Rubber Mummy

I hadn’t even taken off my shoes from walking into my apartment when I heard my roommate calling me from his bedroom.

“Hey Joey, come in here!”

Jesus. I just got in from work and already I have to deal with Ben again. Sometimes you just want a minute to yourself to relax, right? And it felt lately like I never had a quiet second alone- Ben had always acted like he owned the entire place since day one, and it had only gotten worse since he’d started working remotely. It seems like he only leaves to go to the gym or to go get drunk with one of his ex-frat bro friends.

I sighed and set my bag down.

“What is it, Ben?”

“You won’t believe who I ran into today at the gym,” he called, as I slumped up the hallway to his room.

Another empty-headed jock? I wanted to say. How can you even tell them apart?

“Who’s that?” I asked, feigning interest.

“Michael,” said Ben. “Your ex.”

I stopped. Great. When assholes collide. I turned into Ben’s room. He sat on his bed shirtless, leaning against his headboard, his meaty legs barely contained by a pair of blue gym shorts.

“We talked about you,” Ben continued. “I told him you’d been a pain in the ass lately.”

“Hey, fuck you!” I snapped, my anger rising.

“Michael said you can get that way,” Ben said calmly, seeming not to notice or care. “He said he had a little solution for when you got too uptight.”

Oh fuck. I thought. He wouldn’t fucking dare.

“Don’t you even fucki-”

“Sleepy Boy.”

The shout died in my throat. It felt like a battering ram had just hit my chest.

“Well, I’ll be fucked,” said Ben, grinning.

“Don’t… you…” I mumbled. “Fuck you, you….”

“Sleepy Boy,” said Ben again, assertive.

My hands fell to my side.

“Sleepy boy.”

My jaw hung loose. Unwanted relaxation flooded my body. I was… I was angry? Right? Wasn’t I? About… something…

“Sleepy boy.”

Mmmm, that warm feeling, flooding my shoulders, suddenly no longer tight. I was almost swaying on my feet. So relaxed, so… calm.

“Like I was saying,” Ben continued. “You’ve been a real upright prick lately. Annoying as fuck when you get home.”

Hmm? Had I been? Huh.

“But now you’re not,” he smiled. “Because you’re my dumb little Sleepy Boy.”

Mmmm, yeah. That sounded nice.

“No stress. No nagging your roommate. Just happy and dumb, knowing that I’m in charge here, right, Sleepy Boy?”

“You’re… in charge….” I mumbled.

“In fact, whenever you come home, your brain just empties right out, doesn’t it, Sleepy Boy?”

Yeah. Just empty. That’s why it was so relaxing to come home. I didn’t have to worry about anything here.

“Whenever you see me, you get happy, and relaxed, because you never have to think anymore.”

So happy to see Ben. Because he’s in charge. So nice that he can think for me.

“And when I’m shirtless, Sleepy Boy, you get excited. Because you like to see me shirtless, don’t you?”

My heart leapt in my chest as I looked at Ben’s hairy pecs. They were… so nice to look at. So meaty, and… I wished I could just stare at them forever.

“Mmmm….” I managed.

“Because you’re whoever I want you be when you’re home, right Sleepy Boy?”

Every time he said those magic words…. it just felt so… right, so, relaxing. My brain feeling like it was being continuously dunked in a warm bath.

“Like, if I want you to be my little Pit Pig, you’ll want to smell my pits, won’t you, Sleepy Boy?”

He raised his arm.

Fuck, I did. I really did.

“Because you know if you smell me, you’ll get even happier and dumber, and more relaxed, won’t you?”

I would. Oh god, if I could just bury my nose in there.

I must have been almost drooling.

“Awww,” cooed Ben. “You’re my dumb little pit bitch, aren’t you? My empty-headed, little scent whore.”

I was.

“You need my smell, don’t you, Sleepy Boy?”

It hit like fire in my chest. God, yes, I needed it. I needed his hot, musky smell deep in my lungs.

