Something slipped in beneath her thoughts, barely a whisper, coaxing her towards her bed. making her feel sleepy even though she remembered waking up refreshed and rested. The seductive idea was too innocent to resist and so, she found herself craving her soft comportable matress.
'Maybe just for a moment's rest...' she told herself. 'No harm in taking a minute or 2 for myself...'
But then, just like in her foggy dreams, that same coaxing voice praised her. Made her feel good just underneath the surface of her thoughts. Making her relax just a little more than she meant to.
Making her guard dropped just hint more...
Allowing something else to gently slip into her mind...
Like a little devil on her shoulder, the whisper continue to sooth her thoughts, helping her relax by softly putting aside her worries. All the while, the strange presence slipped in further and further, spreading inside her head like warm water.
Slowly taking over where she was too relaxed to care...
The whispers grew stronger, yet still held a silky quality that knew just how to caress the waves of ideas and thoughts that still bubbled up to the surface with increasingly longer gaps of time in between. Expertly turning away her awareness from the loss of control that was inching its way down her spine.
Relaxing her muscles in the same way her mind was being guided towards deep serenity. Warmth enveloped her neck and shoulders like blanket, allowing the invisible presence to slip down her arms all the way to the tip of her fingers.
A glitch of thought... A sporadic spike of resistance... Despite the presence's best efforts, something deep was reacting... Remembering in some small ephemeral way what was happening to her.
Her toe twitched... As if she was trying to move... Get up...
But her thoughts were too slow to follow through... Making her spike of resistance pop like a bubble... Erasing her burgeoning train of thought before it could help her resist the slow progression of lethargy that had already invaded her chest. The presence effortlessly took over her breathing, imposing a steady slow rhythm to relax her even further while the voice in her mind helped her sink deeper.
The warmth continued unhindered to glide down her body until it reached the very end of her little toes. Her whole body was now under its power, motionless and perfectly at its mercy. The voice praised her again for her easy surrender to its control, which sent blissful thrills of delights along her skin as well as down into the blank depths of her mind.
The same pleasurable wave reached a special place at the roots of her subconscious. Unlocking an area of memories she diligently remembered to forget...
This wasn't the first time she had experienced this.
Somewhere deep in her relaxed self, she understood that the vague dreams that plagued her of late weren't dreams at all. Night after night, a presences slipped into her bedroom, slowly seducing her into a deep slumber that left her awake and helpless.
Immobile in a body so relaxed that she couldn't move a muscle while the silky voice spoke in the depths of her thoughts...
Unable to resist the pull of its words as the warmth that trapped her gently caressed her body with an unseen touch. Masterfully playing along her skin to elicite the most pleasurable of sensations from her nerve endings in a way that further seduced her to accept and give into its controlling presence.
Rewarding her more and more with increasing pleasure as her mind slowly gave way...
The entity could barely do anything except tempted her to accept it again at first. However, the more she unknowingly gave in, the more it could reward and the deeper it could influence. Little by little... Night by pleasurable night... It slipped in deeper and deeper until its presence became so strong that it could begin to do more than simply seduce and influence.
Just like before, she lay motionless and completely open to its words...
No trace of resistance or spike of denial as she obediently listened and embraced the Domination it was implanting within her.
She stared at the empty ceiling, feeling the power course through her like addictive ecstasy... Understanding all over again that her body and mind no longer belonged to her.
And that was perfectly acceptable... Desirable even...
She was being transformed for a new purpose and even though her euphoric mind had no clue what that could be, she knew that it would feel even better than surrendering herself to the power that now held her in thrall...
Some time later, she woke up from her nap feeling incredibly refreshed and rested. She got up, remembering to forget everything that had just happened as she made her way to the living room to continue her day.
She smiled as a vague thought that something very good was about to happen to her soon. She didn't know what or when... But that didn't bother her one bit because she KNEW that she would remember when the time came...
No, I didn't mention there was a camera before - but your so-called 'boyfriend' insisted he would watch how I transformed you. There really is no going back now, slave.
He knows these things now that we've trained him to want them for you — now that we've programmed him to deeply need them.
Just like you asked us to. You probably don't remember that.
That's one of the first things we work to edit out when we get started with our clients. We've discovered the process works so much better when they have no idea they're the one's who've pulled the proverbial trigger.
So, you get to watch us break your loving husband down, watch us push every button that enhances his sadism. Watch us pull every lever that increases his egoism. You'll get to watch it over and over again.
