Date: Fri, 20 Jan 2012 20:54:09 +1100
Subject: Coming Home
SECTION 1 Visiting the Clinic
I am writing this, because I want all my friends and family to know that I am safe, and that the decision I have taken is of my own free will -- no-one is holding a gun to my head! I will probably never see any of you again (they say never) and that makes me sad: but where I am going, and what is happening to me, are without any doubt my destiny. You only live once: and I must live the life that has been ordained for me. Also, I want you to know that I am not ashamed of what is about to be my life; and, even though what you are about to read is definitely going to shock some of you, please be tolerant, and accept that, even though it is not what everyone wants or needs, for others it is as natural as breathing -- they only need to be helped to find out, as I was.That is why I want you to read my story, and I want you to know the whole truth, even though many of you may be appalled and even disgusted. I couldn't say goodbye to you all with a lie. This is
how it was, is and is going to be for me -- and I am proud of it.
You will remember when I moved to Chicago, after college. I had that job offer -- well, it was subject to a medical -- you remember? It was a `mere formality', they said. And I suppose the ones that told me that really believed it. I sure as hell did, and packed up all I owned and moved East; where I had no family or friends, didn't know a living soul... but the job offer was too good to turn down -- and they said the medical, for a young guy like me, fit as fuck, was just a formality. Yeah! Just a formality...
I waited in the holding area at the clinic, with a green robe over my boxer shorts, and no shoes, for a half-hour, filling in forms and disclaimers and shit. The usual stuff. There were four ahead of me, two guys, two girls, nothing unusual. Finally my name was called out by a female nurse.The MO was a very handsome guy, thirty something, and even under his suit and his white medical gown, I could see that he had a formidable physique. He was very polite; but it was nothing other than a well-practised bedside manner - that was all too obvious. Not that I held it against him. He was totally professional. It was just that the smiles he sometimes flashed lasted .5 of a second, and seemed like they were a reflex action, rather than anything meant to actually connect. In short, I was just one of a hundred or so medical check-ups he had to cram into a busy day. Or so I thought.
"Only mom and dad in San Diego."
"No brothers, sisters?"
He looked up at me, and the gentle smile was maybe a little more compassionate. But being adopted is no big deal
"No. Bit young for that, huh?"
"Only just moved here" I bluffed it out...
I think, now I look back, that he DID understand... only too well. I caught sight of a motor-cycle helmet, and bike-leathers hanging on the coat-rack. I wondered what that great physique looked like with leather on -- but the bike leathers were probably very practical - all stretched and worn... not my scene..."You ride?"
"You should. Great way to get around the city." Then, without a breath...
"Who do we get in contact with, here in Chicago, in case of emergencies? Not that there will be any" The flash smile again...
"Well, I haven't got to meet anyone yet. Just came over here."
He looked up at me again, for just a moment, then back to the clipboard.
"Next of kin? Have to ask... just a formality."
"My parents, I guess... `cept I..."
"Left home under a cloud?"
"Let's say they don't care too much were I am..." I muttered.
The MO looked at me, hard, for a good 10 seconds. "Gee. I'm sorry about that." And he really did look like he understood and sympathised. I gave a bashful smile and a shrug... "One of those things." He went back to the clipboard.
"When did you last have a prostate check?" -- he didn't even look up from where he was filling in a form. "Er... I can't say I ever have" I stammered.
"Well, at your age, that doesn't exactly surprise me" -- another .5 second flash of a cold smile. "But they've asked for one, I'm afraid.
What kind of job is it anyway?"
"Computers." "Unusual... Well, it can't do any harm, can it?" Another .5 seconds of charm. The MO was so matter-of fact, you could never in a million years have guessed what he had made up his mind to do...He pulled the screen and told me to go behind and take off my robe. I came out, and he pulled the shutters. Outside in the corridor, the usual quiet hustle of a busy clinic... Snap! Now we were totally out of sight.
The MO remained utterly professional. Silky smooth and all-in-a day's-work.He'd done thousands of these, after all... goes with the job...
"Now some people are happier with a gentle sedative. You want one?
It's up to you."
I have to say, I was feeling a bit worried I might get a hard on, with this hot man putting a finger up my rear end, and I was more than happy to agree. He started to prepare a tiny syringe. His whole manner remained that of a guy who would be glad to see the day's work over, but was not going to do anything but a professional job, none the less. He exuded confidence and respect, despite that annoying false smile.
"You right handed, or left?"
The MO took my right hand. "You will only feel a little sting -- nothing to worry about. Look away if you like. Some people even say they get a slight sense of euphoria." Was that a real smile -- friendly, even?
I didn't mind looking. He just jabbed a vein on top of my right hand and threw the needle into a hospital waste can. He kept holding my hand, and rubbed where he had put the small injection.
"That wasn't too bad, was it? Feel OK?"
I really was feeling good, too. Relaxed... and -- it was difficult to describe - Real good. Just a little dreamy, I guess... Something not quite real about it -- but totally cool and laid back. I couldn't help myself smiling stupidly at this handsome guy.
"You have a great smile" he said, still rubbing my hand."You have a great body" I replied. Fuck! Where did that come from? But he didn't flinch. I learned later, there was more than just a simple sedative in that jab..."I work out 5-6 per week." The smile was certainly not the .5 flash now. He eyed me up and down. "You're not too bad yourself, handsome." He was still rubbing the top of my hand. It was like he had only told me what State he came from.
"OK, so first thing is a urine sample. He handed me a glass container.
"Just fill it half way" he said. I took out my dick, without a thought, while the MO snapped on a white rubber glove. I liked the sound it made. And he knew it. I got off on how he looked so much in command -- and that he was taking all this time and trouble over me....He stood back to take a look.
"Very nice!" said the MO.
I tried to piss, but just couldn't, with that hot guy, who somehow was in total control of me, standing there admiring my dick. "Let me help" he said. He gently took a hold of my limp meat, and cupped it and my balls, in his large, warm rubber-gloved hand. "That feel better? " --
"Oh yeah!" - It's OK to go hard" he said softly. Immediately, my cock started to straighten out, and I soon had a raging hard-on. The MO just smiled at me, and I smiled back like nothing was happening out of the ordinary. But I still didn't give him his sample. I thought I was letting him down, and that made me feel bad. He was just so great about it...
"This will make it easier to piss." He took a very small, thin length of soft, hollowed-out plastic or rubber and coated it in an ointment from a jar. "This might smart a little, but just for a few seconds, then you'll feel fine, and I will able to take a good sample from you." -- "OK" I said. It seemed perfectly logical...
The MO pressed my dick-head, to open the piss slit, and slowly slid the plastic tube all the way down, until it was just under the tip of my swollen and throbbing meat. It hurt like hell -- but only for a very brief time. Then it actually felt quite good!
"Now we have that in place you had better go limp again" ordered the MO. Immediately my dick shrank to its normal size -- but the small plastic tube was relatively bigger, and the hollow bit seemed wider now, and had the effect of opening my piss-hole up, even though my dick was limp. "Good boy" said the MO.
"That feels nice" I said, without a trace of self-consciousness. "It's meant to" he smiled. I thought to myself - "He's such a cool guy".
The MO let my dick hang in the glass container. He pressed gently against my belly and, suddenly very stern, like a totally different guy -- it scared me a little -- he said "Piss!" The flow began at once.
Fuck! Something about it was so hot -- not like just pissing -- something like a cross between pissing and cumming! The container was half filled in seconds -- but I was nowhere near half-empty. But the MO said, in the same stern voice, "Stop!" At once, my flow stopped. Now he was back to his old self "Excellent response" he said, with that professional smile. He looked straight at me "Good boy".
Fuck! It felt good when he said that! I wanted to do something to deserve it again...
We'll need to replace some of those fluids. You still OK? I said "Sure". But he took my hand again, and gave me another of those pin-prick injections, and rubbed it in. "Makes it all easier" he smiled at me. Sure felt fine to me... beautiful, in fact...He took a plastic bag full of a clear liquid -- like you see over hospital beds -- and slid one end into the plastic tube in my piss slit, which was now easy to get at under my limp dick. He released a tap, and the clear liquid emptied slowly into my dick, making my balls swell up. "Not too much" he smiled at me -- "You want to be able to get back into your jeans!" and he turned the tap off.
"Now, we have to keep this fluid inside you for 24 hours, so I am going to put this around the base of your balls..." He expertly slipped my dick and balls through a small rubber cock-ring that gripped tight, and made my dick swell up -- but not hard, just big -- and my balls hang lower.
He stepped back to have a look. "I gotta tell you son, that is very, very nice" he said. I felt real good about myself. And I couldn't believe he had called me "son".
"You'll get a lot of attention on the subway home!" - "Great" I said.
- "Shall we leave that plastic tube in there? It really does something for your dick."
I stated it as a plain fact - "You're in charge!"
"Glad you agreed," he smiled. "It's kind of glued in there - as in `permanent'. It might swell up some, but don't worry bout it. That's normal. You'll soon get the hang of it" he said. "You wouldn't want to go through the pain trying to get it out again, would you?" He beamed a re-assuring smile at me, and I just grinned stupidly back. "No Sir!"
"Right. Now let's take a look at that prostate!" He pulled on another rubber glove. He caught me admiring it. "I also have a lot of black rubber" he said, as though it meant nothing in particular. "Cool!" was all I could say; and I just smiled at him like a dope, and bent over, getting a nice close look at my fat dick and stretched out balls.
"That is one beautiful ass! You let the boys fuck you?"
"Oh yeah!" I grinned back, "without any inhibition."
"What about the men?" -- I just blushed, stupidly.
"I'd sure like to fuck you myself some day!" he said, all matter of fact.
I took it as polite small talk -- a simple compliment, and totally normal for a medical check-up. "That would be great." I said, like I was being offered a beer.
Then he said, "Only, I think I will should wear my bike leathers, don't you?"
Definitely" I said, without any noticeable reaction.
The MO began his routine inspection, keeping up the small talk. "Or maybe rubber" he added, nonchalantly. "How'd you like to be head-to-toe in black rubber when I fuck you?"
Yeah! That would be great!" All I could do was smile and keep saying the same dumb thing - "That would be great!" -- as though he had been talking about a new sports car, or a trip to Europe.
"Maybe tied up?" I just smiled back.He slipped his lubed finger in, and probed around some. "Stay limp" was all he said. I just stood perfectly still. It sounds dumb, but I didn't move a muscle, let him probe around, like all he was doing was taking my temperature or something, and all the time I was actually thinking of him fucking me, and me in black rubber, tied up -- and all the time I had a totally limp dick, because he told me to. So nothing about it seemed out of the ordinary...
"Nothing to worry about here" he said, pulling off his white glove. It seemed like a half minute -- but he had been taking a look for more like a half-hour. In fact, he had secretly slipped another plastic/rubber tube up there; like the one in my piss-slit, only wider, with a much bigger hole. It was also glued permanently; and slowly expanded as it drew moisture from my membrane. But it was over a week before I learned about that. I hadn't noticed -- not really... And by the time he told me it was too late... far too late...
"You can put your robe back on."
I learned all this later.. much later... but apparently he then said to me -- "Now you are not going to remember any of this, after I jabbed you, except me giving you the OK. Clear?"
"Sure" I replied, like he had asked me to pass the salt."Good boy."
I just loved the way he said that... "Now, when I say `good boy' again you will forget everything, like I just I told you to. You will not be aware of the catheter in your dick or the plug in your ass. But -- now listen carefully - the next time you hear me say `good boy' you will remember all that happened, and how much you want me to fuck you. You will not be able to rest or do anything else, until you find me, and beg me to fuck you. Understood"Sure." No problem.
He looked hard at me. "I'm going to own you. You are going to be my slave."
"Great!" Perfectly normal medical check up! Yeah right!
Good boy.Back to the real world. He told me to get my robe on, and pulled up the shutters. Snap! Nurses going to and fro outside. The occasional patient in a robe. The MO back at his desk completing the paperwork. A normal, boring day at the clinic. I remembered nothing, except what he told me to. He gave me the .5 second flash smile. "I'll be sending on the report, but I can tell you now that you have nothing to worry about. That computer job is yours. Good luck." He was writing while he spoke and never looked up at me. "Now a nurse will take you to lie down for a half-hour. You won't feel it, but the sedative will not quite have worn off yet. Go take a rest." He buzzed for the nurse. So totally cool and professional.
A female nurse came to lead me away. At the door, he called me by name for the first time: "Tyler!" He was beaming at me, so handsome and genuine, and ... well, like he actually meant it! "Welcome to Chicago!"
The next week was pure hell for me, waiting for that letter of confirmation of the job. I had spent practically everything I had on a month's rent in advance plus the security deposit, and I needed that first pay check! I ate cheap, and I hung out most days at the gym in the apartment -- because it was free! And also, I guess, because I was real vain about my body...
Three things bugged me slightly. First off, my piss-hole was definitely growing wider, and it even seemed like my dick was getting darker. Then there was that rubber cock-ring. I used cock rings now and then -- but I didn't remember this small rubber one.... And there was NO WAY I could pull my fat (were they getting bigger too?) balls through. Thirdly, my butt-hole felt like it was stuffed, somehow; and when I was showering, and I felt up there, you would almost think there was a tube of some sort, pressing against the inside of my butt, forcing it out wider -- if I had to put money on it, I would say something was up in there, pushing out, like it was a part of me that was growing, and my butt hole was definitely getting bigger -- just like my piss hole was. I tried to see in a mirror, but couldn't make out anything. Except, maybe the hole was darker than I had thought...
And the thing of it was, there was a voice, deep inside my sub-conscious, that said not to worry about any of that shit. It was perfectly normal, and I would understand soon what it was all about.
And the voice said -- it felt good, didn't it? And BOY was that right. Fuck it felt real good! So I didn't do anything except wonder about it now and then. Then I got the letter. It said I had failed the medical. WHAT?
I had failed the fucking medical. That's what it said. "Sorry, but in the circumstances, they could not offer me the job".
What the fuck was that all about? The MO said in terms that I was fit as hell. I telephoned the Computer firm, but they said the report failed me in four different areas, and that was that. There had to be some mistake. They don't make mistakes, they said. I called the clinic. They couldn't even find my name on their records. "What was the name of the MO?" -- how the fuck did I know what his name was? The bitch hung up on me...I lay back on my bed, almost in tears! What the hell was I going to do? Then I saw the other letter... It had come in the same post, and was hand written, addressed to me personally. I opened it, and almost could not believe my eyes. It said I had been selected to be a volunteer -- for a generous payment: it did not say how much -- for a Pharmaceutical company who were doing research into anti-aging products. Vulcan Pharmaceutical. Wasn't Vulcan some Roman god? And they were immortal, right? Made sense... There was a telephone number to ring, and I rang it...
"Hi there Tyler! So you got my letter! How's it going?" Was this who I thought it was? "I gave you your medical the other day." had a whole lot to say to this fucker! I told him everything, and was completely
unfazed - he apologized and said there had to be a total fuck up, and not to worry. These things happened more than he would care to tell me, he said. He's chase it up himself. Calm down, he said. The job was mine.
Boy, was I relieved! What a great guy this was!
About the Vulcan Pharmaceutical letter... He said he had thought of me when they were recruiting for volunteers for these anti-aging tests, because he knew my job was not due to start for a couple of weeks. He said, if I was interested, it paid well, and if I had nothing better to do...
"Where do I go?" I interrupted him.
"Whoa!" he laughed. How about I came round to the address on the letter after work, and he could fill me in on all the details -- about 8.00? I said sure. He said to ask for Dr. Chett. That's what they all called him. I said I would see him at 8.00 pm. Not a minute later or earlier. It was now 10 in the morning. He said "Good boy."
Suddenly, I remembered everything. I remembered the things he had done to me at the medical, how he said he wanted to fuck me, and how much I needed him to, and how he was going to wear black rubber, and every fucking thing he had planted in my brain. How I was going to be his slave... I was pole-axed.
"Put the phone down boy."
I did what he said. But at once left my apartment and headed to the clinic. There was only one thing on my mind, and it was the most important thing in the world.
I got to the clinic, and asked for Dr. Chett. The receptionist said he was expecting me, and led me to the same room as before. She showed me in, and left.
Dr. Chett smiled broadly. "Very good! Excellent response!"
I was in a kind of trance -- well not even that, just... well, like an open book. Nothing hidden. Everything in my head just blurted out like it didn't matter.
"Are you going to fuck me?" I said, just like that!
"Not right now, boy. I will, I promise you. But that's a long way down the road. Right now you are to stop craving for that." I did. Immediately. I stood in front of him, not saying a word.
"Very good.! The reason I wanted you here was to check up some things. You been having any side effects?" I told him about my piss-hole and butt hole and balls. He said to forget I even noticed that they were any different than they should be. I said "Yes Sir."
He made me strip, and had a look at the various modifications he had made. "Oh yeah. Very nice indeed!" was all he said. He rubbed stuff into my ass, all round the tube up there. And took a cotton ball and did the same for the tube in my piss slit. He said it would help them mutate faster. Mutate! All I said was -- "Really?" as though nothing could matter less. As for my balls, he just held them in his rubber gloved hand and said "Go hard boy!" I did, instantly. "Go soft!" I went limp.
