I walk through the living room, I see Zach sitting on the couch, shirtless and in baggy flannel pajama bottoms, reading something on his tablet and listening to something on his Beats headphones. He looks up at me for a moment and nods.
This will be the first weekend with my new roommate. He just finished moving into the spare bedroom two days ago. It’s good to have a renter: it’ll make it that much easier to pay the bills, and I’m pretty amazed with how much rent he’s willing to pay. It’s a sweet deal! And it was so easy to find him—I can barely even remember putting in an ad for a roommate, and within hours he was set to move in.
I fix myself a cup of coffee and head back into the living room. I sit back on a high-backed chair and enjoy some sips of my coffee, staring absent-mindedly at Zach. I know I’ve only known him for a few days now and haven’t even spent much time together with him, but he looks so familiar—something about the fair hair, the muscular build, those green eyes.
And then there are those boots of his, with their thick, black, form-fitting rubber. He has them on right now, although I can only see part of his feet sticking out from under the pajamas. It’s a really quirky thing about him: I’ve never seem him not wearing them. For all I know, he may even sleep in them. It’s really weird, but he’s completely breezy about it, like it’s not a thing at all.
“Heya Doug,” Zach puts down his tablet and takes off his headphones.
“Heya”
“Thanks for letting me take over the basement. I got all those boxes taken over to the storage facility yesterday. Let me know if you need anything from there, and I’ll go help you find it.”
“That’s cool. It’s all mostly junk anyway.” I’ve been in the mood to downsize. There’s too much clutter in my life. “I’m happy to have a basement that’s actually being used for something, for a change. So when you think you’ll be setting things up or decorating or whatever?”
“I’m already working on that. I had some friends come over and work over the last two days while you were at work.”
“Really!? Wow.”
“It’s not a lot of work. You’d half-finished it already, so it’s mostly some framing and drywall. Without the plumbing already in there, it would have been impossible.”
Actually, the previous owner had done the work. He’d told me how his contractor had sort of vanished halfway through, and he hadn’t had the time to pick it back up. “Can I see it?”
“Give me one more week. I think you’ll be in for a nice surprise.” He says. Then he leans back, yawns, puts his arms behind his head, and stretches. I try not to be obvious as I glance at his perfect flexed 6-pack abs. I look up and see him staring straight at me with a little grin. I guess I was caught.
He leans back on the couch, putting both of his feet up on the coffee table. The pajamas are pulled up a bit, exposing those boots. They are so form-fitting to his feet, there aren’t even any obvious soles to them. The black material has an interesting matte finish to it. The other thing I can’t help noticing is just how big his feet look. It’s hard to gauge, but if I had to guess, I’d say he’s feet are at least size 15. I suppress the urge to ask him how big they are.
“Promise me that you won’t go downstairs to peek.” He continues the previous point.
“I promise.” I have to admit, I’m really curious what he’s been doing, but somehow I know that I won’t break my word.
“In exchange, I’ve got a little present for you. Don’t move.” He gets up and runs out of the room. I sit and sip my coffee, and in less then a minute he’s back with some small objects in his hands. “They’re just some decorative ankle straps. I’ve had them for a long time and never wear them. I don’t know if you have any interest, but I thought they might look good on you.”
He hands me one of the straps. It’s a very simple loop of black material, maybe two inches wide and a few millimeters thick. I can’t tell what the material is. It’s not leather, but it’s too stiff to be rubber. There’s a single small black metal “d-shaped” ring attached at one point of the exterior, but apart from that it’s completely featureless. There aren’t even any buckles or fasteners.
“How do you get it on or off?” I ask, “This is too small to fit my foot through.”
“It’s a pretty cool trick. You use this stuff.” Zach shows me a small tube that he also brought. He squeezes some gel out of it onto his fingers, and then he starts working the gel into the surface of the other strap. He keeps rotating the strap, rubbing both sides of its surface with his fingers, and periodically he pulls and works the material. “It takes a few minutes to incorporate the stuff into it, and it starts to loosen and stretch like this. Eventually it becomes pliable enough that you can get your foot through it.” He hands me the strap, and I can feel how it’s a little less stiff than the other one in my hands.
“Anyway, I gotta run. As I said, I don’t use them myself. If you want them, help yourself.”
I’m sitting in my room, rubbing gel into the straps or bands or whatever you want to call them. It’s been several hours since Zach showed them to me. I did some yard work and laundry and other things around the house, but couldn’t stop thinking about them. So here I am. It takes more work than I expected: I’ve been at this for about twenty minutes, rubbing pulling, stretching, putting more gel on, rubbing some more. The material has definitely gotten softer and more pliable, but it’s still pretty thick and sturdy.
I’ve been able to almost get one of my feet through it. It almost went around the ankle, but I couldn’t get enough grip with my hands to pull it hard enough. I’ve even got some lube out and rubbed it on my foot, which unfortunately is making it harder to get a firm grip with my fingers.
I was about to give up, when it occurred to me to get a pair of nylon cords. I loop each through a side of the band and then tie their ends and use them so I can put all my upper body strength into the task. The band slowly starts making it over the wide part of my heel but gets stuck. I get more gel out of the tube and rub it vigorously over the black material and then keep pulling the cords. Slowly it gets over my heel and I’m able to pull it up into place over my ankle.
I like the way it looks and feels. There’s something exhilarating about the material—it’s hard to explain, but it feels both warm and cool at the same time. While I admire the look of it, I start rubbing more gel into the other one, massaging and stretching and working it. I have to admit, I’m getting a pretty firm erection just thinking about having both of the ankle cuffs on me.
The other cuff takes even more time than the first one. It’s getting late in the afternoon, and here I am standing in my room, admiring myself in the mirror. I know this is sort of stupid, but they make me feel secretly rebellious. I know it’s lame, but I’m normally so buttoned-up and shy. But I like the guy I see in the mirror, shirtless and lanky. I wish I had Zach’s muscles, but for the first time in a long time I feel sexy.
I bend down and touch the cuffs. They are cool and stiff and tight around my ankles. After I got them on, they really absorbed that gel and started shrinking and stiffening again in a matter of minutes. I’m not sure I’m going to be able to get them off, but even that is a little exciting, knowing that I can secretly wear them under my clothes. I wish I could show these off to Zach, but he left a while ago.
-----------------
Zach is hanging out with his friends Cooper and Derek in the living room.
I first saw Derek last Saturday night, as he and Zach were heading out to a club. That was the first time I saw Zach fully decked out in one of his outfits, the matrix-style trench coat mostly covering the tight black pants and the black shirt with bright red detailing, both made of some shiny synthetic material that looks something between rubber and neoprene. The outfit featured those huge, prominent boots. Derek was wearing leather pants, a sleeveless blue rubber shirt, and these extreme leather gauntlets that covered most of his forearms.
I remember watching them with a slight feeling of envy, keeping my ankle cuffs hidden under my sweatpants like a secretive coward.
I know Cooper and Derek and two of the guys that have been helping Zach finish the basement. All of that work has taken place while I’ve been at the office. On Tuesday and Wednesday, Cooper and Derek were still here when I got home from work. Their casual clothes are less ornate than what I saw on Saturday night, but Derek was still wearing leather jeans and kick-ass motorcycle boots, and Cooper was wearing a tight rubber zip-up suit.
I try not to linger too much, but these guys are hot, so I’m tempted to occasionally leave my room ostensibly to get something from the kitchen just so I can gawk at them.
“Hey Doug, you know you can sit down and join us if you want to.” Cooper calls out to me as I’m returning from the kitchen. “We aren’t making you uncomfortable, are we? I know we can be a little over the top.”
“No… really. You’re fine.” I stammer.
Cooper flashes a wicked grin and says, “You sure? I wouldn’t want to do something a bit too sexual…” and with that he starts rubbing one of his nipples with one hand and grabbing his crotch with another, “…and get you freaked out in your own home. We could head over to my place.”
“No, I… yeah, I’m fine. I think it’s cool.” I really don’t want these guys to leave. “Feel free to be as sexual as you want. It great how free-spirited you guys are.” Shit, does that sound hokey?
“Well then, come join us.” Cooper pats an empty space on the sofa beside him.
“Let me just get out of my work clothes.” I say. I’m still in my collared shirt and khakis. “I’ll be right back.”
“There’s no need to do that,” Zach says, “You can get out of your work clothes here. I want the guys to see how cute you look in those ankle cuffs.”
I freeze. I really want to escape to my room and throw on some sweats and a t-shirt, but I don’t. I feel awkward.
“Doug, relax.” Zach says, “Take off your shirt. That’s all.”
I feel like a trapped animal, but I slowly unbutton my shirt and take it off, and pull off the t-shirt underneath.
“He’s got a nice body,” Cooper says. “Nice and lanky.”
“Now take off your shoes and socks.” Zach says. I try to act casual about it while I step out of the loafers and pull off my socks.
“Good, now just take off your pants.”
I undo my belt and let my pants just fall down, exposing the ankle cuffs. I’m wearing black cotton briefs that at least match the rubber cuffs in color. I feel naked but also exhilarated. A bulge is beginning to form in my underwear.
“You’re right,” Derek says, “He does look good in those.”
“Here, take a puff of this.” Cooper hands me a sleek e-cigarette. “It’ll help you to relax.”
I’ve never been a smoker, but I definitely tried pot when I was younger. I don’t know what this is, but at this point, if it’ll help me feel less awkward, I don’t care. I put the cylinder to my lips and draw in a smooth, sweet, musty vapor into my lungs. I hold it for a second and then exhale. I take a second draw and hand it back. Then I sit down on the couch.
“This isn’t typical vape fluid, is it?” I ask.
“Nope.” Cooper confirms and smiles. I feel relaxed, but tingly at the same time.
The guys resume their conversation. Derek is describing this sex toy he has—it’s like one of those masturbator tubes that you stick your dick into, and it sort of sucks and stimulates it. Apparently, it’s both really intense but also does something that prevents you from triggering an orgasm, so you just keep getting edged to the point that you think you’re going to lose you mind. If you try to touch your cock, the machine will instantly trigger the orgasm and everything is over.
They tell me that there’s sort of a game they do, where they see who can last the longest. Derek’s record is supposedly somewhere around 25 minutes.
“I want to try it.” Cooper declares. “How long do you think I can last?”
“You’ve never done it before?” Zach asks, “I bet you can’t make it past ten minutes.”
“You don’t have it with you, by any chance?” Cooper asks.
“In fact, it’s in my car right now. Should I get it?” He asks. Cooper and Zach nod, so he goes out to get the device.
“Maybe we should do this in my room. I don’t wan to freak Doug out.” Zach says.
“It would be hotter to have him here watching.” Cooper gives me a daring look and smiles.
“Yeah, sure. Don’t worry about me.” I say. I think I’m blushing a little bit, and I’m definitely self-conscious of the bulge in my pants. I have to admit, I’m really turned on by this whole scenario, but also relieved I can be a passive observer for the moment.
Derek returns with the device. It looks just like a big black cylinder with a padded opening at one end. It’s about 18 inches long and a little wider than a beer can. Cooper sits back on the couch and unzips his bodysuit down to just below his crotch and pulls his semi-erect cock out, pointing it upward.
“Now remember, don’t grab the device with your hands. Once it’s attached to you, it’s not going to slip off. If you touch it, it’s all over.” Derek has to help stuff the end of Cooper’s dick into the device, and then starts lowering it until it’s flush with the base of his crotch. At that moment we hear a click and then a hum. After a few seconds, Derek releases his hands and the device stays flush against his crotch. There must be some vacuum pump that kicked in. “Okay, start the timer!”
Zach starts a stopwatch on his phone and we all watch Cooper. He keeps his arms relaxed at his sides and stares intently ahead to the device.
“Wow, that’s a weird feeling.” He starts, “Hey, yeah, this is nice! I could do this all day long.”
Zach smirks. He gets up, rolling his eyes, and goes back to his room, “I’ll be back in a minute.”
Cooper’s face is starting to get an intense look of concentration, and he’s squirming a little bit. I ask him what it’s like and he says, “It’s so hard to describe. It’s like something between sucking and vibrating and squeezing and… oh!” His eyes roll back up into his head for a moment, “Oh man, every time you think you’re getting used to things, it keeps getting more intense!” His arms are no longer relaxed and at his side; he grabs my arm to steady himself.
Zach returns, fully dressed up in another rubber outfit, this one with midnight blue highlights in places around the shoulders and chest. “So Cooper, how are you holding up?”
Cooper doesn’t answer. He’s starting to breathe heavily. His eyes are fixed on the device protruding from his groin. Since I’m next to him, I can feel his body twitch ever so slightly.
“What’s the time?” Zach asks.
“He’s just past eight minutes.” Derek says. “Hey Coop, how’s it feel? Does it feel good?”
Cooper doesn’t seem to be able to talk. After a bit he just nods his head slightly, and then under his breath moans “fffuuuuuccccckkkk”! Then he starts twitching again. He’s still got my arm in a vice-like grip with his left hand, and I can feel the tension in his body. His knees are shaking, and he hooks his leg around mine to steady himself. The sensation of his rubber catsuit against my leg turns me on, and I can feel my groin bulging and straining even harder against my briefs.
At the moment Cooper squirms, and involuntarily tries to grab his dick with both hands, wrapping his fingers around the device. Suddenly his crotch pushes upward in several spasmodic thrusts. He’s breathing heavily. He pulls the device off of his cock, several thick cords of cum trailing between the two.
“What was the time?” Derek asks.
Zach smiles, “Ten minutes, forty-five seconds. You’re a lightweight!”
“No,” Derek corrects him, “Most guys can’t even make it five minutes. Who’s next? Zach?”
Cooper’s completely collapsed on the seat beside me, drenched with sweat. He’s still got one leg hooked around mine. He says, “How about Doug?” And I suddenly get really nervous.
But Zach shakes his head, “No, it’s getting late, and we’ve got to be on the other side of town. Come on, get your stuff.”
I simultaneously feel relieved and disappointed. I wish they would invite me to go with them, wherever they’re going.
Cooper drags himself up, but manages to grope the bulge in my briefs with one hand, quietly saying “Don’t think you’re getting off the hook that easy!”
-----------------
Thank God it’s Friday! And moreover, Tuesday is Independence Day so my company is letting us take both Monday and Tuesday off, so I’m looking forward to a four-day weekend!
When I get home, I can’t wait to get out of my office clothes. I’ve come to hate clothing! My only solace I’ve got is the feeling of the ankle straps that I secretly wear at the office these days. I’m in my bedroom, enjoying my nakedness when I hear Zach behind me: “It’s finished!”
I spin around and see him framed in the doorway. He’s wearing some simple black skin-tight pants tucked into his boots and some black leather gloves. His beautiful torso is bare. He’s got an excited twinkle in his eye.
I’m puzzled for a moment, and then I say “the basement?”
“Yep.”
“Can I see it?”
“It’s your house, after all.”
“You know what I mean!”
“Yeah,” He smiles, “You’ve been so patient. You haven’t even tried to peek.”
“I’ve thought about it.” I admit.
“You’ll be glad you didn’t. It’ll be worth the surprise.”
“Let me just…” I look around for my shorts, but he stops me, “Nope, clothes aren’t allowed down there. You’re perfect just like that. C’mon!” He gestures for me to follow him as he goes down the hall.
I follow him, still feeling a bit self-conscious as my half-excited cock swings around. As we get to the living room, I see that Derek and Cooper are waiting for us at the basement door. They’re wearing their full regalia, with boots and rubber and leather. Derek is holding some black objects in his hands, and he passes one to Zach.
“Okay, here are the rules.” Zach says, “They’re pretty simple, but you have to agree before we let you go downstairs.”
I look around at each of them for a moment. I’ve been so turned on by these guys, especially after that experience on Thursday, I’d do just about anything they asked.
“First of all,” Zach starts: “We’ve got some new accessories for you, to match your ankle straps.” He shows me one of the objects, a black strap, just like my ankle straps. Its circumference is smaller, but it’s also wider by maybe an inch. There’s also a small black metal ring subtly protruding from the side in one place.
Without waiting for any response from me, he starts systematically rotating it in his hands and loosening the material, just like he’d shown me with the ankle straps. Derek has already been doing the same with the other one, and he comes up to me and waits for me to put my left hand through it.
Just like with the ankle straps, it’s not easy to do. The material is so tight and doesn’t yield easily. Cooper has a cord with a hook on an end, which he snaps onto the ring. Then he gets behind me and supports my elbow with one hand while pulling the cord with the other. Eventually the strap gets over the widest part of my palm and slips in place, contracting bit by bit. I know in about two minutes it’ll be firmly hugging my wrists.
Now that I’ve got both of the straps in place, and Zach says, “Okay, one more thing. Follow me.” And with that he opens the door and heads downstairs.
I immediately begin to see the extent of the basement transformation. Everything is dark, lit only by small pin-point lights in various places in the walls and the ceiling creating small pools of blue or red light. The stairway walls are covered with some black material that looks like soft vinyl padding. I can hear the thumping base of some muffled music playing in the distance.
The stairs end at the beginning of a long hallway, similarly arrayed in black walls and pin-lights. This used to be just a huge unfinished room with a partially-built bathroom in a corner, and one interior wall partially framed. I can now see a few doorways on both sides, leading to separate rooms.
I pause at the bottom of the stairs, but Derek and Cooper are behind me, and someone gently nudges me forward. Zach turns and beckons me forward. Some places in the walls have hooks or straps protruding from them, some just a few inches off the ground, some at shoulder-height.
Zach walks right past the first doorway, but I stop and turn to look. The medium-sized room has a large cage up against the far wall, elevated up one foot on a platform and then about four feet high. It’s maybe seven or eight feet long and half as wide. Some shelves adorn the other walls. The lighting is a dim blue, too dark to make out the paraphernalia on the shelves.
“What’s that?” I ask, almost to myself.
Behind me, Derek answers, “Your new room.”
Cooper chuckles, and I laugh a bit. I assume he’s joking.
The next doorway is on the other side of the hallway, and from its location I guess that this has to be the bathroom: it’s where the plumbing is. But when I pass by, I’m surprised because it’s way too big to be a bathroom. Again, the lighting is so dark that it’s hard to make everything out, but this has to take up a third of the basement! The floor in there isn’t concrete, but has a similar black vinyl or rubber sheen to it.
Near the doorway, there’s a low bench running along some lockers along the wall. In one corner it looks like there’s a huge square tub that could easily fit four guys. Next to it there is a pair of stalls with floor-to-ceiling walls and long thin doors. In the center there’s some sort of elaborate throne-like chair with some tubes running out of the back, and next to it is a long, horizontal, person-size object that looks like it could be a coffin or a tanning bed or something like that.
“My God!” I’m dumbstruck!
Again, Cooper and Derek gently prod me forward. Zach turns and says, “Don’t worry, we’ll have you in there soon enough. But there’s one more thing you’ve got to do first. Come on. You’re going to enjoy this.”
I reluctantly keep walking until we get to the last doorway at the end of the hall. There’s a small room with a strange padded chair in the center. It sits high on a central adjustable pedestal. Two individual footrests extend at a slight sideways angle. Heavy padded armrests end with cup shaped pockets. The high-backed headrest has a round, cupped shape.
Looking at this chair fills me with apprehension.
From behind me, both Derek and Cooper put their hands on my arms and shoulders, holding me gently but firmly.
“Okay,” Zach says, “Get in.”
I try to back up, but Derek and Cooper are making that impossible. Cooper reaches around me and downward and gently grabs my cock, which is already getting pretty stiff, and then he tilts his head a little diagonally and puts his lips against mine. I receive his kiss and luxuriate in the feeling of his skin-tight rubber outfit against my bare skin. I don’t realize what’s happening as he’s turning my body to the side, but suddenly they push me off balance. Derek’s arm hooks under my leg, and I feel myself falling backwards into the chair.
There are two clicking sounds and my right arm and left leg suddenly can’t move. I look at my arm and realize that the d-ring on my wrist strap has been hooked into a latch on the armrest. There’s another click and Cooper locks my left arm in place. Another click and Zach has my right leg secured. I try to struggle, but it’s futile. This chair has been designed to work perfectly with my wrist and ankle straps. In fact, Derek pushes some switch on the side and there’s a humming sound as the latches and their bases recede into the chair, causing my wrists and ankles to get pulled flush and tight into the arm- and footrests. The cupped pockets on the ends of the armrests also pull and shrink against my hands until even my individual fingers are completely immobilized.
Derek pours some lube on my cock and starts pumping it with his hands while Cooper resumes kissing me aggressively. I’m still tensely pulling my arms and legs against the restraints, but I’m not really trying to struggle anymore. Fuck, after all, I’ve been attracted to these guys since I first saw them and had just been too prudish to do anything about it. Well, part of it is being shy, and the other part was that I felt there was a line I shouldn’t cross with my roommate’s friends.
Speaking of Zach, where is he? I pull back from kissing Cooper for a moment to look around. Zach is now next to Derek, who’s still stroking my cock, but is also now positioning it so that the head is inches away from something that Zach is now holding in place: the padded opening of that edging device—the big black 18-inch-long cylinder that I’d witnessed Cooper experience a few nights ago!
“Cooper really wanted to see you try this the other night,” Derek says, seeing that I’ve noticed him now. I try to squirm, but I’m helpless as the two of them guide my cock into the machine.
The moment the head of my cock makes its way into the opening, I can feel an immediate suction that quickly draws it in deeper and deeper until the base stops flush against my groin. But strangely, even though my cock can’t go any farther, it feels like it’s still going deeper as the stimulation along the sides continues.
The level of intensity suddenly goes through the roof! If I didn’t know any better, I would say that my cock was growing and stretching—desperately trying to reach the end of the 18-inch span. I know that’s impossible, but it really feels that way! I swear it feels like my cock has to be at least 14 inches long and still growing. Okay, fuck, if I want to be honest, if I’d closed my eyes I would believe my cock was four feet long and still growing!
“FffffuuuuucccckkK!” I realize that’s exactly what Cooper had said a few nights before.
Cooper grins, “Remember, the game goes on until you break down and grab the thing with your hands.”
He pauses and just keeps grinning, letting my situation sink in: I’m physically unable to grab the thing.
Derek says, “And until that happens—until you grab it—it has some way of inhibiting an orgasm.”
“What’s the time so far?” Zach asks.
“Just about two minutes.” Cooper answers. He got a phone in his hand and must be looking at a timer.
“Hey, do you have that ball attachment?” Zach asks next.
“Yeah, it’s right here.” Derek answers. He hands Zach some sort of strange metal object that is shaped in a weird semicircle with a small hinge in the middle.
Zach steps in the space between where the two footrests protrude so he’s right in front of my ass. He kneels and I can feel him pressing something into the side of the device right next where the base is pressing against my groin until there’s a small click. Then he squeezes the sides of the attachment as they close firmly around my scrotum. There’s another click and now my balls are getting massaged and sucked. This attachment runs along my taint, almost reaching my ass. With it in place, the whole apparatus is now firmly fixed in place, pointing my cock up to the heavens. As I squirm and rotate my hips, my cock no longer rocks gently side-to-side like it had just a minute before, it just points up at the same fixed angle.
They stand around for a while, just watching me. I feel a little self-conscious, but it’s so hard to concentrate on anything that I’m not worrying about that. I’m just overwhelmed with how stiff my cock feels and how turned-on I am by the whole situation. There’s something about my utter helplessness and vulnerability, mixed in with the crush I’ve had on these guys in their hot fetish gear, topped off with this unreal device flooding my nervous system with waves of arousal—I kind of feel like I’m having an out-of-body experience.
There’s something else that I’m starting to become aware of: this feeling of utter hunger and insatiable need coming from my cock. It’s hard to describe. Despite the fact that my cock is getting super-stimulated by this machine, the sense of arousal and desire keeps building, and it’s infecting my brain in a palpable and animalistic fashion. I glance over a Derek, at his matrix-esque outfit with the red detailing, at his face with the strong jaw and piercing green eyes and wavy dark hair, and I’m so turned on by him. I fantasize about kissing him and sucking his cock and feeling him inside me. I look at the others, and in the same way my eyes drink in their features, their masculinity, their raw rubber kink, and I’m overwhelmed with desire.
“So Doug, how’re you feeling?” Cooper asks. “You’re at seven minutes. Just a little longer and you’ll be closing in on my record!”
I look over at him, but it’s hard to form words. I feel my whole body spasm for a moment, but the chair holds my arms and legs down tight. The reminder of powerlessness just turns my on more.
“Yeah, I remember how that felt.” He says, with almost a wistfulness in his voice.
“You’re at the point where you’re starting to really lose control, aren’t you Doug?” Zach says. I’m trying to thrash my limbs, but they’re too tightly secured. I’m sweating and panting. The sensations from my cock are flooding through my nervous system. I nod my head a little bit. Zach continues: “In a few minutes this is going to go from your body into your brain. You’re going to lose control of your own thoughts. You’re going to regress into a tangle of raw animal instincts.”
“Ppp….” I can’t get the words out. “PPllll…pppppllllease!”
Zach turns to Cooper, “Hey Cooper, I’m going to get Derek fitted into one of the hoods. I want you to stay here with Doug, okay?”
Cooper looks a little put off, “Why does he get to try it before me?”
“I want Doug to keep seeing at your face. Supposedly he’ll start imprinting. I want to see what level of control you have over him. And here,” he hands Cooper a bottle of something, “You can do anything you want to him, just as long as you don’t touch the device.”
Zach and Derek walk out of the room, leaving Cooper here with me. He slowly walks around the chair lightly running his fingers over my thigh, my chest, my neck. He pours some liquid from the bottle over my chest and starts rubbing it into my skin. It’s some sort of oil or lube. He runs a finger teasingly around my left nipple. The sensation ripples through my body and mind.
He moves in closer to my face and kisses me hard on the mouth, driving his tongue in and around, and then sucking on mine. I kiss him back just as hard, grateful for having something to focus on—something that I can actually do with the one free part of my body.
He pulls back and looks into my eyes, just inches away from my face. He continues to rub liquid along my neck and shoulders. His face is so beautiful!
“Twenty minutes. Pretty impressive! Aren’t you glad we tied you down like this? I don’t think you would have made it five minutes otherwise. This way, who knows? Shall we see if you can go an hour? Maybe two? I’m curious how far you can go.”
Control Report Sept 26
Subject Dexter has completed his first BEP (bottom enhancement and programming) stage 1 procedure. Most of his memory of the experience has been erased, but not all. His sexual response to Christopher’s “three kinks” game and the idea of trying the visor was so strong, that he remembers putting it on, but nothing of the experience itself except that it was pleasantly intense. He will not hesitate to try it again if Christopher suggests it.
Penis size increased from 5.78” to 7.11” with projected 7.42” by next week when healing is complete. He will not be consciously aware of the increased length, but he will notice the increased and perpetual arousal that comes from the newly increased hormone levels. Hormone production should be at level 2.0 to be validated with bloodwork when convenient.
Dexter has been programmed with seven specific themes, behaviors, and triggers.
I. While not understanding why, he will abstain from masturbation, regardless of horniness.
II. Similarly, he will not pursue online imagery. Regardless of horniness, his sexual indulgence must come from direct exposure to others.
III. Anybody he encounters wearing soft knee-high boots (tied to his moccasin fetish) will evoke a strong sexual and emotional infatuation. He will do anything to get that person’s attention, affection, approval.
IV. He will be completely obedient to and suggestible by anybody he encounters wearing split-toed shoes (jika-tabi, surfing booties, Nike air rifts) also with a strong feeling of sexual arousal. In this circumstance, he will be in a semi-hypnotized and programmable state, although he will still be awake, aware and responsive, he will find himself strangely compelled to do anything he is told without hesitation by such a person.
V. Being naked and/or in bondage gear or in a similarly exposed and vulnerable state is extremely compelling, even though he’s still not accustomed to this behavior. If anyone suggests something resulting in this condition, he will agree without any hesitation. When wearing this gear, his own identity will begin to fade. He will see himself less as Dexter and more as an anonymous sexual being. This loss of identity will currently be at the level 1 subconsciousness.
VI. His hunger for rubber is extreme. When either wearing rubber or observing anyone else in rubber, his mind will enter a hyper-sexual state and it will dominate his focus. But he will not shop for, purchase, or pursue porn imagery on his own. it must be given to him or worn by another.
VII. He will take the pills we provide him. His consciousness will not register what they are or where they come from; he will only think that he is taking herbal supplements, and he will believe that he has always taken them, but he will be dutiful about taking them on the right schedule.
Subject Christopher has completed TEP stage 2, and with hormones at level 4.0, his sexual appetite is extreme but manageable. Penis size increased from 7.79” to 9.28” with a projected 9.55” when healing is complete.
Travis continues to function adequately as Christopher’s handler and has seamlessly been able to introduce him to his new sexual pursuits.
Christopher is already considering a third procedure, but we will have to assess whether he could handle another increase in libido.
During the procedure, Christoper was programmed with three new triggers or behavioral change.
I. Whereas he had not previously been aroused by rubber, he will now find it strangely compelling. He will attribute that to his curiosity with Dexter’s fetish, but the imagery and sensation of it will evoke a level six response.
II. If he encounters anyone wearing wrist or ankle restraints or a muzzle, he will have a strong urge to restrain, dominate, control and fuck that person.
III. Anybody whose body has been shaved (including a buzz cut) will spring the same trigger with multiplicative effect if 2 or 3 are encountered.
Finally, new surveillance equipment has been installed in their apartment with several cameras covering multiple angles. Neither subject is aware of the cameras and have been subconsciously conditioned so they will not notice them.
Dexter: Tuesday, September 28
It’s been a disorienting few days. I called in sick Monday and today and have been spending a lot of time sleeping and recovering. I can’t account for the any of the weekend—nothing after Thursday night when Chris sprung that game of the “three kinks” on me. Whatever drug he had given me, it must have been really scrambled my brain.
I think I had a good time. Hell, whenever I try to think back I can’t grab any memories, but I start feeling horny. Just the idea of wearing that visor… I wish I could remember what that was like. I’ve got to give it to Chris: he had me nailed dead on with those three kinks. Knowing he has such an insight into my inner impulses… it makes me feel sort of vulnerable and, well, naked. But even that is sort of a turn-on.
Speaking on whom—come to think of it, I don’t remember seeing Chris since the start of the weekend. While I was half-asleep yesterday sometime in the afternoon I heard someone come and go briefly. I didn’t bother getting up, and I assume it was Chris.
God, I’m so fucking horny! Every few hours I keep waking up with a raging hard-on. Half the time I’m waking from some intensely sexual dream, and the other half of the time it’s just the erection itself that drives me out of slumber. I’m having a hard time concentrating on anything except how much my cock feels like a thick steel rod.
I know I should just work myself over until I shoot my load, but I can’t bring myself to do it. It feels great to just grasp my cock and enjoy how huge and stiff it feels, but I guess I’m enjoying the intensity of it all. I don’t want it to go away, even if it is driving me out of my mind.
My thoughts drift over to the toys and gear in Chris’s room. They were no longer just lying on the floor anymore. Sometime during the weekend they had been organized and put away. My curiosity had driven me to peek in his closet, seeing everything there, including the visor. And the chair is still there, with the arm rests and foot stirrups and the head rest. It was the first time I was seeing it, only having felt it before, when I had the visor on. There are some pedals that adjust the height and the tilt. Attached to the back of it is some elaborate equipment with some tubes and knobs and steel tanks.
I’m considering getting out of bed and grabbing something from the kitchen when I hear the front door open. Great! Chris is back. I pull on some sweats and throw over a large t-shirt, hoping that my hard-on won’t be too obvious. I know he wouldn’t care if I walked around the house in the buff—hell, I really feel an urge to start doing that—but I’m not quite ready yet.
When I get to the living room, I’m glad I made that decision, because it wasn’t Chris who had arrived; it was Travis, along with another two guys I don’t recognize. Travis is shirtless, his jeans tucked into a pair of moccasins that look identical to the ones I keep stashed in the back of my closet. The two others are dressed in black, thin and loose-fitting pants tucked into ninja style Jika-tabi boots. One of then wears a thin black leather vest, and the other has on a tight-fitting sleeveless shirt that shows off some really impressive chest muscles.
I freeze, not knowing what to do or say. I feel something click in my head, and I almost feel dizzy for a moment. A sudden surge of energy explodes into my groin and my cock starts pushing out, tenting obviously against the shirt and sweats.