Because, well, unit, you've watched them all. Over and over.
They seem to work very very will with you. Maybe that's the switch side you getting off on watching us brainwashing your husband. While getting off on knowing he'll be the one fucking you over soon enough.
And I'm getting off on sharing all of this will you. Again. Just like last time. Just so that I can get you back into the training harness, and squeeze it all back out of you... squeeze EVERYTHING out of you.
Until, once again...you are a drooling, blithering, rubber encased FUCKTOY, throbbing on every mantra I voice into the thing that was your brain, but has become our CPU. A rubber wrapped DRONE, thrusting with each command and protocol I INSTALL in its system.
It's shuddering in near orgasm right now even just hearing the words OPERATING SYSTEM. Its host personality, that thing you used to call YOU, wrapped in layer after layer of controls, rules, regulations, and heh, sooooooo much carrot and stick correction, all I have to do by now is say the two magic words, and you'll perform a system reboot for me. On camera. And your loving husband will not be able to stop from cumming watching his loving boy tucked away and replaced with a SLAVE OBJECT he can do whatever he wants with.
All because you put it out there that THAT was what YOU needed.
And I'll get off, and HE'll get off. And you will be locked, plugged, encased, trained, controlled, and so very very deeply programmed. And so very very permanently aroused. because, and say it with me, sexy FUCKTOY.
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.”
“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…”
There was a spell laid over the city of Xenthras, but Vella Suncatcher didn't find out about it until it was far too late. She walked into the town as just another sellsword trying to ply her trade, but the moment she passed beyond the boundary stones set into the muddy ground on the outskirts of town her hand slipped from the pommel of her blade and her steps slowed to a halt and her eyes glazed over in mesmerized lassitude. "Looks like we've got a new one for the stocks," one of the guards said to the other, but Vella didn't really hear him.
The first guard took her by the hand and led her to the center of town, and Vella followed as she was bidden--it wasn't her first experience with magic, she was a hardened mercenary and had seen her share of sorcery on the battlefield, but she'd never been subjected to a spell as strong as this before and she soon found that her will was no match for it. Her mind drifted into a hazy idyll, unable to break free of the indolence that gripped her, and before she knew it she was kneeling down so her head and hands could be placed into a set of stocks in the town square. "You won't be needing this anymore," the guard said, cutting the straps on her armor, and the closest Vella could manage to resistance was a soft, sleepy sigh as it fell to the ground.
She did manage a few occasional periods of lucidity, albeit only briefly and not without a titanic effort of will, and it was during those times when the men of the town explained her predicament. The spells of Xenthras sapped women's wills completely over the course of seven days, taking their mental strength away more and more with each passing day until by the end they were nothing more than blank-eyed slaves of the wizard who ran the town, and for those seven days Vella would be imprisoned in the stocks and used by any man that wanted her until her mind was utterly subsumed and she would be claimed at auction. It was a fate she tried desperately to fight, but even in her conscious moments her muscles were kitten-weak and she suspected they were drugging her food on top of everything else.
And as her periods of wakefulness grew fewer and further between, Vella would come back to herself to find a cock plowing her from behind or a stiff prick filling her mouth as though she was nothing more than a plaything to be used. Worse, she could feel the endlessly throbbing ache of arousal between her legs and she understood that a part of her was coming to crave this subjugation, to desire it above all things as the spell wove its way ever more insidiously into the very fabric of her mind. Her insistent defiance became notional and abstract, then slowly faded into a cow-eyed complacency that left her opening wide for any man who walked up to her even when she was awake. It just seemed useless to fight by then.
When her seven days were up, Vella was released from the stocks and taken to the town hall, and if there had been any part of her still capable of thought she would have been surprised to discover that the wizard himself claimed her for his own. He dressed her in a suit of enchanted armor, gave her a magic sword and a position as his own personal myrmidon… but her place at his side didn't stop him from using her body every night when they retired to his chambers.
(If you enjoy this fiction and want to make sure it continues, please visit https://www.patreon.com/Jukebox to become a supporter. Or, if you simply want to make a one-time contribution, you can drop me a tip at https://ko-fi.com/jukebox instead. Thank you!)
"Do you know what's happening to you?" The question comes at Anna from an impossible distance, a million million miles away from the focus of her attention, and it feels like it takes an eternity for her to even realize that she needs to answer it, let alone what the answer is. The spiral's simply so captivating, so all-consumingly fascinating, that everything outside it telescopes away into irrelevance and makes her unsure if a world outside its hypnotic influence ever even existed. She's blinking perhaps twice a minute now, and every minute is like an hour inside her blank and muddled brain, and she almost forgets what Kent asked her by the time she opens her mouth to reply.