“It makes you so dumb, and so horny, doesn’t it, boy?”

My boner twitched in my pants.

“Yes….” I whispered.

Ben gave a cocky half-grin, staring at me.

“Well come get it, Sleepy Boy.”

I practically jumped toward his upraised arm, burying my face in his pit.

Fuck.

As I inhaled, I could feel my whole mind crumble. His manly scent, I just needed-

I inhaled again.

It just washed over everything, no other thoughts, just that-

Ben. Smell.

“Good boy,” Ben said, and I could faintly feel his hand on the back of my head, pulling me in further.

Ben. Inhale. His. Him. Ben, in charge. So happy.

“Good Sleepy Boy.”

So dumb, so empty. Breathe. Fuck, his dumb little pit boy. Breathe, more.

Some part of my brain barely registered Ben as he continued to say… something.

How I wasn’t his roommate anymore, just his stupid little pit whore. How grateful I was to live with him, to be owned by him.

Breathe. Him. His. So lucky.

How I couldn’t hold a thought in my head the second I saw him shirtless. How much I needed his smell, how submissive it made me feel.

Breathe. Full, empty, need.

How horny I’d be when he smiled. How even eye contact would bring me to my knees.

Breathe, so… happy, so…

“Now give me a smile, Sleepy Boy,”

I grinned, stupidly. I was fully collapsed on his massive frame.

There’s was only Ben. His smell. His chest. Breathe.

“That’s the way things are going to be now, Sleepy Boy. Say goodbye to any other thoughts.”

Goodbye.

“Good Sleepy Boy. My dumb little Sleepy Boy.”

Breathe. Yes. Again. His. His. Dumb. His.

Breathe, proof of him, his. Yes.

Dumb. Full. Empty.

Breathe.

Sleepy.

Breathe.

When Oliver Queen declared he would protect his city, he meant it. He just didn’t realise that it would take over his life in more ways than one. There was Green Arrow, the vigilante, the side of him that he could compartmentalise. As long as he donned his costume and went out in the dead of night, then it was like that side of himself was something tucked away. Hidden. He could imagine both sides and keep it from interfering in his daily life, if not that, then who he was as a person. He had failed at both of those numerous times, but yet it still helped. It helped that he could separate the two.

But the Green Arrow wasn’t enough. Ever since a new organisation, Blackwatch, had reared its head, he had to take matters into his own hand. So that was how Oliver Queen found himself waiting patiently in his office—the Mayor’s Office. He had traded the boardroom for the city council, hoping that with this new organisation he could take on a two pronged front.

At night, he was Green Arrow, stopping shipments, dropping drug dealers and making sure anyone and everyone who failed Star City wouldn’t get another chance to do it again. He had been pushing himself, making more arrests and captures and intelligence than ever before. All the while in the position where he wasn’t ‘recovering from the island’ or running a company that ‘practically ran itself’. He had been stressed about keeping his daily life separate and yet now more than ever when he had the most important and busy position in his life, he found the lines blurring until there were moments where he could no longer tell where Oliver Queen ended and Green Arrow began.

If the mission was to save the city (a nice slogan by Felicity he had to admit), then what was the difference whether he was doing it as mayor or vigilante? There was no difference besides the method and that was exactly what tonight’s upcoming meeting was about. He had given up patrol for the night, both too tired and too tense to focus on anything else but what was tonight.

Oliver didn’t even let himself show it by pacing in his office, thinking of a plan of what to do. This new organisation was like a hydra, they had a limb spread everywhere and he wasn’t even sure if he could trust the city council. 

Oliver checked the time. Almost midnight. His office wasn’t bugged, he knew that for certain. They would need total privacy. The office was built for it. It was an old place in an even older building, its walls were thick enough that sound did not travel and the wiring had been replaced twice over during his first months as Mayor because he knew it needed to be secure. There were countermeasures hidden beneath the desk and inside the walls.