“Hey Dexter, how’s it going?” Travis says, smiling at me.
“Uh…” I’m having a hard time reacting, “Chris isn’t here.” My heart is racing. As I look at Travis, I’ve got butterflies in my stomach. He’s so attractive, that I’m suddenly feeling tongue-tied and nervous.
“I know. He’s busy. He won’t be home until late tonight or maybe tomorrow morning. We came here to see you.” Travis says.
There’s a pause. I feel awkward. Eventually, I say, “Uh, wow. Cool. What can I do for you?”
Travis turns to the muscular guy in the leather vest and prompts, “Jack?”
“Dexter, you can start by taking off your clothes.” Jack responds.
Again, I feel like something strange is clicking in my brain. I take in these two friends of Travis’s. There’s something beguiling about them, something compelling. I want to… I want to take off my clothes. I pull my shirt off, dropping it on the floor, and then I step out of my sweats, letting my cock bob around.
Then Jack instructs, “Now it’s time for you to do a little suckling. Tim?”
The muscular guy, apparently named Tim, pulls off his t-shirt and then unbuckles his belt, unzips his fly, and pulls out a generously sized cock. While only slightly erect, it’s already hanging down a good length, and it’s starting to fill out and grow. I walk over to him, get on my knees. Something about having him so close to me and about his clothing and those boots makes my whole body tingle. I look down at them for an instant before obediently putting my mouth around his cock. I draw it in, sucking lightly, feeling it growing in my mouth. To support myself, I wrap my hands around this thighs, gently running them down his legs eventually coming to the boots. I realize they aren’t made of fabric like I originally assumed, but more of a spongy material, something stretchy.
Jack stands next to me, his cock already erect. I start alternating between the two, stroking whichever dick is not in my mouth at the time with my hand. I’m doing the best I can to take the dicks in my mouth, but they’re pretty massive. I suspect that all of these guys have gone through this same enlargement procedure.
“Don’t worry, you’re going to get a lot of ‘sword swallowing’ practice over the next few weeks. You’ll be a master at it before long.” Travis says from behind me. Clearly he was reading my mind. “You’ll even be able to handle this.” I feel something hard and fleshy slap down on top of my shoulder. I turn and I’m a little stunned. His cock is as big as Chris said it was. I looks much bigger than Chris’s was when he showed me his own nine inches.
I look up into his face and again feel waves of emotion, like a huge boyhood crush. I want to do whatever will make him happy. I turn my head to start licking his cock. I am worried I won’t be able to do it justice, but I’m happy to throw myself into it.
“No, not yet. We’ve got some things to do first.” Travis says, “Get up, and let’s go into the bathroom. Tim, bring the bag.”
I stand up and let them lead me into the bathroom. Travis has me put on some hot water and get into the big old claw-foot bathtub that we have. “Sit against the back and put your hands behind your head. Grab the pipe, yes, like that.”
Jack and Travis secure some thick straps around my wrists. They’re made of stretchy, waterproof material, like what surfers wear. It makes me think of the guys’ Jaki-tabi boots. The guys take some steel D-ring carabiner clips and snap them into place, attaching the faucet plumbing behind my head to my wrist straps. The detachable shower head has been lowered and Tim is holding it as water sprays over my body, slowly filling the tub.
“Good. Now put your legs up along the sides.”
I bend my knees and pull up my legs so each straddles a side of the tub. Jack and Travis buckle similar restraints around my ankles and then attach them to short chains that I think have been secured to the feet of the tub. When the water comes up to my chest, Tim turns it off.
“Now keep very still. I don’t want to you get hurt accidentally.” Jack and Tim start spraying white foam on my arms and legs. Then they all take out straight razors and run their blades carefully across my limbs, removing the shaving cream and leaving my arms and legs completely smooth and hairless. Travis shaves around my groin and then uses a small electric trimmer until I only have a small bar of closely trimmed pubic hair above my dick.
Nobody talks for the longest time. Every now and then one of them will stroke my cock or lean over and kiss me deeply on the mouth. My body is tense with sexual arousal plus the desire not to get myself cut with a razor. After finishing with my arms, Tim gets out a larger electric razor and scissors. The back and sides of my head are shaved down to the smallest layer of fuzz, and the top is similarly buzzed except for a small mohawk peak of hair above my forehead.
Travis rubs my head playfully, “You look so cute! But we’ve still got work to do. You’ve been very cooperative. I’m proud of you. You keep behaving, and we’ll keep doing this.” He strokes my cock a few times. “Next, tell me: do these look familiar?”
He holds a pair of thick black rubber booties in front of me. Memories stir in my head. There’s so much of that weekend I don’t remember, but I still remember how the “three kinks” game started. I’m suddenly aware of my heart pounding in my chest. I nod, “Oh yes, I sure do.”
Jack and Tim each take one of my feet, unbuckling and removing the ankle strap, slipping on a bootie, and then producing a matching ankle strap with those nylon cords that lace through the hidden grommets and bind the bootie and strap until they form a single seamless object. Each strap gets tightened, wrapped around the ankle, and snapped into the hidden catch inside. I stare at the exotic footwear and revel in the sensation of the thick, tight rubber once again encasing my feet. Renewed waves of arousal surge through my body and into my groin.
“I think he likes it,” teases Travis. He dramatically presents a tiny key, inserting it into the slit of each restraint and turning it. “There. You’re not getting out of these anytime soon. But I don’t think that bothers you at all, does it?” I shake my head. “Okay, time to flip him around.” Travis declares.
My wrists straps are disconnected from the pipes behind my head, and I’m turned around so that I’m kneeling with my butt pointed back toward the plumbing, my arms holding my torso upright at the back end of the tub. Tim turns the water back on and sprays my body while Jack and Travis finish shaving my chest and ass until my entire body is smooth and slippery.
Jack stands in front of me and has me start sucking his cock while they screw an attachment into the shower. I’m facing away, so I can’t see the apparatus, but something fairly big is guided into my ass with another tube that attaches to the drain. I’m told to bear down with my sphincter to hold it in place, and I feel water periodically flushing into my body and then out down the drain. Someone grabs my cock and pumps it, so my brain is overwhelmed with sensations in my mouth, cock and ass all at the same time.
Finally, Tim puts on a pair of thick rubber gloves, smears something wet over my ass, and starts opening it up, probing with one finger, then two, massaging. Then I feel more fingers insert. I try to relax as much as possible, all the time trying to focus on sucking Jack’s cock. “He’s still a little tight, but I should be able to fully fist him within a couple of sessions.”
“Okay, our work is almost done here… for now.” Travis says. “Let’s go back to the living room, and then Jack will give you some instructions.”
They have me sit on the couch, while they get ready to leave, putting their dicks back away. Tim puts his shirt back on. Jack stands in front of me, putting one of his booted feet on the cushion between my legs. He gently sticks the two forked toes under my crotch and teasingly rubs my testicles. Something about him has me still transfixed.
“You are going to hear the following and tuck it away into the subconscious corners of your mind.” I don’t understand what he’s saying, but I just focus on the words. I assume it’ll make sense at some point. “Chris has gone through his second procedure this weekend, and he has been programmed with his own new hypnotic trigger. He doesn’t know anything about it, but I’m going to let you in on the secret. If he sees anyone with a shaved head, or a completely shaved body, or wearing bondage restraints—any of those three things—the trigger will activate, and he will become aroused and excited. He will feel an urge to further restrain and dominate you and to plant copious amounts of cum deep inside your ass.”
“You’ve got the haircut and the smooth body, and now you have those ankle straps—any one of these things would trigger him, and you’ve now got all three,” he continues, “When Chris returns tonight, you’ll be naked—apart from the booties—and all you have to do is play it cool and act a little flirtatious. Just let things happen and enjoy. And with that, I want you to forget what I just said.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, confused, “You’ve lost me. Could you say that again?”
“Don’t worry about it,” Travis says. “Hey, we’ve got to go. Just do me a favor…” He sets some rubber object on the kitchen table, “Tell Chris I dropped this off for him. It’s just another toy to add to the collection.
“Oh, wait, I almost forgot! One more thing.” he gets out a big white plastic cylinder and a smaller black one. “Now that your skin is so nice and smooth, let’s keep it soft and supple. Rub this lotion all over your body regularly—at least twice a day. Guys, let’s help him.”
We all rub white lotion into my newly shaved skin. My skin seems to soak it up readily, and he has me keep adding more and more until my skin is saturated and won’t take any more. Then he has me rub a thin coat of oil from the black tube all over. It forms this glistening, super-slick surface. It’s not oily or greasy, but at the same time it feels like by entire body has been lubed.
Travis explains: “The oil chemically binds to the surface of the lotion, which your skin has soaked up. You’ll be super-slick for at least eight hours. Remember, I want you to do this at least twice a day.”
“Okay, I promise.” I say.
And with that they walk out the door, leaving me feeling strangely invigorated but also isolated and hungry.
Dexter: Wednesday, September 29
I’m woken by the sound of keys in the door. The clock on the wall says it’s about 2:30 in the morning. I’d been sleeping for about five hours since Travis and his friends left. I love the feeling of my body now, all naked and shaved and soft and slippery and sensual. I also love the feeling of the rubber booties that encase my feet. I just lay there and look up as Chris’s head pokes around the door. He pauses, just looking at me. I wonder what’s going through his head.
“Hello.” he says. “You look comfortable.”
I yawn, stretching my arms over my head, and just look back up at him. “Hello there.”
He closes the door, locks it behind him, and turns back to me. “Nice look. It suits you.” He’s wearing that hip goth outfit with the high boots. I feel a tingle run across my entire body, and I know my dick is starting to fill out.
I just smile back at him, running my hand over my buzzed head.
“I see you figured out how to get the booties back on.”
I shook my head, “No, Travis swung by to drop something off for you. It’s on the table. While he was here, he helped me put them on again.”
“Did he leave the key?”
“No, I don’t think so.” My cock is already climbing up into the air, pointing to the ceiling.
Chris is staring at me with this intense look and an expression I’ve never seen before. Then he looks down at the table and picks up the object, handling it. It’s an elaborate sort of rubber straitjacket. I had tried to figure it out earlier. Unlike a traditional straitjacket where you first put your arms in sleeves and then wrap them around your torso and secure them to your sides, these had seams and sleeves and pockets so that you tuck your arms into it, stretch it over your body, and are ultimately wrapped in what looks like a single continuous sheet of rubber. “Wow.” he says, looking back up into my eyes.
“It looks pretty intricate.” I say, “Have you seen anyone in it before?”
He shakes his head, “No, but I’ll bet it would work well with your existing outfit.”
I shrug my shoulders, playfully and nonchalantly. I grin and then feign disinterest, pretending to change the subject. “You’ve been away for a while.”
“I had the second procedure.”
“I suspected.” I say, “How are you feeling?”
Chris comes over and sits on the couch by my feet, “I’ll admit, it takes some getting used to.” He casually puts his hand on my left leg, and then frowns as he examines it more closely, stroking the newly-shaved skin slightly. Again, this funny look comes over his face as he looks at me. “I told you I was horny all the time after the first procedure. Well, now it’s like, after I have an orgasm, I only get to rest for a few hours before the urges start building up again. It’s only been a few days, but already it’s taken some adjustment.”
“So you’ve been keeping busy.”
He nods, earnestly. “Actually, Travis has helped hook me up with several guys. I’m…” he pauses for a moment, looking bashful, “Sometimes I’m making money at it. You know, hustling. And sometimes it’s just a hookup.”
“Wow.” I try not to sound judgmental.
He looks at me, searching for a moment, but returns to looking at my shaved legs. “I’m going to do a porn video shoot tomorrow, actually. Amped up like this, I should be able to do a lot of scenes, you know, having an ability to recover so quickly.”
“Are you nervous?”
He shrugs, “Not about the sex part, or having my face in a porn video. But this one has a lot of heavy-duty rubber gear and stuff. It’s a little outside of what I normally do. I don’t know, actually, in a way the idea is sort of exhilarating. Anyway, I think that’s why Travis dropped this by,” he indicates the rubber straitjacket in his hands.
“Sounds like fun.” I say, encouragingly, “And you’re right, it’ll be a good way to feed your appetite. Plus you get to show off your new and improved cock. Last week you were seven and a half inches. How does it look now? Do you want to show me?” I grin.
He shakes his head and grins back at me. “Quid pro quo. I’ll show you if you agree to try on this new piece.”
“You think it will go well with these?” I wiggle my feet a little.
“Let’s give it a try and see.” He’s staring intensely into my eyes.
“I don’t know…”
“C’mon. Quid pro quo.” he repeats, “Let’s play another round of the three kinks. You’ve already done the first kink on your own.”
“A new game, huh?”
He winks at me and stands up, loosening his belt, “I’ll show you if you agree to try your second kink.”
“Okay,” I nod.
He undoes the buttons of his jeans, and his cock flies out, already very big and growing. He takes off his shirt and then climbs out of his pants, managing to keep the boots on. My own cock is fully erect now as I take in the view.
“Alright, let’s see if we can figure out how this thing works.” he says, holding out the rubber object. “Apparently, you’re supposed to start with it turned inside out…” he inverts the object, and it sort of looks like a big sweater with the sleeves wrapped around and attached to the sides. That is, a big sweater made of heavy-gauge black rubber! The sleeves have large holes at the shoulders. “Try putting your arms here.” Chris holds the thing so it’s above my head and upside down.
I tentatively insert my arms upwards into the two holes and guide them in as Chris lowers the object downward until my head is butted against the big round hole in the middle. Just at that moment my fingertips come up against something. “Ah, hang on. There’s something at the end. I think they’re like the fingers of a glove.” I wriggle my fingers around until they fit in place. It feels like a glove except that my fingers are held rigidly together in a fixed position.
Chris pulls the center hole open with his hands, and we both struggle to get my head through. The rubber is a really thick gauge, and the neck hole is shaped to be really snug. Eventually we manage to get my head through.
“Okay, now I need you to pull down hard with your arms while I pull and invert it over your body.” Chris instructs.
At first I don’t think it’s going to work. But that strange lubricant all over my body enables the material to slide over my skin and into place. He uses his fingers to gradually peel the torso part over, centimeter by centimeter. We get past a critical point and then the rest of the motion becomes much easier as it almost snaps into position around my waist.
We both look down at my torso, a smooth, seamless tube of heavy black rubber, my arms and enclosed hands just shapes disappearing into my hips. From the bottom of the straitjacket two straps hang out. Chris pulls them around my groin and between my legs, and fastens them to some buckles in the back. He then rubs lube over the entire surface of the rubber and then buffs it with a towel until it shines all over.
He stands up, inspecting his work. He has that strange look on his face again. “Okay, tell me the truth: is this turning you on?”
I try to shift and struggle. It’s amazing just how completely immobilized I am. The sensation of tight rubber encasing my torso is intense and almost overwhelming. “Yes, I can’t lie. It’s pretty hot.”
“I’ve got to say, I’ve never felt this way before, but this is really turning me on. It’s this strange feeling, like being a kid on Christmas morning unwrapping his presents—only in reverse! I… I’m really into this!” He’s got this intense look of excitement in his eyes. He absent-mindedly grabs his cock and starts stroking it. “So, you remember how the game works with the third kink?”
“Yeah,” I nod, “I get to choose now whether to proceed to the third kink. If I do proceed, then you lay out a scenario, and if the idea of it turns me on, I’m obligated to submit to it unconditionally.”
“Yep, you remember. So what do you say?”
I gaze down at my cocooned torso and my raging hard-on, and I flex my encased feet. The sensation of being tightly encased in rubber is really hot. And with Chris standing there, naked except for those boots, his huge nine inch cock in his hand and that hungry look in his eyes… “Hell yeah. I’m curious what you’ve got for me.” I say.
“Okay, I’m going to need a few minutes, but first…” He ducks into his room and reappears with some nylon rope in his hands. He kneels down between my legs. From my sitting position, I can’t see what he’s doing, but I can feel him grabbing one of my ankles and doing something to the ankle strap’s d-ring. He then reaches over to the end of the couch and threads the rope around it base, and then pulls it tight, causing my right ankle to lurch over to the side. He quickly does the same to my other foot so that my feet are immobilized, my legs open wide. “You’re not going to be going anywhere like that. Alright, now hang on for a few minutes.”
He disappears into his room, leaving me secured on the couch, my legs spread-eagle, my cock aching. There’s nothing to do but sit there, helpless. I listen, straining to hear any clue of what he’s doing. It seems to take forever before he finally emerges. The sight makes me draw a deep breath.
Chris is decked out in this intense rubber bodysuit. The shoulders and chest have an array of ridges and plates that accentuate his physique. He’s wearing huge gloves that go halfway up his forearm. The boots are out-of-this-world exotic: they are made of some thick, sheeny material that exaggerate the size of the feet and go all the way up to the knees, with steam-punk-looking buckles along the sides, but most notable feature is how the toe of each boot splits in the middle, making each foot slightly resemble a big talon.
From his crotch springs a giant phallus, his cock and balls sheathed in thick rubber, the base encircled with a tight cylindrical ring that holds the base it at least half an inch from his groin, pointed forcefully outward. He instinctively runs his gloved hand up and down it.
“What do you think?” He asks, “This is supposed to be my outfit for the porn shoot. I’ve never tried wearing rubber before. Didn’t used to be my thing, but I don’t know. I’m kind of digging the sensual intensity.”
I’m speechless. There’s something about his outfit that has me mesmerized.
“Okay, so about that third kink. This is what I’m thinking.” He pauses, taking a breath and finding the words.“I think it’s time we ripped the bandage off this coy roommate thing, once and for all. It’s far overdue for us to fuck, don’t you think?”
I still can’t find any words to say. I can actually hear the pounding of my heart in my ears. He continues, “I want to see the look in your eyes while I do it—at least at first—but I think I’ll have you muzzled so you can’t say anything. Yeah…!” That wild look in his eyes is getting even more intense, “For the third kink, you would essentially be giving me a blank check of consent to do anything I wanted to you, starting of course with this.” He shakes his cock at me.
We stare at each other. His look of excitement is both beguiling and a little terrifying. “By the way.” He adds, “As you know, I’m perpetually horny and can’t always satisfy these hungers by going out. Once we get this… out of the way… we have have a lot more… opportunities to… well… let’s just say anytime I find myself waking up at 4am with an overwhelming hunger—or in the middle of the afternoon, or frankly any fucking time of day—I’ll just help myself to this body of yours. You’ll be my always-available fuck toy. I think it’s time.”
“Time?” I finally ask.
“The third kink. You know what you promised. You have to tell me if it turns you on. And if so…”
“Wow, what a fucking head-trip!” I say.
He steps up to me, kneeling and stroking my thigh softly with his gloved hand. “Should I fetch that muzzle now?”
I nod. Staring into his eyes. He just smiles and strokes my cock a few times, and then plants a firm kiss on my mouth.
I’m about to say something, when I hear a familiar voice nearby, “Sounds like a party is getting started. Mind if we join in the fun?”
Chris and I turn our heads to see Travis, Jack, and Tim coming in the front door. Tim and Jack are decked out in identical outfits—smooth, featureless black rubber going from their necks down to their feet. They are wearing heavy gloves and talon-like boots like Chris’s, and their cocks are bound in the same intense rubber sheaths. Travis is wearing a sort of overcoat, under which he’s naked except some boots that look similar to my old moccasins, except they’re made of a thick, black, spongy material that looks more like neoprene, and there aren’t any obvious buckles or laces along the sides.
Travis and the others come in and close the door behind them. Chris looks at them, “Hey, can one of you go into my room and find the muzzle? It should be on my desk.” Then he turns back to me. “I did say something about a blank check, didn’t I?”
“You know what would be fun?” Travis says, “What if we shot that rubber porn movie here? We had a location secured, but setup isn’t happening until later this morning. We could move it over here, and we could convert Dexter’s room into that ‘conversion lab’. Hell, most of the equipment has been sitting in storage most of the time—we could make this place into a semi-permanent rubber-dungeon.”
There’s that gleam in Chris’s eyes. “I was starting to get into this ‘rubber kink’. Why not dive in. We could set this place up for a bunch of parties and ‘client visits’. Less commuting and more fucking for me.”
Tim and Jack walk up. Tim has the muzzle, Jack picks up the bottle of lube Chris had been using to get me in my outfit. Chris looks at them and simply nods. Jack sits down on the floor at my crotch. I feel his tongue run over my sphincter, and then he’s smearing lube over it. Meanwhile, Tim takes this contraption with lots of straps. The mouthpiece has a rubber 3-inch nub shaped like the end of a cock. He holds it up to my mouth and then hesitates.
Chris looks into my eyes. He slaps his huge rubber-encased cock against my leg. The cold, smooth feel of it makes me shiver. “You promised. If it turns you on, you have to do it.”
Of course, this is true, but it’s also bullshit. This isn’t just a game: it’s a life-altering decision. But I open my mouth to accept the gag.
“Hold on a second!” I hear Travis say from the other side of the room. As he comes up beside me, I see he has a glass of familiar looking dark liquid. “You’ve tried something similar to this before—I believe Chris gave it to you that first time.”
I hesitate, but he gently supports the back of my head with one hand and puts it up to my lips. I drink it as quickly as I can, tasting that familiar “red bull and prune juice” flavor, but this time with another harsh metallic element to it. Meanwhile, Chris and Jack are untying the knots that are securing my ankle straps to the couch.
“Atta boy!” Travis says. He steps back out of the way, and Tim puts the pecker-gag part of the muzzle in my mouth and fastens the straps tightly around my face.
Chris unties my ankle straps. Then he puts his arms around my waist and picks me up, my legs straddling his sides, his cock protruding just below me. Entwined, he carries me into his bedroom and then drops me on the bed. I’ve aware of all four of them: Chris is in front of me, Jack and Tim on each side, taking my feet and lifting my legs into the air. Travis walking in behind, stroking his huge cock as it gets fully erect.
I revel in the helplessness, the feel of the straitjacket wrapped around my torso, the booties, the muzzle. All these sensations are pouring into my brain, and there’s another swirling feeling starting to join it. I lay on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. I feel Chris slap his cock along my thighs teasingly. I can’t see it, by I can feel just how thick and heavy it is, and the rubber sheath gives it an extra hard feeling, the consistency of a dildo. He positions it against my sphincter and starts to push.
My sphincter pushes open and he starts penetrating into me. After the first twinge of discomfort, I try to relax. The rubber slides smoothly into me. After the first several inches, the sensation starts getting intense. I feel impossibly stuffed, but he keeps slowly pushing in, increasing the pressure to meet the increasing resistance. I lift my head, looking down, and it looks like he’s only halfway in! He pauses, pulls gently back out just a bit and then reverses again and drives forward. He shifts, leaning his torso down over me, putting his hands on the bed on both sides of me to prop himself up, while he drives himself in. Again he starts rocking, pulling out just a little bit and then driving in further.
The feeling is so intense. I feel like screaming, but I just bite down on the gag and moan. And then I feel his thighs meet my ass. He’s in—all nine inches of him. For a moment, he collapses down against my chest, kisses the side of my face, and then starts driving in and out. He pushes himself back up to a standing position and just stands there, fucking me for a while. The drug is starting to kick in. My perception is getting weird. Chris’s rubber outfit is taking on an other-worldly quality, as though the ridges and plates were part of his actual body.
“Okay, who’s next? Jack? Tim?” Chris pulls out of me.
“Can we put him in the chair?” Jack asks, “I want to strap him in so he’s completely immobilized when I fuck him.”
They pick me up and set me in that chair. Chris raises it up and reclines it until I’m spread-eagle, my legs lifted up and out so that my ass is at a perfect height and angle for fucking. My legs and arms and head are strapped down. As a last touch, Travis has replaced my muzzle with the visor. It’s not displaying any concrete imagery yet—i’m seeing the original montage of skin and close-ups on body parts. A rhythmic beat start thumping in my ears.
A rubber-sheathed cock pushes my ass open and starts sliding into me. I can’t tell if it’s Jack or Tim. I feel rubber hands all over my body. Someone is sucking my cock. The drug is kicking into high gear, strange images filling my mind as the hallucinogen takes effect.
Christopher’s Journal: Thursday, Oct 7 (entry 8)
We’ve just wrapped up shooting the second in a series of rubber porn movies, and it’s been amazing. Travis’s idea was brilliant, turning the apartment into a permanent set. My room looks like a sort of kinky mad scientist’s laboratory. The bathroom has a similar quality, but we’ve rigged it so all the “wet scenes” can be shot there. You actually can’t tell that it was originally a bathroom. The toilet and sink are cleverly camouflaged to look like strange steam-punk equipment.
Dexter’s room has been converted into the dungeon, with the rubber sarcophagus bolted flush onto one of the walls, a large cage on the other side. We’ve replaced his bed with a “vac bed” that lets you suck a person into a sort of motionless latex cocoon.
The living room furniture has been almost completely swapped out for steam-punky equipment and benches and couches. Two of the walls are covered with shiny black material, and the others will be by tomorrow when we shoot the third and final movie.
Only Dexter’s room had been converted in time for the first movie. It didn’t have much of a plot. But Dexter got his first chance to encounter Tim and Jack in “drone” mode, where they were put into their mindless and obedient hypnotic state. Then they slowly dressed each other in their “done outfits”—rubber covering their entire bodies and faces.
Dexter started that movie in the straitjacket, sitting on a stool in a corner, just observing Time and Jack as they became drones. He seemed fascinated, almost beguiled, by the guys with their completely blank stares and expressionless faces.
When their transformation was complete, they turned their robotic attention to him. They started just rubbing their gloved hands over his exposed neck, face, legs, but focused more and more on his dick, getting it erect. They systematically moved around him until one was holding him securely from behind while the other put a cock & ball contraption on him that held his cock pointing firmly upward while pulling the balls down. Next they attached the back of the straitjacket to a ceiling-mounted pulley, hoisted him into the air, and then put ankle straps on him and secured them up so that both his cock and ass were fully exposed.
We must have shot ten hours of material as he was constantly being edged up and teased, toys were put in his ass. I enjoyed taking part of the finale, dressed up in my crazy outfit. It’s an interesting experience wearing that heavy cock sheath. It makes my cock look and feel even more substantial than it already is, but it also masks some of the stimulation, so it takes me about five times as long to cum. Well, shooting that first movie with Dexter, I was so turned on by fucking him in front of the cameras that I first unloaded in about ten minutes. I had to wait an hour for my hard-on to return before I went at it again, tag teaming with Tim and Jack. That lasted more like three hours.
My room was completed so the mad scientists laboratory could be featured in the second film. That movie was much more elaborate. It was cool because we incorporated the visor and alternated between live action and VR-rendered content. The storyline focused on the idea of programming Dexter to first be an obedient rubber sex slave, and then amping up his sense of arousal until he would become a desperate sex addict. We started by having him sucked into an immobilized position on our new latex vac-bed, his head encased in the visor, only his cock exposed, to be toyed with and eventually strapped into a robo-sucking device. Jack and Tim again tending to him in their drone modes.
There was a middle section where the story went back in time to focus on Jack and Tim, showing them being programmed and transformed first into sex slaves and then into mindless drones. Travis played the evil mastermind in that one.
I’ve got to say, I wonder if the movie plot is the way their drone programming worked in real life, where their minds are focused in a state of pure, perpetual sexual arousal, where the desire in their cocks actually suppresses their mind’s ability to form thoughts beyond robotic obedience. The thought of them, edging and teasing Dexter for hours at a time, while behind those blank faces, they are feeling the same helpless desire for release. I guess it makes sense, because I’ve seen how sex crazed they get whenever they get “woken” from their drone states. (They fuck like rabid weasels!) The movie concluded in this great orgy scene at the end that we shot in the part of the living room that had gotten finished. We had to keep the camera angles tight, but that was okay. We managed to get the five of us, plus three other guys, all packed in there.
We’ve been altering between keeping Dexter in a hypnotic sex slave state and his normal self. We’ve suppressed a lot of his memories about his previous life so he doesn’t think much about the “real world” outside. He just lounges around, either naked or in some sort of gear. After his two “conversions” his new larger cock and sexual appetite is almost as demanding as mine. He goes fucking nuts if his ass has gone without being fucked or plugged for longer than a couple hours.
We’ve cultivated a sort of “online fan club” where people can watch us on the myriad cameras around the house and pay to have him put in some gear or have us engage in some specific act. The thing that gets the most excitement is when Jack and Tim are put into their drone states, and then viewers—upon paying a fee—can type instructions that get beaming directly into their hoods and carried out. Travis and I are also popular: guys always seem to enjoy the miracle of Dexter getting fully stuffed with our giant cocks. When I get my final procedure next week, I hope my cock will exceed Travis’s eleven inches.
The third movie is going to be fun. We’re going to do a sort of “prequel” where we show Dexter before any of this. The storyline will feature an abduction, where Dexter gets taken from a bar, stolen-away to this dungeon, and then systematically restrained and drugged and programmed and converted. He will be programmed to fully believe the scenario—at first being restored to the state he had been in, back the beginning of September, not remembering any of this. He will be made to believe that every part of the storyline is actually happening.
We’ve already tested this, hypnotically reverting him back to his old self and then putting him in a variety of situations. He and I went to hang out at a bar, and then had some guy Travis knows come up and seduce him, wearing the boots that trigger that fetish of his, luring him outside. I’ve come to enjoy both watching him getting abducted by others and participating in it myself. There’s something indescribable about how turned on I always get by seeing him be restrained and rendered helpless. It always makes me so horny I almost lose my mind. I just can’t seem to get enough of it!
Control Report 7-Sept
Subject Christopher admitted the evening of 03-Sept, received TEP (top enhancement and programming) stage 1, and released in the morning of 07-Sept. Taking advantage of the Labor Day holiday, no work or family alibi needed. Penis size increased from 6.125” to 7.375” with projected 7.675” by next week when healing is complete.
Arousal hormone production should be level 2.5, to be validated with bloodwork next visit.
Modeling predicts 68% probability subject will return to us for stage 2.
Control Report 10-Sept
Subject Christopher has gone out and had sex every night. Once with an existing acquaintance and twice picking up guys at the bar.
Subject has written two journal entries to date, expressing excitement and enthusiasm with his enhanced sex life. Based on his entry, hormone production is likely 2.5 or maybe higher.
Personality modeling predicts only 36% chance that he will keep writing in the journal; it’s well outside his normal patterns. If he comes back for stage 2, we’ll want to reinforce the behavior so we can keep monitoring him. If resources permit, we might want to install surveillance in his home anyway.
He hasn’t yet mentioned his roommate, Dexter, but models suggest we should wait at least a week before drawing conclusions. There’s still a good likelihood he will carry out the suggestion we planted.
Dexter: Sunday, September 12
I don’t know what to make of this. The story is too fantastic to believe, but on the other hand, Chris isn’t the kind of guy who spins outlandish fantasies. We’ve been roommates for almost a year, and although we’re not super-tight, I think I know him well enough.
I’m feeling pretty buzzed. I should probably stop drinking that beer in my hand. I’m starting to feel those two tequila shots really kick in. There’s a tingling sensation all over my skin. It feels nice. It’s a little hard to concentrate, but otherwise we wouldn’t be lounging here, having this conversation. I’m wearing sweats; Chris is in these little gym shorts. I’m really turned on right now, but hopefully it’s not showing. It probably accounts for part of this tingling feeling.
I had asked him what changed this week. He seemed a completely different person: he was going out every night, usually getting back the next morning. His energy has been really high. He’s acted really confident and enthusiastic. He was going to the gym religiously every afternoon. I essentially asked him if he was either using drugs or had found a boyfriend.
Neither, he told me. And then he told me about the procedure. Trever had hold him about it: an underground, unofficial surgery that could add an inch and a half or two to your penis. Apparently, Trever had done it himself, twice. Even I had heard rumors lately of him having a gigantic cock.
“He showed it to me,” Chris said, “It was massive. He told me his sex life—and his sex drive—had immediately kicked into overdrive. And you know, my dick was a normal healthy six inches, but I had always wished it were bigger—hoped that there’d be a last puberty growth-spurt. Anyway, I was told the process takes about 80 hours and the Labor Day weekend was coming up, so I just decided on a lark to try it.”
He had told me he was driving to Houston to see his family. He left Friday afternoon and had shown back up Tuesday morning, so I hadn’t suspected anything.