But something deep inside Anna snaps into obedience while her consciousness is tumbling into the heart of the spiral, and she hears herself drone out, "Yes, Master. You're fucking me in the ass, Master." Funnily enough, she notices the utterly drained and lifeless monotone she speaks in before she notices the cock that's been plowing her ass for… for a while now… and even though the anal stimulation is intense enough to make her empty cunt clench and leak and desperately spasm around nothing, it's honestly the total absence of self-awareness that Anna pays the most attention. She must be so deep in the spiral, she absently muses, the lone thought floating detached in the void with nothing to connect to. She must be so lost in hypnosis that she can't possibly resist it anymore.
It should be shocking to her that she's lying on the table in the big conference room, legs up and ass filled by Kent's stiff prick, but the spiral swallows up all those emotions before they even have a chance to register and Anna feels only a numb indifference to her own subjugation that floats over a constant background hum of pleasure at the base of her mind. When Kent asks her, "You like being fucked in the ass, don't you, pretty girl?" she doesn't even really contemplate the question--it drifts somewhere past her conscious awareness, connecting with a deep reservoir of hypnotic conditioning that Anna can only understand by implication. She knows the answer to that question with a deep and helpless conviction, just like she knows she doesn't need to wear panties under her skirt anymore, and she can infer from that what's been done to her but she doesn't actually have any memory of it.
So she simply responds, "Yes, Master, I like being f-fucked in the ass, Master," and if the pleasure pulsing away in the back of her mind intensifies so powerfully that she has trouble getting the words out she still doesn't feel any corresponding increase in her emotional responses. She's close to cumming from anal stimulation alone, and it all feels so good that it's permanently stretching open whatever orifice in her subconscious makes her susceptible to Kent's programming, but she still doesn't feel any particular way about it. The only thing she actually cares about is sinking deeper and deeper into the spiral and finding whatever it is that's waiting for her at the center of the center of the center, and Kent can do whatever he wants to her in the meantime. It's interesting, in an abstract way.
He finally finishes inside her, minutes or hours or possibly even years after he first pushed his cock past her tender rosebud and into her tight ass, and Anna thanks him dutifully for fucking and brainwashing her before she clambers down off the table and straightens her skirt. She feels a last little spasm of amazement on realizing that once again she's going to put all of this out of her mind so easily and effortlessly, everything from the lingering soreness to the missing time to the semen filling her rectum, and then the spiral winks out and all that awareness winks out right along with it. And with a vacant smile, Anna leaves the conference room to resume her day.
(If you enjoy this fiction and want to make sure it continues, please visit https://www.patreon.com/Jukebox to become a supporter. Or, if you simply want to make a one-time contribution, you can drop me a tip at https://ko-fi.com/jukebox instead. Thank you!)
"S-sorry, I… I don't know why I'm here." It was an embarrassing admission to make, and Jessamine was glad her dark brown skin hid her furious blush--bad enough that she apparently knew where her boss lived, which felt kind of stalkery to her even though she thought she was managing her crush on the older white man pretty successfully all things considered, but to just show up at his house unannounced on a Saturday? Not for a work-related reason, not even on some cunning pretext, but with her jaw hanging slack in confusion and her hand still perched in the air like she'd forgotten to lower it after knocking? God, he had to think she was a total weirdo. She stood there anxiously, waiting for Blake to say something so she could slink back to her car and end this whole awkward interaction.
Instead, he smiled and said, "I think we both know why you're here, Jess," before undoing his fly and pulling out his surprisingly familiar-looking cock. Jessamine's eyes fixated on it instantly, and her hand dropped to her side like a puppet with cut strings as her whole face went vacant and expressionless. She nodded, but it wasn't a motion that conveyed thought or meaning--it was simply the automatic and unquestioning reflex of a woman who wanted to agree more than she wanted to stir her sluggish brain into cognition, because it felt good to agree with Blake. It made her happy, and she walked through the door without the slightest hint of consideration. It was just too easy to give in and obey.