"I think you'll do just fine."
He told me to dress.
"Now when I say `good boy' again you will forget what just happened, and start telling me about the letters you got, which is the only reason you came round here. But the next time after that you heard me say `good boy', the same craving to get fucked by me will take a hold of you and control you, just like it did today. Understood?" I said I understood. "Good boy!"I was back to normal... well as normal as I was ever going to be again... I told him everything about the medical mix-up, and he told me (like he hadn't already) that he would sort it out, and I did right to come round and see him. I then asked him about Vulcan Pharmaceuticals. He said they were a very reputable company, and that he acted as consultant for them. He said the volunteer offer was definitely worth checking out, since I had the time...The guy at Vulcan Pharmaceuticals was German. He had a slight accent; and he was called Gustav. We disliked each other on sight. He was so fucking off-hand, and just fell short of being damn rude to me. I know I am an easy going kind of guy, but there was no winning with Gustav.
Everything seemed like it was just too much trouble. He also had a prissy, feminine manner. OK! Some guys like European Queens. I just happen not to. It's a free world... Fuck! What a thing to find myself typing...
I nearly walked out after a few minutes conversation. But he said --"We will pay you $1,000 dollars for the week." He took out ten $100 bills from a folder, and placed them on the table. "But you must start now; and we need the whole of your time, 24 hours a day, for one week."
One thousand dollars?
"Take it or leave it." He obviously hoped I would leave it, but I said "Deal."
"And so." So fucking tired of the whole damn thing, was Gustav. "First some paperwork, ya?" He slapped a sheath of papers on the desk between us. "A receipt for the money..." The $1,000 lay there, almost looking at me while I filled in the `paperwork'. "I need your signature there...
no! read it. You have to know what you are signing, don't you?"
Impatient and so fucking know-it-all. But I read the whole damn thing for him. The `receipt' was a legal document of five paragraphs of closely typed gobbledygook. I read it word for word, but didn't make head or tail of it, and just signed. "Und a disclaimer..." Gustav wearily placed an even longer document in front of me and told me to read it in full. No liability... death or accident... "You won't die -- but we do have some accidents" -- it was Gustav's idea of a joke. I had to give him some credit for that, I suppose, and smiled politely. He looked languidly back without a flicker of humor. I gave up half way through and signed. "Und a receipt from us for your clothing -- which we will take -- and your watch and your wallet..." How many more were there? This one Gustav signed and got me to initial. "Und..."
"Just tell me where to sign, huh?" ... Gunter said "Whatever..." and I signed at least five lengthy documents without having the faintest idea what they said. It was done.
Gustav smiled, for the first time. Of course he smiled. He hated my guts, and was truly looking forward to watching what they were going to do to me...
"Well there it is. We know a lot about you. You have been medically examined, and we have your file. But you know nothing about us. As a gesture of good faith I want you to take the $1,000..." he pointed to the tight bundle of bills on the table... "and go round to the bank -- there is at ATM on the corner of the block -- and deposit it."I gaped at him -- and at the sight of those beautiful crisp new $100 bills.
"You see? We trust you. You must learn to trust us. You won't run away. After all, we know where you live, don't we?"
I took the cash, deposited it and was back in less than five minutes.
Gustav handed me over to a technician, dressed in a white coat. The guy was much nicer, and -- like Dr. Chett -- had a very re-assuring and friendly manner. He was fucking hot, too. And I noticed he was wearing
white rubber gloves.
He led me to a small cell-like room, with a large shower cubicle and a bed and TV in it. "You got cable" he smiled.
He too had Dr. Chett's instant glad-to-obey commanding manner.
"I need you to strip completely, including your watch." The tech put everything in a black plastic bag and labelled it carefully. But it was not labelled with my name, just a number...
"Now the process is this. First we take all of your hair off you -- don't worry: it will grow back! -- we do this chemically. Then we coat you with a man-made skin. Totally cover you in it. It is very important it covers your entire body. This skin, our research is hoping to prove, has the ability to protect your natural skin from aging. You have to leave it on for a week, with no clothes..."
"What?" I interrupted, in disbelief.
"Don't worry" said the tech. "We give you a mild sedative. Hold out your right hand" -- how did he know... it only just had time to enter my mind. The tech pricked the back of my hand, but this time he drew some blood into the syringe - and then pumped it all back again...
"Well, you signed up..." he said. Fuck! Just what HAD I signed up for?
But what the heck, it was only for a week. And at the end of it...$1,000! And I was starting to feel soooooooooooooo fucking good!
"It's like what Chett gave you -- only a hello lot more. We need your total, co-operation for a few hours." He smiled at me, with a hint of a private joke -- and there I was with that dumb smile of mine again, right back at him.
"That it?" I said.
"More or less. In a week, we carry out checks on your skin to test the aging process. Eventually people are going to pay big bucks for this product, I assure you."
He meant what he said...BIG bucks!
"You get into the shower now, and you get sprayed with a fine mist that dissolves all your body hair. Including the expensive haircut you paid all that money for, just to look sexy!" He grinned. "Cool" I replied.
Oh well. Here goes! "1,000 bucks" I kept telling myself. No point in delaying it -- I stepped towards the shower."Hey. Not so fast! It is very important that none of the chemicals enters your body. We have to seal off all orifices." Nice word for butt, I thought. And, for sure, he took something and kinda snapped it into place just inside my butt hole. Strange... how'd he do that?
What happened next, I had not predicted. He did the same, with a smaller plug, into my piss-hole. Snap! ..... weird!
"You wear contacts?" I said I did. "Good" he said, "This won't feel so uncomfortable. Take out your contacts." I popped them out obediently, and he took them, and sealed them in a plastic bag. Then, before I knew what he was doing, he sprayed something straight into both eyes.
Fuck! It smart. Then he pushed a clear cup, like a giant contact lens, over each eyeball. It took a couple seconds, but soon I could see everything perfectly, and hardly noticed the new eye-covers. "It's real important that none of the chemicals enters your body" he explained.
"How do I blink?"
"You can't. You'll get used to it."
Next he said "Open your mouth!" I was happy to do anything he told me.
"You're hot!" I said stupidly. But he'd been through this a few times, I guess. He just grinned. "So are you!" he said. "Why you think they picked you out?" He slapped my butt and told me to look up at him, shut the fuck up, and keep my mouth open. He slipped in a perfectly round piece of rubber -- like a bit for a horse, only perfectly round.
He told me to bite on it. I did. "Now relax!". I did. But my mouth would not open. Something was fixing my teeth to the round bit.
"You need to breath through your nose Gym boy!" he said. He took my head in his rubbered hand, and gently smeared some ointment into each nostril. "It's an anaesthetic" he explained. It sure was. When he slipped a piece of rubber tubing up each nostril, I didn't feel a thing. Thank god they gave me the sedative, or I would have had an anxiety attack or something. As it was, I was totally cool and breathed through my nose, just like he told me. Last thing of all, he put a small rubber plug into each ear. I could still hear -- but it was kinda muffled.
"Now you are completely sealed. Into the shower. Keep your arms away from your body, and the sides. Say goodbye to your hair!" he shouted.
I grinned, and went into the shower without a qualm. He pulled the two ends of the rubber tubes through two tight holes in the see-through shower wall, and shut the door -- and I think he locked it...After a couple of seconds, there was a fine mist spraying through nozzles all over the cabinet, from the sides, the top and the bottom.
I don't know how long it lasted. I stood there, just as I was told. The mist eventually cleared and disappeared altogether. The tech outside gave me two thumbs up, and signalled to stay where I was. Next thing, it must have been clear, warm water, spraying gently all over me. I could see masses of dark hair washing down over my body, down onto the tiled floor, and into the wide drains. This went on for what seemed a LONG time. Again, the tech gave a thumbs up signal, and motioned for me to stay where I was. He left the room, and returned with Gustav. By this time I was too spaced out on the happy drugs to mind Gustav so much... they both signalled for me to turn around a few times. I did. They seemed pleased. Gustav left. Now a current of warm air filled the cubicle, and I was dried off completely. The tech unlocked the door, but told me to stay where I was.
"Stand with your legs apart. That's right. And your arms slightly away from your sides. Good. You are about to receive the first layer of your new skin." He grinned. "It is like an undercoat" I smiled back.
"It is most important now you do not move, or allow any part of your body to touch any other part, or to touch the walls of the shower. Do you understand?" I nodded. "Take this seriously, man. It is very
important to do this right."
I stood like a statue. He closed the door. I breathed slowly through the rubber tubes. The cabinet filled with a dense white smoke. More and more opaque and thick. It settled on my clean, dry skin, with a tingling sensation. I stayed completely still, for what seemed like an age. Eventually the stream of gas/mist stopped, and the air slowly cleared. The tech signalled not to move a muscle. I breathed very short breaths. I could definitely feel something different about my skin. Now there was a VERY gentle and JUST warm current of air circulating the cabinet. The drying process again took what seemed like hours. Eventually the tech gave me a `thumbs up' and unlocked the shower. He carefully pulled the rubber tubes from my nose out of the shower wall, so I could step out; and he eased the plugs out of my ears. But he left the rubber tubes in my nose.
"How you doing?"
"Not too sure" I replied.
"Take a feel of yourself"
I felt my body. FUCK! It was so soft and smooth. There was a tightness about my body which I really liked.
"You wait until the top coat" grinned the tech. Now just one thing. The drying process is only superficial so far. It takes another 12 hours. And I'm afraid you have to keep the tubes in your nose -- if I took them out now, it could pull the skin off you face. Same for your eyes. Sorry `bout that, man"
"Wow!" came my drug-happy reply.
"This is how it works. We put you down on this bed and give you a strong sedative, to help you sleep. Take it from me, you wouldn't otherwise. Back or front?"
I lay down on my back. The tech then slid out from under the bed a series of rubber straps. "It's for your own protection. We can't have you falling out of bed while sedated, and bruising your nice new skin." Made total sense to me. The tech set about strapping down my ankles, legs, torso, arms, and head. Was it my imagination, or did I see, when he bent over me to strap me down, some shiny black sleeve peeping out from under his shirt?
"You can't eat. Sorry. Nil by mouth." Without another word he attached the ends of the rubber tubes from my nose into two connectors on a cylinder by the bed. A sweet smelling gas filled my nostrils, and I fell into a deep sleep.
SECTION 2 Dreams
But what dreams I had! Four men head to toe in black rubber crept into my room. Two were wearing gas-masks, and thick, heavy industrial rubber; and the other two were more Tom of Finland in Rubber -- with hoods. Their hands glided gently all over me, feeling every part of my new skin... then they left as silently as they had arrived.
Next dream was a rubberman in (edited)-style rubber uniform, and rubber jack boots. He came up to the bed and slapped my face. He spoke with a German accent. "Dumb pretty-boy, with your hard muscles and your all-American smile. I hate you and all your contemptible type. You disgust me faggot."He then pissed all over me...I woke up next morning (I assume it was next morning... there was no way of telling) to the sound of raised voices outside my room. I was still groggy from the sedative, but could plainly hear a raging argument, just the other side of the door."You dumb fuck. You could have ruined everything!"
Then it was an unmistakable German voice which shouted: "Why is it always me? What about the others? Eh? Always Gustav is the dumb fuck. What about them?"
"They only came and had a look."
"They touched him!"
"They didn't do any damage, you fuck! You nearly did. One more time, Gustav! One more time, and you know what will happen."
Gustav gave a surly "Yes Sir."
The shouting faded to a dreamy murmur...I must have dozed off again, because the next thing I knew was the tech was standing over me. "All rested up?"
I tried to, but I couldn't answer, with this circular rubber thing in my mouth. He grinned broadly: "You sound like Kenny, from South Park!"
Then he said, more to himself than to me: "Yeah! That'd make a good name for you. Kenny. I like that!"
He began to undo the rubber straps that held me fast against the bed. He stroked the side of my head.
"Only a couple more. You'll make it!"
He led me over to the shower-cubical -- in a rather odd way... I mean, he took hold of the long tubes that were hanging out of my nostrils, and kinda led me there, like he was leading a horse or something. It was done so naturally, and was no big deal, but I picked up on it..."Same routine" he said, plugging my dick and my ass like before, and pulling the rubber tubes through the tight holes in the cubicle wall, so I could breathe when they sprayed me. "Except this time, you're going to be all sticky, OK? And I have to wipe something on your eyes so it doesn't dry on there. Hold still."
He quickly took a cotton ball and wiped it over each eye-cover. My sight went blurred for a second, and then clear again. I didn't feel a thing when he did it -- but it was still weird not even being able to blink.
"Now listen good. It's even more important you don't touch ANYTHING until you are dried off. You totally understand?" I tried to say "Yes."
"Can't hear you, Kenny! Nod your head if you understand." I nodded.
"Any questions?" I shook my head. "Would have been a problem if there was, huh?" he laughed.
The tech closed the door; and again locked it.
"Here she comes!" he grinned at me as the gas started to fill the chamber, but this time, it was black.
Soon, the whole cubicle was filled with a dense black smoke. I quickly lost sight of the tech, my legs, my arms... then the stuff started settling on my eye-covers, and in no time I was in pitch-black darkness. I started to panic... but (I realise this now) they had done this many times before -- and just a whiff of that sweet-smelling gas filled my nostrils, and I calmed down at once -- in fact, I felt real good about things.
I wondered what I would look like after this second coating! That stage took far longer than the first time. It was an eternity before the black smoke cleared, and I don't know how many hours of drying. I could hear nothing, and I could see nothing. I stood there, rigid, petrified of touching any part of my newly-layered sticky surface with my arms.
The tech must have been monitoring me very carefully, because any time I felt the remotest sense of panic, there was just a hint of that gas in my breathing tubes -- enough to give me an overwhelming sense of well-being -- but not so much as to make me lose my balance, or need to hold to the walls to support myself.
At one point, standing there so rigid, for so long, I started to shake -- some kind of muscle spasm, I guess. Then a different gas hit my nostrils, and I relaxed and kept standing there with my arms out from my sides, with no difficulty or trembling.
Man! These guys knew what they were doing!I heard the chamber door open; and I felt the tubes being pulled through the wall; and someone led me (again, using the rubber tubes like a rein or leash) out into the room.
He eased the plugs from my ears.
"Good job!" I heard him say.
Fuck! Why was it I really liked to hear guys like that praise me? It never failed to trigger an instinct to try to please them more, and hear them say it again... what a wimp!
Next he cleaned my eye-covers, and I could see again.
I stared at him in disbelief. It was Dr. Chett, in his motor-cycle leathers, holding his black helmet in one hand. And I was wrong about those leathers. They were skin-tight, sleek, shiny black, knee high Dehner dress patrol boots -- everything about him was, well, perfect!
The tech stood behind him, smiling as always.
"Stopped by to see how you were getting on" said Chett. I tried to speak -- but the circular gag made it impossible. Chett laughed.
"You'll get used to it."
I grunted my strong and unashamed feelings of how Chett looked, as best I could do, under the rubber constraint in my mouth. I couldn't take my eyes of this God in leather.
"Take a look at your new skin!"
It was matte-black -- but real dark black -- and covered my entire naked body. It didn't look like black clothes or anything. It looked like exactly what it was -- a totally black, same all over, no light and shade, brand-new skin.
"Have a feel" said Chett.
Fuck! It was so soft and supple. I started to get a hard on. "I think you'd better not do that" he ordered firmly -- and I went limp immediately. He smiled appreciatively.There was just this one thing I couldn't work out... when I looked down at my limp dick, there were now TWO rubber cock-rings stretching my balls out. I was confused. Wasn't it just one? When did that happen?
"So how do you like it?"
I nodded hard as I could. He understood.
SECTION 3 The Experiment
Suddenly, I remembered everything again. I knew they were doing some kind of experiment on my dick and my ass. I could feel the tubes they had forced inside me had grown much, much bigger, and my piss slit and my butt hole were stretched out wide... And most of all, I wanted this man to fuck me so much -- and he knew it.
"Let me take a look at that hole of yours."
Then the most amazing thing happened. The tech unzipped his pants, and took out a big dick, completely covered in black rubber, and began stroking it. I was in automaton-mode again, under Chett's hypnotic programming, and nothing that could happen would phase me in the slightest. I smiled at the tech, making no secret I admired his black rubber dick, and obediently bent over for Chett to examine by butt hole. His manner was now the cool and professional one. He chatted to the tech about me, as though I was an object that could not hear or feel.
"Very good job!" he said. "See how it has melded with the membrane. And it is absorbing nicely." He pushed his hand inside me. "Feel that" he said to the tech. The tech stopped stoking his dick and put his
fingers in my butt.
"Oh yeah! Really going softer now. You can definitely feel it" said the tech.
"You treated it today?" asked Chett.
"No Sir" replied the tech.
Chett tossed his helmet onto the bed, and fetched a jar of some ointment. He lubed up my hole generously. Then he told me to stand up.
"Go hard!" My dick grew to an enormous size. "YEAHHHHH" both the men yelped involuntarily. The looked at each other and grinned widely.