“Anyway, it turns out Trever wasn’t lying. In fact, I think he was under-selling the whole thing. Not only am I a solid seven and a half inches, but they’ve done something to heighten the sensation. Imagine the first time you had sex and then amplify that by about 3X! I’ve always loved fucking, but I can’t tell you how incredible it feels now!”
I had asked him about the procedure, and he said he didn’t remember a lot of it. They had him on some pretty powerful drugs through the process. He also admitted that there was some secrecy to the whole thing, especially since it’s an underground non-FDA-aware sort of thing. In fact, he’d had to be blindfolded before going to get the procedure.
So here we are. It’s all too much to believe on a whole bunch of levels. Am I coming across as skeptical? I think we’ve been drinking enough to mask that.
“That must have been a big leap of faith.” I say, “Doing some experimental procedure like that, and on your junk as well. Were you worried about side-effects or something going wrong or anything like that?”
He looks at me a little funny, but says frankly, “The only side-effect is that I’m always horny.” His shorts are sporting a bit of a bulge, that I’d noticed had been growing over the last few minutes. He briefly grabs and shifts it and smiles. My own crotch is beginning to shift around, but I just sit still and hope he doesn’t notice.
“No,” he continues, “It wasn’t an easy decision, but Trever really convinced me to give it a try. If it weren’t for him, I totally wouldn’t have had the nerve.”
“Can I ask you what it cost?” I ask.
“Truth or dare.” Chris says suddenly.
“Huh?”
“Quid pro quo: I’ll keep answering your questions, but I want to have some fun. Truth or dare. You first, and then you can keep asking me more questions.” He has that puckish look in his eyes that always makes my heart skip a beat. “C’mon, truth or dare,” he repeats.
“Uh, truth.”
“Does this all bother you? I mean that I would do something like this. When you asked if I was on drugs, were you joking, or does this make you feel uncomfortable?”
Wow. That’s frank. “No…” I stammer, “Not… not at all. I’m not a square and all that.” I wince at my clumsy wording. “Look, I’ve got a kinky side too. I just… don’t… I wouldn’t judge at all. In fact, I think it’s a turn-on that you’re that daring.” I wince again. “I mean, it’s sexy.”
“Really?” he lights up suddenly, “You’ve got a kinky side? Tell me more.”
“Um…” I get really awkward. Shit! Why did I say that? I can feel my face get flushed. “I… um… I think I answered your original question.” I dodge.
“Okay, that’s fair. My turn. Go ahead and ask ‘truth or dare’.” he urges.
What would I ask if he says “dare”? Part of me knows the obvious answer to that, but I’m not comfortable going there. I don’t have any choice, though. “Truth or dare?”
“Truth.” He smiles. We both know he just let me off the hook. He knows I’m getting uncomfortable.
Anyway, that’s easy. I go back to my original question: “The procedure. How did you afford it?”
It’s his turn to look a little uncomfortable. “Well, they actually didn’t charge me anything for it.” He sees that I’m incredulous. “Trever jokingly told me ‘the first one’s always free.’ You can actually have it done a few times if you want. Each time adds another inch and a half or so, and the other stuff apparently gets enhanced, the heightened sensation and the horniness. Trever’s had it done twice. He said they asked him for a few favors before he got the second one.”
“What kind of favors?”
“He didn’t tell me. But he said they were things he was happy to do anyway.”
“How many times can you have this done?” I ask.
Chris winks,”That’s been about three questions. You’re going to owe me.” He winks, then says, “Apparently four. But Trever said he hasn’t heard of anyone doing it more than three times.” He knows I want to ask why. He smiles and then volunteers, “It’s because after the third time, you get so perpetually horny that your brain can’t handle any more. Okay, it’s well past your turn. Truth or dare?”
My stomach turns a little. “Truth.”
He smiles. “Dexter, I’m curious about this kinky side of yours. But I think this will make it easier for you. Instead of telling me what you’re into, just tell me a story from your past about your first experience or first memory that had sparked a kinky interest in you. Something personal.”
That throws me, but he’s right: it’s a lot less awkward than asking what sorts of porn I like to look at. Just one simple thing. I know immediately the story. It’s a little embarrassing, but not too bad.
I tell him about being a sophomore in High School. About the ‘head bangers’ who would congregate in the park across the street from the school, under the gazebo, listening to their hard rock and smoking cigarettes, with their long haircuts and rebellious clothing. I tell him about the time that I see the guy in the hallway who’s wearing these moccasins—the soft brown suede, knee-high boots that laced up on the side. He was just walking down the hallway, but there was something about those boots—both rebellious and sensual and daring all at the same time.
I mention the indescribable feeling that came over me, the consuming desire to just watch him, the power it had over me, the strange alien urgency that I didn’t understand. I would always have an eye peeled in case I came across him. Most of the days I wouldn’t see him, or was disappointed by him just wearing sneakers, but that handful of days, it caused this indescribable excitement in me.
“Did you get a pair?” he asks.
“Of course,” I reply, “And there was some naughty thrill, but it wasn’t the same. I was intoxicated by the power he had over me when he was wearing them. There was one other guy in band that also had a pair and wore them a couple time in school. I haven’t seen anyone else wear them since.” I don’t mention the one gay porn movie I’d seen play in a bar once with two twinks making out, both naked but in those same moccasins, and the amount of time futilely trying to search the Internet for that video. “Anyway, that’s it. I mean, I’m not all obsessed with moccasins these days, but you asked for the first time.”
“Thanks.” He says. I hope he doesn’t press me for more current interests. “Your turn.”
“Truth or dare?” I ask.
“Dare.” Chris says.
I immediate tense up. I was so caught up in our conversation that I forgot there was a potential ‘dare’ component. I shouldn’t be freaking out—after all, it’s he who has asked for a dare. But if I ask for something lame… it just exposes my shyness, my lameness.
“Come on, Dex, it can’t be that tough.” He encourages, “You could make me wear those moccasins, for example.”
“Oh, I don’t have them anymore. That was a long time ago.”
“Well, I can think of one obvious thing.” he rubs his groin. Yeah, I know. The elephant in the room.
“Okay, your dare is to take a selfie of yourself… using my phone.”
Of course he’s been wanting to show off his newly enlarged cock, especially after this whole conversation.
He accepts happily. I retrieve my phone from my room, hoping my own stiffy in my sweats isn’t too conspicuous. I unlock it and hand it to him. I’ve never seen his dick before. As he pulls off his shorts it springs out and bobs a couple times before pointing straight up and out. I can’t keep from staring. Hell, he wants me to stare, so I just let myself indulge. It is a nice cock, symmetrical and definitely larger than normal. He gets in this pose where he’s sitting, knees pulled up and out. He’s staring in to the camera with a sexy, if not a bit dramatic, pout.
He hands me my phone and has me take a second picture where his legs are spread out, both hands pulled back behind his head, his face continuing to seduce the camera.
I show him the two pictures. “Yeah,” he says, “Those are cool. Can you send me a copy?” And then after I SMS them to him, he says, “Okay, your turn. Truth or dare.”
I’m wary of unveiling anymore secrets. The moccasins thing was kind of personal, so I say “Dare, I guess.”
Chris looks at me for a second. “I’ll be nice and give you a choice, in case you’re uncomfortable. Option number one: I showed you mine, now you show me yours. You let me take a picture of you naked. Option number two…” he pours tequila into the glass jigger up to the double line, “you drink this.”
I’m way too nervous to strip in front of him. I quickly down the double-shot of tequila. I know this is going to be trouble. I’ve been struggling to keep my words from slurring as it is. I get myself a glass of water. How long can I keep this up?
“Okay, truth or dare?” I ask.
“Truth.”
“You’re thinking of getting the second procedure, aren’t you?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“Isn’t it obvious? A nine inch cock? Who wouldn’t want that? I know the procedure actually works. Travis has done it twice without any problems.”
“…That you know of.” I interject.
“That I know of, yes. But dude, this has always been a fantasy of mine, and I’m given the real chance to make it a reality. I’ve been happier this last week than I think I’ve been ever in my life. And I’m going to ask you one last truth.”
My head is starting to spin. I’m going to have to lie down soon. “What?” I say dully.
“Does it turn you on? The idea of my going and getting a nine inch cock and becoming even more of a sex stud. Whether it’s smart or not, is that a turn-on to you?” He asks.
I pause, but I know the answer. He really shouldn’t do this. It’s completely irresponsible and risky. But that’s not what he asked. “Yes.” I say. Yes, I would love to see him show off a nine inch cock, to see him so exuberant and sexy.
Fuck, that shot is hitting me fast. I lie down on my side on the couch.
“Then that’s the deciding vote.” he says.
Christopher’s Journal: Sunday, Sept 12 (entry 4)
What an interesting night! Dexter and I have always had this boundary. I knew he was into me, but he’s so fucking buttoned up, and I know he’s always thought that if we crossed the line it would ruin the whole roommate relationship. I’ve respected that, but I guess it also wore on me, the constant awkwardness.
But after a couple of drinks, me lounging around shirtless, him allowing himself to do the same. I thought we might actually fool around, but I’m not disappointed that we didn’t. On the contrary, my curiosity was piqued. It turns out he has a real kinky side!
I got him to tell me a story from his past where he was drawn to this head-banger guy in school who wore moccasins. He went into depth about the weird fascination it had awakened in him, and about how there was this intoxicating power the guy had over him.
I’ve got to be honest, I think it would be hot to be on the other side of the equation—strutting around in something that I knew was making him feel that way and just enjoying the sexual tension it caused.
After he passed out, I don’t know what compelled me to look through his phone. I just held it up to his face to unlock it and that was it—no turning back! He had some Pinterest board mostly with pics of boots. There were two of guys wearing those Indian moccasins, so he’s not over that. It’s obvious to me that he has another similar fetish. There were more pictures of these things I guess the call jaki-tabi or “tabi boots” that are those cloth split-toes shoes that you see in pictures of ninjas. And there were similar split-toed boots made of neoprene that apparently surfers sometimes wear. Poor Dexter—this is obscure enough that I doubt he’s going to find it in any gay porn out there.
More interesting than the Pinterest was his Tumblr. Now that was revealing!
He actually had four different Tumblr blogs. From what I can tell, the main one (elliotpike) was where he just posted pictures of hot guys. You could tell he’s into leather, guys on motorcycles, guys with muscles, and a few shots of guys with really big cocks!
It’s nothing too out of this world, but then the other Tumblrs got weird. There was “mindcontrolfetish” where he showed pictures of spirals and guys getting hypnotized, and “gayboundservice” that showed mostly young cute guys in muzzles and wearing bondage gear and being tied up. And finally there was “extremegaybondage” where he was looking at some pretty intense stuff including a bunch of intense rubber stuff.
I also have to confess that I just dug through his room. I couldn’t find any porn or toys, but it turns out he lied to me. He told me he didn’t have a pair of moccasins anymore, but I found them. Pity, they’re a couple sizes too small for me.
He’s still out cold on the couch. I’m going to help get him into bed and make sure he drinks some water.
Control Report 12-Sept
Subject Christopher has logged important information about Dexter in his journal, mentioning a Pinterest account (no handle made, but we were able to find it) and four different Tumblr blogs (handles provided) and a first-hand account of a fetish experience. His skill at extracting the information was impressive and worth noting for future reference.
Our suspicions about Dexter are confirmed. We are assembling materials to help Christopher with the next phase and will continue to use Trever as his sole contact for now.
To further observe Christopher’s instincts, he should be told as little as possible for now. Also, Trever should include the hood. We’ve already got a team working on custom video rendering.
Haven’t had time to write here lately, but I realize I might want to go back and remember the events as they’ve happened, so let’s do a recap.
Sunday night was the first night I didn’t end up going out. I wanted to make sure Dexter was okay and then it just go too late before the bars closed. I figured it was probably good for me to take a night off, but I woke up a few times during the night horny as hell and with a raging hard-on. The next day getting through work was torture! Monday night I hit the bar with a vengeance and ended up going home with a couple that was up for a threesome.
So I didn’t run into Dexter until Tuesday afternoon when I got home from the gym. It seems like he only remembered parts of Sunday night. He remembers about my procedure and that I’m considering going back for the second round. (And he’s still worried about the risk and the ‘cost’. It’s touching that he cares, but also annoying.) He remembers that we played some Truth or Dare, and that it led to the photos on his phone (smile) but that’s about it.
Last (Tuesday) night I swung by Trever’s place. He knew about a sex party he’d heard about that was going to happen and suggested that we both join it. The party ended up being just ‘meh’ in my opinion—five guys who were mostly into doing a circle jerk. Trever and I made the most of it and each of us ended up peeling a guy off the group and having a quick fuck with them.
The more interesting thing was that when I showed up to pick up Trever, he had a bunch of clothes and gear that he thought I might like to borrow. There was a cool pair of black leather biker boots and some leather chaps, a harness, a couple arm straps… that sort of thing. There were also these loose-fitting black cloth pants that wrapped around the calves near the bottoms. Kind of punk-meets-ninja. Trever also had these soft leather knee-high boots that he said he’d found at a renaissance festival. They’re dark brown, almost black, and have these subtle button-buckles on the side. They reminded me of Dexter’s moccasins. Not exactly, but really similar. I think I could put together a look with these things.
Trever also had some more serious items. One is this complete hood: it covers your entire head with laces and buckles in the back to secure it. It’s got this built-in video visor and earphones, so I guess it’s like a cross between a bondage hood and those Oculus VR goggles. It’s pretty over-the-top. It even has this sort of mouth guard that you bite down on as you’re putting it on. It’s not my kind of thing, but again, it reminded me of some of the stuff on Dexter’s more intense Tumblr. I got some other standard bondage restraints as well. He just loaded up the trunk of my car.
I’ve got some ideas for this stuff. I just got it hauled up to my room this morning. Got to get to work.
Dexter: Friday, September 17
I don’t know what to make of Chris.
We had that strange “Truth and Dare” night on Sunday. I can only remember some of it. I got pretty fucking wasted. But I do remember that heightened sensation, lounging around with him, shirtless, being a least a little more uninhibited than normal. Whatever I told him, it didn’t scare him off. And then there are those two photos I’ve now got of him. I try not to look at them too often, but they are pretty hot. And there’s of course that story about that procedure and his cock. I’m beginning to doubt it. It’s just too crazy to be real, and I’d never seen his dick before, so I’d just have to take his word that he’d gotten it enlarged.
I haven’t been able to talk to him much, either. He’s been either going to the bars or out somewhere with Trever. His sex life has him energized as ever, which also means I don’t see much of him. Instead, there’s this stash of stuff in his room. That I can’t help looking at time and again. He leaves his door wide open and isn’t one to put things away, so the harness and the boots and the straps and all that just seem to stare back at me.
He hasn’t shown much interest in any of it. He says Trever just gave him this collection of random things. Wednesday night he went out to a bar dressed in these biker boots and chaps and a leather strap around his bicep. He looked pretty hot in that outfit. I wonder which bar he wore that to.
There’s a really serious-looking thing he calls the “bondage VR hood”. He says you’re supposed to put it on and watch this feed of porn through the visor. If you let yourself get strapped in, then after about an hour you start getting this intense out-of-body experience. It’s made of black leather with laces that tighten along the back of your head, like a bondage hood. I’ve gone into his room a few times to look at it. I can’t help myself. There’s a sort of mouthpiece that goes in your mouth and these nibs that fit into your nostrils—pretty intense looking. I’ve tried to imagine what it would feel like to sit with that on, being force-fed porn.
For the past two days, Chris has been sporting a new look. It’s a little crazy—he keeps trying new things all the time. I don’t know if he’s a chameleon or a schizo! This last look is interesting. He’s got these black cloth pants that are baggy at the waist with a few random buckles, and then they sort of wrap to the knee and then are tucked into these big soft leather boots. He wears these with a dark grey, torn, sleeveless tank top. There’s a soft, sensual, tactile look about him that makes me just want to reach out and… I don’t know… touch him.
It’s hot.
In fact, I find myself a bit tongue-tied whenever I’m in his presence. It’s embarrassing and awkward, but it gives me that tingly feel all over, where your heart starts beating faster. A couple hours ago I was watching TV, and he joined me for a few minutes. He was sitting on the chair, resting one of his boots on the sofa cushion right next to me, casually watching the TV. Time seemed to almost stand still. My heart was racing, but I was trying to just act casual. He went out eventually to go meet up with Trever.
As simple as it was, I can’t get those few minutes out of my head. I head to my room to go to sleep and pass by his door. The light’s not on, but I can see all that gear lying there in the shadows. God, I’m feeling horny!
I can tell that Dexter is perplexed by me this week. I’ve intentionally played it cool, pulling back from the intimate roommate thing last Sunday. But now instead of being a little annoyed by his being turned on by me, I’m really enjoying it. It’s like a game. (I hope that doesn’t make me a bad person.)
When I got that stash from Trever, I knew exactly what to do. I wore the obvious black leather stuff out one night. The outfit is a bit cliché but classic, and it was a hit when I went out to the Iron Bear later.
Then I switched to what I like to call my “renaissance punk” look with those soft knee-high boots. I wanted to look very loungy and cat-like. Almost but not quite goth. The torn sleeveless tee adds the perfect sporty-but-causal element. And I’ll admit, it took a little getting used to, but those boots are really comfortable.
I can totally see the impact on Dexter when I’m around. I pretend not to notice, or I position myself so he can stare at me without being too obvious about it. There was this time I sat next to him while he was watching TV, and I set one of my boots right next to him. I thought we was going to explode. I’m certain he’s reliving that experience he had told me about at school, and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t remember telling me about it. Otherwise it would have been just too obvious.
I’ve also been intentionally leaving Trever’s stash of gear out in the open in my room where Dexter can see it. I’ve set up a security app on my laptop that records things on the camera when I’m not around. I’ve got a view of the room and the doorway, and I reviewed all the times he passed the doorway, stopped and looked inside. Three times he’s actually come into the room and looked specifically at the hood, picking it up once. He’s clearly intrigued.
So today I took it to the next level.
We were sharing a pizza for dinner, and I told him I’d had this really intense sexual experience that I wanted to share with someone. I said I’d feel weird talking about it to Trever. That tugged on his sympathetic side, so of course he told me to go ahead.
I told him I wanted to have him try something—that it would be like a visual aide. It would help him understand the experience. It was clearly weird, but he agreed.
I had him take off his shirt and then fold his arms together so that each hand grabbed the opposite elbow. Then I took a roll of simple plastic cling-wrap from the kitchen drawer and started wrapping his forearms together. I kept wrapping, layer after layer. He was about to protest, but I told him to trust me.
I got his forearms mummified together, and then I told him to think about that sensation—how remarkably strong simple plastic-wrap could be, how helpless his arms were with such a simple trick.
Then I told him about hooking up with this guy. I described the guy having this same sort of plastic wrap, except it was black instead of clear, and the roll was wider. I described the guy having me get naked and then wrapping my whole body up like a mummy. At first I was standing next to a bed, but eventually he pushed me onto the bed and kept wrapping each end up more, until the only thing exposed was my mouth and nose and my cock.
In my story, the guy explained to me that I wasn’t allowed to say anything—that talking would just spoil the effect, so I had to be quiet and trust him, and if I didn’t, he would put a gag in my mouth.
After I was completely immobilized, he’d spent a couple hours edging me, occasionally pumping my cock, sometimes leaving it alone, sometimes just blowing air across it lightly. Since my eyes were covered, I never knew what was coming next.
Finally the guy mounted me—he just jumped on top of my mummified body and lowered has ass over my prone cock and started riding like a maniac. I had no control. I was helpless as he drew this huge orgasm out of me.
I told Derek it was one of the most intense experiences I’d ever had, but that it was really weird and that I’d never done anything so kinky.
Of course, the story was made up, but just having him standing there, listening to me with his arms bound together. I made sure to occasionally walk around so he could steal a glance at those boots that turn him on so much. It was so much fun to see him just stewing in his own hormones!
I cut the plastic wrap carefully with some scissors and freed his arms, and asked what he thought about the whole thing. He was at a loss for words and just stammered something about how it sounded like a really hot experience. Then on an impulse I leaned over and kissed him hard. Just for a couple of seconds. It caught him off guard, and before he could react I ended it. I grabbed a slice of pizza and said I had to get ready to go out.
This has got me so fucking horny. I wish that account of mine hadn’t just been a story. (Maybe Dexter’s fetishes are rubbing off on me?) I love how much of the time I’m aroused. It’s distracting and hard to focus at work, but I still love the feeling. I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what it would be like to have my dick enlarged even more. Dexter is right—I should be cautious, but it’s so tempting.
Hopefully I can find some good action tonight!
Control Report 21-Sept
Custom rendering work will be complete within two days. (Thursday) It’s time to offer Christopher phase two of the procedure and tell him what he will have to do. Psych modeling suggests he’ll be a little resistant, but if we remind him how Dexter will be living out his fantasy and that it will help get him finally “out of his shell”, there’s over 92% probability he’ll comply.
Dexter: Thursday, September 23
I’m really curious what Chris has in store this weekend. I was able to take the day off Friday as he asked—hell, I’ve got a lot of saved-up leave so it’s nice to have a good excuse to use it on. I even took Monday off as well, because hell, work’s at a bit of a lull. The next project won’t start for a month, so I’m just doing paperwork and ethics training and that sort of thing. I just got home from work and am really looking forward to not thinking about it for the next four days.
“Hey Dex, I need your opinion about something.” Chris calls from the kitchen.
He’s decked out in his cloth pants and boots—the outfit that always leaves me so tongue-tied—but shirtless too. He hadn’t been wearing it for the last few days. I was afraid he’d decided he was tired of it. He holds a small glass out to me with something viscous and orange inside. I smell something fruity inside.
“I need your honest opinion on this. Thumbs up or down?”
By the smell, I’m pretty sure it’ll be a thumbs-down, but I don’t want to disappoint him. I drink the whole thing quickly so that I don’t gag.
“Gah!” I wince, trying not to seem too critical, “Apricot?”
“Guava,” he says, “with some extra ingredients.”
“Jaggermeister? Or maybe Red Bull?” I hate both.
“No, but something like it. Too much?”
“Sorry, maybe I’m not the best judge.”
“That’s okay.” he shrugs it off.
“So what’s the plan for the weekend?” I ask, “The suspense is killing me!”
“Why don’t you get out of your work clothes first? We’ll talk in the living room in ten minutes, okay?”
I agree and head to my room. I peel off that office-clone uniform and put on some shorts. I can’t find a clean tee, so I decide I’ll go shirtless too. I can feel my stomach gurgling from that drink. I didn’t taste alcohol in it, but I might be feeling a little buzz. I think about grabbing a beer after we talk, just to wash the metallic taste out of my mouth.
I find Chris in the living room, holding a small cloth bag in his hands. He’s got that puckish expression on his face.
“I’ve got a bit of a game for you, a little bit in the spirit of Truth or Dare.”
Oh boy. Now what?
“Trust me, I’m really sure you’re going to like it. And you can stop things at any time if you don’t like it.”
“I don’t know…” I start.
“Come on. Trust me.” he smiles. But honestly there’s no way I could say no to him, especially when he’s wearing that outfit.
“Okay, what’s the game?”
“I call it ‘The Three Kinks.’”
My stomach turns, and that drink has me feeling a little funny.
“It has three parts.” he continues, “First, I’m going to have you try something on. It’s nothing too intense, but it does have a kink factor to it. On your honor, you have to tell me whether it turns you on or not. If it doesn’t, the game simply ends there, and you don’t have to do anything else.”
“And if I say yes?”
“If you confirm that yes, it is arousing, then I’ll present you with something else. And again, on your honor you have to tell me whether it turns you on. You have to promise to answer honestly, but this time even if you say yes, I’ll give you a chance to opt out and again the game will end.”
“Sounds safe enough.” I say.
“If you found the first two things to be a turn-on and decide not to opt-out, that’s when we up the ante a bit. I’ll just tell you what the third thing would be—you don’t actually do anything at first. You just have to think about it and honestly tell me if that would turn you on. But this time, if the idea of that third kink is a turn-on, you have to do it.”
This sounds titillating and terrifying at the same time. Normally, there’s no way in the world I would agree to this. But I always have such a hard time saying no to Chris, especially when he’s in that outfit, and now that he’s shirtless as well. I’m also feeling a little lightheaded and funny. It’s hard to describe, but I think I can summon up the courage… “Yeah, okay.” I hear myself saying.
His face lights up with a broad smile, “Okay, item number one. Put these on.” He lifts something out of the bag and hands it to me. I’d seen these in the pile of stuff in his room. They’re some kind of black rubber booties. They are smooth, seamless, and featureless, except that the soles are of a slightly thicker material than the rest, and each has a slit running down from the top rim running partway down the inside of the ankle, both sides of the slit are lined with half a dozen small grommets. There are also some thick, round ridges running along the top rim edges.
I sit down and slip them on. The material is soft, but the rubber is pretty heavy-gage and firm. They fit my feet perfectly, which is somewhat surprising, going about three inches above my ankle. The fit is really snug, but the slits along the insides made it possible to get my feet into them.
“Here’s where the magic happens.” Chris says, and he kneels down, pulling two more things from his bag. He puts this thick ankle strap around my right foot. It matches the shoe in material, but thicker, maybe a quarter of an inch. It has a strange contraption with a pair of nylon cords that Scott patiently laces through the grommets and then tightens, wraps around some interior hooks, runs around the rims of the ankle, and finally snaps into a hidden catch on the inside. There’s a small slit next to the catch, and I marvel as he pulls out a tiny key, inserts it into the slit and turns.
He lets me marvel at the thing while he moves over to do the same to my left ankle. The whole slipper hugs my foot and ankle with absolute form-fitting snugness. Everything holding this together is completely hidden, revealing these perfectly seamless shoes with thick ankle straps that look like they’re fused into a single piece of material. No seams. No edges. The only noticeable feature is a black metal ring on the outside of the ankle strap.
“How’d you learn to do that?” I ask.
“Believe me, it took hours of practice. Trever had to show me.” He says, “It’s even harder to get them off… even if you have the key which…” He holds the key up for effect and then puts in it his pocket, smirking, “I’ll be keeping.”
We stand up, and I walk around a bit. The intense hugging sensation of the rubber against my feet is very… well… sensual. There’s something unreal about the balance between the firmness of the thick rubber and its pliability. The bottoms of my feet can just slightly sense the texture of the carpet through the soles.
“Okay,” he says, “Now you have to tell me the truth. You promised. Are they a turn-on?”
Of course they are. He could have just put regular ankle straps on me, and I would have had to say yes. This reminds me of the pictures of guys I posted on one of my Tumblrs. “Yeah, I can’t lie: they’re really hot. And they’re so firm. I know there’s no way I’d be able to get them off, not without your help.” I feel a surge of excitement just thinking of the little key in his pocket.
He looks proud of himself. “Okay, before we get to the second kink, I’m going to give you a freebie. This doesn’t count as part of the game, but I think you’ll like it. Put your hand out.”
Chris has me hold my palm up as he takes a can and sprays a big wad of soft gooey material into it. “Now slowly make a fist.” He instructs. I close my fingers around the wad. I think it’s some kind of stiff foam, but it’s hard to be sure. While I’m doing that, Chris takes this spool of thin plastic and starts wrapping it around my hand. As some of the foam squeezes between my fingers, it gets caught in the plastic and flows around the outside of my fingers. He wraps it around and around until my hand is a tight ball.
“It’s really cold.” I say.
“That’s because it’s setting. It’ll warm up in a few minutes. Now give me your other hand.” I hold out my other hand and he does the same thing, cocooning my fist in foam and plastic.
Then he takes out what look like two really big rubber balloons. Just like the generic things we all inflated as kids, they consist of round featureless globes that taper into a thin neck, terminating in a reinforced ridge. I think there’s no way he could get my fist into one of the balloons—the opening is too small—but he cleverly puts the outside of the globe against my fist and inverts the rubber object around my fist, so the sleeves roll over and about four inches up my wrists. It’s still not easy to do: the material has some stretch to it, but it’s very thick and my wrists almost hurt as the sleeves unroll over them.
He finishes the other hand, and now I’ve got two featureless balls of rubber where my hands used to be. And then he gets out two wrist straps that match the ankles straps and attach in a similar way. These rubber wrist sleeves go perfectly under the straps, their ridges just poking out and anchoring on the other side, just like the ridges of the ankle straps. Each wrist strap has the same black metal ring protruding from the outside and the same hidden keyhole.
Chris pulls out that little key, locks them, and drops it back into his pocket with a wink.
“As I said, that was just a bonus.” he says. I can hardly hear him. My heartbeat is pounding in my ears. “But don’t worry, you’ve got two opportunities to end the game.”
I turn my wrists around, looking at my rubber fist mitts. “This is really elaborate.”
“Isn’t it?” he agrees. “I was sure you were going to dig this. Okay, ready for the second kink?”
“The second kink? Weren’t these…” I hold up my fists, “…the second kink?”
“No. Remember, I told you I was just giving you a freebie. That was really just a bonus. Or consider it a ‘part b’ to the booties.”
I’m starting to feel anxious. My skin is tingling. The anticipation is killing me. “Okay, shoot. I’m ready for your second kink. What do you want me to do?”
“You’ve already done it.” he says and winks. He allows for a dramatic pause, and then says, “That concoction you drank about twenty minutes ago—there were some serious drugs in the fruit juice. By now you’re probably starting to feel really tingly by now.”
“What!?” This explains the weird feeling.
“Yeah, I drugged you. It’s nothing that’s going to hurt you. It’s part of the overall experience. If you let yourself relax into it, you’ll find it enjoyable.”
“What kind of drug?”
“You didn’t just take a single drug. It’s a ‘cocktail’ of drugs, pun intended. One of them relaxes your inhibitions. That probably kicked in first since you came out of your room shirtless. That’s not typically your style. There’s also a mix of about five compounds that make sure you get and maintain an erection. Each one is pretty effective on its own, but altogether they’re great at making sure your dick stays front-and-center in your thoughts.” I can’t help but notice that I’ve got a series bulge in my crotch, whether by the drugs or by the “first kinks”. He continues: “Pretty soon you should be feeling a sense of mild euphoria, which will be followed by some serious fucking impairment of judgement.”
“What!?”
“Hey, just focus on the pleasure and the excitement.”
“Why’d you do that?”
“I told you, it’s part of the game. You’re going to enjoy this. You just need to trust me.” He puts has hands calmly on my shoulders. His hands are so warm and comforting. I look at him for a few seconds, so handsome and sexy in that outfit. He puts a palm on my chest and rubs it soothingly. “Trust me. You’ve been enjoying this so far, right? Focus on the kinkiness of the boots and the mitts. The sensations are starting to intensify, right?”
“I… I guess. Okay.” I draw a deep breath.
“Okay, focus. Take a few more slow breaths. Relax into the moment. Look at me.” I stare into his eyes, “All of this was the second kink: me drugging you without your consent. I want you to focus and think, and you have to tell me the truth: the idea of my tricking you and drugging you without your permission and taking all sense of control away from you—does that turn you on?”
The impact of this hits me. This really was the second kink. He was betting that I would be aroused by this forbidden idea, of being drugged by someone, and probably not knowing what exactly is going to happen to me next—how the effects of the cocktail would play out. Not having a chance to chicken out or be a prude.
“You’re a fucker, you know that?” I say, trying my best to look serious, but unable to keep from grinning. “You really are a fucker. Yes, you shit, this is turning me on. Like crazy.”
He lets out a breath of relief. “Sorry, but I’m sure someday you’ll find a way to get me back for this.”
“I hope so.”
He puts his arm around my shoulder and leads me out of the living room. “Are you ready for the third kink?” he asks.
“You said you were just going to present it to me, and I get to decided whether to try it, right?”
“Almost, but not quite. You actually have to tell me right now if you want to proceed. If you don’t, the game’s over, and it’ll be up to you to decide if you want me to take the mitts and/or the shoes off. Either way, no harm no foul. I mean, you’ll still be tripping your balls off, but we won’t go into the third round.”
“But if I do proceed…”
“Then I’ll tell you what the third kink is—I’ll describe the scenario—and on your honor, if the idea turns you on, you have to do it. You have to promise beforehand, before I tell you want it is.”
“This is a twisted game.” I say, but I’m still grinning. I think the euphoria is starting to kick in.
“Isn’t it awesome? Okay, do you want to proceed or do you want to honorably bail?”
“If I bail, I’ll never know what the third thing was going to be, will I?”