Devices that scrambled frequencies and rendered microphones useless. If there were going to be any surprises tonight, then he already cut the head off that snake. And yet there was something in his head that told him he couldn’t be so sure. He told himself that there was still some way they could see inside his office, could detect his behaviour, could see any hint of nervousness. Blackwatch was quietly winning the war, consuming gangs, taking over the city like a rot. Oliver had to play chess and make sure they didn’t see any weakness.

When the door opened two minutes after midnight, Oliver Queen was staring outside the window at the skyline of Star City. The city was like a jungle, wild and untameable in essence but also in how it looked. Maybe it was his time on the island but he just saw everything as some extension of nature and in the dead of night, Oliver Queen could only see the buildings as tall trees, made of steel and illuminated by a thousand different campfires burning away in the windows. It also meant that as he turned to look at Cole Cassidy stepping into his office, he didn’t see a man. He saw a wild thing, not quite a beast but not human either, but still the same thing—predatory. 

Cole Cassidy sauntered in like a cowboy stepping into a saloon, with Oliver supposedly playing one of the stunned men in his mind. He was dressed like he came for war, adorned in black from throat to boot. A tactical vest sat across his chest over a dark shirt rolled to the elbows, whilst the man wore a duster above, slightly lighter yet rain dark at the shoulders. Oliver could instantly see the plates that shifted beneath the vest, armour most likely, more than enough to stop a bullet. The man was unfortunately handsome, Oliver wasn’t going to hide facts. His square jaw was made sharper from the sharp facial hair that adorned it, merging with the thick moustache across his lip. His brown narrow eyes instantly fell on Oliver, raising one of his thick brown brows so high that it nearly touched the black cowboy hat atop his shaggy head. His nostrils flared, like the smell of detergent and cologne was offensive to him and without saying another word, he reached into his holster and pulled out a cigar.

Better than a gun I suppose, Oliver thought to himself.

“I’d rather you not smoke here,” said Oliver with a warning tone that translated his words to you better not smoke here. Cassidy tilted his head up, cigar in mouth, lighter in hand inches away as if calculating how angry Oliver would be if he lit up anyway. He took the cigar out of his mouth and returned both it and the lighter to his holster. Oliver nodded, satisfied, and then gestured to the chair in front of his desk. Cole grabbed the chair with his mechanical arm and pulled it closer to the desk before he sat down. 

“So…here we are.”

“Here. We. Are.” Oliver punctuated every word, trying his best to hide how excited he was for the meeting. If it were true and he could strike up a deal with Cole, then he would be in with one of Blackwatch’s commanders and stop them before it was too late. He knew what Cole would want, to sell out the commander of Blackwatch so that Oliver could take him down and then Cole would swoop in and take leadership himself. All these criminals were always so shortsighted. The one advantage this supposed ‘Reaper’ had that Cole didn’t was the fact that Oliver didn’t know who he was. He had searched everywhere, used every resource, called on every ally and still, nothing. It was almost like Reaper wasn’t real. A man who could supposedly turn to smoke was just as elusive as his abilities. Tonight that would all change, Oliver thought that and he was sure Cassidy did too. “I heard you’re the man who is ‘always right’, so let me ask simply. Do you really have information on Blackwatch’s leader?” 

“I do. And you’re right…I am the man who's always right.” Cole declared as he leaned back, opening his legs as Oliver could see the man’s bulge. The dark jeans that wrapped around Cassidy’s thighs pressed inward, outlining the man’s cock. Oliver pretended not to notice. Cole smiled. “The leader is…how do I put it…” He tapped his finger animatedly on his chin, each tap stirring an impatience within Oliver. Why could the man not just hurry up and say what he meant? Does he think this is some kind of game? Oliver cleared his throat after a moment. “Oh. Sorry.” The cowboy smiled at Oliver, as if only just realising he was there. “Lost mah train’o’thought.” The words came so quick it was either a rehearsed lie or embarrassment. Oliver didn’t think the cowboy let himself be embarrassed by anything. “Funny how that kinda thing can happen.” At that, Cole stared at Oliver, enough to make the mayor realise the man hadn’t really been looking at him. The brown pools had been focused off to the side, raking up and down the mayor’s form, sometimes looking at his face but not directly at him. Not with his own eyes locked onto Oliver’s. When he did, a pale pink glow emanated from nowhere. The brown edges of the eyes suddenly darkened pitch black in contrast. As if the iris itself was injected with new colour, pink bloomed from within. Oliver did a double take. At first confused why the man’s eyes were glowing, then confused why he couldn’t look away when he tried to. His eyes felt magnetized, shaking, tearing his eyes away was the equivalent of rebelling against gravity. 