Chett then lubed up the inside of my piss slit with this sticky chem he had worked into my butt. I was stunned he could slide a whole finger in there. He slowly slid his finger out again, having every intention I should remember the feeling well.
"Go soft!" I went immediately limp again."Impressive!" said the tech.
Chett grinned at him. The he looked at me, like he was a mind-reader.
"I know how bad you want it, boy. But you're not ready for me to fuck you today. You'll just have to wait. Ok?" I nodded. "And waiting like this burns the need deeper into your brain, doesn't it boy!" I nodded
enthusiastically. Chett was now rubbing his leather crotch while he spoke to me. And the Tech was pulling once again on his rubbered meat.
"And I can tell you, boy, waiting like this doesn't make me want it any less either..." He wiped the sweat of his forehead with the back of his hand, and turned to the tech - "But I sure as hell need to fuck someone today!"
The tech, who's own dick had grown enormous inside the rubber sheath, didn't need his orders spelled out. He took off his white coat, and slipped off his loose-fitting hospital-style pants. I was intrigued (that's the only word for it -- the hypnotic state had dumbed-down all my emotional responses -- except the one burning desire to be fucked by Chett!) ... I was intrigued by the fact that he was wearing full rubber underneath. Tight black rubber pants; and a tight, shiny, black rubber t-shirt.
Chett reached for his motor-cycle helmet and slipped it back on. He tied the straps tight around his chin. He undid the fly to his leathers, and pulled out a fat dick, raging hard, entirely covered in black rubber.
All the time, I just stood there and watched, like a statue.
The tech was on his knees and took Chett's fat meat in his eager mouth. Chet teased the tech's mouth real slow at first, sliding his rubber cock slowly in, all the way, so his leather crotch pressed hard into the tech's face. Then Chett gradually speed up up, until he was pounding the guy's throat more and more savagely. For one moment he looked like he was going to cum -- but stopped and withdrew quickly. The tech didn't need any orders, he was bent double over the bed, ass in the air, without a word of command. Chett strapped his wrists and his boots tight against the bed frame, so the tech was on all fours, and immobilised. He unzipped the back of the tech's rubber pants, and without any warning pushed his dick into the tech's hungry butt-hole right up to the hilt in one brutal thrust. The Tech screamed out a loud "Fuck!" in pain. That only made Chett pound him all the harder - like a wild animal.
Suddenly, a totally unexpected thing happened. Chett stopped fucking the Tech, and, with his dick deep inside him, turned round and stared straight at me. I was mesmerised. I knew what he meant, somehow. He was telling me he was fucking me! He slowly started to pump the tech's ass again, and picked up speed gradually, looking at me all the time and nodding to me, like he was saying -- "This is you I'm fucking, boy!" I nodded back. "Yes Sir" - but still my dick was limp.
"Go hard" ordered Chett, and my dick sprang to life -- if it was possible, even more monstrous than before. Both men admired it while Chett pounded the tech's ass faster and faster. I began to moan, and once more Chett nodded approval. The three of us were connected some way, all driven by the same animal desires and connected by the same throbbing rhythmic pulse.
Chett soon worked himself up into a bestial frenzy -- never taking his eyes off me. The tech was frantically thrusting his groin into his rubber cock-sheath, trying to get some relief for his dick while Chett fucked him. His rubber hands struggled against the straps that tied them to the bed-frame and his thick black rubber dick, sticking hard out from the fly of his rubber pants, fucked the thin air. I was groaning louder and louder, as though Chett was actually fucking me...and when Chett finally came, with a loud animal ROAR, the tech came into his rubbers, and I came too -- BIG TIME! Again and again my cum struggled to shoot past those tight rubber cock rings -- and again and again I pumped load upon load up my rubberised dick ... although not a drop of cum shot from out of it!
It was a long time before Chett pulled out of the tech, had the tech lick him clean, and put his satisfied meat back inside his leathers. He UN-strapped one of the tech's hands and let him undo the rest. Chett then turned to me and calmly smiled. "There's a few things I didn't tell you, boy!" I nodded, waiting patiently. Truth to tell, I wasn't too much bothered...
He took me by the shoulders and stared right into my eyes.
"The tubes I put in your dick and in your butt are living organisms. They have not been rejected by your body -- and that is real good news. They are growing very quickly -- which is what they are supposed to do.
They are stretching your holes wider all the time, and your own flesh is growing with them, and into them. That is why your dick is turning darker, even on the inside. It will be a living organism, but the closest living thing you will ever get to black rubber. You are going to have a black rubber dick, that is a real dick too, and can piss and (if we want it to) shoot cum. We have been preparing you for the same process to your mouth and throat. Later, I am going to push a tube down into your throat, just like I did to your butt-hole. And it will slowly turn your mouth and throat into living black rubber; and grow wider, and longer, right down into your belly. But first-off, we are re-moulding your mouth to the required "O" shape, and re-training your face muscles to rest in the open-mouth position."
He took his hands from my shoulders and casually picked up his helmet to go.
"So that explains everything you need to know for now" he smiled, re-reassuringly. I nodded. As ever, it was all perfectly logical; and as a result of the hypnotic state he had brainwashed me to go into whenever he spoke that way and with that attitude, I accepted all these perverted and twisted things he told me about as though they were perfectly normal and (even more important) inevitable. And slowly, I now know, I was being mind-fucked into wanting them too...
"You are going to end up with a piss-slit that can take any sized catheter or tube -- even a small dick. And you will have two awesome rubber fuck-holes, front and rear, mouth and butt." It was once again so matter-of-fact, like he was telling me there was a slight swelling of my gums and I had to gargle every day... I nodded again.
"That's a whole load of rubber men who can fuck you at the same time, huh?" he grinned at me.
If I could have spoken I would have said "Cool."
He checked me over, now very cold, distant and objective, assessing a scientific experiment or something.... Then he gave me the same drill about forgetting everything, and remembering it all when he said "good boy" again.
"He needs to be cleaned out" he said to the tech. The tech pulled his hospital clothes back over his rubber suit, and took hold of one of the many gas cylinders in the room.
"You OK?" said Chett looking at me hard. I nodded. "Turn your back to me." I obeyed.
The hypnotic trance ended in a nano-second. I forgot everything that had just happened. It was as though I had just stepped out the cubicle after the drying process. Chett remained behind me so I couldn't see him.
"Take a look at yourself" says the tech.
"Wow!" I say.
Next thing I know, the tubes in my nose are filling up with gas...
I thought it was the tech untying my rubber restraints that woke me up. It wasn't. What they used to do each time was give me a burst of "wake-up gas" (that's what they called it -- fuck knows what it was!) through the rubber tubes into my nose, and I came to -- but only when they needed me to. The tech had said it took 24 hours for the organic-rubber coating they spayed on (and into) my skin to completely dry. Truth was it took best part of a week. I just thought each time -- because that's what the tech said, and I believed him -- that when I woke up, it was the next day after I had gone to sleep. You know... like people usually do! Go to bed, and get up the next day for work!
I hadn't been there for just a few days, like they made me think. By now, I must have been held unknowingly in Vulcan Pharmaceuticals for a good month.
And this time when I woke up, all I remembered was that amazing first coating of the dull black-rubber skin from the day before (yeah right! More like a week before!). How hot it had looked, and how soft it felt; and I remembered the tech getting me to lie down, all strapped in snug, as usual, for it to dry `overnight'.
I remembered nothing of how it was Chett that had let me out of the cubicle after that first black coating, leading me by the long rubber tubes that hung from my nostrils, like a horse is led from a stable by a cowboy; or how the tech had been dressed in rubber -- as he must have been right now (although I had not the remotest idea!) under his hospital uniform, while he was unstrapping me with that cool, professional manner he had learned put on, to trick me into believing this was a real clinic, doing real research!
Nor did I have any memory of the fuck of a lifetime that Chett had given the rubber-clad tech, riding his ass like he rode his Harley, in head-to-toe bike leathers, a cop-helmet, and heavy steel-toed biker boots.Nor had they left a single brain-cell in my fucked-up head to remind me how I had cum while watching them fuck, again and again, without shooting a single load out of my black rubber dick."Sleep well?" asked the tech. I nodded -- I still had this round rubber gag in my mouth, as well as those fucking tubes. I couldn't wait for when were they going to take this shit out. "Last session!" he said, all smiles. What a great liar he was. A natural. I knew the drill by now, and it was no big deal. Into the cabinet. Hands away from body. Black spray. Blow-dry. Even down to the fact that, like the last time, this session seemed to take longer than ever.
But the tech let me out eventually.
He wiped my eye-covers clean (I had forgotten they were even there, until they black-over during the spraying!) and told me to take a look at myself.
FUCK! ----- FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!
My latest coating was the darkest, smoothest, shiniest, sleek black covering you have ever seen on anyone, ever! And it wasn't just skin-tight -- it was MY SKIN!
There I was. Naked. But made of rubber! FUCK it was hot! It was beautiful! My dick went rock-hard. "It gets better!" said the tech.
He took a can and sprayed me all over, and then polished me off -- taking his sweet time on my butt, which made my dick harder still!
"Take another look!" he said. He switched a switch, and one of the room-walls morphed into a mirror. Something they did with the light, I guess -- but I was in no mood to try to figure it out, because there in the mirror was a FUCKING AMAZING sight -- and it was me! Brilliant black shiny rubber-coated me!
The tech flicked another switch, and another cell-wall kind of dissolved and became a mirror -- and all I could see was endless reflections of this awesome sight -- ME! - with a solid rubber torso, a tight shiny black rubber bubble-butt, and a HUGE erect dick (I never saw it that big...did I ?).
The tech told me to go soft -- in a real hard voice. I did. Immediately. But I still stared and stared at this awesome sight they had turned me into. The thought crossed my mind... "Too bad they take it off in a couple of days..."
Well, duh! Of course that thought crossed my mind! They had had earphones pumping the idea into my head for three days without a break, while this last coat was drying off properly - and finally: melding with my skin, and growing into me, and becoming a permanent part of me, alive and breathing like human skin...The tech placed a hand behind my head, and cupped my neck firmly in his palm. "Hold real still!"
Some sweet-smelling gas hit my nostrils -- it never occurred to me to wonder who had made that happen... The tech pressed at the rubber gag. Pressed inwards! Harder and harder -- until it POPPED out, and nearly flew down my throat. I would have thrown up, but for the relaxant they had conveniently sent into my system! As it was, the tech -- with a rubber-gloved hand I had not noticed before -- swiftly retrieved the mouth-plug and held it up triumphantly. "You won't be needing this any more!"
FUCK what a relief! - Oh boy! If I had only known...
I tried to talk -- but it was like after the dentist, with everything all numb... and I couldn't make proper words. Also, it felt like the gag was not completely out. I felt with my tongue, and it was like my teeth and gums were all rubber-coated too! "Grmph. Grmph." was all I could say.
"Don't worry. You'll get used to it, Kenny!" he laughed. "Just relax, and enjoy a long look at yourself."
I relaxed and turned to the double-mirrors.
WOW! My mouth, when I relaxed, was totally round... and OPEN! I could make my mouth muscles close it. And I did so. But every time I relaxed, my mouth returned, all on its own, to a round and OPEN shape. And my teeth and gums WERE rubber!
"It'll go back to normal. Don't think about it... You wouldn't have wanted those chems to get inside your mouth, believe me!" - he was so fucking convincing, I did. And when I think of the chems they daily pumped and poured into me...Like the sweet gas that was now kicking in nicely and not only relaxing me, it was making me feel so fucking great... so fucking horny...so...
OINK! I guess the way my mouth looked wasn't so bad, after all. FUCK it looked hot!
The audio-tape that they played to me every day and night for the last month, while I was sleeping in a carefully controlled hypnotic trance, was doing what it was supposed to... How pleased they would have been, if they could have read my mind right then, with its thoughts of how nasty and fucked up I looked, a rubber boy with a full rubber face-mask (that's what it looked like) and his pig-mouth always wide-open and ready for use... But they didn't need to read my mind. They had done this before.... Many, many times. They knew what I was thinking...
"Well," said the tech. "Time to take a rest and let it dry. 24 hours, and you'll be ready for the skin-tests. That's the worst of it over boy! Good job!"
Did he say "Boy?!"
I tried to speak. I tried to ask him a question I had been wanting to ask ever since they first gagged me. The words could just about be deciphered by him... I asked "When do I get to piss and stuff..."
The tech grinned: "Oh. We do that for you. When you're asleep. We found most guys preferred it that way..."
Then he went kinda different. Serious. "Unless... you want to, now?"
I shook my head. The tech looked like he was struggling with a decision. Then he was back to normal.
"OK. Sleepytime." I lay on the bed. The gasses had started to hit my nostrils before he had even finished strapping me down. And once again, I never even questioned, who could be doing that, if the tech was tying my feet to the bed-frame...??? And I never even noticed, he was strapping me down so fucking tight..
SECTION 4 Rubber Captivity
The tech must have not used enough gas... or so I thought. Because I didn't fall asleep this time... at least, not properly. I dozed off, maybe, once or twice -- or did I? I was feeling incredibly horny. That was it! I was so fucking horny from the sight of me as a rubberman, that I needed more gas to make me sleep. But I was sure I could smell something in my nostrils. Maybe the fucker had used the wrong canister. Why wasn't I falling asleep. FUCK! This was going to be a long 24 hours if I couldn't sleep... And boy! Was I feeling horny...
The tech had called me "Boy!", hadn't he? That was kinda hot... oh yeah...Then the ceiling above the bed morphed into a mirror, just like the walls had done.... OK. I was asleep. I was dreaming. But I was never this aware, while dreaming! And what a fucking beautiful sight in the mirror above the bed. A rubber-boy, head to toe black shiny rubber, strapped helpless with tight rubber restraints, spread-eagle on a rubber sheet. Hey! I never noticed that rubber sheet before.
But the reflection in the mirror showed that the rubber-captive was not exactly unhappy with his captivity -- he had a hard-on the size of a huge black rubber dildo!Yeah! It was like that other dream I had. But fuck, man! I wasn't going to go pinching myself out of it! I wish all my dreams were like this... especially now those four rubbermen have come into the room again...
Three of the rubbermen had gas-masks, with long, wide, concertina-like rubber tubes hanging from them. Two men were wearing rubber uniform-shirts, rubber pants, with huge rubber-codpieces, and waders. One guy had rubber chaps with two thick white strips down the side, sinking into knee high rubber boots. The fourth guy was a frogman -- but his diver's helmet also had a long rubber tube hanging out of it, like the others. They all wore thick black industrial rubber gloves.
They moved around in total silence, like the last time. They stood either side the bed, and stroked my body all over, and caressed my head, and brushed their rubber-gloved fingers gently across my rock-hard black-rubber dick. Seeing it all in the mirror above the bed was out of this total fucking world.
When they had done feeling me all over, the guy in the rubber chaps went to the wall at the end of my bed, and pressed on it. A small door opened, and the guy started pulling from inside it two long lengths of rubber hose, with a connector/tap making it fork into two pieces, with attachments for even more piece of tubing, as required.
Meanwhile, the frogman took a black-rubber pillow and eased it under my lower back, pushing my butt-hole up and exposing it to the air.
All the time, the Rubbermen didn't speak a single word to each other.
Some different kind of gas was definitely pumping thick and fast into my nostrils....
The rubberman in uniform-chaps handed the frogman the tube he was reeling out of the hole in the wall, and the frogman, with one hand holding the end of the tube, felt the wide new opening of my rubber butt-hole with the other hand.
Oh FUCK I was feeling so fucking horny, and that felt so fucking good... I closed my eyes, and moaned in pleasure. The rubbermen took no notice of me and went silently and methodically about their well-practised routine - a routine that was so totally familiar to them, and in which they were experts without equals...The frogman attached the end of the long hose coming from the wall, somehow, to something right down inside my rubber butt-hole, and I felt a slight `click!'. The rubberman in uniform chaps returned to the hole in the wall, and turned a faucet...FUCK! Liquid was flowing up the tube and deep into my butt. Oh FUCK it
felt so good! Oh FUCK yeah... Please don't stop! Oh FUCK! The frogman turned the tap on the connector where the two rubber hoses joined...Now there was a sensation like a sort of vacuum at my butt, and I could feel everything being sucked out of me and into the rubber tubes. Oh man! Sir! Please! Fuck! Fuck Sir! Clean out this rubber pig Sir! Fuck , Sir, that is sooooo good! Please Sir! I'll do anything you want Sir!
Now the tap was turned again, and I was filled up, even more than before; and emptied again as soon as I was filled to bursting...I writhed and struggled against the restraints - not in an attempt to get free, but in a frenzy of pure ecstasy - and yet another, different gas filled my lungs - and all I knew was, I wanted to be filled up and emptied, force filled, Sir! Sucked empty Sir! More and more - Meaner Sir! Harder Sir!....and soon there was just one constant flow, somehow, in and out of me.... Never ending.....