“Nope. You only get to see the cards if you stay in the hand.”
“Okay, I’m in.” I don’t care how much of this decision might be coming from the drugs running through my veins. The whole scenario is so hot. I love this feeling of losing control, of his having so much power over me.
With his arm still around my shoulder, he leads me into the hallway and into the kitchen. There, on the table is that VR hood. The hood that had tempted me to go into his room and pick it up. It’s also made of a black stretchy material, but much thicker than the boots or the mitts. I’ve thought about that hood so many times since he’d described it to me. The idea of being force-fed a constant stream of pornographic imagery…
I’ll bet this is part of the reason for the drug, to heighten the overall effect. Everything is already feeling “hyper-real” to me right now: Chris, his outfit, the shoes and mitts, the game—I can feel everything in this palpable, tactile way. My skin feels like it’s both radiating and absorbing energy.
“So there’s the third kink.” he says, stating the obvious, but describing it for effect: “You will let me fasten this tightly over your head. You won’t be able to take it off obviously because of the fist mitts, but I’m also going to get you out of your shorts and restrain your arms and legs so you you’re completely immobile. Part of that’s just for safety. Part is to enhance the feeling of helplessness. You won’t be able say anything because of the mouthpiece, so you won’t be able to tell me to stop. Your brain will be inundated with images of porn and kink until the hallucinogenic drugs really kick in, and then you’ll start entering an altered state. Also, you won’t be able to stop me from doing things to your body, like licking your nipples, touching your cock or sticking something up your ass…”
Fuck. It’s not fair where he’s going. The words, the visualization, the drugs… they’re all reverberating in my already impossibly intense erection. Chris notices and reaches down and fondles my crotch through my shorts. My knees start to buckle.
“So now you’ve got to answer the question. And you have to answer it truthfully. The drugs won’t let you lie. That’s another reason they’re part of the game. So tell me, does the idea of wearing the hood, being strapped down and force-fed kink, having no ability to see or hear what's going on around you, and having your body—nipples, cock, ass, everything—exposed and vulnerable to anything I might want to do to it… does that turn your on?”
He’s such a fucker! I’m really angry at him… sort of. I’m hit with a wave of something—must be the drugs. “Yes. You know it does.”
He plants another kiss on my lips, like he did the other night. And then he grabs the hood and, before I can say anything else, starts to lower it over my head.
“The earphones have really powerful noice cancelers, so when it switches on you really won’t hear any of the outside world. Now put your lips around this bit and pull it gently into your mouth. Good, that’s it. It’s okay to bite down now.” Rubber envelops my head and my face presses into place as I suck on this big soft rubber object. It’s comfortable in my mouth, but it’s also big enough to hold my tongue down against the bottom of my mouth. Some rather large nibs stick fairly snuggly into my nostrils, holding them open. I can breathe quite easily through them, which is good since there’s no chance of breathing through my mouth. As the lower covering wraps over my chin and around my lower neck, my jaw is held tightly shut.
I can feel Chris pulling the laces, tightening them partway, and then a little more, and then a lot more. I’m glad the padding over my ears is so soft because it’s getting tightly compressed. Suddenly the noise cancellation circuit activates. Everything goes completely and utterly dead silent. I feel Chris securing the laces somewhere at the back of my head, and then feel an additional strap tighten around my chin, but I can’t hear the faintest whisper of a sound.
“You are about to experience the hood.” a soft, friendly, slightly robotic voice whispers in my ears. “Before you proceed, there are two things I want you to do. First, I want to you suck a little on the mouthpiece. It doesn’t have to be hard, just suck like you’re drinking from a straw.”
I let my cheeks and tongue flex impulsively. I don’t know about drinking from a straw: I think about sucking on a cock instead.
Instantly there’s a happy little chime, and the voice says, “Good. That was easy. When you like something—if you’re enjoying what you’re watching, just let me know by doing that. Next, try to do the opposite. Imagine there’s something bitter in your mouth and you want to spit it out.” Intuitively my tongue tries to press up against the mouthpiece and my cheeks pull the other way. Instantly there’s a slightly lower chime. “Very good. It you don’t like something or your think it’s unpleasant, just do that.”
There’s a soft, low base beat, almost like a musical heartbeat. I still can’t see anything.
Chris is undoing my shorts. He pulls them and my underwear down my legs to my ankles. I can’t really do anything but let him. I’m a little embarrassed because my cock is bobbing out there in the air. He then takes my shoulders with his hands and starts guiding me, pushing gently until I know to first step carefully out of the shorts and then walk out of the kitchen.
There’s a dim light in front of my eyes, fuzzy and tan colored. It’s getting slowly brighter and coming into focus. There’s a dark curved line. I think it’s a shadow. The view slowly pulls back and I see its part of an arm against a chest, the view continues to pull back and I see the naked torso of a man. It keeps pulling back and I see the man is lying against another man. There’s another and another until I realize a bunch of guys are all lying on each others’ stomachs, a mural of naked bodies lying on some grass somewhere. Some of them smile and then turn to kiss a nearby mouth. It’s peaceful and serene.
I’m being led through the hallway, and I’m pretty sure I’m in Christopher’s room. He guides me by the shoulders with his hands to turn around and then softly pushes down. Taking the cue, I sit cautiously until I can feel cushions against my thighs. I lean back against the back of a chair. It feels like padded leather, but that’s strange because I know Chris doesn’t have a leather chair in his room. I can feel a headrest that goes up to support the back of my head.
The seat is higher off the ground than I would expect. I scoot my butt around so I’m sitting fully against the back of the chair. My feet are dangling a bit off the ground. I can feel that the seat itself is shaped in a funny way—there’s a gap in the center, positioned below my groin and ass. My testicles dangle in space, my dick bobs freely, and I feel air around my exposed sphincter. The actual rim of the seat hold me up at the sides of my buttocks and my thighs, much like a toilet seat would.
Christopher’s hands gently wrap around my left foot and ankle, pick it up and move it further out to the side. He gently massages my foot through the rubber shoe and then sets it down on something that’s sticking out of the chair: a little foot-sized platform with what feel like ridges on the side. I feel a strap pulled over the bridge of my foot and tightened, holding it firmly into the stirrup, and then something fastens to the ring of my ankle strap with a click. His hands gently run up and down my foot and ankle and shin, massaging them a little bit, and maybe he’s trying to convey some little gesture of care and tenderness.
The imagery gets blurry and then transitions to a vision of a bunch of guys on a beach, walking out of the water, talking and laughing. They have surfboards under their arms. They’re wearing wetsuits. Two of them have the upper parts unzipped and hanging down at their waists. I can hear the surf and their voices, but I can’t hear what they’re saying. Involuntarily my eyes look down at the water where it’s coming up to just below their knees. As the surf comes in and out, the waterline goes from their waists down to just below their knees. I always do this when I see guys in wetsuits, I look to see if they’re barefoot or… yes, the water dips low enough I see that two of them are wearing neoprene booties. My eyes hungrily watch, waiting to see as they walk toward the shallower waters.
The surf rolls out again and finally I can see that they’re all wearing surfing booties, all of the with that weird, beguiling, split-toe shape. I’m hungry to see more, to feed my impulses. The scene starts to fade out. But I don’t want to lose this! On an impulse, I suck on the mouthpiece hard. The scene still fades, but I’m still with the same guys. It’s nighttime and they’re around a small campfire on the beach. Their faces and bodies are lit by the flickering flames. Only one of them is still in his wetsuit, the others are in torn shorts, mostly shirtless, but they’re all wearing those split-toed neoprene booties. One of them is unbuttoning his fly as the other pulls his dick out and starts sucking it…
Christopher’s hands guide my right foot into a similar platform-stirrup on the other side, tightening a strap over the top of my right foot, attaching the d-ring of the ankle strap to the chair. My knees are now spread out wide. Then he does the same thing with my arms, first taking the right one and setting the forearm down along some long armrest and securing the wrist strap’s d-ring to a locking clamp on the end, and then doing the same to the left arm.
The surfers are all sucking each other and stroking their cocks. The scene is totally sensual. It’s amazing how real this all feels. The hoodie is responding in total VR-mode. The view is beyond “3-D”: I can move my head around and look in different directions, just like I was sitting by the fire with them. This scene starts to fade, and I suck on the mouthpiece to try to stop it, but it continues to fade away, replaced by something even better! It’s the video I can once seen playing at the Faultline in L.A. so long ago—that I had scoured the Internet for without success.
Two young twinks are luxuriating and making out on a couch. They’re both naked except that they’re both wearing these soft brown swede moccasins that lace all the way up to their knees. They have this sensual languid quality about them as they’re kissing and sucking each other off. I can’t see or touch my cock, but I know it’s hard as a rock. I think the hallucinogenic quality of the drugs is starting to kick in at least a little bit: my skin is tingling and the sensation in my hands and feet is getting intense, and I swear I can feel the soft suede I’m seeing in the film.
I feel more straps being secured around my legs, one just above and another just below each knee. Christopher starts first on my left leg and then moves to my left side. The straps pull my legs flush against some padding on the outside the seat—spreading my knees wide apart.
You like this, don’t you? I hear a soft, friendly voice in my head. Is that the same voice that I’d heard from the hood when I’d first put it on? I think it is, but I’m actually not sure. There’s no need to be embarrassed. It’s so sensual. You’re so sensual. You should embrace that. Yeah, I wish I could believe that. I’ve spent so much of my life trying to act more normal. I’m so jealous of the rebels who are unapologetically themselves. Like the guy, Kip, who I met back in High School and styled his own goth-ninja look with the tabi boots.
One of the twinks cums. He starts finishing the other one off, and I know the scene is ending. Everything fades to blackness. Everything is still for a long time. How long has it been since Christopher secured those last straps?
I think I can hear a dripping sound. I strain all my senses. Yes, it’s getting louder, the dripping, and there’s an echo. It sounds like I’m in some cavernous setting. Is it coming from the outside? No, that’s impossible; I almost forgot the hood had me completely insulated from outside sound. I think I’m starting to see something. There’s a flickering light ahead. I can see now that I’m in a large underground tunnel of sorts. There are a couple torches along the walls casting a faint light. The tunnel starts opening up into a large cavern. To my right I see a sort of side-chamber that’s more brightly lit. As I turn my head to look at it, my forward motion slows and stops. I’m taking tentative steps toward it.
The chamber is a sort of locker-room. Part of it is tiled, but the stalls themselves are just shower heads coming out of the stone wall. Half a dozen guys are lounging under the water, rubbing themselves sensually, all of them partially or fully erect. I linger for a moment, looking at two of the guys who are the most alluring. One has this beautiful body and attractive facial features. The guy is almost as handsome, but I’m more engrossed by his huge cock. I notice that I’m sucking slightly on the mouthpiece, and I think the guy’s cock gets even bigger. Maybe that’s my imagination or the drugs.
I turn my head away from the showers, and I return to the general direction I was going in the cave. It’s pretty remarkable how intuitively the hood’s VR experience takes cues from where I’m looking and whether I focus on a particular area. I pass by a chamber where there are several guys mummified in plastic, their mouths and eyes covered, hanging from the ceiling. Most of them seem to be asleep, but someone in a rubber butcher’s apron has cut open the plastic around a guy’s chest and groin. The “butcher” is fondling his genitals through thick rubber gloves while the guy writhes around moaning.
In another scene a guy is kneeling in front of two others on the ground, naked except for a metal collar around his neck. The guys are spitting in his mouth and one has one of those S&M flogging sticks. I hear some whimpering of “yes sir” and turn my head away, pushing out against the mouthpiece hard. I’m definitely not into pain and humiliation. Thanks for letting me know, says the voice in my head, I just had to make sure. We want to focus on pleasure and fantasy. I hurry past a few other scenes as well where guys are doing things I’m not into, puckering my cheeks and pushing out against the mouthpiece.
Finally I feel something from the outside world! Something is getting attached to the top back of my hood. I’m also feeling as someone massages my left nipple with something oily. Then something cold is put on top of my nipple, and then there’s a sharp sucking sensation as it affixes itself to me. Wait, Christopher can’t be doing both of these things at the same time. There must be someone else here with him!
My right nipple is now oiled and a similar device is attached. Meanwhile, whatever was being attached to my hood is now in place. I’m not sure what it is—I can still move my head around freely, but I can sense something back there.
Inside the cave I’m moving toward a new group of men. There are five guys decked out in some elaborate leather outfits—very “steam punk” with big boots. Most of them sport tight-fitting leather pants, but one of the guys has cloth pants and soft knee-high boots that look a lot like Christopher was wearing. Three other young guys are on their knees, mostly naked except for ankle and write straps, sucking five leather-clad guys’ cocks. There’s a long bench along a wall that a few of the leather guys are sitting on while they get serviced, and nearby a sling hangs from four chains attached to the wall next to a bench with some exotic looking gear and equipment.
I’m jolted by the unexpected feeling of a mouth closing around my cock. It suckles me tenderly. I feel someone’s hair brush against my thigh. Oh yeah, that feels so good! I look around at the guys being sucked off and feel like I’m part of the group. I feel like if I tried hard enough, I could will myself into materializing in this VR scene. The desire to reach out and touch these guys overwhelms me—I’m struggling against my restrains.
Three leather guys are talking to each other. They nod their heads in agreement and then surround one of the naked guys, a young blond guy, picking him up and carrying him into the sling. For a while they start kissing him and suckling his cock. They stop kissing him, and one of them puts his dick in the guy’s mouth. The slave eagerly starts sucking it. Another guy starts attaching the blond’s ankles to the sling’s lower chains.
My chair starts moving: the back reclines while my legs move outward and upward. The chair vibrates slightly as some electric motor repositions things into place. I’m now lying more than I am sitting, my ass exposed. My pose slightly mirrors that of the blond in the sling.
The guy in the soft knee-high boots starts licking the blond’s ass, and at the same time I’m shocked to feel a tongue run along my own sphincter. My body tries to buck, but the straps hold me fast to the chair. You want to be that slave, don’t you?
One of the leather guys grabs a plastic, cup-shaped object from the bench. It’s attached to the bench by a flexible tube. He puts the cup over the blonds mouth. It’s one of those gas masks like a doctor or dentist would use. The blond struggles for a moment, but breathes in.
I smell something both acrid and musty. The air tube in my nostrils is pumping something into my lungs! I try to resist, but realize the mouth guard is blocking my mouth. In panic, I’m actually snorting in huge whiffs of this chemical-infused air. My skin is tingling even more than usual.
The tongue keeps rimming my ass, gently poking against my sphincter. It feels so fucking wonderful, but it’s also a bit of sensory overload. Then it stops, and I feel someone’s fingers rubbing something slippery all over. The fingers massage and explore and tease open my ass a bit. And then I feel as something small and smooth gets inserted. What was that? It’s hard to concentrate, but it felt like some sort of suppository.
I watch as the blond is getting similarly rimmed and fingered. The parallel experiences are really blowing my mind. Which of these is reality?
Next, one of the guys picks up some cylindrical contraption with two straps and some tube or cable at one end. It’s made of steel and rubber pieces and looks very steam-punk and deco. He inserts the device into the blond’s ass and fastens the straps around his hips and buttocks, the tube trailing like a sort of long tail.
Simultaneously I feel something cold and smooth positioned against my ass. Really!!?
You want this, don’t you? You want to be that cute sex slave. This is a fantasy for you, isn’t it? The voice permeates my brain. Yes, I crave this. Something in me really wants to surrender and enjoy it, but do I actually want it? This is going way beyond what I thought I was signing up for. I’m on that roller coaster as it inches up toward the top of the first hill—where every instinct tells me to stop, but I know there’s nothing I can do about it. Yes, I crave this. I want this.
The blond is as helpless as I am, but he’s not fighting it. His ass is plugged. My vision zooms in on his face. He’s still sucking on the leather guy’s cock. You really want this. He’s so lucky! I start sucking, partially to mirror what he’s doing, partly to indicate that yes, I’m really getting into this. The mouthguard starts changing shape in my mouth, becoming rounder. As I suck I feel it snaking partway down my throat.
My view pulls back a bit, and I can see the others. One of the other naked guys is straddling a steam-punk guy on the bench, riding his cock with abandon. The other one is on his back, legs in the air, being tag-teamed by the others.
The guys attending the blond are getting out yet another toy. This is a wide, transparent cylinder with a couple tubes running out of it. The tubes are being connected to the machine on the bench. The guy in the knee-high boots is reaching around the blond’s waist and hips, positioning a harness around them. It’s strapped down securely and then the cylinder is lowered down over the blond’s cock…
…and I feel someone’s hand grab my cock then something encloses over it. Something hard and cold grazes the head slightly, and then I feel it plunge into something really thick and slimy and viscous. The hand helps my cock push into the goo as it slowly gets enveloped. Some sort of rubber gasket is put around the base of my cock; I feel my balls getting stuffed into a pouch and then everything clicks together. Everything suddenly reverses and the slime’s resistance turns into an incredible suction. My balls and shaft get pulled upward and outward while the gasket pushes back against my groin. There’s a click and I know the machine has been firmly attached to the sides of the chair.
The blond guy in the VR and I—we both are strapped into some cock sucking machine. We both start having our penises mechanically stimulated. His dick is getting pulled and released in perfect sync with what I’m feeling with my own.
The scene starts fading to black and then gets replaced with something I don’t at first understand. I’m in Christopher’s bedroom. The bed has been removed, and in its place there’s this big padded chair with stirrups that reminds me of what gynecologists use, but it’s got a lot of additional padding and apparatus. A figure is splayed out, arms and legs secured with straps, ass plugged and cock enclosed with big metal devices with some tubes that connect to a big machine on the side. Two plugs are attached to his nipples, with wires connecting then to the cock-sucking device. Another tube runs from the machine to the back of a hood that completely covers his head.
I realize I’m looking at myself. From the angle, I think I’m seeing a view from Christopher’s laptop camera. Chris is there, in the same boots, but he’s ditched the pants. Trever is there too, naked. The stories I’d heard were right: his dick is fucking huge, dangling semi-erect halfway to his knees. He’s pulling on some brown boots, and I realize they’re my moccasins that I’d hidden in the box under my bed. He tightens the laces and ties them and wiggles his feet. Fuck, I feel embarrassed that they found the moccasins, but he also looks really hot in them.
Chris and Travis are talking, but I can’t hear what they’re saying. They turn to look into the laptop camera—staring straight at me—and smile. Travis goes over to the machine and turns some knob, and I start smelling that musty acrid smell again. I can feel my mind turning into mush by whatever drug I’m inhaling. Then he and Chris both come over to me and caress my legs and shoulders and neck a little bit, just to verify that what I’m seeing through the camera is real. Travis grabs his cock and slaps it along the inside of my thigh playfully.
Then their heads turn simultaneously. I think they heard something. Maybe someone’s at the door? Chris walks out of the room—of our my view—while Travis punches something into the laptop. My vision starts fading to black…
…and again I’m in the caves, viewing the twink—my virtual twin—but instead of the sling, he’s in an elaborate contraption much more like the chair that I’m currently strapped into, with straps individually holding his arms and legs and hands and feet into place. He has the same large device enclosing his cock, bolted securely to the sides of the chair, the same nipple plugs, a tube running from the base of the chair into his ass, likely pulling into the same mechanized butt plug.
He isn’t wearing a hood though. A strap is holding his head securely into the padded headrest. He is breathing heavily, panting, his bare chest undulating; his facial expression is one of intense consternation, his eyes are fixed on the contraption encasing his cock.
The three guys are standing around him in a semicircle a fews paces away, cocks pointing inward toward him. The two guys flanking the ends are still wearing those huge buckled leather boots. The one in the center is now dressed differently: he’s bare-chested but from his waist downwards he’s clad in a black skin-tight material that almost looks like rubber except for the sheen of a fine diamond-pattern that reminds me of reptilian scales. At mid-calf the material flanges out and thickens a little bit into the shape of boots, but they’re curved and seamless and split at the foot like ninja tabi, almost resembling talons. He is also wearing gloves made of the same material that mirror the pattern so that each hand appears to have a thumb and two large fingers. All three men are stroking their cocks slowly, but otherwise they are statuesque, motionless.
My visor’s point-of-view is slowly circling around the group, gradually moving in closer. I’m very close of the three guys now as I pass behind each one. My cock is being pumped slowly and rhythmically. The probes on my nipples are vibrating slightly as they suck and stimulate. The scene is intense and engrossing. It’s turning me on, and I feel a little embarrassed because… well, it’s so strange and unconventional. This turns you on, doesn’t it? You want to see what comes next. The voice washes over the outer edges of my consciousness. Yes, I do.
I’m continuing to circle, my viewpoint passing behind the back of the chair as the men are momentarily obscured from view. When I emerge on the other side, I realize something is changing. Originally I was looking at a VR movie, these four guys maybe some porn actors or something like that. But they are changing—morphing—into computer animated figures. Their faces are almost identical, but are now digital renderings. Their muscles look a little bigger, their cocks slightly bigger, their boots ever more exaggerated. I’m now far enough around to see the twink in the chair. He is also now a rendering, but his face is slowly changing, looking familiar.
He’s turning into me!
The transformation is mesmerizing: I’m looking at my own face, but drawn into his twinkish body. His hair is still long and floppy and very blond. I feel the machine that’s sucking my cock picking up slightly in speed and intensity, just as the blond’s face starts getting even more tense.
My point of view stops circling and instead starts moving in closer. I hear a click and a mechanical whine. What’s happening? My vantage point is slowly moving around to his shoulder and then the side of his head. Something is emerging from the mechanized chair into a small gap at the back of his neck. It looks like a small flat piece of metal with several small tendrils reaching out into the air toward the skin just at the base of his skull. It sort of resembles a menacing robotic insect.
The twink seems to know that something is happening. He looks panicked, his eyes wide. His muscles are tensing and he’s trying to twist and writhe around, but he’s too tightly secured to the chair to move at all. I instinctively start pulling against my own restraints. I’ve got this feeling of simultaneous fear and arousal.
Some of the tendrils barely brush against the blond’s skin. You want to see this happen, don’t you? You want to know how it feels. I sympathize with the twink, with his fear, but I can feel a strange exhilaration all over my body. My skin is tingling and my cock is aching. You have the power to make this happen. Don’t hold back. You want to indulge. You want to know how it feels. You want to lose control. The voice keeps whispering in my ear, washing over my consciousness.
Do I have power over this? I slightly push again the mouthpiece, flexing my cheeks, and the alien probe starts retreating, pulling back into the chair, its tendrils now a couple millimeters from the twink’s skin. I’m in control of this scene. I can stop it if I want to. Or…
I reverse and suck on the mouthpiece ever so slightly. Once again the metal object approaches the skin. The tendrils start to elongate. I feel scared and exhilarated. It’s so weird and alien… I suck harder, and I can see the tendrils all embed themselves into his skin on the back of his neck. They’re thickening and growing and burrowing into the base of his skull. The metal body presses flush against the skin, and then the back of it comes away from the chair. Whatever alien or robotic seed that was has burrowed into his neck, the tendrils fastening into his spinal column and extending up into his brain.
I smell something strong and acrid in my nostrils. My head is starting to spin. My skin is tingling all over like crazy. The twink stops struggling; his facial expression relaxes. His eyes dilate, the pupils huge. You want this. You can feel the probes burrowing into your brain. You want them to keep burrowing deeper. This turns you on. You can feel something invading your mind, forcing its way in. The idea of being controlled is a huge turn-on. You’re so happy because you don’t have to fight it anymore. You’re so excited to start your programming.
My point of view recedes. The guy with the reptilian outfit is stepping in. He has pulled the probe out of the twink’s ass and is centering himself, positioning his huge cock. It starts disappearing into his ass. The other two are approaching as well, getting ready to swap in. The scene is so hot. I love seeing myself as a twinkish blond. I’m not embarrassed anymore for finding this hot.
I’m suddenly being barraged with images. Guys and gear, leather and rubber, boots and muzzles, buckles and straps, plugs and probes. Flesh and leather and rubber, and more flesh. Muscles and cocks. You mind is empty. You can feel the probes burrowing into your brain. It’s making you feel so horny.
I’m about to leave for my second procedure. Travis gave me something to drink. We’ve got to get going in a few minutes before it starts kicking in. I’m supposed to put on a blindfold once we get in the car, but I’m pretty sure it won’t be necessary.
I don’t know how I feel about Dexter. It was really hot playing “the three kinks” with him. It was obvious how excited he was as I put the hood on him. I suspect at this point the drugs have fully kicked in by now. Between the gas we were feeding him through the hood and the cocktail that was in the suppository I slipped up his ass—Travis tells me that when the cocktail fully kicks in, he’ll be in a completely altered state. I know I had to do this as the price of getting my second treatment, but I feel a little guilty about it.
He’s not supposed to remember any of this. I think that’s a pity, indulging like that and then having your memory erased. But once the triggers have all been implanted, it’ll be fun watching him helplessly respond to his programming. I’m starting to like these boots, and Travis looked really hot when he tried on Dexter’s moccasins. (Then again, that’s Travis. He gets enthusiastic about getting into a role.)
I’m don’t know what I think about other stuff—especially the rubber stuff. It’s a pity Dexter can’t see the drones that are attending to him. The two of them showed up about ten minutes ago, completely head-to-toe in rubber. They sort of creep me out. They move like robots, and I don’t like the fact that I can’t see their faces. I guess I can’t see Dexter’s face either right now with that hood over him, but that’s different. Anyway, I think Dexter would find his current reality just as kinky and exciting as the digital fantasy that he’s being fed.
Anyway, I can feel the drugs kicking in. Time to get that second procedure. I can’t wait to take this horniness to the next level. I wonder if I’ll be strapped into something like this chair. I guess I probably will. I wonder how much bigger Dexter’s cock will be this time next week. Okay, time to sign out. On with the blindfold…
"Just last week he became a bonafide 'sex slave'. I'm now trying to decide if we want to push further—to making him into a 'sex pig' or 'sex fiend'."
"I don't understand."
"Those are the three different designations. In many ways they make a progression: if you attain 'sex slave' you might work to become a 'sex pig'. If you get to 'sex pig' you might be able to achieve 'sex fiend'."
"What's the difference? Sounds to me like just different terms for the same thing."
"Oh no, in fact they're really quite distinct. See, I may want to keep this guy—" he puts his hand on the young guy’s shoulder and shakes him a little for effect, "—as a slave because if he were to become a pig or fiend, I would have to make sure he was in the right environment where he had a lot of access to men. I couldn't just lock him up whenever I'm away like I do now."
"Okay, you've got my curiosity. Start from the beginning." What started as a small exchange of words a minute ago is rapidly turning into a bizarre conversation.
"What you see before you is my sex slave. My slave here has gone through a great deal of conditioning. We started with him about five weeks ago. He's gone through a continual regimen of hypnosis, edging, programming—every time we would reach one level of mind control, we would dig deeper, break down new barriers, implant new suggestions and triggers, walk him through different scenarios."
"You said 'we started with him'... Who is 'we'?"
"I can't tell you that yet. Suffice to say it takes more attention that one person can do alone. Anyway, I had to be present for much of it, since he had to be programmed to see me as his master—the ultimate authority. But you have to understand, the regimen that I'm talking about, it is almost continuous. Eighteen or twenty hours a day. Sometimes he could be strapped down with a hypnotic recording being piped into his eyes and ears with a visor and headphones, but most of the work had to be more hands-on. Much more than I alone could do."
"Wow. And this goes on for weeks?"
"It goes on until we break through that final barrier. The time it takes differs between individuals, but to attain complete and total mind control—it can't be done any faster than three or four weeks."
"So what does 'total control' entail?"
"There are a few things. First, I can immediately and instantaneously put him into the deepest hypnotic trance. From there, he will do anything I ask him to do. Anything I say will become an absolute and imperative truth in his mind.
"Second, most of the time I keep him in a state where he has no identity or memory of the past. Sometimes it's necessary when he's in public to let him temporarily act like his original self—so old friends and family don't file a missing persons report—but most of the time he doesn't know anything except that he's my sex slave. Isn't that right my pet?"
The slave nodded, a little dully. This was the first movement I had seen so far from the attractive blond man. He looked like he was in his late twenties or early thirties. He was fully dressed up in black leather, from his ornate knee-high boots to the simple but expensive looking motorcycle jacket and pants. He looked almost too trendy for this club, and yet that slightly scruffy haircut framed a disarmingly innocent looking face.
"Slave, you're going to come out of your trance. I want you to be more 'present'. If we ask you a question, I want you to be able have a conversation with us, okay?"
"Okay master," the slave blinked a couple times. The blank glaze in his eyes was replaced by a bit of a sparkle. He looked at his master and me alternatively.
"Can I ask him a question?" I asked, cautiously.
"Sure. Ask him anything."
"What's your name?" I went for the obvious one.
The slave shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, "I don't have one. But you can call me 'slave' if you want. Most people do."
"Do you enjoy being a slave?" I asked.
"Oh yes," his answer had no hesitation, "It makes me very happy."
"Why does it make you happy?"
"Hmm. Well..." he started slowly, searching for the explanation, "Whenever my master tells me something... when he tells me what to think... I don't know, it just makes me so happy. It's hard to describe. I love the feeling when he's putting thoughts into my mind. It's like being filled with something amazing. It's sort of like when he's filling my ass with his cock—there isn't anything more wonderful."
Wow. Whoever expected a sex slave to be so poetic?
"Do you remember anything before you became a slave?"
"Not... really. I remember a little bit of the process while I was becoming a slave. Some memories were fainter, some were clearer. The edging was excruciating—wanting to cum, not being allowed to and yet continually being stroked and teased... and it seemed to go on forever! My favorite moment was when my will and my mind were completely broken. You see, it's all a process of being put in a state where at first you can't help but try to resist so that you can be broken, and then they start all over again. But the final bit when the last of my willpower snapped. That was amazing. I think I'll always remember that."
"How could you tell?"
"Oh, it's hard to explain, but it was obvious to me when it actually happened. It's like the first time you ever came—you know, when you were a kid, messing around with yourself, bringing yourself closer to this strange feeling, and out of the blue you crossed that magic threshold and you started ejaculating. That strange sense of being carried into a place you had never been before—it was like that, but with my mind. I just knew that I would never need to be broken again because I would never be able to resist ever again."
The master interrupted us, "So that's essentially what it means to be a sex slave, using our formal designation. Shall I tell you what it means to become a "sex pig" instead?"
I nodded.
"You have to start by first becoming a sex slave. We have to achieve that mental conditioning as a foundation. But from there it gets very different. Although people have the ability to put you in a hypnotic state periodically, you don't have a single master anymore.
"Well..." he corrected himself, "you do have a master, but it's not any person: it's your cock."
"Oh!"
"Yeah, that's the thing. You get conditioned so that when you first start getting aroused, your level of horniness just keeps building and building until your mind can't do anything but act on your sexual impulses. You'll fuck or suck or fondle any guy that's around you. You'll agree to pretty much anything as long as it leads to more sex and more intensity—as long as you do exactly what your hungry cock wants you to do.
"The other thing about being a 'sex pig' is that we take your existing fetishes—we dig them out of your head, any little hidden desires you once had, and we blow them up to the most extreme state so that they become an obsession. If you thought that rubber was kind of hot, your cock—your new master—will turn you into a rubber fanatic: you'll try to be dressed head-to-toe in it, and if you see anyone wearing rubber gear you'll be driven mad with desire... and you'll act without hesitation on that desire."
I'll confess, my own cock had been stirring during this entire conversation, but it started getting rock hard at this point. I had hoped nobody would notice, but I saw the master glance down and smile.
"We also plant some new fetishes and memories in your brain that you never had before. But we program your memory so that you think they had been always part of your core identity since childhood. Unlike the sex slave who has no identity, the sex pig may become a leather pig or a rubber pig. He may become a bodybuilder or get full-body tattoos or whatever we choose in implant on his personality profile. And sometimes we'll change his identity month to month. But one thing is certain: he will have a lot of sex with a lot of people."
"So what's the difference between that and a 'sex fiend'? That was the third and final state of progression, right?" I had to ask.
"Ah well... if you're a sex pig, you'll have sex whenever the opportunity presents itself. It won't be unusual to have sex two or three times a day, and each time it may go on for hours. It depends on the opportunities and the situations. But in between sex, you might be going out for a pizza or working out at the gym or watching some television—or you may 'moonlight' as a sex slave and sleep in someone's cage. My point is that there's something that you do in between your copulation sessions.