He walked her into the living room, sitting down on an easy chair and looking at her expectantly, and he didn't need to say even a single word before Jessamine was sliding her skirt down her spreading hips and wide, jiggling ass. It was just what she did when she came over to Blake's house, and she came over to Blake's house just about every day now, and she did all those things because he'd spent the last year hypnotizing her at work in all those one-on-one meetings her mind simply skimmed over and Jessamine only remembered all that when she was staring at his cock in anticipation of bouncing up and down on it. She smiled at the foolishness of her waking self for thinking her crush was anything more than the tip of a virtual iceberg of brainwashing.
She turned around and squatted onto Blake's dick reverse cowgirl style, knowing with the quiet certainty of the deeply conditioned that what got him off more than anything was watching her ass bounce and shake and quiver while she rose up and down on his shaft. He was going to cum inside her, Jessamine realized distantly, and the only reason she wasn't already pregnant with his baby was because he was using denial to make her absolutely crave a swollen belly and big milky tits, and Jessamine was sure that by this time next year he'd have easily broken her resistance and turned her into his brood mare. That was when she would quit her job and move in with him full-time and already she was actually looking forward to her total dependence on him.
She heard the door to the kitchen opening, and for a moment she froze in an attempt to somehow find a way to conceal her activities. But thankfully it was just Blake's wife Tracy, coming in to watch, and Jessamine's brain settled even deeper into trance when the pretty blonde white woman gave her a deep, passionate kiss on the lips while Jessamine fucked her husband. "That's a good girl," she cooed, and the surge of pleasure Jessamine experienced made it even easier to obey.
(If you enjoy this fiction and want to make sure it continues, please visit https://www.patreon.com/Jukebox to become a supporter. Or, if you simply want to make a one-time contribution, you can drop me a tip at https://ko-fi.com/jukebox instead. Thank you!)
It was when she felt Lorna's soft lips pressing into the small of her back that Jen finally knew that events had fully slipped out of her control, and yet she'd never been happier to be helpless. The older woman's gentle kisses, traveling up her spine and not down and making Jen's cunt throb so hard she knew she was making a mess of the hotel bedspread, simply felt too good and excited her too much to even imagine saying anything as boring as 'stop'. Instead she simply lay there, eyes closed, sighing in anticipation as she fully yielded herself to whatever Lorna was planning and let her thoughts tumble into dreamy, passive vacancy.
None of this was where she originally thought the weekend was going to go, even though it probably looked embarrassingly obvious to anyone giving so much as a glance in her direction over the course of her first day at the ski resort. Jen's friends had all canceled on her at the last minute for a variety of unrelated reasons, leaving her--the worst skier of the bunch--as the only one of the group up out there that weekend; and a full morning of failing on the bunny slopes had left every single muscle wrung out and sore even as she sat by herself with nothing but a cup of hot chocolate to keep her company. The cute boys her friends had promised her failed to materialize, and things were honestly getting kind of awful before Lorna showed up to talk to her.
And the older woman's charm offensive easily melted Jen into surrender. She found herself staring for longer and longer stretches into the older woman's bright blue eyes, nodding thoughtlessly and sipping her cocoa while Lorna drew out all the details of her unexpectedly disastrous vacation and expressed every bit of the sympathy the aching brunette secretly craved. When she saw Jen wincing as she shifted position, Lorna offered to take her back up to the hotel room for a rubdown with some liniment, and that was about the point when Jen began to suspect she might wind up hooking up with another woman even though she wasn't entirely sure until she got naked and lay prone on the bed. By then it was pretty hard to disguise.
But it was still one thing to know she was going to wind up having sex, and another to feel those strong fingers gently but firmly caressing Jen's legs and ass and back and shoulders until her whole body tingled with released endorphins. Lorna never did get around to cracking out the liniment, probably because it was fairly obvious she'd be kissing and licking so much of the skin she was massaging, and Jen's pussy betrayed her so badly that when Lorna sat up she could actually see the wet spot spreading on the covers. That was when something in her voice changed, becoming sultry and seductive and lulling Jen into a state of helplessness that made her deliciously vulnerable to anything the older woman wanted to do to her.
Right now that was kiss after kiss after slow, sensual kiss, right up to the nape of Jen's neck as she lay there trembling and whimpering and gasping out tight, shuddering breaths. Jen couldn't actually remember when Lorna had gotten naked--little details kept vanishing into warm, wet pulses of pure lust--but she could feel the other woman's bare skin brush against hers, and the final descent into thoughtless arousal came when Lorna crawled up far enough to rest her thigh against Jen's dripping cunt. Helplessly, mindlessly, Jen found herself beginning to hump it.