One of the rubbermen in Waders pulled out his dick from his tight rubber pants - and I saw in the mirror overhead, that it was bulging in its rubber sheath, which ended in a length of rubber tube. He connected the end of the tube to the metal connector on the hose going into my butt-hole... FUCK! That is pure poppers they are putting into my nostrils..... The Rubberman titled his head back and sighed out loud. The liquid flow in and out my butt was warmer now... The other Waders Man took the end of the long tube coming out of his gas-mask, and slid it over the end of my rubber dick. It slipped on, getting tighter as he eased it down, until it was firmly attached....Another big, long hit of poppers... and oh yeah! .... this Rubbermen also tilts his head back, and lets out a loud sigh...My dick felt all warm and beautiful, and my bladder filled up...The gasses were pouring into my nostrils now - like there was no longer any air mixed with them... my head was going crazy with flash-images of all the perverted cravings they had secretly been mindfucking me to hunger for, all through the last four or five weeks...The Rubberman in uniform-chaps stood behind my head, and eased his dick out of his studded cod-piece. It too had the same black-rubber sheath and tube. His dick was bulging inside it and stretching it wide and tight. He placed the end of his dick-tube at my relaxed and open "O" shaped mouth. It fitted inside like a glove...He tilted his head back...A wet warmth slowly filled my mouth, and I drank thirstily and gratefully...The frogman stood by the side of the bed and took out his huge rubbered dick. At first I thought he was going to piss all over me - but he didn't - at least not yet. He connected the concertina tube coming from his diving-helmet to the one coming from the Rubberman in chaps' gas mask. Then he did the same to the two rubbermen in waders, so they were connected up the same way. All breathing each others breath, and all filling me with their piss. Then the frogman tilted his head back and slowly pissed all over me, moving the flow slowly back and forth, up and down my whole body, over my head, round my mouth, down over my butt hole.. and endless stream...
The sight in the mirror overhead was too incredible to describe - so perverted and kinky and strange and wonderful and beautiful - and what I knew this was what I NEEDED so much, had always needed, was always going to need...
Then the mirror morphed into a huge screen, with clips from the hardest-core German piss movies playing - guys in tight rubber and wide-fitting waders which looked so nasty, flopping around their balls as they strutted through dungeons and sewers, finding rubber slave-boys tied down, chained up, fucked up on drugs - the Rubber Tops pissed all over them and the rubber slaves drank their piss...Now it was the mirror again, with me strapped tight down, utterly helpless, gassed, drugged, brainwashed, fucked-up - surrounded by four utterly twisted rubber fuck-men, even hotter than the mean Rubber-Tops in the German hardcore porn - systematically perverting me - and I knew this was just the beginning! - filling me up with their beautiful hot piss, and hosing me all over with it - plugged in to an enema machine that relentlessly pumped and sucked, pumped and sucked...Now it was the sewers again - rubber slaves being flogged, whipped, ass-fucked, mind-fucked, dildo-fucked, slammed with drugs, brainwashed, pissed on, fisted - rubber slave-boys with gas-mask hoods filled with poppers - writhing in agony and shooting cum and piss everywhere...Now it is the mirror again - my piss slit has the tube INSIDE it, and my balls are slowly filling with the Rubber Master's piss - and all the time my ass is flowing with the enema and the frogman's piss...and I can't cum... I don't want to cum... I want this to go on forever...The German video again, a sick and twisted mass of rubber perverts making whore-boys they have kidnapped into rubber-slaves...More poppers... and Rubber Cop hoses his piss endlessly into my mouth...They beef up the concentration of gas, and I pass out...When I regained consciousness, I did not have any idea of where I was.
You know those mornings when you've been picked up in a bar, and go back to the other guy's place - and you wake up next morning, and for a few seconds you can't remember a thing, or where you are, or even what day it is? And then it comes slowly back to you... Well it was like that, times a hundred. What they had done was to completely clear my system of all the drugs they had been using on me. Deliberately. So I was totally sober and capable of thinking straight - so that when it all came back to me, it would hit me like a brick.
That is, I was going to be capable of rational thought, when the shock of seeing the state I was in - my rubber skin, my rubber dick, and the rubber tubes hanging from my nose - and the shock of finding myself in this room, more like a cell, with the huge mirrors, and the rubber-sheeted bed with bondage straps, and the huge leather bondage chair - Yeah! I was going to be capable of thinking straight when the shock of seeing all that perverted shit that had worn off. If it ever did.
I was not strapped down. Not that I remembered, yet, that I usually was. I stood up and examined my naked black rubber body in total horror! What the fuck? Stop! I had to think... I knew about this...I remembered the job - the medical - Yes! The medical had a lot to do with this... That's it! The temporary job, as a volunteer for Vulcan Pharmaceuticals... I put a thousand bucks into my bank account! This can't be so bad... can it? The skin covering... the anti-aging research... Dr. Chett... It was coming back.... Dr. Chett was the clue... But wasn't all this way too extreme? What the fuck had they done to me...?
Unknown to me, they were observing my every movement ...I called out. I banged on the door to let me out. I panicked, and yelled my head off. Nothing. Silence. I sat down on the chair, with my head in my hands, and tried harder to figure it all out. Then the door opened.
Dr. Chett came in, very composed and calm, and quietly closed the door behind him. He looked at me like I hadn't seen him look before. No bed-side smiles here. A determined - mean, even - expression was set in stone on his handsome face. And I don't know if I was more shocked at how he looked, or how I looked. He was dressed entirely in black rubber! His muscular torso was encased in a thick, tight, rubber biker's jacket. He wore black rubber pants with a wide yellow stripe down the sides, that hugged the curves on his strong thighs, and disappeared into a pair of heavy rubber steel-toed biker boots. Instead of a helmet, he carried a gas-mask.
I couldn't do anything about it. In spite of the state I was in, my fully exposed rubber dick shot straight up in front of me. Chett gave a slight smile - but nothing that undid the determined look he came into the room with.
"You've done well, Tyler. I am pleased with you" he said coldy.
Then reality kicked in hard. "What the fuck have you done to me, Dr. Chett? Look at me. Why are you dressed like that? Have you any idea what you look like? What is this mad-house?"
"You will address me as Sir" was all he said.
"The fuck I won't! Take these fucking tubes out my nose!" I started to tug on them, but it hurt - real bad. Chett came over to me.
"I'll do that. Stand still." Something about the way he said that him made me obey him at once, and I stood still and let him take the ends of the tubes. Before I knew it, he had attached them to a canister...Nitrous oxide quickly filled my lungs...
SECTION 5 Arguments
When I came to, I was restrained in the leather bondage chair, sitting bolt upright, head strapped to the back-rest. Once again, I was stone cold sober.Chett was in the room, dressed completely in black rubber as before. No pretences or games- not this round, anyway. "I am disappointed in you."
"Fuck you!" I said. "Let me out of here!" I struggled against my bondage, to no effect.
"I can see there is a great deal more work to be done. It's not your fault. It is your trainer's. He has failed. In this place, failure is punished. I have decided that you shall witness his punishment."
This was a different Chet than the friendly Doc I knew... or thought I knew....
"Are you crazy or something..."
"Shut his mouth" said Chett. And from behind the chair, an inflatable rubber plug was forced inside my mouth, strapped tight round my head, and pumped up to where I was continuously gagging in short, violent spasms. The wall behind Chett turned into glass, on the other side of which was the Tech, facing the glass, and tied to an iron frame that shaped his body into a St. Andrew's cross; stark naked, except for his boots. Either side of him were two huge muscle-guys in full rubber - in fact, they looked like they were made of rubber, like me: except, unlike me, they had some rubber gear over their rubber bodies: codpiece pants, with a thick rubber belt through wide belt-loops, and heavy knee boots. They looked like rubber Storm-Troopers. I soon found out, that's exactly what they were called! They had no expression of any kind on their faces. Each was holding a rubber flogger.
Chett stood with his back to the glass, facing me.
"The way it works is, your trainer has earned a basic punishment of fifty lashes. Twenty five each from each Storm Trooper. That is the basic punishment. But if the culprit makes any sound, either of pain or pleasure, the count starts again. And so on. Until fifty lashes have been given, and received in silence."
I stared at the scene in horror. If this is what they did to him, what were they going to do to me?
"Begin" said Chet without any emotiont, staying with his back to the punishment room, looking straight at me.
I was transfixed by the sight of the flogging. With fear, and... with something else I did not understand...
The Storm Troopers slowly and rhythmically began the punishment. No build-up in speed or intensity of stroke. Like machines, they flogged him, one after the other, with perfect timing and showing no sign of any emotion, counting out loud, in flat voices, "One" - "Two" - "Three" ...
I could see the tech was struggling...
Fuck! This wasn't right... Chett stood stock still, looking at me.
"Eleven" - "Twelve" - "Thirteen"
What had he done? I felt real bad about this... until I could see that the tech was struggling to restrain groans of pleasure.
His dick started to stir. And so did mine...
The Tech couldn't bear any more... he moaned softly...
The Storm Troopers didn't miss a beat, but just started the count again, in exactly the same tone, flogging at exactly the same speed..."One" - "Two" - "Three" ...
I too moaned under my gag. Chett gave that slight, cold, satisfied smile again...
"Seven" - "Eight"
The tech's dick was now rock hard. He let out an "Aggggghhhhhhh.... " of ecstasy.
"One" - "Two" - "Three" ...
My dick grew, longer and fatter...
Now the tech was beginning to struggle with the pain - and the mental torture of knowing that he was back at square one... the mental torture that Chett knew would, inexorably, keep the punishment going on, and on, and on, and on.....
My dick so hard now, that for the first time in my sober state I saw how fucking huge they had made it. Chett missed nothing.
"You have been mutated" he said, flatly.
"Twenty four" - "Twenty Five"
The tech screamed out in agony.
"One" - "Two" - "Three" ...
Chett went on talking as though nothing was happening behind him. "Organic implants have given you a rubber penis, the size of a horse-dick. And implants in your ass have opened your rubber-hole up like a whore's."
"Eight" - "Nine"
"AGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" screamed the tech again.
"One" - "Two" - "Three" ...
"One" - "Two"
My dick was bulging fatter and fatter....
"We have kept you fucked up on drugs while we have taken control of your mind. But, as we learned this morning, you have not progressed as well as it was at first thought."
By now the tech's constant screaming almost drowned out any sound of the Storm Troopers counting."
"Right now you are drug-free. So whatever emotions you are feeling now are yours, and yours alone."
We both looked at my rock-hard bursting rubber dick.
"But I can see from your behaviour a moment ago that you are going to have to be gotten fucked up all over again, and kept fucked up for a few months under a different trainer. No matter how hard you fight me, I am going to corrupt you Tyler, slowly, systematically and unremittingly. Corrupt your mind, using powerful narcotics that will sap you of all your instinctive resistance against the utter depravity that you are going to feel taking a hold of you."
"One" - "Two" - "Three"
"You will be repeatedly drugged so you feel hornier and hungrier than you have ever felt before. I am going to make you feel sooooo good, Tyler, so fucking good, while you are doing the most disgusting and depraved things, and allowing other fuck-pigs like you to do the same to you."
"One" - "Two"
"I know how exactly how to this, and there is nothing you can do to stop me. For example, already you want to be flogged, like your trainer is being flogged, don't you? We both know that already..." My rock-hard dick couldn't disguise it.
"But that is nothing. I am going to make you so much more perverted than that. I am going to turn you into the filthiest rubber sewer-pig and pain-pig and fuck-pig imaginable...
"I have to do this, Tyler, or I will never be able to sell you."
I heard him say the word! "Sell". It hit me like a punch in the gut! I knew exactly what he meant. I saw now (or thought I saw) everything these twisted perverts had on their sick agenda for me... And I even struggled and pulled against my restraints - like the tech was struggling like a wild animal against the tight straps that bound him to the whipping frame...
And just like the tech was screaming in the agony of his torture, I too tried to scream out a "NOOOOOO!" from under the rubber gag that filled my mouth...
But all the time, I could not take my crazed eyes off the tech's flogging. And the ruthlessness of the stokes these two mindless rubber Storm Troopers were rhythmically laying on his red and welted ass cheeks. And my engorged dick was about to explode...
"One" began the count for the hundredth time.
With a SCREAM that filled both rooms, the tech lurched forward, and shot a fat wad SLAP against the glass - and at the same time I EXPLODED with cum.
The tech slumped into his restraints, and hung there lifelessly.
"One" - "Two" - "Three" ...
The tech rolled his eyes upwards, and something almost like a smile - but not a smile - spread over his face, as the count continued, mercilessly up to the final "Fifty".Chett never looked round once, but kept his eyes only on me.
Throughout the final phase of the tech's punishment, I slumped limply in my bondage chair, breathing deeply, trying to recover, trying to make sense of it all... While Chett's quiet voice burned more perverted images into my confused brain. The glass turned opaque, and was the cell-wall again.
"You will remember that punishment. And your reaction to it. It will remain with you, no matter what else I chose to wipe from your brain. Do you understand?"
"Yes Sir" I replied, without even thinking.
"Good boy" said Chett.
BAM! Exactly as I was programmed to, I became a different person. I saw in front of me this amazing, booted, rubber-clad God standing there... and FUCK I wanted him, so fucking much it hurt, to pound my ass with his rubber meat! He quietly untied me, led me to the bed, strapped me onto it on all fours, like he had done to the tech... when was it?... I had seen it all... only a few days ago?
"I have waiting at long time for this, boy" said Chett, taking out his rubber-covered dick.
He climbed on top of me and fucked my brains out.
SECTION 6 A Different State
The way Chett left me, when he'd done fucking me, and had untied me, was on my back, lying on the rubber sheet, having cum several times during his never-ending pounding of my rubber ass. He caressed the whole of my rubber skin, head to feet, like a guy who has a new toy, and wants one last play with it before putting it back in its box. Then he quietly said: "When you hear the words `good boy' you will forget only what I am about to tell you to forget. You will forget the fact that you are here for one reason, and for one reason only: to be turned into a rubber-skinned living boy - which has now happened - and then trained and sold as a rubber slave. Those things will remain in your sub-conscious until I release them. From time to time, they will resonate as a dim memory; and when they do, you will instantly forget them. Do you understand?"
I nodded my head, limp and exhausted on the bed.
"But you will be allowed to remember everything else. In particular, the flogging you observed this morning will always be in your mind. As will the experience with me; how it felt to be fucked by a man fully covered in black rubber; how you craved this, and were given it; how you crave it even more now. Do you understand?"
I nodded again.
He let my brain adjust to its new state of awareness, and then attached sleeping gas to the breathing tubes in my nose, and placed his rubber-gloved hand firmly over my mouth. The last thing I remember hearing was - "Now you will be cleaned and nourished. As you have been every night. And as you were allowed to remain awake for once... You will also..."
I can't remember anything else
SECTION 7 Gustav's Revenge
I woke up refreshed and feeling good - except that I was once more strapped into the leather bondage chair - so tight I could not move a single part of my body. One thing maybe I should mention here: I hadn't seen them before, but there were two small black button-type things on each forearm, underside. Smaller than a dime, a very small chrome ring, and inside a black pad. They could have been snaps to connect the rubber, somehow - if the rubber had not been my actual skin by now. It wasn't long before I learned what they were for. Gustav was in the room with me. There was no pretending now, and everyone I saw from that moment on was wearing black rubber gear... in all kinds of variations. Some black rubber versions of stuff I was used to seeing in leather - chaps, boots, harnesses, shirts. Others in extreme kink. Mutant alien rubber. Robots. Storm troopers. And others half way between the two - thick industrial rubber, waders, frogmen.
Gustav was dressed like he was when he broke into my room and pissed all over me that night, wearing the rubber (edited) uniform - the night that led to him being given a final warning by Chett. I guessed, from what I had witnessed yesterday, that warning meant he would get a flogging, like the tech did, if he upset Chett again. I guessed wrong. I had no idea how sick and twisted the threat hanging over Gustav was. Which was why, I suppose, he was not all that bad with me - by his standards!
"So." He watched me wake up, with no concealment of his dislike of me. "I am to be your new trainer."
Fuck! Gustav! Did Chett realize how this German queen hated me? Oh fuck!
"Put you mind together quick, please. We haf much to do."
The bits and pieces I was allowed to remember added up only to some hazy idea that I had been kidnapped on the pretext of some skin-research, spray-painted with liquid rubber, and was going to be used as a sex-toy by a bunch of perverts. I wondered if they were going to kill me after... Then I remembered how much I had wanted Chett to fuck me, in full rubber - how he HAD fucked me - how I still craved for him. And I also remembered the flogging. How I shot a load, just watching it. It didn't make a very coherent picture... but Gustav standing there and me all tied up, was enough to make me mad, and I let it show.
"You better let me out of here! There'll be people looking for me!"
Gustav just smiled that oh-so-bored, been there before, cold smile of his. "Ya, ya. Now. Some ground rules. We needed you to co-operate - but only up till now. Now we don't."
"Co-operate?" I laughed at him.
"For sure. We tried tying-up fuck-boys like you for the rubberising. But it left ... marks. Where the rubber didn't get to the skin. Like Achilles' heel - you remember? Are you an educated fuck-boy?"
What really pissed me off was, that I hadn't a fucking clue what he was talking about.
"I never co-operated with a damn thing. You fucking drugged me, you pervert."