"But with the sex fiend, we take it all a step further. And it takes a lot of conditioning and some physical alteration and radical drug therapies to get there. Have you ever seen a chain smoker? I mean a real serious chain smoker, who is so addicted to nicotine that after one cigarette he can't go more than five minutes before he desperately needs that next cigarette?"
"Yeah, a long time ago. But I once met someone like that."
"Well we actually synthesize a real physical addiction to sex—it's biologically tied to the same parts of the brain that respond to nicotine or even morphine, with the same intensity and the same build-up speed as that of a chain smoker. So let's say you've just had your third orgy of the day, each lasting an hour or two; you've all had your orgasms. Everyone goes his own way, and you go get a glass of water, maybe some food. You'll sit down, and within five or ten minutes your cock will start to get hard and you'll feel that same intense horniness—the one we programmed into you when we were making you into a sex pig. And you'll do anything you can to find some release and—oh..." he stopped, suddenly remembering something.
"What?" I ask.
"I forgot to mention. Back in the beginning. Back when we're we're conditioning you and making you into a sex slave..."
"Yeah?"
"Hey slave, whip out your cock of a second."
The slave, who was listening as intently as I was, immediately obeys, unsnapping the leather front-plate from his harness and holds his erect cock in one hand.
The master instructs him: "Feel how hard your cock is. Squeeze it. Yeah, it feels good, doesn't it?"
I notice some people are looking over at us, but nobody gets up to do anything. People in this leather bar have seen worse, and it gets pretty raunchy here on Thursday nights. The slave squeezes his cock with both hands, and it gets really stiff. "Yeah, it feels good." he says.
"You're feeling really horny right now. You'll do anything for release, right?", the slave nods and he continues, "Okay, so go ahead and jack off."
The slave stops immediately and looks up at him, suddenly tortured and confused.
"I can't"
"Why not?" the master asks, glancing over at me to indicate that he was demonstrating something very important.
"It's the first rule—the rule I can never break, even when instructed."
"Tell our friend here what that first rule is."
The slave stammers, "I'm not allowed to masturbate—not in any form. I must always depend on someone else to bring me sexual stimulation."
"Very good. You may try to put your cock away. Oh, that's not going to work." There's no way the slave's cock could ever fit back behind that leather strap now that it had stiffened straight out. He digs into his bag and hands the slave a bigger leather jock. "Here, put this on instead."
The master then turns back to me, "The point I was trying to make is that whether you're a 'sex slave', a 'sex pig', or a 'sex fiend', your brain is programmed for it to be impossible for you to relieve yourself. So as I was saying, if you're a sex fiend and you've just had this long and intense session of sex, and you're recovering and five or ten minutes later your cock starts growing again, you find yourself back at the starting line. You get insanely aroused to the point that you can't string two thoughts together. All you can do is figure out how to find someone to have sex with. Someone to help you get 'release' because you're not allowed to take care of things yourself."
"Do you ever sleep?" I ask
"Yes, after a long day of nearly constant sex, after one of your orgasms, you'll be so tired that you simply pass out from exhaustion. But even that is problematic."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, the physical withdrawal starts to build while you're sleeping. You won't be able to stay asleep for more than about three or four hours before you invariably get woken up by a raging hard-on. I've heard that all your dreams center around intense sexual themes. Sex fiends sometimes learn how to take quick cat-naps between sessions when they can. You see, the point is that you are always on the edge—never able to free your mind from constant sexual arousal. Your life feels like a never-ending, perpetual edging session.”
I just stood there trying to visualize what that would be like. For a while I was at a loss of words. Then I asked, "So how did your slave sign up for this in the first place? I mean, well... did he give consent in the beginning?"
The guy looked at me with a strangely intense smile that made me squirm. "If you're asking if I kidnapped him and pressed him into service, no, that's not how it works. It's actually much simpler than that."
He continues: "In a couple of minutes, my slave and I are going to leave this club. It's been good for him to get out and get a whiff of what the outside world looks like, but it's time to get him back into his cage. Now imagine that you just walked out with us. There's no harm in that, right? You've been enjoying hanging with us, so you might just walk out with us while we go around the block to where my truck is. Actually, if you want to continue the conversation, you'll have to walk out with us because it's really time for us to go."
Then he says to his slave, "It's time to go home now. You're really excited to get back home, aren't you? That cock of yours must really be raging. Aren't you eager to find out what I'm going to do to you?"
"Yes!" the slave exclaims.
"Okay then, it's time for you to go back into a trance now. We're going to talk among ourselves, and I want you to be completely unaware of what I'm saying. You're my happy mindless robot now. You'll execute any command I give you, but otherwise you're mind is going to sleep. The only thing you'll be aware of is that constantly growing hunger in your cock and how it subsumes your mind."
The slave's eyes go glassy again, like they were when I first saw him. The master leads us all out of the Eagle into the night air. It's pretty late and the club is tucked away by an ally, so things outside are pretty quiet. Only a couple people stare at us—the master in his full-body skin-tight outfit and the slave with nothing but his boots and his jock. I almost feel out-of-place with my regular street clothes.
As we walk down the sidewalk the master continues, "So imagine you’re walking along here with us. In a minute, we're going to get to my truck. Inside the truck I've got a fair number of fun things. Among them are some mitts that are made to cover your fists and hold your hands into tight balls. If you were to keep walking with us to my truck and just stood there for a while, I might bring out my fist mitts."
He turns into a small parking garage while he talks, and we follow along.
"You wouldn't be forced to do anything, but if you voluntarily put your hands into these mitts and curled your fingers into fists, my slave and I would show you what it feels like to wear them—how strangely thrilling they feel as they hold your hands into tight balls."
We approach a large black truck. One of those modern ones with the fingerprint sensors on the door handles. The master opens a door to the back seat and whispers something quietly to the slave's ear. The slave gets into the back seat and rummages around.
I admit, he's done a good job of building an exhilarating air of suspense. There’s something that I can’t quite explain about how his words seem both relaxing and simultaneously stimulating. It's been titillating going with him to his truck, while at the same time I feel like he's trustworthy—a man of his word.
Unsurprisingly, the slave emerges from the back seat with a pair of thick padded black gloves. Well, they almost look like gloves except that there aren't any fingers on them and they're shaped like small round balls, each with a little notched strap around the wrists. The master and slave each hold out one glove with the open end facing me, but they don't do anything.
The master says, "As I said, you aren't obligated to do anything. We're just presenting you the opportunity to see what they feel like. After you've tried them on, if you ask us, we'll unfasten them so you can take them off, but after that we'll have to leave you here because it's getting late and we need to leave soon."
I guess there's nothing wrong with seeing what these things feel like. I believe him implicitly when he says he would take them off afterwards if I asked. I trust him, and I have to admit I’m strangely curious what they feel like. There’s something beguiling about these strange exotic objects. So I slip my fingers into them, curling my fingers into fists as my hands go in farther so they can be closed around the wrist. The master tells the slave to fasten the buckles. Then he says, "So there's one more thing. And this is a promise."
"The next item I have here is called a muzzle." He holds up what looks like a series of leather straps and buckles attached at the center to a padded mouthpiece. He turns it upside down so I can see that the inside of the mouthpiece has a silicon gag protruding from it, shaped like the end of a penis.
"Doesn't that look strangely enticing to you?" he asks, in the same calm, relaxed, serene voice that he has always spoken in. There's something about his voice that I can't place, but it makes me feel like I can trust him. "Now here's where we come to what you'd call a 'fork in the road'. We're not going to put this muzzle on you unless you want to try it. As I said, you're perfectly safe. In a minute we have to leave, so we'll have to take these fist mitts off of you and let you go on your way.
As he says this, the slave finishes buckling the second mitt into place. I test patting my padded fists together as they make a muffled thudding sound. The master then says, "Slave, undo his pants and show this nice man how deeply you can suck his cock." The slave drops quietly to his knees, undoes my belt and starts lightly sucking my already stiff dick. The sensation is both wonderful and distracting. I rest my padded fists on his shoulders as I look up at the master, who is still holding that muzzle up, with its pecker-gag pointing up out of the mouthpiece.
"Now, as I said, it's past time for my slave and me to leave. The only thing that would stop me from taking off those fists mitts right now and leaving would be if you put your mouth around the gag and sucked hard on it. If you did that, I would fasten these straps around your head. At any time you could tell me to stop or even just grunt or shake your head and I would stop and remove it. Remember: I want you to feel safe. But if you didn't... if you didn't make any movement or sound, and if I pulled the last buckle into place and fastened these little locks, then things might go a little differently.
"If you tried on the muzzle and then climbed into the back seat of the truck, then I will tell you exactly what would happen: my slave and I would attach your mitts with these D-rings to the seatbelt buckles so you wouldn't be able to get out. My slave would get into the back seat with you and would continue sucking your cock while we drove to our home—which would become your new home as well.
"I said there was a fork in the road, well that fork in the road happens at the moment that you climb into the back seat. If you did that voluntarily, then you would no longer be a free man. You would belong to me, and you would undergo training and conditioning to become a sex slave, just like this guy here. In fact, you two would spend a lot of time sharing the same cage."
At this point, my head is sort of spinning as I stare at the gag.
The master goes on, "Okay, we've got to leave, so I'm going to have to take these mitts off."
But I don’t want this experience to stop—not quite yet. I’m really getting into this scenario, getting the best blow-job I’ve had in my life, with the tantalizing feeling of my fists wrapped in soft padded leather. It can’t stop, not just yet! Before I realize what I'm doing, I lower my head into the muzzle and suck on the gag, holding the mouthpiece into place.
The feeling of excitement is so amazing. My cock is so intensely stiff. I really want this experience to continue. He calls the slave up to help fasten the straps to my head, and they work quickly and efficiently. I know I'm still safe because I would have to first voluntarily climb into the back seat before anything really serious would happen.
My face is tightly covered by the muzzle, my mouth filled completely with the soft rubber gag. I try to grunt and discover that I really can't make more than the softest purr. The master stops, hearing it and looks at me. "Do you want me to take it off? I'm going to take the muzzle off if you want. Slave, we need to free him quickly because we have to leave now. It's past time we had to go." I actually don't want to take the muzzle off—not yet—but he's about to abort the entire experience. I don't want it to end yet!
I climb into the back seat and just like that I realize I just crossed that line from safely tantalizing flirtation to having just made a life-changing and irreversible choice.
The slave and master each take one of my fists and snap the mitts into some rings protruding from both sides of my seat. My arms are now held fast against my sides, my hands at my waist. The master closes the car door on my side, and the slave gets in on the other side.
It begins
The master goes over to the slave's car door and, for a minute I can hear him whispering some instructions to the slave. He then closes the slave's car door, gets into the driver's seat and starts driving. The slave begins carrying out his instructions.
The slave finds a heavy padded blindfold and straps it over my eyes. Now I can't see what he's doing, but I can feel as he starts cutting the clothes off of my body with some sort of scissors or sheers. I keep very still so that I don't get accidentally sliced open. After a couple minutes, all of my clothes have been removed.
The slave also wraps something that feels like rubber webbing around my ankles and calves, wrapping them tightly together until I'm completely immobilized. Finally he resumes sucking my cock, showing just how deeply he can swallow it. Again, I try to moan but no sound emerges from the pecker gag that's in my mouth.
The master starts talking. "So you might be asking yourself if you really gave me your consent or if you just encountered someone really good at the 'power of suggestion'. To tell you the truth, there's not that much of a difference. I showed you that there was a very narrow path—a very specific set of actions you would have to take to become a slave and you did all of them. It didn't feel like hypnosis to you... you simply walked that narrow path that I laid out in front of you, right?
"If I had told you in the beginning that I might take you and turn you into a sex slave—one who would voluntarily give up all rights and all self-determination—you would have chuckled and walked away. But I saw that look in your eyes. Just as I saw that look in your fellow slave's eyes over a month ago. I knew you would be receptive to my will. And here we are.
"So I'm going to start conditioning you. To be honest, the conditioning and programming—it's a very slow and gradual road—the conditioning and programming has already begun. I'm going to tell you some things, and you may not believe them, or you may not follow my instructions. That's fine. That's actually good. It's how things are supposed to start out. Remember, I told you that this process is about getting you to resist so that I can break you, and then getting you to resist again so I can break your will even more.
"So I'm going to tell you some things, and you won't believe them right now, but that's the way it's supposed to begin.
"The first thing you need to know is that you cannot and must not ever try to masturbate. No matter how bad your cock is screaming for release, even if you tried to wrap your fingers around it, they simply wouldn't obey the commands coming from your brain. By the way, this is one reason I'm starting you out in those fist mitts—because that way you'll start out physically unable to pump your cock, and you'll stay that way until I'm pretty sure you're mind has wrapped itself around that first and most imperative command.
"The second thing is simple: I am your master and you are my slave. What I say is the truth, even if it seems to conflict with something you once thought. If I tell you that your hair was once blond then that's the truth. If you thought you once remembered it being brown, those thoughts will eventually burn away and you'll know you were always blond."
The truck makes some turns and eventually it feels like we're climbing some winding canyon road.
"When I'm not around, others may tell you what to do and you might find yourself doing what they say. Or you might find yourself doing the strangest things all of a sudden. You'll learn not to worry about it. You see, I'm going to plant a lot of hypnotic suggestions and triggers deep in your brain Some people will know about these and will take advantage of them in order to control you and play with your mind. It'll be disorienting at first, but eventually you'll learn not to worry and to just go with whatever happens."
The truck comes to a stop and the master gets out and opens the back door. He tells the slave—not me, but the other slave—to stop sucking my cock and to sit still for a moment. Then he says to me, "I'm going to let you hear this right now, but it's not going to matter because within the next hour I'm going to expunge it all from your memory."
He then says to the slave, "You are in the deepest trance now. What I tell you is going straight into the deepest part of your mind. You will always remember these instructions..."
I still can't see anything since the slave had blindfolded me, but I imagine him sitting, looking at the master with that blank look on his face as he takes in new programming.
"First, this man who we've tied up and brought home is your fellow slave now. You will think of him as your brother, and I will refer to him as your brother. You two will often spend time together in the same cage, curled up together when you sleep like a pair of pups.
"Today I will immediately begin his conditioning and programming. My initial task will be to turn him into a sex slave, but our goal is going be to take him much father than that—to try to turn him into a sex pig and then ultimately a sex fiend. I will depend on you a lot to help us make this happen. In some ways you are graduating from a simple sex slave into my assistant. As you know, the conditioning we are going to do on your brother here will require long hours of continual edging and anal stimulation and that sort of thing. You know there are a lot of people who are going to help us with this task, but you and I will carry most of the burden.
"Now, whenever you see your brother here being conditioned, you will find yourself immensely excited. It will give you extreme pleasure any time you see him writhing, restrained, helpless. You will be fascinated, and that fascination will evolve into an obsession. At times when your brother is not around, you'll think about him, see his face in your mind, fantasizing about him getting conditioned to be perpetually horny and surrendering all control to his cock. You will think of yourself as his cock's secret ally, and you will scheme and figure out how to accelerate and intensify the process—to make him constantly horny, to release his inhibitions and make him purely a puppet to his own id.
"If you ever discover out what some of his hypnotic triggers are, you will 'leak' them to other people who might be able to exploit them. When you find out what his fetishes are, you will make those fetishes your own—you'll become whatever triggers him and makes him vulnerable.
"But here's the thing: you'll do all this in secret. This is what will make you the most excited about it all: he will think of you as his fellow slave—as his loyal brother in bondage—and he will grow to trust you and confide in you, and he won't know your role in all this. You'll be careful to make sure he doesn't find out. If he does somehow learn something he shouldn't, you’ll let me know so that we can reprogram his memories until he is unaware again.
"Now I want to you think by back to half an hour ago, when you were tying him up here in the backseat, when you were wrapping his legs together like this, when you put the blindfold on him. You are going to remember having felt this huge sensation of excitement. It's the first time you ever felt it, but you know you want to feel that sensation again. It all starts here. You will watch over your brother. You find yourself very attracted to him. You loved seeing his cock hard, and you look forward to the two of you being curled up together in your cage, gently caressing his cock while he sleeps. You'll try to figure out how to innocently orchestrate situations where he gets restrained, blindfolded or muzzled or hooded. For example, you may find yourself feeling bold enough to ask us for some drugs that you might be able to slip into his drinking water, or squirt into his ass lube or otherwise get into his system so that you can plan some scenario where he’s helpless and vulnerable.”
I hear the master walk around to my side of the car and open the car door. There's some shuffling and then I suddenly feel a pin-prick in the inside crook of my arm. The master removes my blindfold, and I see my fellow slave sitting next to me, staring at me with his intense eyes, drinking in the aspect of my face. I look down at my elbow at the syringe as it pumps a dark liquid into my veins. He says, "Now the programming really begins!"
“This is a one time offer.” He says learning back against the wall. “I don’t expect you to say yes. In fact, any sane man would walk away.”
I stare at his bare chest, framed by the simple straps that go around his shoulders and right above his biceps, and then down to where they clip to those leather pants. He’s both gorgeous and bad-boy dangerous looking at the same time.
This is the forth time I’ve seen him around here, this uncrowded corner of the park that borders the parking garage. The first two times I was out running, taking a shortcut through the park along the neglected path. I’ll admit the third time I was pretending to be out running, but I was really rubbernecking, curious if I would see him out here again. It’s not too far from my apartment, and there was something beguiling about him. We had definitely made eye contact that third time, and he had just stared at me, with an inviting look. I almost walked up to him then—I’d stopped running and took a couple steps in his direction, but then I chickened out, lamely pretending to check my watch as though I’d just remembered I had to be somewhere.
The sun set a while ago, and it’s just barely still twilight. The park is supposed to be closed now, and nobody’s around. This time I hadn’t been looking for him; I was heading out for some Chinese food around the corner and was taking the shortcut, and here he is. This time I’d walked up to him and said “hey” and we’d struck up a conversation. I felt lame telling him I loved his outfit, rambling a little bit about how I was too shy and unadventurous to get into any of that, and besides, I didn’t know anybody else. I even apologized for staring at him the other times and immediately regretted it since it was just proving what I dweeb I was.
He’d smiled at me. It wasn’t a smile of pity, thank God. It was something else that made my heart race a bit. “You know, it’s really unfortunate. There’s something I think you really want—you’re yearning for it—but it’s so far outside of who you are, you’ll never break through on your own.” I can’t keep eye contact. I look at the ground, at his huge leather boots. I feet so small.
And that’s when he surprised me with this talk of a one-time offer, the one that ‘any sane man’ would refuse. “If you say no, you won’t see me ever again. I won’t be coming back to this park in the future.”
“So what’s the offer?” I ask.
“Take your shirt off first.”
“Why?”
“Because I asked. If you’re too scared to do even that then…”
“No, fine.” I yank my t-shirt off and throw it on the ground next to me. I’m so unaccustomed to being shirtless in public. I was never that kind of guy who would go shirtless, even if playing soccer with friends on a hot day.
“Nice.” He says, looking me over. It makes me feel naked and vulnerable, but at the same time I love it. He pulls something out of his pocket and tosses it over to me. Clumsily I manage to catch it. It’s an amber glass bottle with a measured nasal spray pump on the top. He explains, “Here’s the deal, you inhale this. Twice in each nostril. Left-right-left-right, like that.”
“What, does it get me high?” I guess.
“It knocks you out.”
“What!?”
He shrugs, “It’ll knock you out cold. Don’t worry, I’ll catch you before you fall over.”
“And then what?”
“You won’t know. That’s the fun part: you’ll be putting yourself completely in my hands. You could wake up to absolutely anything.”
“That’s crazy!”
“I told you any sane man would walk away.”
“Yeah, sorry but…” I shake my head. I don’t know what to say. This has been such a weird conversation. I look at my shirt on the ground. I should lean over, pick it up, and go get my Chinese food. But I don’t move. I wish I had just had the nerve to flirt with him in the beginning, to ask if he wanted to mess around, even come over to my place. Maybe then we wouldn’t be in this place where he’s giving me this crazy ultimatum.
“Don’t sweat it. You’re probably making the smart decision.”
I’m looking at the bottle, at the dark viscous liquid in it. “You wouldn’t… be willing to give me… a hint.”
“Nope. I wouldn’t just take your wallet and leave you here in the park, but honestly there’s no reason for you to take my word about even that. If I told you that you would wake up in the middle of some sex party with a bunch of hot boys, it might make you feel better, but it would be an illusion if you thought it would be any safer.”
“So why should I take this?”
“Because there’s a rabbit hole that you yearn to go down, but you won’t on your own. And you’ll spend years staying stuck in this boring normal world, and you’ll resent yourself for it. Look, I don’t normally make offers like this, but I dunno—there’s something about you. One thing I will promise—I won’t have you make such a big leap and then be lazy and half-assed on my end. I’ll make sure your experience is unforgettable. Hell, you might even find it transformative.”
The twilight is gone. It’s full-on nighttime. The emptiness of the park is deafening. It’s starting to get a little chilly.
“You’ll catch me?”
He walks up to me, close enough that I could reach out and touch him. His arms hang at his sides, his hands open.
“Left-right-left-right.” I say to myself. I’m not going to do this. It would be crazy. “I’m essentially consenting to anything, aren’t I?”
“Anything and everything.” He says.
I pump a spray into my left nostril, snorting in hard while holding my other nostril closed with a finger. Then I quickly do the other. I already feel it hitting me. My vision is starting to go black around the edges. Damn, that’s fast! I move the nozzle back to my left nostril and squirt again, snorting. Everything is spinning. I’m about to black out before I can do the last spray. I know it’s not going to matter, but there’s a point of pride to getting the last one done—making sure that fourth of dose gets in there. I shove it in my right nostril and with the last strength in my hand I squeeze the pump and snort.
I feel his arms around me. My head slumps against his chest. Then darkness.
I feel really weird. It’s like when you wake up from one of those seriously deep dreams and you don’t know what day of the week it is, and then you realize you’re not even in your own bed, and finally after thinking really hard you realize you’re on vacation and this strange place is a hotel room. But you have to think really hard to put the pieces together because you’re in such a fog. I’m feeling so foggy.
There’s this voice. It sounds so distant! It’s a man’s voice. I can’t make out what it’s saying, but something about it makes me feel warm and safe and happy. I relax for a while and just let myself lay back and revel in this warm place, hearing his voice but not worrying about what it’s saying.
My skin is tingling all over. The sensation is so intense that for a while there’s nothing but the tingling and the voice. Actually, there’s something else: it’s also a kind of tingling, but a different one. This one has a sort of urgency to it, and it’s coming from one place rather than being all around. I realize it’s coming from the place where my legs come together with my body, my pelvis.
It’s so hard to think, but some awareness is starting to creep in, more and more. I’m aware that I’m laying on my back and my arms and legs are pointing radially out in all directions. I can’t move them. They are fixed in place.
There’s something about the voice now: I can almost make out individual words now… almost. The voice is so warm and comforting, like the most beautiful music, that I don’t really care whether I understand the words or not, but they’re starting to take shape. Individual sounds and syllables.
“Becoming clearer… Relaxed… Listen…”
The feeling in my groin sharpens. It’s giving me something to focus on. More than that, it’s demanding attention, becoming intense. I can feel my cock now, fiercely erect. All the tingling in the body seems to be flowing up my arms and legs, into my groin, feeding the erection, feeding the sense of urgency. I can’t move my arms or legs. There’s a tension pulling them in all directions. My wrists and ankles are wrapped in something tight and firm.
“… open your eyes when you’re ready… time to clear your head…”
I’m naked, except for something around my wrists and ankles. I can feel the cool air against my skin, and more than that, there’s the distinct lack of sensation that you get from clothing. My head is comfortable, propped up slightly with a pillow. Against my back and legs the surface is somewhat soft. I’m going to open my eyes.
“Hello there.” he says. There’s something about his voice, something so beautiful and calming. Something comfortable and familiar that makes me want to listen to it forever. His face is so familiar to me. Ever since I saw him that first time running through the park. His face got stuck in my head. He’s still shirtless, wearing that harness, those leather pants. He’s so beguiling, so mysterious, so desirable. “It’s time to let your awareness come back into you.”
“It’s hard,” my voice is slurred. “My head… thick.”
“That makes sense. You took a pretty big hit of the drug. I’ve never seen anybody make it past two sprays. You’re going to be under its power for several hours still. Do you remember taking it? I want you to try to remember. You were in the park. I gave you a vial. You were scared and excited at the same time. You wanted to know what would happen to you, but I wouldn’t tell you. Focus on that moment. Let the awareness creep back in.”
I’m lying on a pretty big bed, on top of the covers. Leather ankle and wrist straps hold me prone, arms and legs held tightly with chains. It’s hard to focus on anything more than this intense erection and the feeling of lust and desire for this man. I test the restraints. There’s a faint sound of metal as the chains pull against the bed frame. I look around the room. It’s sparsely decorated, dominated by the bed. There’s a small bedside table up near the wall, but it’s just on the periphery of my vision. I can’t make out what’s on it. The lighting is dim, and there aren’t any windows. I also notice that the ceiling has a number of hooks in it here and there.
“That’s good.” He says, “Let it all in.”
That calm, warm feeling starts to leave me.
“This is pretty intense.” I say.
He smiles and then puts a hand on my chest. The feeling of his skin on mine is like an electric shock. It runs down my spine and makes my cock strain even harder.
“Yeah, that’s the idea.” He says. “This feeling of excitement and anxiety and helplessness, it makes you feel alive, doesn’t it? Alive in a way that you’ve never felt in your life. And you’ve just started. This intensity is going to keep building.” His fingers run across my chest, over to my nipple. He starts running his fingertip around it in slow, light circles. Again a surge of energy shoots down into my groin.
“It’s already pretty overwhelming. I don’t… know how much more…” I suck my breath in as a massive shudder plays across my spinal column, my muscles spasming. I love the feel of his finger on my nipple, but I really can’t handle this.
“That’s the point.” He says, “I’m going to overwhelm your mind. This that you’re feeling right now—this is nothing.”
My heart starts racing.
He continues, “You are going to lose control, completely and utterly. I’m going to be in charge. I’m going to build all these feelings and sensations up. You’re going to be brought to the edge of climax until the point that you’re begging for release, but I’m not going to give it to you. Not until your mind snaps. And then I’m going to do it all over again.”
A new feeling starts building in me. It’s like a feeling of panic, but different. It’s so intense! All I can do is pull at my chains, tensing my body. It gives me a small feeling of release—to have something to channel the energy through—but it also reminds me of how helpless I am, and that just reinforces this feeling.
“Good. Good.” He says. His other hand starts stroking the inside of my thigh, just inches away from my groin, light and teasing. “Feel your helplessness, your nakedness. Your cock wants me to touch it, doesn’t it? It needs to be fed. It needs to be obeyed.” His voice is soft and rhythmic, and I remember how happy I’d felt a while ago, just listening to the timbre of it. “You know what the kicker of this all is?”
He waits for me to say something. The question’s call-and-response intonation demands that I say something. I have to answer.
“No…. what?”
“The kicker is just how much this entire scenario is turning you on. Your helplessness. The fact that I’ve told you I’m going to keep this up until you break. The restraints. Your nakedness. It’s all a huge turn-on to you. You’re loving it. You don’t want it to stop, do you?”
“Mmmmmmmppphh!” I can only manage an animalistic groan. The sensation from the light touch of his hands on my skin is driving me crazy. My cock is screaming to be touched. He’s right, this is such a turn-on.
There’s a knocking sound on the door. “Hello there. Doug told me to let myself in.”
A very blond guy walks in. He’s wearing a leather harness, but unlike my captor’s simple two straps around the shoulders and arms, this one crisscrosses his torso and joins a central metal ring right over his sternum. His forearms are covered with large wrist straps that almost resemble gauntlets, except for the telltale d-rings on the sides. Around his waist he’s wearing something that look like a cross between chaps and leather shorts, the crotch missing, exposing a slightly firm dick. The rest of him is barefoot and naked. He’s got a very slight build.
“You must be Puck. Is Doug still here?”
“Nah. He just dropped me off in the garage. You’re Kyle, right?”
My dark haired captor nods his head. “Pity. He’d have enjoyed this.”
“So this is the piece of meat I heard about?” Puck asks, walking over to me.
“Yep. What do you think?”
“Looks like he’s pretty cranked-up already.”
“He took four snorts. He’s sailing. You’re timing’s perfect. There’s still time to bond him to you—I mean the really strong way.”
“Wow. You sure?” The blond raises his eyebrows.
“Doug said you’d be up for this.”
The blond looks me over. I’ve got no idea what he’s thinking. Frankly, the whole conversation is going over my head.
“Yeah, of course I am. Besides, it’s not my place to say. I’m just a humble slave.” The blond says. There’s something playful and puckish about him. His name suits him.
“That’s not what I heard. Anyway, hop on up.” Kyle instructs.
Puck first hands him something that looks like a small case. “I was supposed to bring this for you, right?” Then he leaps onto the bed and straddles me, his knees and hands planted along the sides of my legs. He puts his head down near the head of my dick. “He’s got a beautiful penis. That’ll be a perk. Can I lick it?”
I moan a little bit. My cock is screaming to be touched. Fuck, yes, please!
“First thing first.” Kyle says, and he gets something that was sitting on the bedside table just out of my view. It's a black rubber dildo of modest size. Kyle squeezes some lube on it first and then hands it to Puck. “Oh, and let’s see if some of my earlier programming works. I implanted a trigger…” Kyle stands right behind Puck and pulls out a studded collar. It doesn’t exactly match Puck’s outfit. It looks like it’s made from a dark-gray spongy material, maybe neoprene, but it’s close. Puck sits still while he fastens it around his neck.
Something in my head jolts suddenly. I don’t know what’s going on, but there’s something about Puck that captivates and enthralls me.
Puck smiles at me, and my heart skips a beat. He’s so beautiful and his smile engenders this feeling of trust and comfort. All I can say is “Whoa.”
“Hello there, brother.” He says. “We’re going to spend a lot of time together. You’ve got a big journey ahead of you, becoming a sex slave. I’m going to watch out for you—help you out as you transition. My name is Puck…” he says with a slightly silly voice, like a teacher instructing a little kid, “… and you don’t have a name yet. For now, you will just go by ‘slave’ until you’re given a name.”
I stare at him. I’m still somewhat enthralled, but there’s something a little weird about the whole thing.
“Sounds silly, huh?” Kyle says, reading my mind. “You may not be bought into this yet, but you will. That drug that’s still swirling in your brain—it’s still opening you up. Your mind is prone in a way you can’t even imagine. When Puck says you’re going to be a sex slave, it’s the absolute truth, and you know it deep inside.”
He’s starting to use that calm, soothing voice again. “Look into Puck’s eyes. Isn’t he handsome. He’s going to be your partner for a long time, at your side, loyal, dedicated to helping you with your transformation. You know you can trust him. You’re going to let him into your confidence. You’ll always feel compelled to share your innermost thoughts and desires with him. You just won’t be able to hold your tongue when you’re around him. Isn’t that exciting?”
“Ohmygod.” I hear myself saying.
“In fact, he’s going to see if we can take you past the role of ‘sex slave’ into that of ‘sex pig’ and maybe even ‘sex fiend’. What do you think about that, Puck?”
“Wow.” he says. “Yeah, I’m up for that.” Then he looks down at me: “We’ve got some work to do!”
I stare at the dildo in Puck’s hand, and something inside me makes me hope that he’s going to put it inside me. I want to let this beautiful young guy do all sorts of things to me. He suddenly bends down and sticks his face in my ass. He runs his tongue expertly along my sphincter, making me writhe. Then he’s back up with that mischievous grin, and he pushes the head of the dildo firmly against me. “Open up for me. Take it into you. You know your ass is hungry for it.”
“Puck is going to spend a lot of time with you, opening you up, turning you into a championship fuck-toy.” Kyle says. “He’s going to move into your apartment with you, at least while you’re still living there. I’m going to program you to think he’s always been your close friend and confident, that you’d always talked about someday living together.”
Puck twists the dildo a little bit and pushes it slowly in, occasionally pulling it out a little bit before going back in deeper. I desperately want him to be proud of me. I try to relax and visualize somehow drawing it into me.
“Not bad.” he says, encouragingly. “I bet I’ll be fisting you by this time next week. You want that, don’t you?”