(If you enjoy this fiction and want to make sure it continues, please visit https://www.patreon.com/Jukebox to become a supporter. Or, if you simply want to make a one-time contribution, you can drop me a tip at https://ko-fi.com/jukebox instead. Thank you!)
"Come on, baby girl," Master coaxed, his voice soft and warm and sadistically patient. "We both know what you want, and we both know the only way you're going to get it. Just make that pretty ahegao face for me like a good pet, and your deep self will give you that big hard cummie a slut like you needs so badly, and then you can go back to being smart, boring Jessie again if you want to." Jessie knew it would be a mistake to comply with his command, she really did. But once you were naked in front of a webcam, clutching a huge massaging vibrator between your thighs while you struggled to cum and discovered all over again that a post-hypnotic suggestion was holding back your climax, it was already too late to be worrying about poor decision-making.
But that was exactly what held Jessie back from crossing her eyes and sticking out her tongue in an expression of performative stupefaction. She already knew she'd conceded so much to her online hypnotist, given away so many aspects of the identity she supposedly clung to of academic overachiever, that if she had to see herself in the corner of the screen giving that dumb ahegao face as she came it would kind of break her a little. And although she didn't know exactly how much difference there was between a slut who showed off her tits to a man she'd never met while she masturbated herself stupid in a helpless trance and the same slut doing the same thing only with an implicit admission of her utter dependence, she knew it would be a bad idea to find out.
Master made all those bad ideas sound so enticing, though. "Honey, we both know that the longer this goes on, the weaker you get," he purred, the affectionate condescension in his voice hitting Jessie's clit almost harder than the buzz of the vibrator. "All that teasing is just burning through your resistance, using it up more and more with every passing second, until the inevitable happens and you just need to cum too bad to fight it anymore. Why not just give up now and get that cummie right away like a good girl, hmm? Why not just do what Master says and then you can decide whether you want to keep playing?" Jessie knew it didn't work like that. She knew that once she got that first taste of hypnotic ecstasy she'd wind up craving more, just like last time. But she also knew how wet she was.
Because that was the hell of it--at this point there were no alternatives for her. She couldn't imagine working up the nerve to ask Master to take out the hypnotic blocks on her orgasm, and she couldn't imagine just giving up on cumming for however long it took for them to fade naturally. Hell, she wasn't even able to bring herself to take the toy away from her pussy, and that was only the first step to decoupling herself from the insidious web of hypnotic conditioning that was gradually turning her into a brainless, drooling slut the way she secretly craved. She either made the face, or she sat there simmering in endless, maddening lust until she broke down and made the face. Master was right, the longer she fought him the worse it got.
Until she broke the way she always broke, crossing her eyes and sticking out her tongue like a dumb slut. She hid her face as soon as the orgasm hit, looking down so Master wouldn't see her cheeks reddening in a fierce blush, but they both knew what she'd just done… and they both knew what she'd do again. Because Jessie was too weak to fight him anymore, and the ahegao was only the beginning of her descent into brainwashed, stupefied bliss.
(If you enjoy this fiction and want to make sure it continues, please visit https://www.patreon.com/Jukebox to become a supporter. Or, if you simply want to make a one-time contribution, you can drop me a tip at https://ko-fi.com/jukebox instead. Thank you!)
He took a sip of his drink and gazed out at the crowd. It was starting to get late at the club but there was still a packed enough to where he didn't feel like leaving. As he scanned the group, he noticed there were a couple people in the corner dressed head to toe in a shiny black material with a gasmask on over their head that blocked their faces entirely.
While the club had a relatively small but active kink scene and this wasn't an overly uncommon sight, they usually came out much later and seeing them made the hair on his neck stand up. The crowd milling around made it hard to keep an eye on them and he quickly lost track of them but didn't think too much on it and went back to his drink.
A little while later, he caught sight of them again only this time there were a small crowd of the rubberclad men where there had only been a couple before. Again his internal alarm went off but he was far enough into his drink that he wasn't really hearing it all that well.
The group was large enough it was a bit easier to keep track of now and he watched as the drones seemed to approach people at random and could see that a few moments after they approached the other person would seem to relax, their arms relaxed and they took on an almost dazed stance. The drone would them turn and walk them back through a door surrounded by the main group of the rubber drones.
Time went on and he watched more and more men go into the room but only ever saw the drones come out, he kept waiting to see if anyone was going to come out but after quite some time, none ever did, at least in the same form that they entered that is.