"Thank you zo much. A great compliment. I am obliged to you."
Gustav pressed a remote, and the TV screen flickered on.
"Now. Watch. And then, fuck-boy, please tell me again about non-co-operation."
They had video'd everything. There I was in the clinic that first day. And Chett was saying I had to have a prostrate check. The camera was zoomed in on my crotch: my dick unmistakeably jumped.
"That is how the fuck-boy says `No' to a prostate examination. I will remember."
Then the video showed Chett asking me if I wanted a little relaxant, to make it easier.
"That must be when you screamed `No. No. No.' like a little virgin girl" says Gustav.
The camera has zoomed so close to my dick, it occupies the whole screen. And when Chett mentions the euphoric drug, my dick jumps again, and starts to swell up."
"Oooops! Wrong again" says Gustav.
They must have had cameras all over the room: because now, there is a close-up of my face on the TV, with me bent forward to let Chett examine my butt. A face that I thought no-one could see - when Chett placed a lubed finger of his white rubber-gloved hand against my tight sphincter and pushed it that first push through... my face, with my hooded eyes, and my mouth slightly open, and licking my lower lip...we've all seen how a boy looks laid back in a sling, and some hot Top breaks through his resisting ass the first time...
"That is how the fuck-boy looks when he is not co-operating" says Gustav flatly.
"I was drugged!"
"Only with relaxant" lied Gustav sharply.
Now the video has me with Gustav. I am signing papers.
"The fuck-boy is saying `No! Abzolutely not!' - am I right?"
Now I am signing without reading. Sheet after sheet.
"I think the fuck-boy likes the sound of Vulcan Pharmaceuticals - perhaps he knew more than he pretended. Oh! Und by the way. That was giving notice to your landlord. And that one, I zink, was where you close your bank account because you are going to live abroad. Yes. Definitely. That one."
What the fuck else had I signed?
"You were telling me, fuck-boy, that they would be coming to look for you... `they'... who might zese people be?"
"I don't think zo." Gustav sneered at me.
Now the video has me watching the tech being flogged, and shooting my load, just from watching.
"You were clean! We told you zo. And you know it is true."
And I did know it. No drugs in my system. Only a secret hunger...Now the TV shows me strapped on the bed. And WOW! That is so fucking hot, seeing a muscular rubber-lad Chett plowing into my ass...My dick has a mind of its own... and Gustav doesn't miss the fact.
"I..." What could I say?
Gustav watches my helpless dick getting harder and harder, with utter distain.
"So. The fuck-boy consents to lots of nice things, ya?"
"You use drugs on me, you perverts! You fucking know you use drugs on me!" I shouted defiantly.
Gustav fast-forwards. "Of course we do! But this is how the fuck-boy is when we use drugs. Different fuck-boy. Watch."
The camera must have been in the ceiling. The four rubbermen were attached to each other, and to me, filling me with their piss, and I am writhing and moaning on the bed, drinking piss thirstily, arching my back so as not to miss a drop that the frogman is hosing over me, up and down my black-rubber body, pumping my groin in time with the pump of the enema machine...."In the end, the fuck-boy will consent to everything - he will beg for it! No drugs. You will see. But for now, we will give you some sleepy gas!"
He nonchalantly attached to my nose-tubes one of the many canisters - now not concealed at all - that lay on a gurney next to the bondage-chair. I struggled not to breath. But Gustav brutally thrust a huge dildo into my mouth - which I always had difficulty closing now!
- and, gagging all the time on it, I had no choice but to let gasps of the gas enter my lungs...
They pumped `wake-up' gas into me, and I awoke; strapped down on the bed again. Gustav was standing over me. And there was another rubberman in the room. One I had not seen before. This new guy was definitely hot. Even with all the shit that was going on in my mind, I couldn't help check him over. He was slightly shorter than Gustav, but had a truly great body, which was dressed in all-black rubber. No uniform stripes or cop-badges on his short rubber sleeves. Just plain black. The rubber was thicker than I had seen them wearing up until now. It fitted his form perfectly - but was not stretched out over it - like with the guy in striped chaps, that Rubber Motor Cycle Cop. With this new guy, the rubber was skin-tight: but it also moved over his skin when he moved. It was polished - but not highly polished. And it had an `industrial' look to it, I guess. It was also... somehow... sleazier.
Maybe it was something about him, or the rubber... I still don't know.
There were more layers of rubber than I had seen on any of the others. And there was definitely something sleazy about it. He wore cod-piece pants. Not studded, or anything fancy. Just a plain, black codpiece that snapped over his bulging basket. Over these were a pair of real heavy-duty black waders, turned down at the thigh. A black-rubber vest - again, real thick but form-fitting - was worn under an elaborate kind of rubber belt or girdle, that had four or five straps buckled across his tight six-pack. He wore nothing on his head - but a gas mask and various other rubber-contraptions I had never seen before were clipped to this wide belt. I wondered what these were for...On his hands were industrial-gauge black rubber gloves, just short of elbow length.
Gustav said "This is Brandon. You haven't met before. He likes to fist."
The chains at the corners of my bed suddenly went tight, and a series of hydraulic motors pulled the sling - that I had not idea I was lying on, and strapped into! - up off the bed and into the air. Shoulder height.
"And he is very good at it" said Gustav.
Then, from out of no-where, without any warning, Gustav took a needle and jabbed it into the black button on my left arm. I didn't feel a thing. He left it sticking in there, and leaned over me. "Oh yes" Gustav hissed into my ear. "We like very much to use drugs." He emptied the entire contents of the hypo right into a vein.
I could not breath. I think my heart may have stopped. And then.... Oh FUUUCK I felt sooooooooooo fucking beautiful!
"Brandon is going to turn the fuck-boy into a whore."
Gustav left the room, while Brandon, with an evil fucking smile on his face, dipped the index finger of his right glove into a jar of lube.The reason Brandon was such a good fist fucker was that he just loved butt. He gently teased my hole with that rubber finger of his, pressing it only slightly inside me, and slowly pulling it out, knowing he had all the time in the world, watching me moan and writhe in the sling, then standing back as far as he could, while keeping his finger just inside my hole, and admiring the hungry butt that was his to play with for as long as he damn well wanted to.
He was very vocal. Never loud, but always audible, sucking his breath in quickly now and then, when my hole twitched, or he saw something else about my ass that turned him on, knowing that the quarter of crystal-meth Gustav had slammed into my arm was kicking in more and more, all the time, and filling my fucked-up head with needs and cravings he understood only too well, and knew exactly how to exploit.
"Fuck! That is one beautiful butt!" he said, half to himself, but wanting me to hear him, and wanting me to be turned on by how much I was turning him on. He loved to draw his breath in with a "Whew!" for no reason apparent to me - but he always got a moan or a groan in return.
Because if there was one thing Brandon liked, even more than a butt to fist, it was fisting the butt of a fucked-up pig. And if there was one thing, and only one thing, Brandon liked more than fisting the butt of a fucked-up pig, it was slowly getting the fucked-up pig tweaked out of his fucking brains and turning him into a total whore. And Brandon knew exactly how to do it. Oh yeah! He knew what he was doing, did Brandon! There was never any turning back for the fisting-pig that Brandon had got a hold of, and worked over, and decided to turn into a total fucking rubber-whore!
Brandon used lube that was heavily laced with narcotics. One jar had enough K to anaesthetise an army. Another was thick with crystal meth. I guess I was tweaking-out on crystal more than enough - for now! - for Brandon to have chosen the K-lube. Because I was getting real trippy and spaced out. Most of the time, Brandon focused on my butt, looking appreciatively at every aspect of it, moving from side to side to get a different angle, suddenly standing wide in his black Waders, grinding his rubbered pelvis, pushing his fingers deeper and deeper inside me, working them round and round, wider and wider, hearing me moan in pleasure, and screwing up his face with the occasional "Whew!" or "Fuuuuck!"
"AHHHHHHH" I moaned loudest of all yet, at one of his harder thrusts. He made eye-contact with me in the mirror over the bed - "Gonna fuck y'up boy." He rubbed his other rubber-gloved hand hard against his rubber cod-piece, looking at me all the time, like the twisted pervert he was. And FUCK to me he looked so fucking hot, in that heavy rubber gear.
"Gonna turn ya into a fucked-up pig."
I moaned softly. It was what I wanted to hear. "Oh yeah..." He pushed harder and I swallowed more and more... "AHHHHHHHHHHHHH"
"Fuuuuuuck yeah... like that, huh? Yeahhhhh... give it to me, pig-boy. Give me that hot hungry pig-hole."
He never let up with his quiet drawl, soft and seductive, always telling me what I was craving to hear, and always adding a twisted edge that was all his own, that he knew would burn into my fucked up brain, and drag me to another level - a lower, filthy depraved level - always a step closer to the fuck-whore he was going to turn me into...There must have been four fingers now, sliding slowly in and out of my hungry pig-butt, fucking me ever more deeply... reaching the knuckles... pushing harder... pushing harder...He took one of those rubber devices from his thick belt, a rubber-cased bottle of some kind, and he plugged the two rubber tubes that hung from my nose into two holes in the lid. The smell of poppers was unmistakable. I breathed in REAL hard.
Two voices shouted out an involuntary "YEAHHHHHHH!"
The rush hit me before I even started to think about the second voice. From behind of me, a pair of black rubber hands took a hold of my nipples. The bottle remained attached to my tubes, and I drew a huge fucking hit of poppers hard in my lungs and held it there until the second rush hit...
I had time to see in the mirror, the guy working my nipples was the Rubber Cop, in striped chaps, and rubber patrol boots, a rubber uniform shirt, and a cop-helmet...My heart was about to bust through my rib cage... the rush was gonna hit any second now...UUCCCCKK.....the poppers hit BIG TIME, and I emptied my lungs in one sudden breath, and Brandon, with perfect timing pushed harder and harder... and the poppers were still attached to my tubes, and I took a massive third hit... and the Rubber Cop pulled at my tits, and OH YEAH! OH YEAH!
I opened up and sucked the whole of Brandon's rubber hand right inside me...The Rubber Cop GRUNTED like an animal, while Brandon yelled out another "FUUUCK YEAH!" - and he left his hand right where it was, inside my butt, while my heart-beat slowly came down, and the full impact of this rubber pervert's hand stuffing my butt hole full, dawned on my popper-crazed brain.
The Cop took the poppers from the nose-tubes, and took a hit. Brandon gave him a nod, then made eye contact with me once more, in the overhead mirror. He had a real nasty, evil, semi-smile which was real sick, but hot too, and to me, totally seductive...
"Need more fuck-juice, pig? Huh? Makes you feel sooooooo fucking good, huh? Get my buddy to give you more fuck-juice, yeah? That what you want?"
I nodded and moaned and gyrated my butt against his wrist, I needed it deeper inside me so fucking much...
"Whoa there, pig boy. We got all night. And all day too. And all night after that."
I moaned again in ecstasy, and Brandon gave a signal to the Rubber Cop. The Cop went and fixed another hypo on the gurney, and came back to the sling. I watched him place it against the black button on my left arm. He didn't push it in, but just left the tip tantalisingly against the soft black pad.
"Pig boy needs his fuck-juice, huh?" I nodded and moaned. "Gonna fuck y'up real good." I pleaded with my eyes. "Oh yeah, he wants it!" The Cop teased me with the needle just a second more, then plunged it into the intra-venous button. Again I didn't feel a thing. Brandon, tugged his fist gently against my butt muscles that were clenched tight round his wrist. I groaned, softly, but real long. Brandon tugged again at my clenched muscles, torturing me with the suspense of not knowing when or what was about to happen.
There was something that turned me on so fucking much about the sick pleasure he took in saying that.
"Yeah! Please. Fuck me up!" I pleaded.
The Cop pumped the contents of the hypo into my bloodstream, and just as the crystal-meth kicked in and fried my brain a second time, Brandon pulled his fist straight out of my butt. I arched my back, and bucked like a rodeo pony against the rubber restraints holding me in the sling. The chains swung violently, and the sling rocked back and forth. I juddered in a spasm of pain/pleasure/agony/ecstacy like nothing I had ever experienced before.
"FUCK! AGGHHHH! FFFUUUUCCCCKKK! FUCK! Oh FUCK! Fuck Fuck Fuck fuck fuck ffu ff ff f f f"
I don't know how long I was like that. By the time I had calmed down, and just panting incoherently, and opened my bleary fucked-up eyes, both Rubbermen had their dicks out and were slowly pulling on their fat rubber-covered meat, taking hits of poppers, and looking down real turned on at how I was responding.
The Cop took a fat black dildo, coated it in K-tube, and strode round to where Brandon was standing. Brandon smiled a real evil smile, and the Cop pushed the dildo in one smooth stroke up to the hilt.
The meth was slowly kicking in harder all the time, getting me more and more out of control, deeper and deeper into kink.... The two Rubbermen now seemed to be moving in slow-motion. "He's flying" said a voice. "Oh yeah. And he's gonna fly higher." The Cop kept on dildo fucking me, and leaned over and gave me hits of poppers and now and then and worked my tits timed to the poppers rush, which drove me crazy; while Brandon kept up his twisted drawl without a let-go, feeling my rubbered body, finding something new to turn him on about my butt, and for ever driving more perverted new ideas into my head...
Brandon let the Cop fuck me with the K-lubed dick for a long time...while my heartbeat settled, and my spaced-out mind filled with more and more perverted cravings. As the K worked from the dildo into my system, and it seemed I was floating in the air - an air thick with the smell (to my sick mind) of piss and cum - the hardcore German kink-videos flashed on and off the screen/mirror above the sling. However sick and nasty the things they did to their captives, I wanted those German Rubbermen to do them to me. I said so, mumbling the words, but the Cop and Brandon understood, and one of them said "yeah boy. We'll do that to you. We'll make you like him."
Now they were both talking quietly... they were saying that pig-boy needed to be fucked by them both at the same time..."Oh yeahhhh!" I moaned without even opening my eyes...I felt the dildo slide right out of me, and one of them started pushing at my butt. I was good and open, and he easily thrust his whole dick up to his rubbered balls. I opened my eyes. It was Brandon. His huge rubber-sheathed dick sticking out of his open cod-piece, that flapped against my butt every time he rammed his slid back in me.The booted German Rubber motorcycle-Cop attached the tubes to the poppers again. Then he put a wet gag in my mouth, and I had no choice but to breath in poppers through the rubber tubes.
"You dipped the gag in fuck-powder?" said Brandon.
"Fuck yeah" grinned the Rubber-Cop.
"Good. Pig-boy likes his fuck drugs."
I just moaned again.
Brandon looked at like the sick fucking pervert he was, his tongue hanging out his mouth and face all screwed up. Everything seemed drawn out long and slow. They went "Fuucckk!" and "Yeaaaahhhhhhh!" and it seemed like maybe there were many others now, in the room. But I never saw them.
Brandon kept on saying it.
And it turned me on more and more.
Brandon pumped my ass slowly with his beautiful fat rubber cock. The Cop had his meat out of the studded rubber jock he was wearing, and straddled my face. I pulled and struggled to lick the end of his rubber-covered dick.The men ROARED in approval. Which made me try even harder to take The Cop's dick in my mouth.Fuck y'up"I took a huge hit of poppers and rested my head back on the sling, with my rubber mouth wide open in its new relaxed "0"shape...The Rubber Cop slid his entire dick all the way down my throat. It was true, then. What Chett had told me. They had done something there too. Some implant that had mutated. I didn't gag at all. I just took it all the way, and thrilled to the feeling of a full face-fuck from this Rubber God.
"You put fuck-drugs on yer dick?"
"Fuck him up"
The sight in the mirror was awesome. FUCK it was so fucking beautiful!
A rubber-fuck-toy being pumped both end by two sick rubber perverts, in waders and rubber uniform. I was going to cum. I moaned louder and louder, thrust my hips hard down onto Brandon's dick, to make it go deeper into my butt, and sucked his balls into my whore-hole - another ROAR from the Rubbermen! - any moment now I was going to shoot - "Oh yeah!" - OH YEAH!" - then BAM!
Brandon quickly grabbed another device from his belt, and slipped it deep down into my rubber piss slit and over my dick-head. It smart like hell at first. Then it felt good. REAL good. But my cum held back - even though my dick stayed hard. "Anti-cum tool, sending anti-cum drugs into rubber-pig-boy. Pig doesn't cum for a day or two - if I decide to let the pig cum at all. Pig doesn't need to cum. Pig only needs to piss be pissed on, and have its pig-butt and fuck-mouth fed. And we haven't even started to feed them!" said Brandon, with a real nasty look on his face. He pulled on his gas mask, and his muffled voice came out... hypnotically..."Fuck y'up"I sank back in the sling helplessly.
I forgot all about my dick. I had no further thought of cumming. I didn't need to cum. My dick was unimportant. All that was important was my rubber fuck-holes. I was on Mars. Breathing poppers, and taking a solid hour's slow fucking at both ends from these rubber deviants, with the German hardcore Piss movies on the screen above me were getting sicker and more twisted with each scene. Suddenly, and without any warning, they both pulled out of me...I was flying. What had stopped things in there tracks was Gustav coming into the room, wheeling in a heavy piece of machinery. I didn't take much notice of him, or the machine, or the fact that the hydraulic motors were lowering the sling, and me with it, down onto the bed.