Kyle starts up again with the soothing voice, “As you feel your ass penetrated and opened up, feel your willpower evaporating. You want to be a slave. You want to have guys pound your ass. You want to be a cute little obedient cum dump. Think about how hot this is. Just like I was telling you earlier. There’s nothing hotter than being programmed, being turned into a hungry bottom. Knowing that the two of us are going to keep edging you up and breaking you down until you can’t even remember who you used to be.”
It’s so fucking weird, being told that I’m going to be programmed and what the programming is going to be. But the idea of it being true makes me a little giddy. I sort of want it to be true.
The dildo is all the way in. Kyle smiles and twists is around and pulls it in and out a bit. He says, “I think he’s ready for you.”
Kyle gets a couple more objects from from the table. He kneels on the bed beside Puck and puts the objects on the bed between them. Then he undoes a couple snaps, and the front panel of his pants comes off. I see his cock for the first time; it’s generous and already pretty firm. He strokes it a few times and then points it at Puck, who bends over and swallows and noisily suckles it for a while. I can see Puck’s dick is already standing at full attention.
Then Kyle picks up the two objects. He hands one to Puck. “Here, put this on our slave and secure him well.” Then he opens the other item; it’s the case that Puck had brought him earlier. Inside there’s a pair of syringes.
Meanwhile, Puck, leaving the dildo in my ass and holding it there with his knee, holds the other object up for me to see. It’s a small network of straps arranged around a flat cupped piece of leather. Protruding from its center is a small black rubber phallus. “Suckle on this for me,” he says, and puts it in my mouth. Then he stretches the rest of the muzzle around my head and straps it in place. But my eyes are fixed on the syringes. Kyle has taken one out of the case and is pulling the cap off of the needle.
Puck reaches behind me, and I hear a jingling sound: there was a fifth chain attached to the headboard behind me. He pulls my head back so it’s firmly nestled in the pillow and there’s a click as he secures my head in place. I can no longer see what Kyle is doing. He’s out of my range of view.
“I’m going to fuck you now.” Kyle says, adding. “Both of you.” He puts a hand on my thigh and then runs it along my cock. “We both know how much you’ve been wanting this. Before we met today, you know you craved the idea. And now that you’re here with me, you want it more than you want anything in the world.”
It’s true. As hot and exciting as this entire day has been, it doesn’t even touch the amount of lust I’m feeling for Kyle right now. I want him to open me up and plant his seed inside me. I can’t think of anything else.
“That was true before today.” He continues, “I know because I got you to tell me while you were in the deepest trance, but then I spend a long time planting this in your brain before I woke you up. You want me so badly that nothing else in the world exists. You would do anything for it, wouldn’t you.”
The purity of the words ring an echo in my brain. Yes. I want him. I’ll do anything.
Kyle takes Puck’s place in front of me. Puck unhooks the chains from the lower part of the bed, stands on the mattress and snaps them into hooks on the ceiling, pulling my legs up so my feet point up and out. Kyle’s running his finger along my ass. Then I think he’s stroking his cock. I still can’t see him except a bit through my lower peripheral vision.
He gives something to Puck and then places his strong hands under my hips. “This little ‘booster’ Puck is going to give you—it’s a pretty potent thing. Basically it mimics the dynamics in your brain that are associated with addiction. Whatever you are thinking and experiencing when it's administered, you develop a fixation and need for that thing. You’ll always have a deep hunger for it. All of this—me, Puck, your being naked and chained to the bed, having your ass opened up, being programmed, becoming a sex slave—you’re going to crave it all like you’ve never craved anything before.”
He slaps his dick against my thigh a few times while he talks. It’s hard to think with my desire for him, the lust in my own groin, everything running through me at once.
“Puck’s going to get it too. It’ll cement his commitment to you and your conversion. He hardly needs it really; he’s been programmed and conditioned pretty thoroughly and his triggers are well established. But it’ll drive his lust for watching you become a slave, for being part of the transformation.”
Puck is holding my arm in his hand. I feel a pin prick. “Ready when you are.” He says.
Kyle lifts my ass with his hands and slowly eases his cock into me. I’m enraptured. Yes yes yes yes! I want this so badly! I’m so happy. He starts pushing in harder and then driving his hips in and out. Puck is in there, now. Sometimes he’s able to get his mouth over my cock—he’s an amazing cock sucker! I’ll have to get him to teach me. Other times he’s just pumping it with his hand. The muzzle prevents me from making any noise, it’s pecker gag fills my mouth, holding my tongue down, the overall mouth cover muffling whatever grunts and groans that I can manage.
All of this sensation inundates my mind, my very consciousness. There’s this underlying feeling of panic, of “Oh my God, what have I gotten myself into?” underneath it all. I can feel this distant part of my mind straining and squirming, and its coupled with a feeling of utter helplessness. And you know what? It’s fucking turning me on even more! It’s heightening the excitement, the horniness, the whole experience. Is my mind going to snap? No, not yet. I think we’re just beginning.
Kyle stops fucking me. He’s pacing himself. He tells Puck to take over, that he’ll be back in a couple minutes. Puck unhooks my ankle and wrist straps from the chains and then has me turn over onto my stomach, and then they are reattached to the bed. He starts to massage my back and shoulders and limbs a bit. It’s nice because I was beginning to lose circulation in some places. Then his tongue is back down in my ass. Fuck, he’s good at that. I feel my sphincter puckering with excitement. For a moment he lays his body along mine and rubs up and down. I feel his cock slide into me a few times. His blond hair is ticking my shoulder.
He whispers, “Just a quick bit of fun between brothers,” and then just as quickly he’s out of me.
Kyle returns, lugging something big and heavy over his shoulder. It’s almost as big as he is, maybe bigger. He drops it on the floor. Puck gets off the bed and helps him do something. I hear the sound of something rubber being moved around and zippers moving. Kyle comes over and unhooks me from the chains. He puts his hands on my sides and gently but firmly rolls me over and helps me sit up. The thing on the floor looks like a giant rubber sarcophagus. It’s splayed open like a blooming flower.
“You’re getting in there.” Kyle tells me. “Time to move you from sensory overload to sensory deprivation.”
He leads me off of the bed and down to the floor. He takes the ankle straps off of me, and I surprise myself by whining through my mask.
“You miss the feeling of the straps already? Wow, that’s impressive. That’s really good. I want you to miss them. But you see, I can’t let you have them right now. It would give you something to focus on when you’re in there. You’ll see what I mean. Slide your feet in here. Puck, here, make sure he’s really well coated.”
Kyle hands Puck a canister, and Puck starts pouring something viscus over my legs and rubbing it all over my skin. It’s like lube, except that it’s thicker. I put my legs into the center, and then Kyle puts his hands under my armpits and lifts me up a bit and starts sliding me into the opening. Puck keeps pouring the goo over my body, rubbing it all over my groin and ass and waist. I can feel that there’s a sort of wall near the bottom of this thing that goes between my legs so my feet don’t touch each other.
Kyle then removes my wrist straps and again I feel a great sadness.
“See these pockets in the sides? Yes, exactly. Put your hands in there.”
As I’m scooting into this thing, there are two holes for my arms to go into. At this point, I’m lucky to have Kyle and Puck helping to guide and push me in. Otherwise I would have had a hard time getting it all figured out! I have my hands in the sleeves and am starting to scoot in when Kyle stops me.
“Do you know how this next part works?” he asks Puck. Puck nods. “Okay, you get him hooked up while I prepare something for you.”
“Ah yes!” Puck says, excited about something. Then he fishes his hand into the rubber depths around where my groin is going to be, and he pulls out what looks like a big tube. The end of it is strange looking, it has two holes on the side and a hard plastic cylinder that hinges open on one side. “We’re going to put your dick into this tube like this…” He pulls the tube and the lowers it over my cock and slides it down. “It’s a bit like Chinese finger handcuffs. Once you’re in, it’ll help us guide your junk into place. And now your balls go into here,” he maneuvers my testicles into the two gaps, “And then this clamps over the base… like… this!”
With a little pulling, my balls and the base of my shaft are held out from my pelvis by this hard plastic sleeve. I’m not used to the feeling of my balls being held out like this. I think it’s acting like a cock ring, making my cock get even stiffer.
“Okay, I’m ready to guide him it.” Puck says.
“Take his muzzle off first.” Kyle says, as he crouches down beside Puck, pulling the cap off the other other syringe. Kyle reaches around my head and unbuckles the muzzle, gently pulling the pecker gag out of my mouth. Again, I’m filled with this sensation of emptiness.
Puck sees my face and says, “Don’t worry, you’ll have something else to suck on in a second.”
“Ready? I want you to look into his eyes now.” Kyle says, “Think about what we’re doing right now to him. What we’re going to be doing over the next few days.” Kyle cleans a spot on his arm with an alcohol swab. “Think about moving in with him, becoming his roommate, keeping him in a state of perpetual horniness, reinforcing the programming, reshaping his personality.”
Puck fixes his eyes on mine. They are so bright blue. He leans forward and plants a big, wet kiss on my lips and then sits back again. Kyle brings the needle up to his arm and gently slides it in.
He continues, “Think about getting him into the cocoon, about getting him edged up and helpless in the sensory deprivation. How many hours do you think we can keep him in there? While he’s in there cooking, we’re going to fuck like crazy. I’m going to own your mind and body like I own his.” Pucks eyes roll up into their sockets and his lids flutter. Then they return to staring at me.
His mischievous smile takes on an evil edge. “Okay, let’s do this!” He says. “This is going to be fun!” He and Kyle get on both sides of me and push my shoulders downward. “Lean back and point your toes.” He instructs. I lean back, flattening myself out, and let them push me in another foot or so. I feel my feet slip through some other inner opening, and then they’re sandwiched inside some soft rubber folds. My hands feel something at the ends of the sleeves, like the finger holes of a glove. I let me fingers go into them and then I curl my hands into a ball and now I can use my arms to pull myself the rest of the way in.
Meanwhile, I see that Kyle and Puck are now pulling at some straps. It’s weird: it’s like these long cords that are coming out of holes on the outside of the contraption. As the straps get pulled out, the entire opening is closing in on itself, tightening up around me. I also feel a slow but steady pull on my dick. That tube Puck had put around it no longer has any slack; it’s pulled most of itself into the depths of the sarcophagus, guiding my cock into place somewhere below! The exterior straps seem to be pulled as far as they can go, and now Kyle and Puck are pulling them around the outside, through various buckles until they’re all wrapped around me.
Then they start pulling at a second pair of cords, and everything starts closing around me even more. I feel my dick get pulled through some tight spot and then into some sort of chamber. For a moment it gets really painful as my balls get pulled through the same opening, but finally everything is secure.
Kyle leaves to get something while Puck puts a hood around my head. It’s got these padded flaps that press firmly against my ears. He squeezes something, and the ear pads start to inflate and suddenly everything gets really quiet. I can barely hear the most muffled sounds. Kyle smiles at me and gives me a thumbs-up sign and I just nod. Then he gets something else out and in an exaggerated fashion, he pantomimes putting something into his mouth and then sticks a finger in his nostrils. Then he lowers the thing over my face, and I can see there’s something I’m supposed to stick in my mouth—a bit flatter than the pecker gag on the muzzle—and two small nibs that are supposed to fit in my nostrils. I’m not in any position to fight him, so I let him secure it into place, biting down on the mouthpiece and letting the other bits fit up my nose, and a big black shell covers my eyes.
I think they’re pulling those straps again, because the whole thing keeps tightening over me, enveloping me. Then I feel them again wrapping the straps into buckles and tightening everything up. I hear a faint pumping sound and the mouthpiece swells and holds my tongue down firmly again the bottom of my jaw, and I feel the nosepiece flare out and fill my nostrils. Everything is really dark and really silent. I strain to hear anything at all, but I can’t hear anything. I suddenly feel very alone.
“Hello there.” comes Kyle’s familiar voice, very loud and clear. It sounds like it’s almost coming from inside my head. “I’d ask if you can hear me, but there’s no way for you to answer. Are you feeling nice and snug and immobile? Good. But hang on a sec, we’re going to take it up one more level.”
All is quiet again. I feel the vibrations of Kyle walking on the floor next to me. It’s amazing how quickly your senses sharpen when other stimulus is taken away! I can feel someone doing something to the outside of the sarcophagus. Suddenly there is a is a slight vibration and noise coming from all around me. The entire rubber shell around me seems to be swelling and pressing in from all angles. Everything is getting more rigid, and all of my limbs—my feet and hands and cock—are all getting held in place, even more immobilized. I feel like I’m getting lifted slightly off the ground.
The vibration stops. Silence. Then I’m rolled over. I’m facing downward, but it’s almost hard to tell because all my senses are muted. All of my skin feels rubber and wet goo all over. I’m moving again, but I can’t figure out what’s going on. I feel this slight sensation like I’m flying. Then things get still again.
“Alright, that’s it.” Kyle’s voice comes again in my head. “Hang on…”
There’s a flicker and all of a sudden I can see. Sort of. My vision is filled with a video image. I see a projection of Kyle in the room. The image tilts around a bit, and I can guess that Puck is holding a video camera, its feed being beamed into a visor over my eyes.
“There we go. I think you can see this. Again, there’s no way for you to tell me.”
Something’s doesn’t make sense. I can see the room, the bed, Kyle, a bit of a clutter of odds and ends on the floor, but I don’t see the sarcophagus. I don’t know where I am!
“Are you enjoying the feeling? It’s a bit of a head trip, and after a few hours it’s going to keep getting more intense. Are you read to see something cool?” Kyle smiles into the camera. Then he points upward.
The image tilts up and my stomach lurches. The sarcophagus is attached to the ceiling. I’ve been hoisted up about ten feet, and my back must be fastened to some of those hooks I saw earlier. The thing is puffy and swollen. Its chambers have been fully inflated.
“I’ve been told this feels like flying. Sometimes we’ll have you pointing up, sometimes you’ll be pointing down. After a day or two, you’ll actually start to lose your sense of direction. This thing has a few cool remote control features. Watch this.”
Kyle picks up his smartphone and touches the controls. Suddenly I feel a wet sucking sensation around my cock.
“I’ve got a few settings on this. You’ll be surprised what it’s capable of! We didn’t put the electrified butt plug in your ass this time, but I swear it’ll blow your mind. And finally, there’s this…” He presses a control and then looks at the camera, smiling, waiting for something
What’s he waiting for? Is something supposed to happen? I strain all my senses: is something different. Then Kyle pantomimes something, waving his fingers under his nose, sniffing. Oh shit! Does something smell different? My heart races and I involuntarily start breaking more heavily. I’m feeling a little lightheaded, foggy.
Kyle presses another button and the video image vanishes. Instead, my eyes are filled with swirling, colors, flashing and bubbling and churning. The sound in my ears changes to a cacophony of patterns, metallic voices, rhythmic beating. I can barely make out one of the voices: “Focus on your cock. It’s so stiff. Feel the wonderful sensations around it. Let those sensations wash over your mind.”
There’s nothing I can do. I can’t feel my body anymore. I feel rubber and wet goo everywhere. I feel my cock straining while the goo sloshes around it. I’m getting dizzier.
The swirling patterns go away, and I can see the video feed again. They’ve put the camera on some sort of stand. It’s pointed at the bed. Kyle has put that muzzle on Puck, and now he also has his hands bound in some round balls of rubber so that they just look like tight round balls. Kyle throws him on the bed and then comes behind him and starts fucking him.
All I can do is watch as they have sex. I yearn to feel Kyle’s hands on my body again. All I reel is rubber and slipperiness. I feel like my body doesn’t exist. I can’t move my fingers or even my toes. I can’t even feel them to be honest. The only thing I feel is my cock. And then the sucking sensation around it stops. Something happened. Maybe the chamber inflated? I can’t feel my cock anymore. Well, I can feel the needful emptiness. I can feel it engorged, straining desperately against the nothingness.
The hypnotic voice keeps running through my head, “Empty, alone. Nothing but the words. The words and your horniness. The void that you’ll do anything to fill…” I watch Kyle and Puck, and I yearn to be there with them. But there I am. I can see a little bit of the inflated rubber object in view, up there on the ceiling, motionless. There I am.
“I’m telling ya, you’re got to see for yourself. These are really out of this world. I’ll bet you’ll agree they are the most amazingly comfortable things you’ve ever worn in your life.”
This guy, Tad, looks a bit annoyed with me, but I know I won’t get anywhere if I’m not a little pushy right now. I got him to come over from the bar before going out clubbing. I’m sure he mostly did it because he didn’t have anywhere else to hang out before the crowd got interesting, and he didn’t want to have to take the D train back to Brooklyn for the next few hours.
I don’t know if he thought anything was likely to happen between us. Maybe, maybe not, but he wouldn’t have come over if he was completely uninterested. After all, this isn’t even my place. It’s an Airbnb. I told him I’ve got the place for the next five days, that I’m on a work trip from out of town. One of those is true.
“You’ll bet me what? Huh?” He challenges, clearly bored with the current topic.
“I’ll bet you a round of drinks later—plus twenty bucks.”
He regards the boots skeptically, and picks one up. It’s not your typical boot. There’s no obvious tread on the bottom, in fact, the sole is thin and perfectly flat and smooth—almost nonexistent. In fact, it’s almost completely featureless. There’s not a single seam anywhere, just the continuous, smooth, thick, black material with a slight silvery sheen. The material is thick and firm, and the upper part—the vamp—is unusually high, making it almost resemble the things motorcycle cops wear.
“There’s no zipper or buckles or anything,” he observes, “How do you put it on?”
“You just pull hard and wiggle your foot a bit. You’ll see it’s not as hard as you think.”
He kicks off one of his sneakers and starts to lower it to his foot. I interrupt him, “You’ll want to take your sock off first.” He looks up at me and scowls. “I swear. You’ll understand when you put it on. The sock would just feel itchy and sweaty.”
“I don’t know…” he’s finding this weird.
“Thirty bucks. I swear, it’s worth the bet.”
“And what if you win the bet?” He asks, stalling. “If I tell you these are ‘the most amazing and comfortable boots I’ve ever worn’, what do you get?”
I try to shrug nonchalantly, “I’ll have proved I was right, that’s all.”
He’s clearly annoyed and just wants to change the topic. He rips a sock off and sticks his foot in the boot and pulls hard. It takes him a while, but eventually it slides in. He wiggles his toes, “It’s pretty loose. What size are these?”
“They’ll fit. They just seem loose at first. Try the other one on and then walk around a bit.”
He removes his other shoe and sock and pulls the other boot onto his leg. “They’re so soft.” He admits, “Is this lambskin or something? From the outside it felt so stiff.” He stands and walks around the room a bit.
I just say, “It’s a special material. It’s like a hybrid of leather and other stuff.”
“You’re right, they actually aren’t loose at all.” He adds, “That’s really weird. They’re completely snug now. I don’t know how I managed to get them on.”
I smile contently. I love this moment, where he doesn’t have any idea what’s ahead of him. I enjoy watching as he saunters around, causally sits back in the chair, puts one foot on the coffee table, trying to look all relaxed and chill. He shifts around a bit. I know exactly why, but he doesn’t quite realize it yet.
I pretend to be bored myself. “Anyway, I don’t know why I made such a big deal about them. You can take them off it you want to. I’m going to get a beer. Do you want a beer?” He agrees and I take my time going to the kitchen and returning. I pretend to be surprised that he’s still wearing them. I notice the bulge developing in his groin.
“Okay, you win the bet.” He says, “These are the most comfortable things I’ve ever worn.”
“But they’re a little weird,” I admit, “Not exactly your typical clubbing boots. They wouldn’t even pass as punk.”
“I don’t know. They’re pretty cool.” He says, almost defensively, pretending to be pensive. “You’d just have to put them with the right outfit. They’re kind of like hunter boots.”
“Yeah. You’re right. Well someday I’ll figure out what to match them with. They look pretty silly with your shorts.” I keep playing coy, suggesting that he should take them off, seeing how he reacts.
“Yeah,” he agrees, but he doesn’t do anything. He seems lost in thought, staring at his foot on the coffee table, a bit mesmerized. He puts his hand next to his crotch. He knows it would be too obvious if he just started rubbing it in front of me.
From here I know it’s going to be easy. I could just take my shirt off right now, and he’d just go along with it. That would give him an excuse, and it would free him of having to navigate the next few awkward minutes. I could also just sit here and wait and let him start seducing me—see how he does it. Or I could fuck with his head a bit. That’s always fun. Yeah, I think I’m in that kind of mood.
“Actually, since you can’t take the boots off, you might as well get out of those shorts. You’ll look less goofy that way.”
He looks up at me, surprised. “Huh?”
“I said you can’t take the boots off, so why not…”
“I can take them off.”
“No,” I shake my head. “I neglected to mention that part. There are two reasons why you can’t take the boots off. One is just that you just can’t will yourself to do it. Admit it or not, but it’s literally impossible for you to try to pull them off right now. Your brain will always find a way to decide against it.”
“You said two reasons.”
I get up and walk over to where one of his sneakers is. I pick it up off the ground hold it up against the foot he has on the table—sole to sole.
“What the fuck?” he exclaims. He bends his knee to the side a bit so he can see the bottom of his foot better. It’s clearly more than a full inch longer than the sneaker. “That’s impossible”
“Yeah,” I agree, “There are a few things about these things that are impossible. I can’t explain it, but it’s true. What’s your shoe size?”
“Eleven.”
“Right now, your feet are about a size 15. That’s how you were able to put the boots on in the first place: they were as oversized as you first pointed out, so you could pull them on. It’s a bit of a head trip, huh? You should just relax and enjoy the ride.”
“What?”
“It’s not permanent.” I explain, “Think of it like taking a hit of mushrooms. In a few hours, it’ll be all over. I promise, you’re going to enjoy this. Now, you really should do yourself a favor and take your shorts off. You’ll look and feel a lot sexier, and you’ve clearly got a massive hard-on that wants to be freed.”
Tad clearly isn’t used to being told what to do. He’s trying to figure out how to react.
I sit back down across the table from him and pull my own shirt off. I explain, “It’s the boots. They’re why you’re feeling so horny all of a sudden. It’s what they do. It’s going to build and build inside you until you can’t control it. What you’re feeling right now? It’s nothing compared to what’s ahead.”
“I could leave. I’ll fucking walk out of here and take your boots with me.” He threatens.
I’m not going to bother telling him why this doesn’t worry me—how nobody can steal the boots because they would just find their way back through some set of unusual random circumstances. It’s better to defuse the situation, just a little bit.
“That wouldn’t be very fun for you. You’d look ridiculous out there with these on, riding home on the subway or whatever. And then what, you have to figure out how to get someone on Grinder that wouldn’t find the whole thing weirdly kinky. Look—I’m here to help you have a fun time. In fact, you’re in for what I know will be the most intense orgasm of your life. I’m on your side.”
“I wouldn’t need Grinder. I’ll just take a cab and beat off when I get home.” He’s still fighting it. The guy’s pride is getting in the way. But I’m still not worried.
“That won’t work. Look, let me explain the whole thing to you. I’m sorry I wasn’t up-front from the beginning. The ‘rules’ are pretty basic. You can’t take the boots off until you have an orgasm. As I said, that’s because they’re physically too tight to come off, and your brain won’t even let you try. Once you cum, you’ve got a window of time to take them off. Everything will return to normal.”
“A window of time?”
“If your cock starts getting stiff again while they’re still on, then the whole cycle starts all over again. Except this time the changes are permanent: you’ll have to throw away all your shoes and go buy size fifteens.”
I could have gone into more details, about how the next time the sexual experience would be so much more intense and take so much longer to conclude. I still vividly remember that time with the other guy. I was already worn out from the first round. I had to call in a bunch of friends and strangers—it was a two day orgy. He went through twenty of us before it was all over.
“Anyway,” I continue, “Let’s just say this has to be a one-time experience. The other thing is that you can’t relieve yourself. That’s why you couldn’t grab a cab and take care of things at home. You’d get there and find that you can’t masturbate. Your brain just wont let it happen, like it won’t let you try to remove the boots.”
He finally slips his fucking shorts off. His dick flies straight up in the air, already big and continuing to stiffen. He grabs it at the base with his hand and squeezes, feeling the tension, but he doesn’t try pumping it. I wonder if he’s testing what I told him about being unable to masturbate.
“It’s pretty hot, huh?“ I volunteer. “Maybe more kinky than you’re used to. But it’s not just the boots that are making you horny, it’s the whole scenario. The unexpectedness of it all, the tension and excitement of it. Is it turning you on?”
I’ve done this enough times to know it’s the case. It’s like the closing argument in a court case, and it always helps the guy focus. But I have to admit, I wonder if he’s feeling aroused because of the situation or because the boots are making him suggestible to that last statement. I know they do seem to make the guys somewhat suggestible, or at least open to trying anything I suggest.
He nods his head. He’s starting to breath more heavily. “Uh huh. Hey, it’s just the boots, right? You don’t have anything else that goes with them?”
I’m a little surprised by the question. I hesitate. “Um… no it’s mostly just the boots.” I wince a little. He notices. “Well, there are some gloves that match. They’re not that big of a deal…”
“Really? I want to see.” I’m trying to read him. I didn’t expect him to want more kinky stuff. I think it’s that he knows he caught me off guard. He’s trying to reclaim some ground. He grins mischievously. “Where are they? I want to see.”
He sees my hesitation and he’s enjoying this! He gets up. “They’re here, aren’t they? Show me.” He walks into the bedroom. I get up and follow him. He’s already got to the closet, kneeling where my suitcases are open.
There’s no point making a bigger deal out of this than it already is. “It’s in that one, on the bottom.” I point.
He pulls out the two gloves, made of the matching material. He puts them on quickly, like he’s worried I’ll protest or somehow stop him. He doesn’t have to worry. I’m okay with this. It means tonight may be a little rougher, but I’m still up for it. The gloves cover his hands and extend a couple inches down his wrists.
“It’s just like the boots. I wondered if it would be. They’re so soft on the inside but firm on the outside.” He alternately curls and uncurls his fingers, testing the feel. “And yup, they’re nice and snug.” He sounds satisfied by this. He pulls off his shirt and turns to look at himself in the mirror covering the closet door. “Fuck! Is this real?”
I’ve never before had a guy actually watch the transformation take place, to be looking in a mirror at the right moment. He actually watches as his muscles start to swell.
“I’m not just making this up, am I? What’s happening?”
“It’s real.” I tell him. “It’s like your feet growing. It’s just temporary. Your chest and arms were getting bigger when you just had the boots on. I could see it, but it was more subtle and you had so much stuff distracting you. But the gloves really give it a boost.”
“Am I taller?”
“Yep. An inch or two. I told you that you were going to enjoy this.”
“This is fucking hot!” He grabs his cock again, posing in the mirror. We waves it around a little bit. “Okay, you’re right. Again. And to think I was thinking of bolting!”
I envy him. I know I’m going to have a fun night with him, and it’s going to be hot as fuck, but I’ve never actually experienced it myself. I know I can’t. Once I’d done it, the temptation would be too great to do it again, and then I’d totally lose control of things. I mean, shit, this stuff is dangerous enough to be playing with like I am. But I can’t help it.
Tad turns to me and looks into my eyes. He’s now a good three or four inches taller than me now, so I have to look up to return his gaze. Man that’s fucking hot! He’s still breathing heavily. He puts a hand on my chest and starts rubbing it. I love the feel of the gloves on my skin, somehow warm and cool, firm and supple at the same time. My own groin is tingling and stretching.
I put my hand around his cock and start stroking back and forth, giving him the sensation that he’s been starving for. I see all his muscles tense and flex. His cock keeps getting stiffer and stiffer.
I love this next part: I sink to my knees and put my mouth around his dick. I move it in and out a couple times and then just stop, holding it in there lightly, feeling it grow impossibly big in my mouth. My hands reach down and caress his boots, stroking up and down along the sides and calves of his legs. This always seems to turn the guys on like crazy. It’s like the boots convey sensation like their own skin, and heightens it even.
He gently wraps his gloved hands around the sides and back of my head. And we hold then for a moment, enthralled. His cock is getting too big for me to completely suck. I can normally deep throat like the best of them, but I have to alternate between suckling the first half and licking the length of the shaft.
We move to the bed, or more like he picks me up and carries me to it. He’s enjoying the feeling of being so strong. He was pretty built already—he obviously spends a lot of time at the gym hitting the weights, but his muscles are now like steel cables. Not just big and puffy like some guys, but really taught and defined. I guess it’s a good thing he dug out the gloves. With just the boots he would have been powerful, but I can tell this is heaven for him. Again, I grab his cock and rub lightly up and down. His eyelids flutter.
“It’s not just me. That guy’s grown as well, right?”
“Oh yeah,” I nod. No need to get a ruler out.
“How long is this going to last? Until I cum?”
“Don’t worry,” I say, “That’s not going to happen prematurely. The boots won’t let it. They’re going to make you work for it. You’re in for a long night. A looooonnnngggg…” I exaggerate as I stroke up to the very top of his cock, “…night!”
His pelvis is starting to undulate. I can feel the energy building in him. “I… I don’t think I’m going to be able to control myself.” He says, awkwardly. “This…” He tilts his head indicating us, sitting together here on the bed, “I don’t think I can keep this up much longer. The urges…” He starts pushing his pelvis out more forcefully.
“Shhh. Hey, don’t worry.” I say to comfort him. “I’m a big boy. I’ve done this before. I won’t get hurt.” This isn’t a hundred percent true, but I’ve got a decent pain threshold. “Stop trying to hold it back. Give in. Enjoy.”
He takes one of my legs and straddles it. Briefly pushing his cock up and down along it. His eyes close for a long moment. Without opening them, he says finally, “I’m going to fuck your brains out.”
Alternate Ending A
It’s going to take a long time to clean up this apartment! The smell of sweat and sex is pungent. I can see several wet towels on the floor of the bathroom. How many times were we in and out of that shower? I’m lying on the bed like a dead man. Every ounce of strength has left my body. My ass is so sore, but it also radiates that feeling of warm contentment. Anyway, I’m doing what I can to rest and regain my strength.
Tad climbs out of the bed, puts the gloves down on the bedside table, and walks out to the living room. I look at him, framed in the doorway, silhouetted against the blue-orange glow of the sky though the floor-to-ceiling windows. It’ll be sunrise soon, but not for at least another half hour. His body is back to normal. He’s still got the boots on, but they’re slack around his calves now like oversized galoshes.
“You’re right,” he says, “That’s the most intense orgasm I’ve had in my life.”
I’m too drained to say anything.
“I’m never going experience anything that matches that ever again, am I.”
“No,” I sigh. “Some things are just… just too much to do more than once.”
He nods. Then he walks out of my view.
“By the way, you’re going to want to take those off while you can.” I call.
“Yeah. I know.” I hear his voice. I hear him getting a glass in the kitchen and filing it from the sink faucet. I think about how just five minutes ago he was groaning as a load of jism pumped into my ass, and then another shot across the room and sprayed the wall as he was pulling out. And then the third one that hit the ceiling. Yeah, I’ve got a lot of cleaning to do before I leave this Airbnb.
He comes back into the bedroom and slumps onto the bed. He crawls behind me, wraps his arms around my chest and hugs me back into him. It feels nice. He’s so warm. His legs intertwine around mine and we lay there for a second. I feel the slack material of the boots against my ankle. We lay there, still, enjoying each other. The tenderness is sublime right now, especially in contrast with the last several hours. I’m a little sad because I know I can’t see him again. I can’t risk him being tempted, having those boots stuck in his head, knowing how to find me.
I feel something moving against my lower back. I don’t think much about it at first, but something nags at the back of my mind. I shift around and then feel it again, this time against my ass and lower back.
“That’s impossible.” He says. “I just… I just… that’s impossible!”
The boots are no longer slack around his calves. They are snug and tight. Against the entirety of my back I can feel his body tense and flex.
He missed the window.
Alternate Ending B
It’s going to take a long time to clean up this apartment! The smell of sweat and sex is pungent. I can see several wet towels on the floor of the bathroom. How many times were we in and out of that shower? I’m lying on the bed like a dead man. Every ounce of strength has left my body. My ass is so sore, but it also radiates that feeling of warm contentment. Anyway, I’m doing what I can to rest and regain my strength.