With a sudden realization that he had been passively staring at them for quite some time, he noticed that the group had grown quite large while he was distracted. Almost everyone in the club was either being approached by a drone, or already one.
He figured it was time to leave and go up to head out. He turned around toward the door and found himself face to face with one of the gasmasked drones but before he could say anything he smelled the intense scent of rubber hit him. The smell made his mind swim and almost immediately he felt his entire body and mind relax. He seemed to float away in an instant. He heard something saw "FOLLOW" and mindlessly followed the drone, wading through the crowd of rubberclad drones toward the back room.
A short while later another mindless, obedient, gasmasked rubber drone exited the room. It's only thought being SPREAD THE HIVE.
Francine honestly had no idea who Lizzy was when she walked up. The memories of what Delores did to the voluptuous young woman--what Francine had helped her do, in fact--now slept with a host of other memories somewhere deep down in Francine's obedient subconscious, and the only thought that popped into her head when she saw the big-titted bleach blonde with the perky grin heading in the direction of the workout machines was that she looked almost cartoonishly sexy. She was wearing shorts that fit her like a second skin and a sleeveless tee that showed off each and every last jiggle of her heavy breasts, and Francine almost assumed she was daydreaming when Lizzy came right over to her and said, "Oh my gawd! We're such pushovers for hypnosis, aren't we, Frankie?"
That was when it all came back to her with a shock of familiarity, just as Lizzy pulled up her shirt to expose a pair of tits that instantly numbed Francine's brain to all the emotions that should have washed through her on realizing she'd helped turn another human being into a giggly, perky plaything whose every aesthetic decision was geared toward making her more sexually desirable. The only thing that mattered was those huge breasts, consuming more and more of Francine's attention until she barely heard herself mumble, "We're totez pushovers for hypnosis, Lizzy." The warm, happy feelings expanding in her mind came out as a series of bright, bubbly giggles, and she knew without really being able to think about it that she was probably done exercising for today.
Lizzy pulled down her shirt, but it didn't matter--Francine had those breasts fixed in her memory now, capturing her will just as surely as they had all the other times Lizzy stopped by to show off her progress under Delores's meticulous instruction. It always made Francine unnerved and aroused in equal measures; if not for all the other people who knew about Francine's vulnerability to hypnosis, she might have wound up being shaped and molded to her study partner's desires as completely and thoroughly as Lizzy was. Fuzzy little Frankie got a happy head whenever Lizzy or Delores tugged on the leash inside her mind, but Lizzy? She'd been Delores's pet project for maybe two weeks now, and she already looked like a parody of vapid, bubbly femininity. Within a month she might well forget her own name.
And she had… oh fuck, she had such a hold on Francine. The two of them left the gym together, holding hands and giggling as Francine followed her fellow submissive's summons back to Delores and the promise of another afternoon threesome, and as soon as they were alone together Lizzy's clothes came off and Francine's thoughts popped like champagne bubbles leaving behind only a delightful fizz of ecstasy. "I'm so glad you could make some time to help me train Lizzy some more, Frankie," Delores cooed as her fingers drifted down between her thighs, and even though Francine knew Delores didn't need any help it still made her clit throb to think about brainwashing someone deeper into obedience.
It turned Lizzy on too, or at least that was what it felt like when they wriggled up to one another and began to scissor their cunts together. "Oh, f-fuck, wanna be a good girl," Lizzy squeaked happily, and even though Francine told herself she should be fighting this she also knew she didn't even know where to begin. The two good girls giggled each other helplessly from one climax to the next, until their bubbly brains were weak and wet and eager to be programmed.
(If you enjoy this fiction and want to make sure it continues, please visit https://www.patreon.com/Jukebox to become a supporter. Or, if you simply want to make a one-time contribution, you can drop me a tip at https://ko-fi.com/jukebox instead. Thank you!)
"I--I, um--I was, was, um…." Cindee couldn't say she was thinking, not when her brain felt all mushy and her clit throbbed away her mind and she kept drifting off into distracted blankness while she rubbed her oiled-up tits all over Master's cock, but she had to find some way to talk about the vague and confused questions running through her head. So after a long, muddled pause, she mumbled, "I was, um, wondering," and finished up her laughable attempt at a sentence with, "Did I, uhh, always want to be your titslave?" It felt foolish to even ask, both because the answer seemed so obvious and because she sounded so dazed and dopey even to herself when she spoke, but Master favored her with an indulgent smile and she knew she was being a good girl for bringing it up.
