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.
“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 guys 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.
He shakes his head slightly now: no.
“Is it that mouth guard? It’s grown so you can’t talk?”
“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 ask or say anything with the gag down my throat, so I just look at him. “You probably guessed, the hood reprogrammed him. It’s a combination of visual and audio signals, mixed with the drug he’s been breathing in. Right now, he’s a just 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 hours and hours every day, and this drone will be ever diligent to keep you on your regimen.”
Travis puts his hand on Zach’s shoulder lightly. Zach pulls out of me and steps to the side as Travis moves in and resumes fucking me.
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