“What…can…” Oliver blinked. Why had he suddenly sounded so quiet? He was the mayor, he told himself. He should have been focused, ready, this was important information. And yet all he could do was stare helplessly as the eyes drew him in. Much like how the outer edges of Cole’s brown looked pitch black in comparison, the rest of the world felt the same. The windows to the city darkened as if night could get blacker. The door to his office melted from mahogany to murkiness. Anything and everything that was not the cowboy’s face, his eyes, simply blurred, like he could only see the entire world as if it was out of the corner of his eyes. Oliver’s mind smudged like his vision. Thoughts were there, taking up space, but he couldn’t differentiate what they were or what he even wanted to say. All he could do was stare and comprehend that he was staring too long. 

“Our leader’s a lot like you actually. Reaper. Grumpy and cocky sonofabitch,” Cole smirked wider and carried on as if nothing was wrong. Oliver blinked heavily, the only relief from staring at the eyes. 

“Like…me?” The mayor shifted or at least tried to. But his body didn’t even risk movement. Completely focused on just staring. The words took a moment for him to understand. Like me? Does he know about The Arrow? He couldn’t…Could he? Even if he did, Oliver knew that The Arrow and the leader of some criminal empire were far from the same. “That…That’s impossible.” 

“You sure?” Cole questioned quickly, surprising Oliver. Compared to him, it felt as if the Blackwatch agent was thinking twice as fast. “You sure you ain’t that kind of person?” Oliver blinked. He wasn’t sure why but he felt the same as if he had been asked something he didn’t know the answer to. All certainty slipped like the rest of the world into a blur, vague shapes and colours and ideas of what it could have been with none of the definitive definition. The uncertainty suddenly gave way to memories, short and clipped and few and far in between. Moments where he had to make the hard call. Times when he brutalised some thug as The Arrow. Days where the press pushed his buttons and had him snap at an intern. It was hard to think of the times when he showed criminals mercy or would apologise moments later to his staff. It was so hard to think at all. Oliver had no clue that his eyes began to slowly grow pink.

I…I…I don’t act like that. I do my best for the city, I help people.

“Well I…I do act like that, but only because my staff can be so incompetent when I try to do what I think is best,” Oliver’s words felt foreign to him, as if speaking another language. They sounded so close and so far away from what he actually wanted to say. But as if the conversation was a chess game, he felt like speaking was making a move. And he couldn’t take it back. He tried to speak, to correct, to explain, but he suddenly felt the urge to wait for his turn. 

“Ah see that’s what I’m talkin’ about-” 

No! No. That’s not…

“I’m…No I’m sorry I…” Oliver shut his eyes. Cole raised a brow as if that wasn’t what he anticipated. The moment the mayor did, his mind felt like it was at a standstill, on the edge of some unknown precipice, barely saved from falling. Oliver tried to focus, to think and could feel the words coming back. “Sorry I…” “You okay?” The smile in Cole’s voice wasn’t hidden at all. “Here, why don’t you put yer feet up.” 

At once Oliver did so, moving to lean back in his chair and putting his feet up on the table. He did it without thought, an urge that he completely gave into. The moment the feet were crossed and on his desk, he blinked hard again. What was he doing? He thought to himself. He never sat like this before. Why would he? He wasn’t some cocky mayor that would be the type to have their feet up on their desk as they go ahead with their work? Especially not with a meeting as serious as this. Yet he couldn’t help himself. Somehow it felt right to do so as his mind warred with itself if that was even true. 