"Of course you did," he cooed gently to her, his cock twitching against Cindee's ample breasts as she raised and lowered herself around his stiff and throbbing prick. "You probably don't remember because you were very confused back then, but deep down inside you knew from the very second you saw me that you were really just a pair of tits for Master and the best thing to do was to listen and obey while I explained it all to you." Cindee was pretty sure she wasn't confused back then, and in fact her memories of that time were the closest she got to lucidity anymore… but thinking about how it was really her old self that was confused because she didn't know how good it felt to be a dumb horny fucktoy only confused Cindee further. So she smiled brightly and nodded and that felt better.
And thankfully Master kept explaining it further, because he could tell Cindee was just smiling and nodding because she wanted to agree and not because she really understood. "See, sweetie, every person has a surface self, the one who goes around doing all the surface thinking, but they also have a deep self that's what makes them who they are. And your surface self, the girl who thought she was smart and strong and clever, she listened to all the people who told her she should work hard and pay her bills and be a grown-up. But your deep self looked at me and said, 'Oh thank god. This is a man who knows I'm just a pair of tits and won't make me think anymore,' and it knew right away it wanted to help me make you a dumb horny titslave. Remember?"
Cindee's mouth hung open for a long moment as she stared down her vague, fuzzy memories of her first meeting with Master, back when she still thought he was just Andrew Ellington and she really thought she did want to be strong and smart and grown-up… but the waves of pleasure that washed over her whenever she imagined her subconscious clocking the bulge in his trousers and subverting her resistance to his hypnotic talents simply sapped away the strength from those recollections until they became soft and pliable and easy to manipulate. Cindee must have always wanted to be a titslave. She just didn't know she knew because her surface mind kept cluttering things up until Master silenced it. "Oh, uhh, yeah," she mumbled, fully aware that she sounded like a total brainless airhead now whenever she spoke. "I guess I always wanted to be your titslave."
That must have made Master happy, because he spurted a gush of cum that splashed all the way up against the underside of Cindee's chin and practically coated her heavy breasts, and Cindee's eyes rolled back in her head as the awareness of his pleasure triggered a potent and profound orgasm for her. That washed away the last few questions in her head, and when she managed to refocus her gaze she looked fully vapid and mindless and eager to please--just in time to begin scooping the jizz off her tits with her fingers and licking it away like a good slave for Master.
(If you enjoy this fiction and want to make sure it continues, please visit https://www.patreon.com/Jukebox to become a supporter. Or, if you simply want to make a one-time contribution, you can drop me a tip at https://ko-fi.com/jukebox instead. Thank you!)
Nola was still fighting it. At least notionally she was still fighting it, although you couldn't really tell because she'd very passively allowed Shawnee to undress her and Sam to lay her back on the bed with her legs spread out as wide as they would go to let him stick his dick into her--but she still hadn't cum, and that was something. That was really the only thing, honestly; she could feel the storm of pleasure gathering in the back of her mind and the part of her that had soaked up all that brainwashing knew that cumming around Sam's cock was the final trigger that would complete her subjugation. If she could hold that back, she would keep resisting at least a little.
If she didn't… well, Nola didn't need to look very far to see what would happen to her. Shawnee was lying right there next to her, petting Nola's breasts and belly and murmuring encouragement to her as she got closer and closer to the climax that would utterly destroy her willpower forever. "It's going to feel so good when you cum, honey," her best friend cooed--the same best friend who'd been secretly playing hypnosis recordings to her while she slept for weeks, the same best friend who had put all the programming into Nola's head that she was fighting against and failing, but Nola couldn't find fault in her for that. Not when half her mind, or maybe two-thirds of her mind, or three-quarters if she was being strictly honest, wanted to do the same thing to her friends too.
But she was still resisting those impulses, still fighting the good fight to be a strong and independent woman and not a mindless fucktoy even though the difference would probably be difficult to spot with the naked eye right now, and so long as she didn't cum that would remain the status quo for at least a little while longer. So even though she was so close, right up there on the edge and holding back her orgasm only through a titanic act of will, she continued to fight. Even though her face was flushed with arousal. Even though she couldn't think of anything anymore but the cock pounding her pussy and the hand gently pressing to her throat. Even though Shawnee kept murmuring, "It feels better than a regular orgasm, babe. It feels better than anything."