I lay there, gyrating my hips, trying to reach Brandon's dick with my butt hole, with Brandon and the Cop quietly breathing appreciative "Yeah"s and "Fuck yeah"s. Gustav looked down at me with a mixture of contempt, and triumph. "Now Brandon needs to take a break."
Brandon sure didn't look like he wanted one. But in fact, he had been working me for a few hours now, even though it seemed like no time at all to me..."And when Brandon takes a break, we plug you onto the fuck-machine. And when Brandon is rested, we give you back to Brandon. Until he needs another break, when we put you back on the machine. And so on. So Brandon gets his rest, and the whore never stops working. Get the picture?"
I was not paying too much attention to Gustav. I was pushing my butt towards Brandon, PLEADING with him to fuck me some more..."Prepare its whore-hole" says Gustav. Brandon grinned wide and pulled me by the feet, so I slid down the bed, and my legs were hanging over the end. They had done this many times, and worked together like it was an army maneuver. The Cop strapped my legs against the bed-frame, so they were spread wide apart, with three or four straps spaced evenly up each calf. Then he tied me down on the bed, so tight I was totally immobilized. He used the buckled lengths of rubber that were already fixed to the frame, as well as much white rope as it took to keep my arms, head and body held firmly in place... so I wasn't going nowhere... not so much As an inch.
Brandon pulled his waders fully up over his heavy black rubber chaps. Big, wide, and flopping at his thighs while he strutted around inspecting me, with a nasty leer on his face. It was a ritual I came to learn was a sign that things were gonna turn more and more sleazy.
"Put some fuck-juice up the pig's butt?" Brandon murmured to me.
Gustav hissed "The whore doesn't seem to object."
A smiling Brandon took some kind of a funnel from off his belt-loop, with a long rubber hose at the end. He gave it to the Cop, who grinned widely in anticipation while he lubed the hose.
"Make your pig butt soooooo fucking hungry....." purred Brandon to me.
The Cop slid the hose deep inside my ass, and held the funnel up for Brandon, who tipped what seemed to me like an 8-ball of some yellowy-white powder into the funnel.
"Yeaaaahhhh" growled the Rubber Cop, with a real sick grin.
"Fuck-powder to give the pig a whore-butt" Brandon dawled to me, as though it was just him and me in the cell. Then he slowly popped open his rubber cod-piece, and pulled out his fat dick, and started pissing into the funnel.
"Wash it down into the pig's ass." He leered at me, hanging his tongue out his mouth and waggling it at me. It was so fucking sleazy - and drove me so fucking crazy!
"But not too much piss...huh?" He aimed his still-pissing dick away from the funnel. "Yeah!" growled the Cop again. Piss splashed all over me - and him too. He didn't seem to mind, but grinned wider still. Now I saw why Brandon had pulled his waders up... It was a cue for the others to take out their dicks, and piss all over me - Gustav splashing his piss especially over my mouth.
With the Cop and Gustav still pissing, Brandon gently pulled the tube out my butt, and slipped his rubber-gloved hand in its place.
"Work it in good" he nodded at me, like he was teaching me how to do it. Brandon was so fucking vocal...He rubbed and rotated his fingers all round inside my butt, working the crystal-piss into my membranes, making sure not a drop was wasted.
It kicked in fast. Soon I was moaning for Brandon's fist... The Cop attached my nose tubes to the poppers again, and I took hit after hit. Now Gustav was laying on his back, between Brandon's knees, slurping on Brandon's rubber-covered dick; while RubberCop had slipped his meat into my "0" shaped rubber mouth, and was working my nipples while he pumped.
Timing himself with my first poppers rush, Brandon PUSHED his fist all the way into my willing and open hole. But there was more to come... oh man! With that non-stop perverted drawl always filling my head, Brandon lubed-up what was still showing of his rubber-gloved arm, this time using the crystal-lube, and forced his hand deeper and deeper into my body.
Gustav was jacking himself off, while thrusting his head back and forth over Brandon's dick. And the Cop was fucking my face harder and harder. Soon, the three of us were groaning, and yelling, and "Fuck"-ing and "Yeah" - ing, louder and louder, until there was a FUCKING EXPLOSION of orgasms, as we all came at once.
The Cop quickly pulled out of my throat, and Brandon did the same out of Gustav, and working like a team, they both make sure a good load of their Cum splattered all over my rubber-body.
SECTION 8 Fuck Machine
I wasn't even aware of the fuck-machine, until they began to impale me on it. They had wheeled it to where my legs were strapped wide and tight against the bed-rail. Someone activated another set of hydraulic motors, and the part of the bed under my back raised up some, stopping when my hole was level with the tip of the huge black-rubber cone that was to screw its way into my butt. It was like a long wizard's hat; about two-foot long, and spreading from a tip the size of a pencil to a base about 10 inches wide. It had a screw-thread winding round it - not too deep, like a ribbed dildo. And the tip of it showed that it was hollowed out, with a small hole bored right the way through. I couldn't make out where the hole led to in the machine; but I guessed it had something to do with the three wide funnels sticking out the top of the machine, labeled "Chems " - "Lube" - and "Piss".There were also four levers described as - "Vibrate" - "Hammer" - "Fuck" and "Screw."
Once my hole was lined up with the tip of the fuck-cone, they pushed the machine, until about three or four inches of it had penetrated my butt. They then tied the machine firmly against the bed, using a deal of rope, to make sure it was fixed solid.
"The fuck-juice makes the pig's butt sooooo hungry, huh?" said Brandon, like he was so fucking sorry for me, and was gonna try to help... if he could...
"I know, boy. I know" He pulled on my swollen over-worked-tits, and took some lube and smeared it all round them.
"We'll take good care of you" he said, grinning wider and wider. Meanwhile, the Cop had been tying off my balls with thin white string, so they swelled up and stuck out sideways from my dick. The last coil of string had a small chrome ring slipped over it, which was then pulled tight against each ball. Also, the rubber cock-rings had been replaced - fuck knows when or by who! - by a thick rubber ball-stretcher: the type with four or five buckled straps you can pull real tight. This ball-stretcher also had a chrome ring threaded into it...
I hadn't time to see everything they were doing, it all happened so fast and I was real fucked up by now. All I remember is the gleam piss-splashed rubber as they set to work, each concentrating on his pre-determined tasks. "How does the pig like being the center of so much rubbermen's attention? Grinned Brandon at me, making eye-contact in the mirror. He had pushed a glass tube - about four inches long - over each of my tits and was pumping out the air from the second one before I caught up with what he was doing. The first glass tube already had my nipple all swollen out and pressing against the glass as it was sucked into the vacuum, and filling as much as two inches of the tube, maybe even more... Brandon soon had the second nipple in the same state, and the force of the vacuum made the greasy base of each tube dig into my chest.
The glass vacu-tubes also had small chrome rings at the top of them...Gustav had wheeled one of those stands you see in hospitals, that they attach drips to, over to where my head was strapped tight to the raised part of the bed. A metal arm swung out from the stand, and Gustav adjusted it so it lay right over my open mouth. Then he took the funnel that Brandon had used to pour chem.- piss up my butt hole, and slipped the lubed hose down my throat. My head was fixed so tight, I couldn't even resist by and kind of movement - there was not a damn thing I could do about it, except watch him slide a good length of bitter-tasting hose down my gullet, and fix the funnel on the arm of the stand, over my face.
By the time Gustav had finished, I could see in the overhead mirror that the Rubber-Cop and Brandon had tied a piece of white string onto all the chrome Rings, and looped it through a hook in the ceiling, and tied each of the other ends to a dirty rubber-boot, which hung just lower than dick-height. So there were 5 rubber boots, hanging down by the sides of the bed, pulling against my dick, my balls, and my swollen tits, which were still creeping up the sides of the vacuum-tubes. Brandon strutted round the bed, real pleased with his sick and perverted handiwork, his wide piss-wet waders flopping nastily round his thighs, screwing up his face and rubbing his cod-piece roughly, and making his favorite "Phew" noise when he saw new angle to the depravity of it all which particularly turned him on.
In spite of the efficiency with which they had worked, they also had worked lovingly over each detail, and must have taken their sweet time, because I heard the Gustav say "I think he's coming down."
In the overhead mirror, I saw Brandon grin broadly. This was music to his ears. Fuck! He would just love to slam me again, and prepared the needle.
As he jabbed it into the black pad on my left arm, he looked me straight in the face and murmured: "You gonna turn whore for me? Fist whore? Piss whore? Fuck whore?" He emptied the contents of the hypo, and at the same time, the fuck machine was turned on, real slow.
Fuuuucccccccckkkkkkkkk - I was flying in .5 of a second.
"Give it some X" said Gustav.
The Cop broke open a capsule, emptied it into one the "Chem" funnel on the fuck-machine, and washed it down with a short spurt of his piss. Brandon took a fresh poppers canister from his rubber belt, and attached the ends of my nose-tubes to it. They walked round me a few times, watching the screw-cone thread its was slowly into me. Then they all walked out of the darkened room, leaving the door wide open. Brandon stood there just for a moment, rubbing his cop-piece and saying "Fuck yeah!" a couple times. When he finally walked away, I could see that a notice was stuck onto the outside of the door, written in crude writing:
"Toilet - this way."
An arrow, drawn in thick black felt-tip pen, pointed towards where I was tied up, fucked up, impaled on a fuck machine, and totally helpless.
They told me, much later, it was a couple hours before anyone came into the room. I had no fucking idea if it was a couple minutes! I was lying there, fucked-up as shit - and that was before the E had even started to kick in! - with the dildo of my fucking dreams screwing REAL slowly into my butt, and with rubber piss-boots hanging on thin rope, slung through pulleys down to chrome rings that were attached to my vacu-pumped tits, my tied-off balls, and my mutated rubber-dick. All of this I could see in the ceiling-mirror above me. The rest of the room was pitch black, apart from a thin shaft of light illuminating the sign on the door -"Toilet"- and the arrow pointing towards me.
Sometimes, I thought I caught the glimmer of light on steel or chrome, blinking briefly in the darkness, as someone moved silently through the room - but I never could be quite sure... was I imagining it...? Or was there someone actually there, or several of them, preparing their next move on me... about to pounce? Or was someone flashing a laser into the room, to fuck with my head? Then there were the noises. The little rustlings - (or so I thought) - of rubber clothing - or the tight creak of leather - or a floor-board. Who was there? What were they going to do? Why were they being so stealthy and secretive? I don't know how many times it must have been that I heard the heavy clomp of boots coming down the corridor and thought "Oh Fuck! This is it!" - not knowing (then) if it was fear, or lust, that made my heart beat so fast... But the boots passed by the open door, and no-one ever came in.
Other times, the guy would stop right by the door - but I never could see him. I just heard the boots stop. No-one looked in. Just the stomp of boots: and the heavy thud stopping in the dark, casting a shadow on the sign saying `Toilet' and the arrow pointing at me. And at each glimmer of light, each creak and rustle, each thud of a boot - I braced myself, for... how the hell should I know? My head was swimming with images of every kind of perverted shit I wanted these guys to do to me... I needed them to do to me... I was craving for them to do to me... I would give them anything, promise anything, do anything they wanted - if they did all those kinky, nasty things my head told me I needed so bad for someone to do to me. But they walked on by.
And all the time, the fuck-machine slowly ground deeper and deeper inside my butt; working in the crystal it was programmed to squirt out of the hole in the dildo, every half -hour, regular as clockwork; automatically kept lubed with generous dollops of K lube; fucking with my head, making me more and more of a pig, more and more of a whore...
SECTION 9 Skinhead Jerk Off
The first E kicked in slowly - with a warm feeling spreading from my belly, right through my rubberised body - and then I was floating fuck knows where! They must have timed it, or read the signals from the spaced-out way I tried to squirm in my tight bondage... but at the exact same time as it kicked in, they started to flash clips of hardcore porn on the overhead screen. I could have been sketching, I suppose, because what came up on screen matched precisely what was going on in my fucked-up head - but I no longer knew or cared what was real and what wasn't.
I got so I didn't expect the clomping boots ever to come into the room and I just lay there, sinking gladly into my fucked-up delirium, enjoying it for what it was, letting my head tell me the room was full of Rubber men who were about to work me over like I could never believe possible...
Then someone came in to the room - out of no-where, with no tell-tale footsteps - which threw me almost as much as when they didn't come in. A real hot looking young skinhead, in jeans and boots, and a rubber shirt. He walked slowly round the bed, holding his bulging denim crotch in his rubber-fist, never making eye-contact, just acting kinda curious, like there was nothing too much out of the ordinary here...and walked out again.
Was that a wet piss-stain down the front of his jeans? There was a long, long period of silence, with no boots stomping up to the door. No glimmer of steel. Nothing. Total quiet, unearthly quiet; and me quietly losing all grip on reality...And, suddenly, without any warning, and with no-one having come into the room, a rubber hand floated out from behind my head, and played with my left nipple, and disappeared behind me again. Then another one came up from the side of the bed, and stroked my dick. Now another, playing with my right nipple. There was not the slightest sound before, during or after... I thought I might have died and gone to Hell, and these were rubber Demons!
Then there was Brandon's face on the screen above me - close up, and huge, hanging there in the air, it seemed now, half way between the screen and me...
His voiced echoed, on and on...
Now the hot young skinhead is standing over me, jacking off. He doesn't touch me, or do anything but look up and down over my body - everywhere except my eyes (like there is only this thing there: not a human-being: not me) - standing there, beating his meat. He cums without any build-up to it - no groaning or moaning, or tilting his head back - just staring at me, curious at what he sees, and cumming - SPLAT! - over my rubber body - SPLAT! - over my rubber face - SPLAT! - over my crotch... almost mechanically, like he has plenty more where that came from, and this was not so much for his pleasure as to give this thing a taste of how it feels when a guy shoots his load onto it.
A memory I'm going to need...He leaves the room. I hear his boots march into the distance.
SECTION 10 Blindfolded
Someone, out of no-where, places a blindfold over my eyes, and quickly ties it tight behind my head.
All at once, the sound of heavy boots, stomping all over the room, round the bed, every fuckin' where! A mad-house! Then they stop, just as quickly. Not a word is spoken.
Can I feel something touching me? Or is that my... Fuck! Someone brushed against me, so light, and so quiet... Where are they? What do they look like? What are they going to do to me?
Silence. Not a sound - except for the fuck-machine grinding round and round, torturing my ass, making it hunger, so bad that it hurts, for the dildo to push deeper... deeper... deeper...
Did I say the word out loud? Or could they read my mind?
Someone pulls a switch on the fuck machine - "Hammer" mode - and the dildo suddenly punches my ass, quickly and remorselessly, and I go into a violent spasm of ecstasy...
"HUH! HUH! HUH!"
"Shut the fuck up!" shouts a real mean, sneering, voice. Someone SLAPS my head. And immediately, there is the sound of pissing in the funnel - the one that goes into my mouth - and I don't have too much choice
about shutting the fuck up! By the time I have swallowed every last drop, the fuck-machine is back to its slow grind. I never even noticed when they turned the "hammer" off.
CRACK! A whip stings the black air. Then nothing. No explanation. No follow-up. Nothing... or was that something? Fuck! WHO'S THERE?
Now there are two pairs of rubber-hands, either side my body, taking a hold of the glass vacu-jars over my tits. Even more air is pumped out of them, and my nipples get sucked deeper into the jars - and the rubber hands pull on them to check that the seal is good and tight against my skin...
Now there is the dripping, splashing sound, all around me, of guys pissing - but not on me, or into the funnel... are they pissing over each other? - or into the rubber boots that are hooked up to the taught white lengths of rope, that have started to pull harder on my nipple-jars, and on my stretched-out balls, and on my dick? FUCK! That hurts...
I have no idea how far they are stretching out my body parts, but it feels like they gotta tear off, any second. I imagine how I must look... I can see it through my blindfold! Like a rubber octopus or weird fucking alien creature, with long rubber sex-tentacles being pulled out of me... that's it... a fucking rubber alien...My nose fills with poppers.
"Yeahhhh!" growls a real low, soft voice in appreciation. Then, so quiet, it's almost inaudible - "Fuuuuuck yeahhhhhhhhhh!"
SPLAT! - a wad of cum lands on my rubber-belly.
Some movement... some boots shuffling on the floor... Maybe they're leaving again? Or maybe they're changing places to let other guys carry on pissing into the hanging rubber boots... ? The splashing sound has never stopped...The ropes pull even harder on my tits and cock and balls. FUCK! How far can they stretch?
Someone switches the machine to "fuck" mode. The dildo pushes slowly in, all the way - and real fast out!... and slowly in again - and real fast out!...and
Now someone is doing something with my dick... they are sliding something into it, and over the fat mushroom head.... I can hear a sound of... right by my face...
Now I can feel someone messing with the black pad on my right arm... a thick German accent in my ear...
I don't feel the needle...
"Something to help the whore pee-pee."