“I-” “Here partner, lemme help you get comfortable,” Cole came closer, one hand wrapped around one of his shoes. Before he knew it both shoes were suddenly off, revealing his bare pale feet. Oliver wanted to say something, how obviously wrong and inappropriate this was. But he thought about the pink glow and everything turned into a dream, where he could think about how wrong things were and yet they happened anyway. What’s he…What…doing? My feet… 

The man suddenly wrapped a gloved hand over a foot. At once, some of the darkness spread from the gloves as a tan spread over the paleness. The toes slowly thickened. All the while the arches of the feet stretched longer, lengthening as they writhed beneath the leather coated fingers. As the tendons clicked into their new place, the cartilage and muscles of the feet expanded, stretching out so much that it was almost comical they even managed to fit inside the shoes they slipped out of, moments ago. There was a cartoonish growth that made Oliver unable to comprehend what he was seeing. The same way he knew Hulk movies weren’t really an actor growing gargantuan green feet to burst out of footwear, he couldn’t conceive what was happening to his own feet. The toes twitched and he could feel it, the way the big toe brushed against the skin of the others. They were his feet and yet he still couldn’t understand. 

All the while the arches spread out, growing both wider and longer as if trying to outrun the tanned complexion that bloomed across them. It looked like coffee poured into water, spreading to all the skin over his feet. As they did, both feet grew warmer, a sweat forming a sheen as they itched with hairs that bloomed through the skin. Each hair felt like a pinprick where instead of pain, there was just pleasure.  The more that they were underneath Cole’s touch, the more that the feet began to be kneaded, not just massaged but suddenly stretched. Oliver could only stare the same way he did when the man’s eyes glowed pink. 

My feet…What…Why are my feet…

Something was wrong. Very wrong. Yet he couldn’t deny that the feet were also feeling good. More than that, they felt orgasmic. As his feet were being rubbed, a scent wafted from the toes, so thick that Oliver swore he could almost see it curdling. Then it hit him, the tangy thick scent of musk and suddenly his cock wasn’t just something vaguely stirring. It shot up. Hard. Outlined in his own suit pants as much as Cole’s was. He was entirely unaware that it was slowly growing thicker, pooling mass, like there was so much pleasure to be concentrated through his thick cock that it just simply needed the added space to keep growing. 

“Wooowee,” Cole whistled. “And look at these big manly things huh? You got a nice big pair of manly feet.” As he spoke, Oliver blinked. 

Big? Manly? He looked down at his feet to argue that he would never exactly call the pale and lean things large or manly. They were supposed to be size ten, lithe, with the skin having been drawn back so that the toes looked almost sharp and cutting. But instead he saw large thick feet, wide and hairy, reflecting his office light with a sheen of sweat and he blinked. Much like it was a dream, his mind accepted the way things were. Even though there was a voice in the back of his mind telling him otherwise. 

“Yeah I got big manly feet,” repeated Oliver, unaware his voice came out in a monotone. He blinked. Stop…I think something’s wrong. “Keep on rubbing em.” Oliver didn’t recognise the words or voice that came out of him when he gave the command. Cole wasn’t exactly someone he respected but that didn’t mean he couldn’t go around not treating him with some level of respect. Yet there was a sudden excitement in being able to tell the man he wanted to get his feet rubbed and watching him do it. The seduction of suddenly being commanding. 

“Cocky huh? Well as you wish Commander…” 

Commander?!

Before he could do anything, Oliver moaned and thrust his feet forward even more into Cole’s grip. He suddenly could feel that pleasure racing through his feet and wanting to go down his calves. Then he could imagine it going down to his cock. One more whiff of the musk and the tan began to spread as Cole took charge even as he did what his ‘commander’ told him. He began rubbing Oliver’s feet. The tan squeezed out of the feet and spread down towards the calves with each deep knead. 