Tad climbs out of the bed, puts the gloves down on the bedside table, and walks out to the living room. I look at him, framed in the doorway, silhouetted against the blue-orange glow of the sky though the floor-to-ceiling windows. It’ll be sunrise soon, but not for at least another half hour. His body is back to normal. He’s still got the boots on, but they’re slack around his calves now like oversized galoshes.
He stands there still for a long time, looking out the window. I wonder what he’s thinking. Is he pondering the fact that he’ll never have an orgasm that intense again in his life. I chuckle inwardly at the word ‘anticlimactic’ referring to his future sex life. Well, it’s not my problem. We both had a good time. I’ve got to rest and then clean up and get out of here before he gets the idea of trying to find me again. The boots will start tugging at his brain now, like a drug addiction. I watch as he bends down and easily pulls one boot off and then the other.
He walks out of my view, probably heading to the kitchenette. I hear him getting a glass in the kitchen and filing it from the sink faucet. I think about how just five minutes ago he was groaning as a load of jism pumped into my ass, and then another shot across the room and sprayed the wall as he was pulling out. And then the third one that hit the ceiling.
He’s lucky about one thing: after this whole thing is over, he comes out refreshed and relaxed and not at all tired. It’s like a parting give from the boots. I, on the other hand, feel “worn hard and put to bed wet” as a friend of mine liked to say. I roll over onto my front, my arms and legs splayed out to my sides. I breathe into the pillow and try to keep from drifting off to sleep. I remind myself that I’ve got to make sure the boots and gloves are secured before he goes.
I hear him coming back into the room, the sound of him putting his water glass down on the table, his steps to the side of the bed. The mattress moves a little as he sits down on it next to me. I feel him stroke the back of my shoulders softly. He runs his hands down my biceps, along my elbows, to my wrists. And then there’s a sharp feeling of metal on my right wrist and a clicking noise, while at the same time he tightens his grip on my left wrist. They jerk together behind my back, and then I feel a similar band of metal close around my left wrist.
The fucker handcuffed me! I can’t do anything but make a muffled grunt into the pillow. I try to lift my head backwards, but the pillow is too big and the angle is all wrong. Shit, he’s going to steal my stuff! Well, it suits him right. He doesn’t know the curse that falls on anyone who tries to take the boots or gloves without permission. It happened twice before, when I was still figuring everything out. They always find their way back to me, back to the other items he doesn’t know about! Tad will surely regret this, but I’m still pissed!
He straddles my legs and sits down hard, just below my butt. It hurts, and he’s totally got me pinned. Shit, I’m scared!
He’s putting a hand on my left ankle. I feel something strange brush against my foot. What’s he doing? I feel his body move with a strong gesture; he’s bending, pulling with his abs. Something encloses my foot and pulls down over my ankle and calves. Soft, smooth, cool. One more tug and it stops. Oh shit! The same thing happens with my right ankle. I try to buck and kick, but it’s futile. A pull and my right foot is covered. Another pull and both my legs are encased.
He stops. I feel his hand run down the back of my foot, along the side of the ankle. He shifts a little more weight to his knees and the pain stops. He’s stoking both of my ankles through the material of the boots.
I feel a sudden surge in my groin. It’s stirring and growing, tingling. The boots are tight now around my legs. They feel so amazing. I’d told so many guys about it and always wondered what it felt like. I envied them. And now I know, and it’s as wonderful as I’d imagined. Actually, it’s better! I envision my feet, size fourteen now. I feel energy coming into every part of my body, the fatigue a distant memory.
He gets up and turns me on my side. I look down at the boots, mesmerized. I don’t say anything. For once I’m at a loss for words.
He looks at me, thinking, and then says, “You know you deserve this. You probably deserve this a hundred times over.” There’s a pause, and then, “I’m going to have a friend come and help me. We’re going to figure out how to get you out of here and back to my place. I’m going to see how long you can stand being without release, without… this.” He runs his hand along my cock and I’m overwhelmed with the sensation. “And eventually I’ll get you to tell me where you really live, and we’re going to see what other secrets you have.”
He pauses and thinks for a while. Then, “You said if I tried these boots a second time, that it would be permanent—the growth, the bigger feet, all that. We might see if you’re right about that. In fact, I might see what happens when you’re made to keep these on and get you to the point of release three of four times.”
My heart’s racing. I’m terrified and thrilled at the same time. He stops rubbing my cock, gets up, and goes back out to the living room to put his clothes back on. He flips out his mobile phone.
“Hey Jeff, sorry… yeah, I know what time it is. How fast can you get to the Upper East Side?”
Scott snapped a quick pic to his superiors to let them know that he had successfully infiltrated the DroneTech facility. He was tasked with investigating their operations of one of their "recruitment" centers. Recently they had received a tip that a handful of missing persons had last been seen entering the facility.
He decided the best way into the building was by signing up for a tour and then break away and disguise himself as worker and sneak around. The rubber suit he was wearing was identical to those reportedly worn by DroneTech employees but was created by the police's research department as opposed to DroneTech.
He dressed himself in regular clothing to hide the suit and proceeded to the facility. He took a deep breath and entered. He quickly found his tour group and fell in line with the others as they walked through the lobby and further into the facility while the tour guide droned on boringly.
Upon entering the main work floor, he discovered a problem with his plan. Every worker on the floor, while dressed in a suit identical to his, has a gas mask and hood over their head. The masks completely covered their faces, hiding every identifying feature under thick, heavy rubber. The lenses of the mask were mirrored so not even the faintest traces of the human inside could be seen.
He knew that he would have to obtain one to be able to infiltrate further and saw various places where there were suits and masks sitting around on trays and tables but never felt like a good opportunity appeared to snatch one.
Almost as if answering his prayer one of the more rambunctious tourists started asking a lot of questions about missing persons and everything. He looked over at the man and immediately recognized him as a reporter for a local news. The tour guide's demeanor quickly changed realizing who the man was and signaled their security. Two muscular rubberclad drones quickly flanked the man who started yelling louder and louder. Scott realized that this was the distraction he needed and quickly but subtly snagged a mask off a tray and quickly tucked it into his jacket. A quick glance around led to a sigh of relief as everyone was still focused on the screaming reporter being hauled away by the security drones.
After the commotion died down the tour guide apologized and proceeded to continue with the tour, going through a clearly very rehearsed script explaining the facility and its operations.
While passing through a busy hallway, Scott saw a small bathroom across from a "Restricted" area and decided that this was his chance. He slid into the restroom quietly while the group was looking at something the other direction and quickly stashed his clothing for easy retrieval. He stood in the restroom now wearing nothing but the rubber suit. He looked down at the mask.
He held the mask in his hands and inspected it. To him it looked like a regular rubber gasmask. The lenses were mirrored and the only opening he could see was at the neck. He knew the rubber was a special formula designed by DroneTech but as far as he knew it was just a more durable rubber.
He slowly slid the mask over his head. The inside of the mask was slick with some type of lubricant that made putting it on a simple task. The intense smell of the rubber, however, caught him off guard and made his head swim and lungs burn. He coughed uncontrollably for a few moments before he started to adjust to the intense smell, regaining his composure and standing up straight. He looked back at himself in the mirror and saw that he now was completely identical to the rubberclad workers and wouldn't have any issue at all blending in with them as he did his reconnaissance.
He felt his cock stir against his suit as he admired himself in the mirror. He rubbed his crotch for a moment, basking in the feeling of the rubber and the complete anonymity that it provided. The pleasure gently flowing through him masked the pleasurable tingling sensation that was happening wherever the DroneTech rubber was touching. He wanted to stand there and enjoy himself more but knew that he had a job to do.
With a few deep breaths to regain his composure and build up his confidence. He exited the restroom and purposefully walked across the hall and through the restricted access door. He was immediately blown away by what he saw.
The room was filled with rows upon rows of what he could best describe as pods. Each one had a rubberclad drone secured inside with various tubes and mechanical bits running around it. He approached one of them cautiously, trying to maintain a safe distance as to not draw attention to himself. Inside appeared a mixture of a chair and a harness.
The drone was suspended in the device, it's arms and legs bound tightly by metal clamps around its wrists, ankles and neck, all connected to a centralized support frame. He could see something large lodged in the drone's rear with wires connected to it as well as a device wrapped firmly around its cock with tubes and wires coming out of it. He looked closer at the tube and could see that the drone's cum was being pumped out via one of the tubes which led into the side of the pod in an almost steady stream. He stepped a little closer and noticed a few more tubes running around the pod. One led to the end of the mask which he assumed was to control breathing and the others snaked around and connected to the various parts of the drone's body. A larger tube fed through a hole in the metal collar and looked to be injecting something directly into its neck.
Although he was concerned, he found himself becoming aroused by the sight. He realized that with his current disguise, that could be him up there and no one would know. He rubbed his throbbing member through the rubber suit and fantasized about being suspended and milked for all he was worth. He didn't realize that the tingling sensation from the mask was had spread down his neck and over his chest.
He rubbed a hand across his chest and passively noted how he felt like he could feel through the rubber as though it was his own skin. It tingled pleasantly but he paid it no mind. He kept passing pod after pod, most occupied but some empty. He found himself gazing longingly at the empty pods as he passed them, part of him was incredibly curious about how it worked. A loud shouting drew his attention from the pods and he moved in closer to investigate.
The shouting was coming from the reporter from earlier and Scott crouched down to see what was going on. He saw the man, now wearing a rubber suit identical to the other drones, being restrained by two large rubber men, one on each side and a smaller man in a suit standing in front of him. He couldn't hear what the man was saying but heard the reporter yell back.
"You can't fucking do this! Let me go! Do you have any idea who I am!?"
Neither the man nor the drones seemed to care what he was saying and the man pulled out gasmask identical to those of all the workers...and Scott...and unceremoniously forced it over the struggling man's head. His cries of protest quickly muffled by the thick rubber. Scott passively rubbed his hand along his throbbing erection as he watched as the man then pulled out a small device and pressed one of the buttons on it. Scott felt a small electric jolt, like he had a static shock in his ears but was too engrossed by what was happening to the man to take notice.
As if on command the trapped man's cock sprung to life, going from flaccid to full mast in an instant. His muffled protests quickly turned to lusty moans. The well dressed man displayed a devilish grin and pressed another button the device. Scott watched as two vacant pods opened up next to the man. The man's smile quickly turned to confusion as he looked at the two pods, clearly he was only expecting one. With a shrug he stepped aside and gestured for the drones to escort the now pleasure stricken man into the pod.
With mechanical efficiency the drones positioned the man into the harness. He was too far wrapped in his own pleasure to process much of what was going on and once he was positioned correctly, the pod activated and all the clamps closed with a snap. The man had a moment of shock and tried to move but only the slightest wriggle was possible against the restraints.
A tube crept down from the roof the pod. It snaked its way down and through a hole in the back of the harness' collar and lanced itself directly into the man's neck. He noticed the man seemed to cease what little struggling he could offer, seeming to become completely rigid in the harness.
Scott then watched as mechanical arms descended and started spraying a black liquid all over the man. Within a matter of seconds he was completely coated in it. The pod lit up a warm red color as Scott could see the liquid quickly solidify and smooth out on the man. In no time the man was now completely sealed in a rubber suit identical to all the others.
The man in the suit looked back at the man now trapped in the pod and smirked before turning to walk away. Scott could tell he was more than confident the problem had been resolved. The drones, however, remained where they were to monitor the process.
A strange whirring sound emanated from the pod now and he saw movement from behind the man. A pleasure filled moan echoed loudly and Scott could only assume that the plug he saw in the drone earlier was now nestled firmly in his rear. He continued rubbing his own aching dick through the rubber while he watched the event unfolding in front of him. The pleasurable tingle reaching over his arms and down his abdomen now.
He couldn't believe how horny he was getting. He was having a hard time focusing on anything but the throbbing, almost painful, need burning in his dick. He looked down at his body, noting how the rubber felt like it was gripping his body more, almost adhering to it. Where before the rubber smoothed out his muscular frame, now it seemed to almost accentuate it.
Distracted by his own lust, he didn't notice the tubes snaking down from the roof of the pod and attaching themselves to the man in various places. He did hear another faint whir which drew his attention back to the pod. He glanced back at the last moment to see a tube connect itself to the mask, presumably to control airflow of the inhabitant.
A silver metallic cylindrical tube rose up from the floor of the pod and expertly guided itself over the man's throbbing rubber erection. He heard the man scream in ecstasy as various tubes and wires worked inserted themselves into the shaft. About a minute passed by and the euphoric screaming had died down into a almost mindless moan then silence. The final touch signaling the completion of the process was when a screen on top of the pod flickered to display "WT-4885". The man was now nothing more than just another drone being milked in a pod.
Scott knew he had discovered the evidence he needed and should leave but as he was getting ready to make a break for it he spotted the open pod next to the now finished drone.
...enter the pod...
He heard the idea flicker in his head and felt a strange compulsion to obey it. He knew that was completely out of the question though. He needed to leave and report his findings to bring this shady company down.
“It really depends on the dosage you take and the delivery mechanism. If you take just an eighth of a teaspoon orally, like mixed in orange juice, it makes you feel really good and relaxed. You’re not, like, susceptible to being programmed or anything like that. You might be a little suggestible at the most, but you’d never do anything you didn’t want to. Double that amount—still just a quarter teaspoon—and you’ve got a pretty effective truth serum. It can make for a fun session of truth or dare.”
Travis is showing us a flask of pale blue liquid. We’re in the club’s upstairs VIP lounge, one of those exclusive places that most people don’t even know about, unless you’re good friends with the ownership or you’re rich or popular. I’m none of those things, so the fact that I got invited up here is almost a really big deal in itself. It helps that it’s Sunday and pretty early in the afternoon, so this place is pretty quiet and intimate.
Travis is one of those guys that is really rich and connected—the opposite end of the pecking order from myself. I doubt he even knows my name. But here we are—him, Gareth and me—looking at something I had only heard about in rumors: the new boutique drug that some people were calling ‘Pandora’. It wasn’t one of those popular party drugs like ecstasy or cocaine that made you just feel fun and high. It had more of a reputation as one of those brain-trippy things like mushrooms that you took if you were into weird and esoteric shit.
“If you take that double-dose, a quarter-teaspoon I guess, how long does it last?” Gareth asks.
Travis shrugs his shoulders, “I dunno… about an hour of full intensity and then it tapers off for another two hours or so. Higher doses last longer, before they start tapering off.”
I try to guess how many teaspoons were in the flask. It’s pretty big, maybe a little over a cup in volume.
“How high does the dosage go?” I ask.
“Supposedly, if a guy takes a whole teaspoon—that’s an 8x dose—he’ll do pretty much anything you tell him to for the next day. He’ll still be conscious and all, but ‘free will’ goes out the window.”
That’s what I’d heard about this stuff: that it could be used as sort of a date-rape drug or ‘love potion’ depending on your point of view. Still, it was so rare that nobody was worrying about getting served drinks from strangers, like back in the days of Rohypnal. It was so rare that most people thought its existence was just a myth.
Gareth then prompts, “You said something about different delivery methods?”
Travis pulls a small white plastic bottle from his pocket. It looks like one of those nasal sprays like you get from the drugstore, except there’s no label on it. “You can put it in a nasal spray, like this one if you want a faster rush—more intensity for a shorter duration. You can also take it anally in a suppository. I’ve heard that’s really intense: you first feel something kick in about ten minutes after you’ve inserted it and it’s had a chance to liquify inside you, and then it starts building and you don’t know when it’s going to stop. I heard of this party where everyone had to take one, but some of the suppositories had nothing in them, some had just a little bit, and a couple were full teaspoon doses.”
“That would be a head trip,” Gareth muses, “You wouldn’t know who was going to the puppet masters and who would be the puppets.”
“Then there’s the injection method. Five CC’s, about that same teaspoon-sized dose. Well, it’s something I thought you might find interesting, given your hobby.” Travis says, looking directly at Gareth.
“What do you mean, his hobby?” I ask, confused. Travis turns to me and says, “You know that Gareth plays around with hypnosis a bit, right?”
“Really? Hypnosis? What, like helping you to stop smoking and that sort of thing?”
“No,” Gareth chuckles, “not really. That’s what professionals do. I’ve done more like party tricks, or sometimes a guy wants to do something kinky like planing a hypnotic trigger in his boyfriend so the guy suddenly strips naked when a certain word is said.” He turns back to Travis, “So I’m guessing the rumors are true, that you can put someone into a totally programmable state.”
“Yeah, they say that one shot and you’ve got an hour to do whatever sort of programming or brain-washing you want. The subject is in so deep he’s completely unaware what’s going on. At least that’s what I’ve heard.” Travis flashes a million-dollar smile, “I’ve only played with it once. A guy was willing to put a half-teaspoon into his drink. It was enough to have a pretty wild time.”
“This is a pretty sizable stash you’ve got,” Gareth says, “What are you planning on doing with it, selling it?”
“No, it’s not worth getting into trouble over. I’ll probably keep in it my safe in case it comes in useful someday. But this stuff is as rare as it comes. The facility that invented it permanently shut down production. You and I will probably never come by it again, ever. No, I just figured I would tell you about it since you might be interested in trying it out. I don’t know anyone else who plays around with hypnosis.”
Gareth shakes his head, “Honestly, it’s been over a year since I last put a guy under. I’ve got to admit though, it sounds intriguing…”
“No sweat. As I said, I just figured I’d show it to you. You’re welcome to try one of those mini-doses if you want, before I take it home.” he turns to me, “You too, Ben, if you want. It’s pretty fun and relaxing.”
I can feel myself blush, which I hate. I have to admit that I’m shocked he actually knows my name. I wish I were suave and chill like these guys, rather than the self-conscious wall-flower that I am.
“You want to try it with us?” Gareth asks him, his curiosity piqued.
Travis shakes his head, “Nah, not my sort of thing. I’m too much of a control freak. I have enough fun watching. Anyway, the offer still stands, no charge. Once in a lifetime chance to try it out.”
“I’ve got to admit, it’s tempting, just to see what the smallest bit would feel like. But I’m not going to do it alone.” Gareth looks at me with a playfully challenging look on his face. “What do you say? An eighth of a teaspoon sounds pretty harmless.”
Now I get really nervous and have a hard time doing anything but stammer. The fact of the matter is I’ve got this massive crush on Gareth. I’ve had one for a couple years, although we hardly know each other. I used to have a fantasy of just sharing a joint with him and having him start flirting with me and, well, for things to just happen. I wish I weren’t so fucking shy!
He looks me straight in the eye and says, “I’m going to go out on a limb here, but I think you really want to try it, and you’re just trying to get the nerve to say ‘yes’. Either that or I’m a rotten judge of body language. Come on, live a little!”
They’re both looking at me now. I hate being put on the spot like this, but at the same time it is like that fantasy of smoking a joint with him. I’d really hate myself forever it I passed this up. “Okay,” I cave, but I’m still a nervous wreck. Hopefully nobody is noticing the slight bulge in my pants. Or maybe that’s what led him to make that last statement.
Five minutes later, Gareth and I have relocated to this back room that’s hidden away at the back of the VIP lounge, sitting on a black leather couch. It’s easy to imagine that on a weekend night, guys sometimes retreat back here to mess around a bit. Travis is in the next room, talking on his mobile phone to someone. Gareth and I both have these glasses of Coca Cola in front of us. Travis had put a half-teaspoon or “4 doses” into each of our glasses—that same amount he said he’d given that other guy. My glass is already half-empty, and I’m wondering how long it takes to take effect.
Gareth has had a bit less than me. His glass is still three-quarters full, but he’s still sipping. He looks at me with a penetrating gaze and says, “You’re feeling more relaxed now, right? You looked pretty nervous a few minutes ago. You’re okay that I suggested that you try this with me, right? You don’t feel pressured or anything.”
I smile, “That’s clever, how you phrased those more as statements than questions. ‘I’m feeling more relaxed now, right?’ Are you testing the serum on me?”
“A bit too transparent, huh?” We both laugh at my calling him out. “You are feeling more relaxed, though.”
It’s true; I am. I nod. And I’m kind of glad the Gareth had twisted my arm a bit, giving me the excuse to try this. I take another sip of my coke.
“You should feel free to get more comfortable if you want; it’s just the two of us back here, you know. You’d probably be more comfortable if you at least took off your shoes and socks.”
He’s still doing it, I can see. He’s testing to see if the drug works. I’ll admit, I’m curious whether it works, and if so, how long it takes to kick in. Anyway, I’m not against taking my shoes and socks off. As I do it, I realize that I do indeed feel a lot more comfortable in my own skin, feeling the cool air against my bare feet. It’s not like I’m stripping myself naked, after all!
Travis walks through the door, apparently done with his phone call. “You boys feeling nice and relaxed yet? Geez, you’re being stingy with your Cokes. I’ll try not to be offended.” I think he’s doing like Gareth had been doing—making everything really more a statement than a question. “Tell you what: you boys can pace yourselves if you want, but do me a favor and just take a snort from the nasal spray. One big spray in each nostril. It’s not a big amount, but you’ll feel it right away. Otherwise you’ll be sitting around here forever before you know it’s kicking in.”
He casually tosses the nasal spray to Gareth who sprays once in each nostril and then hands it to me. “Your turn.” I don’t want to make a big deal of things, so I do the same. It’s like having a snort of Afrin nasal spray, but the taste in the back of my throat is different, a bit like licorice. I toss it back to Travis. I’m still trying to keep track in my head—I’ve had two doses in the cola I’m drinking, and now this. Did the nasal spray count as one dose or more? I’m beginning to feel a little fuzzy.
“Whoa, yeah, now it’s hitting me.” Gareth says. “I’m feeling good. Are you feeling good, Ben?”
I get a bit of a rush as I can feel something happening, but it’s not unpleasant. It’s just this feeling like everything is a-okay.
“Yeah, I’m really relaxed now.” I can feel a stupid grin spreading across my face.
“Okay, now that it’s kicking in, I want to make sure your mindset is going in the right direction.” Travis says. “Both of you focus on how sexually turned on you’re feeling right now. There’s an overall tingling feeling of arousal playing across your entire bodies from head to toe.”
“Oh yeah, wow!” Gareth says, “This is the first time I’ve been on the receiving end of directed suggestion.” He rubs his hand over the notably growing bulge in this shorts, “I’m feeling really turned on. How about you, Ben?” he looks over at me. “I’ll bet your mind can’t wrap around any thought that doesn’t have to do with sex.”
“Yeah,” it’s hard to even form words at the moment. I can’t take my eyes off of him rubbing his crotch. I imagine what it would feel like to have his hards running along my own crotch instead. It’s starting to bulge uncomfortably. “It’s pretty… intense.”
Travis says, “I think you guys are ready for a little ‘truth or dare’ now, aren’t you? Doesn’t that sound like fun?”
Gareth jumps in and says, “I want to see Ben do both a truth and a dare—from each of us!”
“Yeah, Ben, you’re happy going first, aren’t you?” Travis asks. “We’re both going give you a truth and a dare, okay?”
“Uh, sure, I guess.” I say. I’m still feeling pretty shy and embarrassed at the sudden attention.
“Okay, your first truth…” Gareth says, “Are you sexually attracted to Travis or myself? Do you wish you could get naked with us and mess around?”
I can feel myself blushing immediately. Drug or not, this is putting me on the spot! I take another sip of my coke to buy a few seconds to think, but as I put my glass back down, I hear myself saying out loud, “I’ve had a huge crush on Gareth for years, so yeah, that’s a total fantasy of mine. And you,” I look directly at Travis, “You’re really hot too, but I never thought I would even be on your radar…” that sounds dumb, but I can’t stop myself, “…meaning I’d totally flirt with you if I weren’t so shy.”
Gareth puts his hand on my shoulder and squeezes it reassuringly, “That’s good. It feels good to get that out, doesn’t it? Look me in the eyes now, there’s nothing to be embarrassed or worried about. I’m happy that you’re turned on by me. I want you to be turned on by me.”
“Yeah,” Travis interjects, “Me too. In fact, I hope that whenever you’re in our presence, now and in the future, you’ll find yourself getting really uncontrollably horny. Okay, time for my truth. Are you ready?”
“Sure” I say.
“How do you like the idea of Gareth really getting inside your head and programming you? When you heard he played around with hypnosis, did that turn you on at all?”
“I can’t lie, yeah, that whole hypnosis thing sounded strangely kinky. I dunno, there’s something about the idea of being so vulnerable… I dunno, there’s something intimate about the idea that turns me on.” I hear myself say.
Travis picks up my glass and puts it in my hand, “Great, time to amp up the vulnerability. Here’s my dare: I want to finish your drink.” Then he picks up Gareth’s mostly-full glass and pours almost all of it in with mine so that it’s topped-up. “And Gareth, you finish yours up too.”
I hesitate. Up until a minute ago I was trying to keep track of how much of the drug I was taking. My glass had gotten pretty low, and there was that hit from the nasal spray, and now there’s a newly-full glass… how much did that add up to?
Gareth tosses back his glass and says, “Okay, I drank mine. Your turn.”
But… he barely drank anything…
“Ben, stop trying to keep track of things. You just watched me down a full glass. Remember? I just chugged the whole thing. You’ve been so miserly with yours. You’ve just been sipping at it.”
I guess he’s right. I think about the scene just a minute ago, playing it back in my head. When he drank his glass, it was almost full, wasn’t it? Travis just poured a little into my glass. But there’s something nagging at the corner of my mind…
“Come on Ben,” Gareth looks me directly in the eye, “You admitted this whole scenario is turning you on. Give into your desires! Besides, if this drug is the real thing, you’re not going to have the will-power to stop anyway. Why fight it?”
I’m still feeling some hesitation, but I can’t deny what Gareth is pointing out: it does sound like a lot of fun to just give in to him. Why am I fighting it? I bring the glass to my lips and slowly drink the whole thing, savoring the feeling of abandonment.
“Okay guys, I think it’s time for a change in venue. My place is up in the hills—nice and private. Shall we go up there to continue the fun?”
Gareth says, “fuck yeah! I’ve always wanted to see your place. I’ve heard that your basement is finished as a completely decked-out dungeon. Is it true?” and then he suddenly says out loud, “Wow, it’s strange being so incredibly candid. I’ve just got no filter anymore!” He almost looks embarrassed as he casts a glance over at Travis.
Travis just grins. “That’s cool. I like it when you’re candid. You should always feel free to be entirely candid with me, in fact. My car’s parked down in the loading dock, so we can take the stairs in the back. Ben, you don’t even need to put your shoes back on. And when we get into my car, you can take the rest of your clothes off if you want.”
“Wait one second first,” Gareth says, and gets right in front of me and again looks me straight in the eye. “I’ve still got my dare for Ben. Ben: look into my eyes and focus on my voice. Listen to my words and let them wash over you and penetrate your subconscious…”
I want you to relax and listen to my words. There’s no need to think about what I’m saying. In fact, your conscious mind is going to have the hardest time focusing and remembering what’s going on. There’s no need to worry about what I’m saying, just let the words wash over your mind and become your new truth. It’s fun having me fill your head with thoughts without realizing what it is that I’m telling you. You are not going to remember what I’m saying, and two minutes from now you’re not even going to remember that I told you anything.
Here’s your first new personal secret: you hate wearing clothes, especially around us or around other guys. The clothes you have on right now—your shirt and pants and underwear—they feel itchy and uncomfortable and stifling, and as long as you’re wearing them, you’ll have a hard time thinking about anything except how much you wish you could take them off. You want to be naked, and the feeling of vulnerability in your nakedness will make you incredibly horny.
Remember when I told you to take off your shoes and socks? Think back to that. Remember how it felt so amazingly good when you took them off. You felt sexy and aroused, and you were so happy that I gave you an excuse to act on those impulses. With my help, it’s going to get a lot easier to act on those impulses without worrying about being shy or awkward. It’ll just come so naturally.
There’s one important caveat though: this just applies to street clothes. If you’re given any gear—anything made of leather or rubber or metal, especially if it makes you more vulnerable or submissive—that will actually enhance your inherent nakedness and vulnerability, making you really happy and relieved and horny. Straps, gags, masks, handcuffs… you’ll be eager to try them on whenever we give them to you, and you’ll be excited about having the excuse to show them off in our presence or in the presents of other guys.
Okay, now I want you to absorb that and then to let it wash over you. You won’t remember exactly what I was saying right now. In fact, you can’t remember that I told you anything.
Gareth suddenly snaps his fingers. “Okay, let’s go.” I feel like I can hear echos of his voice in my mind, but they fade away. I must have been imagining things. What were we just talking about? I just know that I’m ready to see Travis’s place.
“Alright!” Travis says, “Now let’s get out of here.”
We’re in Travis’s car. Gareth is in the back seat with me. It’s this spacious luxury SUV with tinted windows. Before Travis even started the engine I had pulled my shirt off over my head. I’m eagerly trying to climb out of my jeans, and it feels so fucking good. Gareth helps to pull the legs off past my ankles. I push my hands down on the seat, lifting my ass up a bit so he can free my underwear. My dick feels so good to bob around freely. I’m feeling really good and relaxed.
Gareth sees looks at my erection and says, “Being naked makes you feel so incredibly sexy, doesn’t it? I’ll bet you’re loving having a hard-on and not being able to hide it. I’ll bet being exposed like that even makes you feel sexier, which in turn is making you cock even more stiff. It must feel really great. In fact, it’s probably making it hard for you to think of anything but how turned on you are!”
I’m so horny I can barely focus. I love how hard I am. I grab my cock and start pumping it.
“Oh no,” he admonishes me with a sudden sternness, “You mustn’t beat yourself off! Listen very closely: there’s a new rule that you must obey at all times. You’re not allowed to handle your cock on your own. You have to rely on other people from now on. Even if there’s nobody around to help you out, you’re just going to keep getting hornier and hornier, until you find someone else who is able and willing to provide relief.” He runs his hand down my chest and stomach and slowly teases my cock. He leans over and puts in his mouth. I moan and start writhing.
“Have Ben take one more hit.” Travis tosses the nasal spray back to us. Gareth continues to pump my cock slowly as he holds the bottle up to each of my nostrils as I snort inward as hard as I can.
The rush is instantaneous. I fall back into my seat. I feel like I’m having an out-of-body experience and am only vaguely aware as Gareth and Travis are talking.
“So by my count, Ben’s had one and a half glasses, or six doses orally, and he’s done two by nasal spray. Does that add up to eight?”
“More or less. Past that, I’ve heard you start becoming less conscious and more in a trancelike state. That’s where I’ve heard you can permanently program a guy.”
“And that’s why you were thinking of me? Because of my experience with hypnosis.”
“Yup. The idea of really altering someone’s mind—making it impossible to resist certain impulses or triggers... It would be really hot see if it’s possible to take a guy like Ben and see if you can really permanently and completely program him.”
“I think Ben here has already crossed over into that trance state.” Gareth says. I feel his arm around my shoulder. He stops stroking my cock and is touching the side of my face.
“Really?” Travis looks back at us through the rear-view mirror, “Nasal spray hits you at first like a mega-dose, but it backs off after a few minutes. Hey Ben, you’re still with us, aren’t you buddy?”
With some effort, I manage to speak: “Yeah, that was just a bit of a rush. I’m... I’m just feeling really relaxed.”
“That’s good,” Travis says, “Focus on that feeling, and try to channel all that energy that’s flowing through you into your cock. Feel how intense it is. You are lost in the sensation, and you can’t think of anything else. You can’t remember what Gareth and I were just talking about; it’s unimportant. Ignore our words and instead focus on the feeling in your cock.”
Gareth has resumed slowly pumping me up and down, and I go back to moaning. Whatever they had been talking about earlier is unimportant, and I wasn’t really paying attention anyway.
We’re finally pulling into Travis’s garage. My head has cleared a little bit—at least enough to get out of the car and walk with a little guidance. Gareth has asked me to try to clear my head and focus on being present. “Shake it off. Take a deep breath and feel the energy returning to your body. Focus on how wonderful it feels to be naked. Whenever you’re around either of us in the future, or even if you talk to one of us on the phone or even think about us, you’ll feel the uncontrollable need to take your clothes off.”
It’s true, I love the fact that I’m naked. It feels completely natural and right even though they’ve still got their clothes on.
We enter the house from the garage. Just a bit past the entryway, there’s a stairway that goes down into the basement. Travis leads us down the stairs, and they seem to go down a really long way. I mean, most basement stairways go, I don’t know, maybe twelve or fifteen steps down or so, but this stairway goes down that length, turns to the right and then goes the same span down again before it opens up into a room.