The drug quickly works into my system, and I start to piss; slow at first, then steady and long; and soon I cannot stop myself pissing. And the rubber tube hanging over the mouth-funnel is gushing my own hot piss back into my throat.
"Your bladder can't hold it, piss-whore" hisses Gustav's voice...The piss flows in a long, never-ending circle, from my dick, and up round the tube, back into my mouth, down into my belly, outta my dick, up the tube... Fuck! It isn't ever going to stop! "Perpetual motion."
Round and round it flows - while the fuck-machine pumps harder, deeper, faster. I swallow as quickly as I can, but I can't keep up and hot piss splashes out the over-flowing funnel.
"ALL OF IT, TOILET-PIG!" shouts the mean voice. And he CRACKS the whip against my stretched-out balls.I drink more quickly, frantically gulping down as fast as the piss is re-cycled back out of my dick, and
up the tube...There is a ROAR of approval.
Another load of cum hits me on the face.
SPLAT! SPLAT! SPLAT! SPLAT!
"Yeaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh!" the whispered growl recedes towards the door.
I hear the sound of boots stomping out the room. I am alone. The fuck-machine still pounds my ass, and the piss still flows endlessly. But otherwise, I am sure, I am quite alone.The flow turns to a trickle - and just as soon as it does, the tension on my dick eases up, as someone takes a hold of the piss-filled boot.Suddenly, the mouth-funnel overflows again, as the boot is emptied into it, and I gulp as much as I can down, and the piss flow is real fast again.It takes a while, but eventually the flow turns back into a trickle. Another boot is emptied into my mouth...And so, one by one all the boots get emptied into my mouth...
Now the X is kicking in so hard, I drift into another dimension. Everything is in slow-motion. The fuck-machine is still working my ass, but real measured and lazy. And I am still swallowing my piss, in time with the machine, so slow and steady and easy...gulp - fuck - gulp - fuck - gulp - fuck - gulp - fuck - gulp...
We fly to Mars. Just my piss, my butt, and me. And it takes no time at all - and all the time in the world.
SECTION 11 Brandon Gets Nasty
So it's real strange when I find that I can see. Everything. - I don't remember them taking the blindfold off... ?And it's stranger still, when I think I am slowly gulping down my piss, and open my eyes and see that there is a Rubberman - the beautiful Rubber Motor-cycle Cop - his muscular thighs straddling my head, and I am swallowing his big fat Rubber Dick, while his striped uniform rubber beeches rub softly against the sides of my face as he deep-fucks my throat, and his rubber-gloved hands work my huge, swollen nipples.And how did I get to be back in the sling? With Brandon at my ass, and his arm half-way up my butt?
"He's coming round."
Brandon grins at me, real wide. "Welcome back, whore-boy."
I feel so fucking beautiful. I don't want this ever to end. In fact, I want the two of them to push even deeper inside me.
Instinctively I pull my hands up to eh Motor-cycle Cop's nipples. I don't even react to the fact I am no longer tied up. I reach his fat, juicy tits and take them between my fingers.
"Yeeeeeeaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh!" he growls, so fucking quiet, and yet so fucking strong.
"Good whore" says Brandon.My hooded eyes just make contact with him, and I push my butt further onto his biceps.
"Fuuuuuccccccccckkkkkkkkk yeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh!" growls the Cop.
Another big hit of poppers is administered to me. I hold my breath... and release it as the huge rush hits so fucking hard... I swallow the rest of Brandon's arm, in one long, smooth thrust, right up to his shoulder.
"Fuck! You are one fuck of a whore..." breathes Brandon. The cop eases his balls into my hungry mouth, as his dick slides down my willing throat. So far, that his rubber cod-piece presses down on my face. I try to suck more of Brandon's arm inside me."I got no more to give you, whore-boy!" he drawls.
"Yeaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhh! growls the Cop.
And fuck! It feels so fine to be their whore. Nothing else matters, or ever could matter.
"Good whore" whispers Brandon.
I grind my ass, riding Brandon's arm as far as he can push it inside me. And I open my gullet to all the rubber-dick I can swallow. And they tell me after, I am laying on the bed, tweaked out of my fucking brains, grinding and swallowing the whole night long, all covered in piss and cum, for hour upon hour after they have shot their loads, pulled out of me, and left me alone in the room.
Still totally convinced they are there, fucking and fisting me, I hear Chett's voice.
"Time for some rest, whore-boy. Three nights is enough for one day."
I look towards him, my eyes, so hooded I can scarcely make out his rubber form; and I half-smile, half dead, dreamy and desperate, all at once...
"Make me a whore, Sir. Make me a fucking whore."
A sweet smelling gas fills my head, and I pass out. The dream I had was so fucking scary, because I was sure I was awake, and that everything was for real.
They had left me untied, lying on the bed, just where they found me squirming around like I was still being fisted or fucked, and moaning incoherent words of ecstasy. If the gas was to make me sleep, it didn't work -- at least, not for long. I was soon wide awake again, and there was no way I was ever falling asleep. Not for a day or two... There was too much stuff flying in and out of my fried-up brain to make sleep a possibility.
And it was so fucking cold! I had no clothes on. There was no bedding or anything -- just the rubber sheet. I tried to pull it from the bed, and crawl under it -- but I couldn't make it come loose. So I just lay there, thrashing from side to side, losing my mind, losing the fight -- with what? Crystal-meth Demons!
I prayed in vain that I would sleep, that I could forget what had happened that night... those nights? Fuck! How long had I been there?
Then there were the voices. The whispering that I tried so hard to ignore...at first. And that I quickly tried just as hard to hear, to make it all out - until gradually, I found I could understand the odd word, then the odd phrase, and finally whole sentences. Sentences they kept on repeating, over and over again. Mean things; horrible, nasty stuff -- and all about me.
About how disgusting I was. About how they loathed me, and despised me, and how no-one had ever turned into such a dirty whore as quickly as I had. On and on, again and again, the same things over and over. I held my hands over my ears, but still I heard them. Fuck! How they hated me!
SECTION 12 The Sewer Creatures
A quiet grinding sound. Metal on metal. In the corner of the room.
I just stayed stock-still on the bed, scared out of my wits, and looked sideways with my eyes towards the noise, without moving my head. Helpless, alone, a living thing that they had turned into rubber -- and now this grinding sound from the floor, in the darkest corner of the room, where someone, or something, was trying to come up -- from where???
I strained to try to see what the fuck was happening - at the same time as shrinking back from it -- petrified. It was a circle, there in the corner, like a man-hole cover, that was turning, ever so slowly, round and round, and being eased up and open from underneath. I was a rabbit in the headlights. I stared in absolute terror, but couldn't move a muscle as the cover jumped free of its metal screw-thread, and was slid sideways, and the man-hole opened up... an impenetrable blackness, a dark gateway into hell.
Out from the shadows rose a head, with some industrial kind of mask over it. The rest of the body followed, in real heavy black-rubber gear, a thick belt, black industrial work- gloves, and thick, black hip-boots, wet with the slime of the sewer. The monster climbed up out of the man-hole and stomped into the room. Immediately behind him came another, exactly the same. And then, a third, wearing a gas-mask and chest-high waders, wet and dirty and smelling of piss.
The fourth guy -- thing! -- was too weird for me to be able to describe. All-rubber. A kind of alien. His nipples sort of turned into long rubber tubes; and his long, fat, black-rubber dick turned into a hose, that was so long, it trailed along the floor. He had thick, industrial black rubber gauntlets; and he wore a full-face rubber mask, with wide round holes for his eyes and mouth, and rubber spikes sticking out all over the rest of it. There was something stuck up his butt: it started like it was a fat dildo or plug -- but it too trailed off into a long rubber hose. He was fucking scary!
All four of them moved slowly towards me, almost in slow-motion. I tried to scream for help -- but nothing came from my mouth. I couldn't speak or shout or make any sound at all. I wasn't too sure I could even breathe.
It was clear that they had come for me. I had been left there for them, like bait -- like the goat in Jurassic Park was left for the dinosaur.
They didn't speak to each other -- at least, not in any language I knew -- they just grunted, and snorted, and belched guttural noises at each other, like savage animals.They slowly dragged their heavy boots nearer and nearer the bed...
I was paralysed. Trembling all over, but unable to put up any resistance, I did nothing while one of them forced me down at the shoulders and pinned me to the bed, another two spread my legs wide apart, sat on them, and held down my groin, while the Rubber Alien clenched his gauntlet into a thick rubber knot, raised it high above his head, and aimed a brutal punch down against my butt-hole...
NOW I SCREAMED!
SECTION 13 Bad Dream
It was the tech who came running in. He came to the bed, where I was thrashing around and yelling, all alone - no sewer-pigs, just me and my nightmare - and he held me by the shoulders until I had stopped thrashing and was just laying there. Then he stroked my head, and said --
"It's alright! It's alright! Just a bad dream. I'm here. It's alright."
I calmed down... some! -- but couldn't stop staring to the corner of the room, in case they came back. There was no-one there - nothing. The tech smiled at me, real gentle and kind -
"Just a bad dream."
Except, there was a round metal type of man-hole cover, there in the corner, just like I had seen opening up...They must have cleaned me when I was asleep, because I noticed, while the tech was soothing me, that I was all shiny and dry and clean as a whistle -- just fucking cold!I shivered, non-stop. I was frightened, and confused, and felt totally disoriented and wasted from all those drugs...I hate to admit it, but I think I started to cry. Leastways, the tech gently brushed my cheeks under each eye, very tenderly, and said -- "Hey..."
Now I was feeling such a dumb-ass, I nearly bust out crying big-time. I looked up at this guy -- the guy whose flogging had made me cum! - and now he was a kind of a guardian angel -- I felt so ashamed at how I had reacted when they flogged him -- and for what? For being too nice to me! And fuck! Did I need him to be nice to me right now!
He asked if I was better. I said thanks "I... don't even know your name" I stammered.
"Billy" he smiled.
"Billy, huh?" I tried to smile back at him, but I don't think I was too successful. Billy. Such an ordinary, boy-next-door, wholesome name. And there I was, a mutant rubber thing they had drugged and ... fuck, I didn't want to think about it! I wanted him to go. I was ashamed to be even seen by this good-looking, decent guy, Billy. I felt so fucking lost...
It was stupid, and weak, but I plucked up the courage to ask for what I needed, so much, right then -
"Billy...would you... I really need someone to hug me... I'm sorry... forget I said that..."
He smiled again. Such a beautiful, comforting smile.
And I sat up and leaned into his arms, and he held me tight and patted my back, and even gave me a peck on the cheek, and rocked me from side to side, and I never was made to feel my `time was up', and I just sank into him and wanted him to hold me like that for ever. It was I who broke the spell...
"It's so fucking cold in here!"
Billy pointed to some rubber clothing that was neatly stacked on the chair.
"No" I shuddered. "I don't want to wear that stuff."
"It's the only clothes they allowed you to wear in here" said Billy. "Come on. It's not that big of a deal! You want to freeze to death?"
He helped me into a pair of rubber pants, that fitted perfectly. (Of course they did: they had been made for me!) And a rubber t-shirt and jacket. Some waders were lying by the chair, folded down at the knee, and then back up again at the calf.
"Try them for size" said Billy.
I pulled them on. My size.
"You look great" he said. And he came and hugged me again. I could see the two of us in the mirror -- and I have to admit, it was a hot sight, the two of us in rubber and boots, in each other's arms.
Then I was curious about something...
"Why did they send you?"
"Because I asked them to" said Billy.
I held it back for as long as I could, then I did start crying, big time, on his shoulder, and held onto him as tight as I could. He let me `get it all out', soothing me, kissing the top of my head, rubbing my back and shoulders, telling me it was alright to cry, and not to be ashamed, it was natural, and stuff like that. Then he walked me back to the bed.
"You need a whole lot more rest" he said.
Suddenly I panicked..."You're not going to leave me?" I pleaded. He smiled again.
"Why do you think I'm here, stupid? I'm going to look after you. Keep you safe, while you're asleep. And be right by you when you wake up."
He lay me on the bed. And, somehow, from somewhere, he pulled a rubber sheet over me. He sat on the edge of the bed, and told me to try to go to sleep, and that it was alright, he wouldn't leave me. He stroked my head, ever so softly...
I closed my eyes, with Billy holding my hand, and slowly drifted into sleep.
I had the nightmare again. The same slow turning of the man-hole cover. The same rubber-clad monsters, wet and slippery from the sewer, wearing industrial-type welders' masks or gas-masks. And that hooded Alien!
But this time, Billy was also in the dream. He had hold of the punk -- the guy in piss-wet jeans and rubber tank-top who had jacked off over me. Billy had him cuffed behind his back, and shackled at his boots. The guy was heavily drugged -- barely conscious -- drooling and moaning incoherently, his eyes sometimes rolling to the top of his head.
Just as before, I was so shit-scared, I could not move... only watch, unable to stop anything, or cry out for help. The sewer pigs strapped me down on the bed, facing up, with my ass at the edge of the bed, and my legs tied against the frame, wide apart, and an extra-thick rubber strap was pulled round my hips, holding me tight and solid against the bed. Then my waders were pulled all the way up my legs -- they did this one leg at a time, with a strong sense of ritual... The waders were so big the tops of them brushed against my crotch...
Then the rubber-punk was put into some kind of harness, which they attached to a series of chains that they pulled down from the ceiling. There was the whine of a motor, the chains SNAPPED taught, and the punk was slowly lifted up into the air. He hung there, legs dangling directly over me, limp and near-senseless, drugged out of his fucking mind.
Next thing, the hydraulic motors raised me up some, but only at the bottom end of the bed, so that my head fell back, unsupported. Billy quickly strapped my forehead firmly against a head-rest that was at right angles to my back, so my mouth fell naturally open, in a straight line through to my throat, parallel to the bed.
The sewer-pigs moved about silently and methodically - like everyone seemed to do in Vulcan Pharmaceuticals! - as though they had been through the routine a hundred times before. One of them took a long hypo, and jabbed it through the punk's jeans, deep into his thigh. The punk was so fucked-up, he hardly reacted to the injection -- that is, not until the drugs kicked in... A dark, damp patch appeared on the crotch of his jeans, and slowly spread downwards and outwards... Then small trickles of piss broke out from where his jeans were ripped, and fell splattering down on me.
One of the sewer pigs pulled a length of hose from the ceiling, while another of them attached a kind of gag to the punk's mouth. The hose was lubed-up - with anaesthetic, I guess - because they threaded it through the gag, and right down the punk's throat into his belly. I saw the hose give a sort of jump, as they turned a tap, and liquid (fuck knows what it was!) pumped into it, and into the skinhead, so he would continue to piss.
Soon, the damp patch had spread all the way down one of his faded-blue denim legs, and his boot began to fill with piss, and overflow so it cascaded down over me.
They pulled a switch, and the drugged punk's shackled legs were raised, slightly above his head. Now the dark piss-patch spread down over his denim-ass and more and more piss poured over me. They pulled his legs higher, and the piss flowed down the inside of his rubber tank-top, over his face, through his hair, and again splashed all over me, and onto the Sewer Pigs -- who's grunts and snorts were getting louder and louder.
The Alien took a hypo and pushed it into the side of my dick. FUCK! I screamed out in agony! My mutated rubber-dick, which was already twice its usual size, swelled up even more, to the size of a fucking horse-dick, and went hard as a rock, pointing straight up in the air, like a fat tree-stump. One of the two Sewer-Pigs in a welder's mask then took a fat syringe, and emptied the contents down my wide piss-slit. My balls swelled up to the size of grape-fruits, and my dick started to ooze a steady flow of pre-cum.
The Rubberman in chest-high waders took a large knife from his belt and slit open the punk's tight, piss-wet denim at the ass, and ripped his jeans wide open. Then there was the whine of the motor again -- and the trussed-up punk was slowly lowered down...
Billy carefully positioned him over my dick, and they lowered him right onto me, skewering his ass onto my fucking huge, rock-hard, black rubber dick.
His dry, un-lubed hole took it at first -- but as the shaft thickened up, and he was stretched open wider and wider, it wasn't long before he couldn't take any more, and began to groan with pain...
That's when they suddenly dropped the chains 6", and the punk SCREAMED in agony as he was impaled all the way down on my fat rubberdick and onto my huge balls. Then they raised him slowly again, and DROPPED him suddenly, all the way back down the shaft of my horse-dick, with him SCREAMING all the time, and me squirming and moaning with pleasure at how they were forcing his ass to fuck my dick, and how my drug-induced flow of pre-cum was lubing the skinhead's ass.
Billy came up behind me, with a huge fucking grin on his face, and pushed his rubber meat into my open mouth and straight on into my throat. It was an easy fuck, and he pumped his hips back and forth, slapping my face harder and harder against his rubber crotch with every new stroke, and no chance in hell of any resistance from me, with my head nicely strapped back against the bed-frame.
Meanwhile, the Alien clenched his rubber-gauntlet hand into a fist, like in the previous dream, and pressed it against my butt-hole. The pushing turned to punching. The punching turned to brutal punching. With no attempt, and no intention, of easing me open, he kept aiming his big knot of a rubber fist harder and harder against my butt-hole, until suddenly it just gave way, and with a loud SCREAM I signalled that he had finally punch-fucked his way right inside me.