And that was the hell of it, the trick that made her so much weaker and so much wetter and so fucking desperate to give in and obey. The longer she denied her climax, the needier Nola got and the harder it became to deny herself the final, culminating ecstasy of sinking into submission forever. Staying right there, on the edge, held back only by an act of will as the man she knew was her Master fucked her with thrust after relentless thrust, it felt like running up a warped wall--the further she got, the steeper it became, until the point where she had to believe she'd inevitably slide all the way down to the bottom. And when it did…. Nola let out a choked whimper, her orgasm approaching an infinitesimal distance closer inside her mind.
"You're never going to want anything more than this, babe," Shawnee intoned, but it was too late--Nola could feel Sam stiffening and straining inside her, his balls tightening as he dumped spurt after spurt of sticky semen into her unprotected pussy, and Shawnee felt a dazed sense of despair instead of triumph as she realized she'd won. She'd managed to outlast him, fighting herself free even though it would look to an outsider like she was lying limp on the bed with jizz dripping out of her messy cunt, and she remained free… or so she thought until the part of her that was ready to be enslaved knelt at Sam's feet and nuzzled his cock in a desperate effort to get him hard enough to fuck again.
(If you enjoy this fiction and want to make sure it continues, please visit https://www.patreon.com/Jukebox to become a supporter. Or, if you simply want to make a one-time contribution, you can drop me a tip at https://ko-fi.com/jukebox instead. Thank you!)
Nola was still fighting it. At least notionally she was still fighting it, although you couldn't really tell because she'd very passively allowed Shawnee to undress her and Sam to lay her back on the bed with her legs spread out as wide as they would go to let him stick his dick into her--but she still hadn't cum, and that was something. That was really the only thing, honestly; she could feel the storm of pleasure gathering in the back of her mind and the part of her that had soaked up all that brainwashing knew that cumming around Sam's cock was the final trigger that would complete her subjugation. If she could hold that back, she would keep resisting at least a little.
If she didn't… well, Nola didn't need to look very far to see what would happen to her. Shawnee was lying right there next to her, petting Nola's breasts and belly and murmuring encouragement to her as she got closer and closer to the climax that would utterly destroy her willpower forever. "It's going to feel so good when you cum, honey," her best friend cooed--the same best friend who'd been secretly playing hypnosis recordings to her while she slept for weeks, the same best friend who had put all the programming into Nola's head that she was fighting against and failing, but Nola couldn't find fault in her for that. Not when half her mind, or maybe two-thirds of her mind, or three-quarters if she was being strictly honest, wanted to do the same thing to her friends too.
But she was still resisting those impulses, still fighting the good fight to be a strong and independent woman and not a mindless fucktoy even though the difference would probably be difficult to spot with the naked eye right now, and so long as she didn't cum that would remain the status quo for at least a little while longer. So even though she was so close, right up there on the edge and holding back her orgasm only through a titanic act of will, she continued to fight. Even though her face was flushed with arousal. Even though she couldn't think of anything anymore but the cock pounding her pussy and the hand gently pressing to her throat. Even though Shawnee kept murmuring, "It feels better than a regular orgasm, babe. It feels better than anything."
And that was the hell of it, the trick that made her so much weaker and so much wetter and so fucking desperate to give in and obey. The longer she denied her climax, the needier Nola got and the harder it became to deny herself the final, culminating ecstasy of sinking into submission forever. Staying right there, on the edge, held back only by an act of will as the man she knew was her Master fucked her with thrust after relentless thrust, it felt like running up a warped wall--the further she got, the steeper it became, until the point where she had to believe she'd inevitably slide all the way down to the bottom. And when it did…. Nola let out a choked whimper, her orgasm approaching an infinitesimal distance closer inside her mind.
"You're never going to want anything more than this, babe," Shawnee intoned, but it was too late--Nola could feel Sam stiffening and straining inside her, his balls tightening as he dumped spurt after spurt of sticky semen into her unprotected pussy, and Shawnee felt a dazed sense of despair instead of triumph as she realized she'd won. She'd managed to outlast him, fighting herself free even though it would look to an outsider like she was lying limp on the bed with jizz dripping out of her messy cunt, and she remained free… or so she thought until the part of her that was ready to be enslaved knelt at Sam's feet and nuzzled his cock in a desperate effort to get him hard enough to fuck again.
(If you enjoy this fiction and want to make sure it continues, please visit https://www.patreon.com/Jukebox to become a supporter. Or, if you simply want to make a one-time contribution, you can drop me a tip at https://ko-fi.com/jukebox instead. Thank you!)