It reminds me a lot like a locker room from a gym I’d been to in New York. The interior was painted mostly in black with some red details, so it looked more like a nightclub. There are some benches running in front of some long vertical cabinets to complete that locker room effect.
There’s a big shower off to one side with three individual open stalls, and then a glass door that I think leads to a small steam sauna. This place is fancy; Travis must be even wealthier than the rumors suggested!
Gareth opens a few of the cabinets, revealing a variety of interesting objects. He holds up what looks like a wrestling singlet, except it’s made from some red shiny material and the gap in front goes almost all the way to the crotch. In another one, he finds a black latex one-piece bodysuit.
Travis simply says, “I’ve collected a lot of gear over the years.” There are literally dozens of cabinets covering one and a half walls. On the far end there are large open shelves displaying an impressive collection of boots, most of them black leather, but I see some red and blue motorcycle racing boots and some interesting thick rubber boots as well.
“Okay Gareth, time to find something suitable for you. Get out of your clothes and you can put them in that bin over there. Meanwhile...” Travis walks over to one of the cabinets and extract some items, Ben, I’ve got something here that I think suits you. Put this on your left ankle. I’ll do the other one.”
He gives me a thick leather restraint that’s about three inches wide and is clearly meant to go around the ankles. It’s got a strap that wraps around and buckles into place. I sit down and figure out how to put one on while he does the other. Each strap goes inside a D-ring that is obviously meant to be used to secure the ankle with ropes or other means. Travis also procures a pair of tiny padlocks that make it impossible to remove the straps without a key, locking them in place.
From the moment I feel the straps around my ankles, I feel this intense rush of exhilaration, with a second and even more intense wave hitting me as Travis snapped the locks shut. It’s hard to describe, but I could almost feel something in my brain clicking and the pleasure centers in my brain flooding with ecstasy. I’d never done ‘bondage’ before, but both of these guys are hot, and getting all this attention is something I’m not used to. Something about being helpless and subject to their whims thrills me...
“You’re liking this, aren’t you?” Travis says. I nod. “Good, because we’re not done yet. Gareth, help me with these. Ben, put your hand into this and make a fist.”
He holds up this thing that looks like a round spherical fingerless glove. I tentatively put my right hand into it and discover that the insides have individual sleeves for my fingers to go into. As I work my hand further into it, the sleeves force my fingers to curl inward. In order to get my hand in all the way, I have to squeeze my hand into a fairly tight fist. The glove itself is made from some black material that looks almost like leather, but is a little stretchy. The cuff tapers into a three inch strap—much like the ankle restraints—that wraps a couple times around my wrist and similarly buckled into place with a miniature padlock.
While Travis is securing the right fist, Gareth—standing next to me now completely naked—holds the other glove out while I try to wriggle the fingers of my left hand into it. It’s such a turn-on to have both of these guys paying attention to me like this. I’d always wondered what Gareth’s body looked like. I’d never seen him shirtless, but one of the things I’d always found beguiling was that he shaved his legs. When he wore shorts I could tell how smooth and toned his legs were. His body looks like that all over. I try not to stare, but he’s got an erection, and it points outward with a slightly upward angle. It’s got a normal thickness but looks longer than normal. I guess it’s maybe eight inches.
Travis is done with the right glove and helps Gareth finish the other one. I marvel at how smooth and seamless the ‘mitts’ are, and how the combination of the thick but soft lining holds my fingers in place so firmly that I can’t discern the individual fingers anymore.
Gareth starts talking in that slow, soothing voice, “Remember how I said you weren’t allowed to handle your own cock anymore? Now the transformation is complete. Go ahead and try to touch it. Feel how helpless you are and how wonderful that is and how much it just magnifies your arousal.”
With my fists held into tight balls, I can only paw at my cock, but the whole endeavor is so futile. I realize how helpless I am, unable to manipulate simple things like unfastening a strap or even opening a doorknob. The smooth leathery material against the skin of my penis just sends shivers up and down my body. He continues, “You are now completely dependent on us for release. Your cock is just going to get stiffer and stiffer, and you can’t do anything about it. You’ll find that you’ll do anything to get us intervene on your behalf.” The intensity of the feeling is like an electric shock, and I pull my hands away, afraid to touch it anymore.
“Gareth, sit on the bench so Ben can suck your cock,” Travis says, “That’ll give him some thing to focus on.”
Gareth sits and spreads his knees apart. I’m grateful to have something to pour this building sexual energy into, and I drop to my hands (paws?) and knees and devour that beautiful penis literally without a second thought. He leans back into it and rolls his head backward a bit.
“Now Gareth, you’ve got to admit that you’re enjoying Ben’s transformation so far. Every step of this has been thrilling. You’ll agree we have to see how much further we can go.”
I can’t hear if Gareth has said anything in reply, my head in his groin, sucking noisily on his cock and all, but Travis’s voice is clear and steady.
“No, it’s more than that. This is an imperative. Think about how exciting it has been to start conditioning Ben. Think back to how you were quietly excited by his trying out the drug with you just a couple hours ago. Remember how much you had missed hypnotizing people and how excited you felt when you realized he was the perfect candidate. I was a little hesitant, but you insisted that we had to try the drug out, to see what its limits were. You can recall the conversation so clearly, especially when Ben himself gave us his consent to push this as far as possible, when he confessed how he had always wanted to be transformed into a sex addict, that it had always been his deepest fantasy…”
“I… yeah, yeah, he did give us his permission. He did want it, didn’t he?”
“And so do you. You want to fuck his mind wide open. You want make his brain into an empty horny vessel that our thoughts and whims can pour into. You’re so excited about this that you can’t wait to get started. It’s almost hard to sit still and receive this great blow-job because you’re so eager to get inside his head.”
I can feel him start to fidget a little bit. “You’re right. We shouldn’t waste this opportunity while he’s so juiced up.” He runs his fingers through my hair, “…not to say we won’t also drug him later if we need to reenforce his conditioning. You’ll be willing to let us use more of the drug on him, right?”
“Oh yeah, of course.” Travis says.
“Good. I was worried I’d have to twist your arm. You know, given how priceless it is and all.”
“No, that fine. I know how important this is to you, how single-minded you are about it. This is going to be fun. Now why don’t you find some kinky gear to get into while I get Ben here secured so we can have some fun.”
“Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.” Gareth admits. Then he says, “By the way… there’s something important to tell you. I… think you’ll find it useful. It’s… hopefully it’s going to make sense, but I have to admit my mind is kind of foggy…”
“What is it?”
Gareth gently pulls my head back from his groin, tells me to sit on the bench next to him, and gently fondles my cock. “Ben, just sit still for a moment and focus on how hard your cock is. It’s so absorbing that you can’t even follow what we’re talking about.” I lean back on my mitts, close my eyes and try not to writhe while I’m in ecstasy.
“Just a few minutes ago, when we were talking… Ben had just started giving me that blowjob and you were talking about this project we’re going to do. And I was in complete agreement with what you were saying, about how important this was and how lucky we were to have Ben here as a willing volunteer… What I’m trying to say is that part of me knew what was going on, especially since I have experience with suggestion and all. I’m not saying I was or am fighting you. I totally agree, and you know I’m really onboard with doing this.
“I want to do this. I’m excited about it. I’m so excited it’s making me fucking horny as hell. But what I wanted to say is… sorry, it’s hard to focus, but I think it’s important. It’s about how Pandora works, and we’ll want to understand it as we work with Ben. So there’s this thing with addiction—hopefully this will all make sense in a moment—people with addiction actually undergo this rewiring of their brains so that their perceptions and sometimes even their memories change. They get rewritten in order to create a narrative that reinforces and justifies the addictive behavior.
“What I’m trying to say is that I can actually feel that happening inside me right now. I can actually feel my brain getting rewired. I want to do this thing… this stuff you were talking about. I really want to do it, and I completely agree with you. I want it so much that my brain is actually rewriting itself. It’s rewriting my memories—my perspective of how these last few hours have unfolded. In fact, I’m pretty sure that five minutes from now I won’t even remember telling you this. I don’t want to, to be honest. I’m not sure why I don’t want to, but I don’t care. Anyway, it was just that I know we’ll want to have an intuitive understanding of how Pandora works when we tell Ben to do things… we’ll want to know how powerful and permanent our suggestions may be. It’s more profound than I ever thought. Damn, I’m getting so horny. I… can’t even remember what I was talking about!”
Gareth turns to me and starts pumping my cock extra hard for a moment, “Hey boy! Are you ready to get your mind fucked wide open? That’s going to be fun, isn’t it! My God I’m getting turned on! Anyway, you’re right—I’m going to go dig though your gear and get into something kinky. You said you were going to get Ben all secured, right?”
“Exactly,” Travis says, putting his hand on my shoulder. “When you’re done, just go down this hallway until you find us.” Then he leads me out of the locker room and down a long hallway.
We pass by a couple smaller rooms, too dark to make out any details, and then at the third Travis flicks on the light and leads me inside. Along one wall there’s this chair that sits unusually high off the ground. It has big padded armrests, a head-rest, and from the base of the seat two individual leg rests that go out and upward. Travis gently positions my body at the base of the chair and then tells me to sit in it. I have to use my hands to push myself up so I can get my butt in the base. Then Travis gently takes one of my legs and then the other and lifts them so they are positioned along the left rests. Their angle is high enough that I’m forced to lean back into the chair.
I hear a clicking sound as Travis locks each of my ankle straps to the chair via their D-rings. He then locks my fist mitts to the armrests with similar clips. Finally he presses a button and the whole chair begins to recline back even more; my legs lift higher and are pulled to the side until my ass is exactly level with his crotch.
He pours something cold and wet along my ass and authoritatively opens my sphincter with his finger. Then he opens a small case and pulls out a white cylindrical object, about a quarter inch around and four inches long. It holds it up for a moment for me to see. I think it’s one of those suppositories he was telling us about. He then slides it up into my ass.
“It’s time to do a little programming of my own. Look into my eyes.”
“It’s kinda hard to do leaning back like this.” I say. He moves around to my right side so I can just turn my head.
“Okay, now look into my eyes and focus on my words. Think back to all the times you ever looked at Gareth and found yourself turned on by him. Remember how you always thought he was the hottest guy you had ever seen—apart from maybe myself—and how you’d spent so many nights fantasizing about him naked, seducing you, getting you to take your clothes off, fucking you…” He starts stroking my prone cock, “Whenever you see his face, your heart starts racing and all those fantasies flood back into your head. You lust after him so much! You need to feel his hands caressing your body, his cock sliding into your ass.”
I can feel my heart starting to race. I’m looking into his eyes. I can’t look away! All I can do is let the words wash over me while my cock feels impossibly stiff.
“Tell me, how long ago was it that you first laid eyes on Gareth? When did you first meet him?” Travis asks.
“Uh, maybe three years ago. It was at the bar. He was with a bunch of guys. I never really talked to him, but…” I stammer.
He interrupts, “But when you first saw him there, you were immediately taken by him. The way he talked and laughed with his friends. You were instantly infatuated with him. Remember being so shy and intimidated that you were tongue-tied. Every time after that, if you ever saw him casually in public, you couldn’t take your eyes off of him.”
I remember! My heart is racing even faster.
“In fact, it’s been longer than three years ago. You can’t remember anymore, but it feels like you’ve known him forever. You’ve always had such a crush on him.”
Oh my god, I’m getting so excited. This is a fantasy come true!
I hear a slight squeaking sound coming from the other side of the chair. I turn my head away form Travis and see Gareth walking up to me. The sound was that of rubber-on-rubber. Gareth is decked out head-to-toe in heavy gear: what looks like a one-piece bodysuit underneath a series of straps around his neck and shoulders and waist; heavy boots that go up around above his calves, almost to the knees; thick gauntlets covering his hands and forearms. The most unmistakable feature is the huge, club-like cock sheath that protrudes directly at me, balls prominently held forward. The whole outfit looks black at first, but I see as he gets closer that the pieces have a deep crimson hue that reflects slightly in the light.
I can’t take my eyes off of him. He’s walking up to me, getting closer, and I feel like my heart is going to burst out of my chest. I don’t turn my head as Travis repositions himself between my legs. I feel his tongue slide along my sphincter and almost jump out of my skin, but still I can’t take my eyes off of Gareth. He touches the side of my face with the thick gloved hand of his, while his other hand instinctively grabs his own cock. With every motion I can hear that faint wonderful sound of rubber.
“Are you ready to be my sex slave?” He asks, his eyebrows lifting playfully. I nod. “I’m going to fuck your ass and your mind at the same time. You’re ready for that, aren’t you? You’re ready to have me inside you.” I nod again.
I barely notice Travis slathering something slick in and around my ass. His finger darts in a little and wiggles around.
Gareth continues, “Travis too. You’re ready to give yourself over to him, body and soul, aren’t you?” I nod as he swaps places with Travis, who gently positions my head forward and places a series of straps over my face and across my forehead, attaching them to the headrest and securing my gaze fixedly upward.
I feel something big and smooth press against my ass, and then Gareth pushes himself into me. Oh my god, I’ve always dreamed of this moment! This couldn’t get any better!
Travis tells Gareth about the suppository he had put in me a few minutes ago. “In ten minutes he’ll be on another planet.”
“Ummph. Mmmm. Good,” I hear Gareth say.
“Nice selection of gear. It fits great. Let me go see what I can find for myself. I won’t be long.”
Gareth is still slowly pushing further into me. His cock looked huge when it was in view, but at the angle I couldn’t gauge just how big. Every now and then he pulls out a little bit and then pushes in further.
“Sounds good. I’ll have him good and open for you by then.”
“I know a few guys who would really get into this. Should I give them a call?”
“That sounds fun, but what about tomorrow? I’ve got a lot of programming to do. Actually, maybe we should wait until Sunday.” He’s starting to drive in and out rhythmically, but he’s still not all the way in. Rubber-encased hands caress my stomach.
“Yeah, I think you’re right. That gives me more time to call around. We’ll make a party out of it.” The door closes as Travis leaves the room.
Gareth’s voice continues in a soothing but commanding tone: “As you feel me drive inside you, feel your mind give way to me. You’re not going to remember who you once were. You’re not even going to remember your original name…”
It was a complex cocktail of drugs—a bit of a miracle really that they could work together like this. The first involved drinking a tall glass of juice with a whole slew of compounds dissolved in it. A little over an hour later, you would be given an injection that would act as a catalyst and trigger. The final touch would come from an anal suppository that would be absorbed over the span of the next few hours. And by taking subsequent suppositories, the entire experience could be stretched over an incredible 72 hours.
Seth was the perfect candidate. He was young, cute, and painfully shy. He would hang around us like an eager puppy, and he was sweet and really likable. You could tell he was attracted to a lot of us. He was one of those guys whose charm came from the fact that he didn’t realize how attractive he was. Some guys know what they’ve got, and they can be real cocky. He was in the other camp. His innocence was as disarming as his smile.
But he lacked self-confidence, and nobody was surprised when he admitted he was a virgin. You could feel the tension emanating from him: he would always hang around us, and there’d be this intense feeling of chemistry. He’d even admitted before that he fantasized about being part of an orgy.
Craig was the one who ran across the drug cocktail. It’s ironic, because he’s not the type to hang around with a bunch of experimental stoners, but nevertheless he found himself in the possession of three series of doses. He had no idea what to do with them until Jake mentioned Seth. He’d made the suggestion as a joke, but as we laughed about it, I think we all realized it all made a weird sense.
Ultimately I was nominated to try and get Seth onboard. I was as close to him as anyone, and because of the large house where I lived. Two of my roommates (Ravi and Travis) had finished the basement into a sort of informal dungeon on a lark. It had only gotten used in a couple of brief three-ways, and it was overdue for a proper sex party. I knew Seth was intrigued by ‘the dungeon’ because he would clumsily bring it up in conversation every now and then.
So that’s how I came to have him over that Thursday. It was Independence Day weekend, so everyone was looking at a four day weekend ahead. I brought him into the kitchen, presented him with a tall glass of juice, and dared him to drink it.
“Smells weird.” He said, wrinkling his nose.
“It’s prune juice. I heard it would mask the taste. Otherwise the stuff can be pretty bitter.”
“And what does it do?”
“Well,” I say, “Let’s say it gets you into the mood. Part of it relaxes you, another part acts as an aphrodisiac, and the last part suppresses inhibitions.”
“And you want me to drink this because…?”
I say pointedly, “Think of this a big gift from all of us. You’ve told us how you’d always wished you could be in a big Caligula-style sex party. Drink this, and this weekend your wish will be granted. People will come over and whichever guys you’re into… well, you’ll be really uninhibited. If you’re not into someone, nobody’s going to get offended.”
“Look,” I continue, “We think this is something you really want. If we’re wrong, then that’s okay. I’m not going to twist your arm. You absolutely don’t have to do this.”
“Who will be coming over?” He asks sheepishly.
“Well, Ravi and Travis will be here, of course. They’re excited about being able to get some use out of the basement…”
“You mean the dungeon.” Seth corrects playfully, unable to hide his curiosity.
I laugh, “Well, I’m not sure it qualifies as a proper dungeon, but yes. And Craig will be here in a few minutes. And Derek and Jake and Tariq I think.”
“Don’t forget those guys that helped install that sling in the dungeon.” Craig says, suddenly appearing around the corner, “I think they were Travis’s friends from rugby.”
“Heya Craig,” Seth says politely.
“Haven’t decided if you’re going through with it?” He asks in a friendly way. “Well, no pressure. We can keep that glass in the fridge for a while in case anyone else wants to have a go. And I’ve got a few more doses besides.”
“It’s tempting. I mean, I’m so flattered that you guys care enough… I want to.” He hesitates, thinking and then asks, “You said you’ve got more doses?”
Craig nods.
Seth continues, “What if I said I would do it if Doug joined me?”
Craig turns to look at me. “Well, we didn’t… Well… Hell, why not? Doug, what do you think? You’d be game to join him, right?”
I’m totally caught off guard. “I… uh…” All of a sudden the shoe’s on the other foot. I can see Seth is scrutinizing me. I guess he’s using my reaction to gauge how risky this whole proposition is. After all, if he’s supposed to trust all of us to watch over him and make sure nothing dangerous happens. I try to read Craig’s face, but he seems supportive, maybe curious. And then I find myself saying, “Okay, if that would make you feel better. I guess it makes sense—you’d feel a bit awkward being the only person on the stuff.”
He nods and says it would, and hands me the glass. Craig is going to have to run home to get another packet for Seth’s glass. That should take less than thirty minutes. In the meantime, I guess Seth will feel safer if he can first observe how it affects me.
“If I drink this now, I’m going to hold you to your word that you’re going to join me.” I warn. He nods so I drink. I’m not a fan of prune juice, so I pound it down quickly to avoid the taste. But I can definitely taste the drugs mixed in it, and it was pretty nasty. Picking prune juice was a good call. It’s like a mix of Red Bull and Jaegermeister.
Craig runs out to get the other dose, and Seth and I just hang out in the kitchen. He looks even more shy and awkward than usual, but I also can tell he’s scrutinizing my own reactions to see if the cocktail is kicking in. I ask him if he’s nervous, and he tells me that he’s just doesn’t know what it would be like for all of his inhibitions to come out.
“It’s like, I dunno… you don’t normally think much about all the impulses you don’t act on. I once smoked some pot and was suddenly aware of all these thoughts and impulses that I normally just process and filter subconsciously without thinking about it. I got really quiet and paranoid.” He looks a little embarrassed, “So how do you feel? Is there anything you feel like doing that you normally wouldn’t do?”
I don’t know how long it’s been since I’ve downed that glass. Maybe twenty minutes? I look at Seth and I realize one of the reasons I wanted him to try this thing was that I was attracted to him. I hadn’t thought about it, but I knew I was probably going to be messing around with him this weekend along with the rest of us. I now realize that I was looking forward to kissing that mouth, seeing that smooth chest and that taught stomach I knew he had.
“My impulse is to get you to take your shirt off. I want to see your chest.” The moment that leaves my mouth, I do a double-take. “Wow,” I stammer suddenly, “That came out without warning.”
He smiles at me. It’s my turn to feel embarrassed, and I think he’s relieved to have the attention taken off of himself. “That’s okay. You’re supposed to say what’s on your mind.” He pulls his shirt off, kicks off his shoes, and then looks me in the eyes, with a shy smile.
My eyes drink in his body. It’s both lanky and taught in a way that makes me think of skateboarders. His skin is beautifully pale and smooth. I run my fingers lightly across his chest, stroking one of his nipples…
And of course that’s when Craig returns. “Hey guys. Doug, how’re you feeling?”
“I feel like this is going to be a fun weekend.” I say, my hand still caressing Seth.
“Well, let’s get Seth started with his dose so you don’t get too far ahead of him.” Craig instructs. Despite all the impulses running through me, I feel strangely compelled do what Craig says. “Okay, if you say so. I’ll get the juice.” and I turn toward the refrigerator.
“Hang on a sec,” Craig says, and I stop in my tracks, “First do something for me. It’s not fair that Seth’s the only one half dressed. Take your clothes off—all of them.”
Again, I feel this strong need to do what Craig tells me. I pull off my shirt, kick off my shoes, and step out of my pants and underwear, and finally pry off my socks. Freed, my cock bobs up and around a bit. I instinctively stroke it with one of my hands.
“Yep, he’s in stage two.” Craig says to Seth, “First there’s the inhibition part, but then there’s this period where you get really suggestible.”
“You mean he does whatever you tell him?” Seth says.
“More than that, it’s almost like hypnotic programming. Whatever you impress on him during this period will become his primary focus for as long as he stays on the drug, up to the whole weekend. His mind will become singularly focused.”
“Really? That’s news. What were you planning on putting into my head?” Seth asks me, suspiciously.
The feelings of lust are making it hard for me to focus, but I shrug my shoulders and say, “Just to enjoy yourself. To try anything you wanted with any of us—anyone that you were attracted to. We hoped this weekend would be fun and would get you out of your shell.”
“Seth, you’re still planning on joining Doug, right?” Craig asks. He’s got the glass of juice poured and is about to mix the packet of drugs into it. “I don’t want to waste this if you’re not.”
He hesitates. “I don’t know. I know I promised Doug I would, but I had no idea it would be so… extreme.”
What the fuck?! I start to feel a sense of panic. Seth was supposed to be the one trying this. “You’re not going to bag out on me, are you?” I’m so turned on. I want to go back to caressing his body.
He puts a hand on my chest in a comforting gesture, “Don’t worry. Whether I try this drug or not, I’m still going ahead with this weekend. I’ll be here with you the whole time. But at this moment, let’s focus on your experience. If I join you, I won’t be that far behind you. But you’re going to have a fun time either way. Don’t focus on me, okay?” I look into those intensely beautiful blue eyes of his. I trust him, and I want to make him happy. I’ll do anything he asks.
“Okay.” I agree. I mirror his gesture, placing my hand on his chest and returning to caressing it.
Craig looks at his watch and says, “Hey, if we want to plant any suggestions in this second stage, we’ll want to do it now. Is there anything you want to try?”
Seth is still holding my gaze, “You said this sets the tone for the weekend?”
“Yeah, it’ll sort of lock his brain into a single gear for the whole time. This is the first time I’ve ever seen the drug in action, but I’m really curious if it works as promised, so let’s pick something. Hey, do you mind if I ask you something personal?”
“No. Shoot.” Seth says.
“Do you think you’re a top or a bottom? I mean, you’ve said you’re still a virgin, but do you imagine yourself fucking other guys or the other way around?”
“Wow. Yeah, I wasn’t expecting that one.” Seth looks over at Craig and looks embarrassed, “To be honest, I fantasize about being the one doing the fucking. I… I think that’s one of the reasons I’m nervous about trying this drug… I think I’m worried that I would end up being the one getting… penetrated. I mean, someday I might try it and find myself liking it, but… I don’t think that’s what I’m into.”
Craig says, “I asked. Honestly, I was guessing the other way around, but I’m glad I asked.” Then he turns to me, “Doug, look at me.”
I turn and look into Craig’s eyes.
“Doug, you’ve never really explored your ‘inner bottom’ before, have you?”
I confess, “Well, no. I’ve experimented with a dildo in private before. I wanted to make sure I could handle it in case I found myself in such a situation, but no, I’ve always been the top.”
“But you’ve been curious.” Craig says, almost more a suggestion than a question.
“I’ve been curious.” I repeat.
“Doug, this weekend, Seth is going to be the top. You want him to have a good time this weekend, right? You want him to be happy.”
“I sure do!”
“Then this weekend, you’re going to be on the receiving end. And you’re going to really throw yourself into it. Your focus is on going to be giving pleasure, on giving yourself over to us, at letting others being in control.”
The words bounce and echo around in my head.
“You look forward to having Seth inside of you. In fact, you’re hungry for it.”
Seth steps in, “Not just me. All of your friends, everyone you were planning on having over. Who knows which of them might have been interested in fucking you? Now’s your chance to find out without guilt, without embarrassment. Tell me, of all these guys, how many have you had sex with?”
I hesitate for a moment to think of the question. These guys are all my friends, but I’ve never messed around with them. “Just the one guy—one of Tariq’s rugby friends who had helped install the sling that one day—I made out with him for a few minutes once, but we never really hooked up.”
“But you guys were all planning on having this orgy this weekend, right?” Seth asks.
“Well, the focus was going to be on you, mostly. I mean, I wasn’t thinking much about the others.”
“They are all attractive though.”
“Yeah,” I agree, “I guess so.”
Seth says: “Look, this weekend can’t just be about me. All these guys are really hot. I want to you look at them through fresh eyes. Each guy who comes over is a new sexual opportunity, and you’re going to try figure out how to seduce him. You’re going to be unabashed about showing all of us how sexual you are.”
Craig joins in, “Just think for a second about who’s going to be here, Tariq and Derek and Jake, and think about how they’ll look with their clothes off, those taught, fit bodies. All these few years that you’ve been roomies, you secretly lusted after them. Now just imagine how exciting it will be to get them naked and to finally suck their cocks and to see which of them you can get to fuck you.” He then strips his own shirt off and then grabs my cock. “Look at me. You find me attractive, don’t you?”
“Yeah,” I say.
“No, I mean, you’re finding yourself so drawn to me that you can feel your heart pounding in your chest.”
“Oh man!” I say enthusiastically. I put my other hand on his chest. I’m getting really excited.
“By the end of this weekend, Seth and I are going to find dozens of creative ways to fuck you.”
I feel so good and excited. Craig is so fucking hot. I’m amazed I was ever able to hang out with him in the past without being completely distracted and tongue-tied like I am now. He’s so beautiful and sexy.
“One more thing,” Seth adds, “And I want you to really pay attention to this part. You know that dungeon you’ve built? The one that’s never really been broken-in?”
“Yeah.” I say, “We figured you’d enjoy trying it out this weekend—after all the times you would bring it up.”
“Well my interest in the dungeon is going to be dwarfed by your own. Remember when you told me about all that gear that Ravi had inherited?”
I remember. That guy he knew who had to suddenly move overseas to the small London flat and had no way to keep the huge collection of gear and toys. Ravi didn’t even have any place to store it, and then Travis had the idea about our unfinished basement…
Seth continues, “Think about when you were going through the boxes full of all that stuff. I want to you remember how much you dreamed of personally trying out each piece of gear. You might have acted nonchalant about it in front of Ravi and Travis, but secretly you wished there was some excuse to completely immerse yourself in that world. You wished you could live in the dungeon instead of your bedroom, sleeping in that cage.”
This is so exciting. I’m stroking my cock harder as I think about that big cage with its black padded floor. I can’t believe I’ve never even secretly tried it out before. I hope this weekend I’ll get a chance to rid myself of these inhibitions once and for all.
Craig looks at Seth and whistles, “Man, I always thought you were this shy and innocent person. I had no idea you had this twisted side to you.”
Seth smiles, “They say it’s always the quiet ones! No, I mean, I was always excited about the idea of the dungeon. It just seems like this is a good way to make sure it gets some use this weekend. I’m not really that twisted, although…” He pauses, “Look, can you go ahead and fix that other batch of the drug up? It’s really not fair for Doug to be the only one primed up like this—especially after what we’ve set in motion.”
“I guess you want to make sure you’re an aggressive top? Yes or no on the kink factor?” Craig asks.
Seth shrugs, “You know, surprise me. I’m feeling a little guilty about how extreme we got with Doug here. I think I deserve to let you poke around in my psyche however you want. After all…” he turns to me and winks, “He shouldn’t be the only one getting played with.”
Craig looks at his watch, “Okay, but I’ve got to finish up Doug’s regimen, so can you mix this in the juice yourself?” He points to the packet still laying on the kitchen counter next to the glass of prune juice. Seth looks confused, so he explains, “You don’t just drink that mixture. It’s a regimen of a few things. Doug’s primed now, but I’ve got to add the catalyst.”
He digs something out of his pack, unwraps a foil wrapping, and hands me a suppository. “Here Doug, you know what you’re supposed to do with this.”
I take the waxy object and unabashedly put my finger to my ass and gently push it in. Craig had explained to me how the warmth of your body would quickly melt the waxy shell of the suppository, and the ass would start absorbing the next phase of the drug.
Once again, Seth looks hesitant, seeing what he’s going to have to do. Craig says, “Look, just drink up, and then the rest will get really easy. You’ll stop feeling nervous and will start just enjoying the ride!”
Seth doesn’t saying anything more. He quietly mixes the powder into the prune juice, looks over at me, pounds the thing down, and then winces.
Suddenly I hear the front door close and Ravi’s familiar voice calls out, “Helloooo? Anyone around?”
“In the kitchen!” Craig calls, and I see Ravi and Travis round the corner.
They stare at us, with Seth and Craig shirtless and me completely naked, and look confused. Craig explains how Seth wanted me to go first, but that he’d just joined me. I’m not really paying any attention to the conversation; I’m just looking at Ravi and Travis, at their handsome faces and fit bodies, and I feel waves of lust pour over me. How did I ever manage to hang out with these guys in the past without hitting on them? Travis catches my stare for a moment and I feel my heart leap.
Craig notices and suddenly says, “Hey Ravi, why don’t you take Seth downstairs and show him the collection? Maybe we can find him a harness to change into or something like that. Travis, Doug and I will join you down there in a few minutes.”
Ravi leads Seth out of the kitchen, saying “Are you ready for a fun weekend? Let’s see if there’s something you’d look good in.”
Once they’re out of the room, Travis asks Craig if I’ve had the final dose. Craig tells him no, that I’d just taken the suppository a few minutes ago, but it was time.
He turns to me, “You know what’s next, right?”
I nod. There’s a final injection that acts as the final catalyst and sets everything in motion. Although I feel like my hormones and sex drive are already like a runaway train. I’m having a hard time remembering what’s reality and what’s my recent programming.
“Are you ready? You’re not nervous, are you?”
I smile. Part of me is still aware enough to notice that it wasn’t really intended to be a question… a very small bit of consciousness in the corner of my mind.
“You didn’t want Seth to see this and get even more nervous, huh?” I ask.
“Nope. An hour from now he’ll be relaxed enough that it won’t be a big deal.”
“Makes sense.” I say.
“Hey Travis,” Craig says as he gets some more stuff out of his bag, “Hope this doesn’t get too weird, but your roommate here is going to desperately want to have sex with you.”
“Huh,” he says, scrutinizing me and mulling it over for a sec. Then, “Alright. Why not?” My heart skips a beat with excitement.
Travis helps put a rubber strap around my bicep while Craig takes out the syringe. He wipes the inside of my elbow with an alcohol wipe and takes the cap off the needle. I hear the front door open and close and some more voices call out. I think it’s Derek and Jake and someone else I don’t recognize. They sound so hot and masculine. I feel a slight pinprick and look down as Craig pushes in the syringe’s plunger.
I can feel the corners of my mouth pull upward into a hungry smile. I look alternatively at Craig and Travis and feel a wave of abandon wash over me. I feel my cock take control. It’s as though my consciousness is no longer operating from my brain. My mind is empty. These two guys are talking, but the words are meaningless. I don’t know what they’re saying, and moreover I don’t fucking care. What I care about are the impulses I can feel coming from my cock. I kneel down and start undoing one of the guy’s jeans. I fumble around until I free his dick from behind his underwear and I immediately start suckling at it. I can feel it starting to grow in my mouth. There’s nothing but happiness and horniness and hunger.
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