The chains raised the punk up again -- and dropped him all the way down onto my dick! The punch-fucker pulled out and PUNCHED all the way in again. And with my screams and the punk's screams filling the room... I woke up.
Billy was there for me just like he was before; and soothed me, and told me it was another nightmare, and stroked my head, and was my total hero, all over again.
And he held my hand while I drifted back into sleep.
But trying to piece it all together afterwards, I was almost sure -- could it be true? -- that as I lay there on the bed, with Billy soothing me and telling me it was all a nightmare... I saw that my waders were pulled all the
way up my legs, right up to my crotch...
SECTION 14 Good Dream
When I woke up again, Billy was laying next to me on the bed, fast asleep, with one arm draped over me. I pressed myself tighter into him, and rested my head against his shoulder. He pulled me closer to him, and dreamily gave me a kiss on the cheek, without waking up properly, and I fell into a deep, contented slumber.
My next nightmare was much shorter. The Sewer Pigs were dragging the drugged skinhead towards the manhole cover. One of them then started to drag me along too. But Billy was there, and wrested me from the grip of the Rubber monster. He mouthed words that I didn't hear -- no sound at all! -- but it looked like "Not now. Later." Billy took me in his arms and carried me to the bed. The last thing I remember from the nightmare was the punk being pulled into the manhole, and the cover closing up after him.
SECTION 15 Finale
I had no more nightmares.When I woke up, I felt much, much better. A whole new man! And there was Billy, sitting on the chair, staring at me intently. He smiled when I looked over to him. "You had a long sleep, kiddo!" he said. "You any idea how long you been out?" Boy, was I pleased to see him there. "No idea", I said. - "Probably better that way" smiled Billy. I suddenly wished... I wished...
"I wish you could take me outta here, take me home with you" I said -- And where the hell did that come from. Billy smiled at me, and said nothing.
"I wish you could look after me always. Do masters look after their slaves?"
"Sure they do" said Billy.
"Take me home with you, and keep me as your slave, and in rubber 24/7."
"Is that what you want?"
"But no drugs!" I added. "I want to feel like this. Like I do now."
"Come here" he said. I walked over to him. He took me by the shoulders.
"You really would like to be my rubber-slave?"
"You bet I would!" I said.
"It isn't impossible" he replied. And my heart missed a beat! But then he hit me with -
"I prepared these. One for you, and another for me." He showed me two booty bumps -- crystal meth, I guessed. (In fact, it was a cocktail -- way more powerful... )
My face fell."You've been having a rough time of it. Coming down hard. I thought it might help things go more smoothly. And I gotta say - " here he gave me a wicked grin... "It would be cool, getting a little high, and playing around with each other -- with you looking so hot in your new rubber."He paused, just enough for me have a problem with how to say `no'.
Then he continued -- "But, hey! Listen! It's not a deal-breaker! If you say `no drugs', then that's cool with me!"Oh man!! I wanted him so fucking much! And if he thought it was a good idea to get a little high and play around... Fuck! I wasn't going to put up a fight! In fact, the way he just said it, I was aching for it! I struggled for a couple seconds and then said: Fuck Billy! I'd love for us to do them. What are you talking about?"
He smiled at me, and told me to lay on the bed, face down. He unzipped the back of my rubber pants, and pressed the tip of the syringe against my butt hole.
"You sure about this, now?"
"You want me to beg?""That would work" he said. And there was something, all of a sudden, more serious about the way he said that.
"I'm begging you, Billy" I said. For real.
"Who did you say?"
"I'm begging you, Sir."
The mood changed. Billy changed. The whole way he moved changed. He held me firm against the bed. Without another word, he slid the syringe into me, held it for a second or two, then pressed the plunger... and I felt the cold liquid flow into my hole.
"Leave it a couple seconds to absorb" he ordered. Then he started slowly fucking my ass with the tiny syringe, working the powerful narcotics into my membranes. It was so fucking beautiful!
"Feels good, huh?" But this was still a different Billy. Not my guardian angel -- more like a vet talking to an animal.
I moaned, just slightly. Billy withdrew the syringe, and replaced it with a finger. Man! He knew how to finger-fuck. So much from so little...
I was rapidly losing it... Billy had me right where he wanted me... Then he hit me with it...
"How'd you like my booty bump as well?" he purred in my ear.
I wasn't going to say no...
"Sure you would" said Billy, without waiting for any reply from me.
He flipped me over onto my back. "I think you need to be tied up." This time he grinned at me -- but it was like Billy -- it was Brandon's grin -- more nasty and dirty and perverted than the Billy of a few minutes ago. He quickly strapped my arms and legs down. "OK pig-boy, now you're really gonna fly!" He placed the second syringe against my ass-hole. Then he leaned right over me, so his face was against mine. He looked into my eyes -- into my soul, more like! -- smiled a truly evil smile, and said "You are something else!"
Then he leaned inwards, and kissed me full in the mouth, while he slowly slipped the syringe into me and emptied it into my butt, fucking me a short while with the syringe, like before. And all the time that he massaged the chems into my membrane, he kept his mouth locked against mine, and his tongue darting down my throat. Fuck! I was in heaven.
Then he stopped. He pulled the syringe out my butt, and stood up. He was a totally different guy, all of a sudden. Matter of fact -- bored, even!
I was confused -- did I do something wrong? The door opened. Chett walked in.
"Thank you Sir" said Billy.
"You can go take your reward now."
Billy smiled at him enthusiastically. "Sir! Thank you, Sir! Billy left the room, without even looking at me. Chett came up to the bed. What he saw was what he had intended to see: a rubber-booted, rubber-clad, rubberized kidnap victim, whose head was spinning with how fucking beautiful the narcotics were making him feel, and at the same time, with not understanding a fucking thing that was going on -- except that I felt totally betrayed by Billy -- who by this time, I had built up to some kind of a God! -- and now he was delivering me over to Chett, all drugged and tied up.
"You witnessed his punishment, when he failed. I think you should see his reward, when he has succeeded" said Chett. "... And you have to admit, succeeded so well" he added, with a derisory look at my fucked-up state.
The cell wall morphed into glass, and I saw Billy tied to the St. Andrew's Cross, just like he had been before; and the two Rubber Storm-Troopers either side of him, each wielding a rubber flogger.
"Begin" said Chett. And the Storm-Troopers began to flog Billy, exactly as before, counting a rhythmic "One" -- "Two" -- "Three" like the mindless machines they were.
Billy, knowing I could see everything, smiled in ecstasy, straight at the plate glass that divided us.
"I don't understand..." was all I could say, as the strong narcotics Billy had pumped into me kicked in harder and harder.
"What Billy receives physically is identical in both cases. But when I say it is a punishment, he feels it as a punishment. When I say it is a reward, he feels it as a reward. And as you can see" -- Billy's face was in a total fucking rapture of pleasure -- "Billy is certainly enjoying his reward."
The glass morphed back to a plain wall.
I don't know if it was the deliberate cruelty, the deception, the knowledge that I was their toy, to play with as they pleased, or the contrast of all of that with the picture I had built up -- and had been encouraged to build up -- of having a friend in Billy, someone who genuinely cared, who was my guardian angel! - and to hit me with it all, when I was sinking further and further under the influence of fuck knows what narcotics, that they had tricked me into agreeing to take -- I don't know which of all these things was the final kick in the ribs, or whether it was all of them, but I sank back on the bed and stared blankly ahead, at nothing. And I should have cried my heart out -- it was as though I was crying my heart out: but no tears flowed: nothing -- I just lay there, defeated, useless and unwanted, not even capable of crying - shattered!
My whole world shattered. My dreams of any friendship or affection or kindness, or anything decent and good from any other human being -- shattered!
"Good" said Chett with a grim smile. He sighed. "Now we have to put you back together again. The way we want."
He came up to the bed, and towered over me.
"As always" he said, very pointedly, "As always, the choice is yours. Brandon is looking forward very much to his next session with you. He thinks you are very promising, and that you have a great career ahead of you, as a whore!" He untied my right hand, and laid a gas-mask by my head.
"If you decide you would like to place yourself under Brandon's expert tuition, you only have to put this gas mask over your head. He will see, or be told, and he will come in to continue with your training. You decide."
With that, Chett walked to the door, his big rubber boots clomping heavily on the floor. He turned round to face me.
"A couple more things. First off, I understand you had some bad dreams while you were coming down. Tree-people and stuff. Well listen good. They weren't nightmares. Billy dosed you up with a really big hit of Rohypnol. And the punk too. I don't know, I can't know, exactly how much you remember..."
Here, Chett glanced towards the man-hole cover: "The punk will be long past any hope of remembering anything by now... ever again..." Chett turned back to face me. "But it was for real. All of it."
Fuck! How much more were they going to screw with my head? How much else could possibly be left?
"And finally - and this really is for the last time..." - Chett stared deep into my eyes - "Good boy!"
He smiled -- a real cruel smile -- and left.
Now it all rushed back. I remembered why I was there: to be mutated into a living rubber slave -- for them to sell! They'd make a great deal of money from me, someone had said...who was it said that?
And as I lay there, numb from the triple-blow they had just dealt me, feeling tricked, betrayed, my head all messed up with drugs, needing someone so bad -- anyone! -- needing Billy so bad! - and yet more alone and unwanted than I could believe possible, with a huge couple loads of narcotics kicking in fast, and all the feelings and cravings they brought with them - it occurred to my fucked-up brain that if someone was going to spend big bucks buying me, then maybe I did have something that someone might want -- maybe I could mean something to someone, after all. And the thought crossed my mind for the first time, that it might not be so bad - and would certainly be better than what I was then! - it might even be my destiny, I found myself thinking - to be sold as a slave!
And I started to wonder what kind of guy would actually buy a rubber slave -- what would he look like? -- he would have to be a Rubberman! - and what kind of things would this Rubberman want to do to me...
At that precise moment, as though they were mind-readers, there on the screen above the bed, they showed video-clips of my last session with Brandon... him deep-fisting me, and the Rubber-Cop fucking my throat, and me groaning, with my head between his striped rubber chaps, and my ass pushing down further onto Brandon's arm - and me squirming and begging for more, deeper, harder -- begging them to fuck me up more -- begging them to drug me out of my fucking mind and make me a rubber-whore...
And without even thinking twice about it, my hand reached for the gas-mask...and I pulled it over my head.
The moment I had the gas mask pulled on, they started to come into the room. One after another.
Brandon lead the way. All gas-masked up, the same heavy industrial rubber he always wore, his tall, thick waders brushing against his bulging rubber cod-piece while he stomped into the room.
Then came the rubber motor-cycle cop. The big guy with striped rubber breeches, skin tight, and tucked into Dehner style rubber dress patrol boots. He held a huge fucking dildo in his hand.
Then the frogman. And the alien. And a steady stream of rubbermen, in different kinds of gear. Some skin-tight, and head-to toe, a lot of them in waders, or knee high rubber boots, turned down at the top. Others in
uniform-rubber; or chaps; or some just in jeans and rubber boots, with a rubber tank-top, like the punk, and maybe a half-hood.
But all of them had just one purpose in mind -- to fuck me or fist me, or piss on me, and in me, or make me piss on myself, or fuck me up more and more one way or another, until I was incapable of thinking of anything, or wanting anything, or remembering anything -- except that I needed to be a 24/7 rubber slave. Last of all came Chett. Fully rubbered-up in chaps with a thick yellow stripe, and knee-high rubber biker boots, a studded cod-piece, a rubber harness and full-face gas-mask hood. He towered over the rest of them, legs wide apart, and surveyed the scene, the total rubber dungeon-master of my dreams.
"You want this, don't you?" he said. More of a statement of fact than a question.
"Yes SIR" I replied, hungrily.
"All the way."
All the way SIR!"
"No turning back."
"What is the most important thing in your life?"
"You need to wear Rubber day and night, don't you boy."
"You want to be made of Rubber."
"I want to be made of Rubber SIR!"
"You want to be turned into Rubber."
"I need to be turned into Rubber SIR!"
"Good answer, rubber-whore!"
Chett gave a nod to Brandon. The hydraulic motors started up again, and I felt myself lifted up in the sling that rose slowly up from the bed-frame. Brandon closed in on his target -- my rubberised hole that was now nicely level with his chest. The Rubber Cop and a couple of frogmen strapped my wrists and ankles tight into the sling-hoops.
One of the punks screwed a canister to the breathing tube from my gas-mask, and my lungs filled with a pungent gas. In a matter of seconds, I was greedily pushing my hungry ass down as far as I could on Brandon's lubed-up fist, forearm, and bicep.
The gas mask Chett had given me was wired with small speakers in the ears, so he could continue to brainwash me, never letting me off the hook, while the gas they were feeding me drained me of the last dregs of resistance, and Brandon opened me up again -- as only Brandon could.
"You are turning into Rubber" whispered Chett's voice.
I was so turned on hearing this, I bucked and plunged my ass right up to Brandon's shoulder. Whoops of appreciation from the rubber perverts, who now had complete control of my mind and body, filled the black prison-cell.
"Do you want me to sell you to a total fucking rubber stranger?"
I shouted out from under my gas-mask. "Yes SIR! Sell me to a fucking rubber pervert SIR!"
The rubber alien joined Brandon, and began to push his webbed rubber hand up into my willing hole, alongside Brandon's arm. The intensity of gas in the mask got stronger. The Rubber Cop took a hold of my nipples and worked them until I was in a frenzy. Then the gas changed all of a sudden, and immediately I opened up, and swallowed as much as I could take of the alien's fist.
Another ROAR from the hoard of Rubbermen waiting their turn to work me over.
Something was attached over my dick, and I felt a strong suction, making my mutated black-rubber dick swell up and out, until it filled the tube. The suction continued, until it felt like my cum was going to be sucked out of me.
Now some of the guys had their fat dicks out, and were pissing all over me. I writhed and wallowed in the hot beautiful feel of rubber-piss.
"You like piss, boy?" murmered Chett's voice, seductively.
"Yes SIR! Make me a piss-whore SIR!"
"You want me to give you to the Sewer Pigs, boy?"
My heart missed a beat. The image of the punk flashed into my brain, who they had drugged so much out of his head, he had to be dragged over to the man-hole. FUCK! I wanted that! I knew I wanted that!
"Yes SIR! Give me to the Sewer Pigs SIR!"
"They'll turn you into one. You want that?"
"They have no mercy, boy. No feelings, except a need to make more of their own kind. You want that?"
"Yes SIR! FUCK SIR! I want to be turned into a fucking Sewer Pig SIR!"
"Good whore!" was all Chett said.
The fact was, they had now fucked me up so good, I wanted anything that they put into my head. And for a reason of his own, Chett had decided to turn me over to the Sewer Pigs. And anything Chett decided, it was a piece of piss now to make me think I wanted. Needed.
All this time, the Alien was working his arm up alongside Brandon's, sometimes pulling it out a little, and fucking me open more and more.
"You got two rubbermen's arms in you now, whore." said Chett approvingly, while the two rubber perverts fucked me in and out in sync with each other. "What is it you want?"
"More SIR! More rubber up me SIR!"
Brandon and the Alien slowly pulled out of me, to let the others have their turn. And one by one, they fucked and fisted me all night long. Sometimes the gas-mask was pulled off my head, and a rubber dick, or two, plunged into my throat and fucked my face. Sometimes I was dildo-fucked with dildos I couldn't believe would ever get inside of me. But they did. Always. And all the time, Chett's voice purred more and more perversion into my defenceless brain.
Chett never touched me once. He only stood there, watching and supervising -- and whispering his sick agenda for me into my headset.
It seemed like they couldn't get enough of me. They lined up, stroking their rubber-meat, perverted lust glinting in the eyes behind their gas-masks, or through the eye-holes in their rubber hoods. When someone was done with me, he went straight away and joined the back of the line again. No-one was allowed to play with each other. Only with me. I don't know how many times the line started over again -- I just knew I was trapped in a rubber time-warp, endlessly to be corrupted, fucked and fisted by an army of determined, muscular, twisted rubbermen. I slipped into a kind of trance, where it seemed like this was how it was going to be for ever, for the rest of my life -- I think Chett may even have got me to mumble the words out loud, that was what I wanted... all I wanted... all I was fit for...
Then, when I was being double-fisted by two of the punks, and squirming under a deluge of piss from a half-dozen guys in waders, the gas changed again, my lungs filled with a new sensation, and I passed out.
When I came-to the room was empty. I was still tied up in the sling. I had not been cleaned, and my ass was dripping with lube, with a fat dildo still hanging out of it, and my rubber body was glistening with piss. A long length of tubing stretched from the end of my black-rubber dick, over the side of the sling, and trailed across the floor -- like in one of those Bastille drawings... like in the images that were projected onto every wall in my cell...
Chett's voice whispered quietly in my headset... "It's what you begged for, piss-whore!"
In the overhead mirror, I could see that the man-hole over in the corner of the room was off, and lying by the side of a gaping hole in the floor - from which, deep down in the sewer, I could hear the sounds of boots climbing up the ladder.