At the same time Oliver’s cock was suddenly growing, throbbing and thickening without even touch. He didn't even realise that he had slipped down his boxers as if wanting to get more of a feel for it. Whilst the cock was growing larger, it started to darken itself.

A vein in the shaft became more pronounced especially as the dick widened in its girth. Foreskin grew back over the once circumcised head, just to be peeled back as the cock head itself was wet. Oliver started to imagine the musk as some kind of smog, travelling up his body. He was never the kind of guy who liked that scent, something he had to suffer on the island and another thing he wanted to get rid of after the gym (along with sweat). Yet now he couldn’t get enough of it as he kept taking deep huffs of the musk. All the while his body reacted in kind. 

If you want musk? I’ll give you musk.

Oliver wasn’t quite sure if that was some deep gravelly voice in the back of his mind or some interpretation of what his body was doing. Perhaps both. But suddenly his chest grew even more hairy beneath his shirt and tie. A meaty and growing hand reached up to loosen the tie whilst the pits themselves grew dark and hairy, bushy with the amount that threaded on top of one another.

As they bloomed, heat collected within the pits and caused more sweat to drool down, just adding to the musk in a continuous cycle. The more of the musk he took in and sniffed, the more that Oliver was starting to feel that resistance in the back of his mind crumble. The island that he survived on started to turn into an island that he did missions on. His time with the bow was shifting as his hands did the same, the fingers not remembering the correct positions to pull back the drawstring and fire. But instead their aim was something more calculated, on the mechanical shotguns that fit in either hand. More of the smog travelled up his body as it thickened and grew. His already muscular chest started to barrel out as Oliver writhed.

What the…What…happening…

“Shhh don’t worry Commander. I’m here to help,” Cole purred and the voice was like honey poured into his ears, thick and delectable. Oliver’s eyes fluttered as he forgot more and more, just huffing in that musk whilst one gloved hand wrapped around his cock. The moment the cool leather touched the warm brown skin, it was all over. His penis throbbed in the hand, already being pumped. If kneading the feet alone was enough to spread the tan, like it was something to be injected into the rest of his skin, then being pumped only did so faster. Oliver’s complexion turned tawny. “My, my Commander, look how hard you are.” The words slithered into his mind and the more that Cole called him Commander, the more he believed it.

Oliver’s chest continued to barrel out, not simply more muscular but belonging to a taller and more hefty body. As if his lean and tightly coiled self wasn’t so much built for survival and agility but for brute strength. His pecs widened slightly, being dragged across the chest whilst his ribcage pushed from within, expanding with every breath and every stroke and every moan.

The abs followed suit, losing some of their definition in favour of being more spacious, as even Oliver’s appetite changed, becoming something that was like his new self, more hungry. Cole continued to stroke, the next few pumps feeling like they were pumping up his ass which inflated. The bulbous cheeks finally tore off his boxers. Hairs grew on both of the cheeks as Oliver let out another groan, deeper and more guttural, as if belonging to a different voice entirely. 

“Yes, keep doing that…keep serving your Commander,” Oliver grimaced as there was still a resistance, an unfamiliarity with what he was doing. Even still the results were undeniable as more pleasure pulsed through his arms. He hadn’t noticed that with Cole’s touch his suit was already morphing. Instead of being torn apart by his developing muscles and stretching body, the suit was merging together. The jacket and shirt formed the thick outer layer of a camo green hoodie, whilst his pants were left to be torn apart by thicker thighs. The more that they ripped, the more Oliver could feel the same happening to his resistance, his old life as The…The…

I…I can’t remember…

What was he even trying to say? His vigilante name or his job? All that came to mind was Reaper and Commander. Neither of those could be right. Could they?

Yet they were the only answers he could find and they felt more right, the more that his thickening thighs tore through the threads of his suit pants and his ass finally ballooned out to rip down the middle. 

“M-My pants-” Oliver surfaced again, getting out of the sea of new thoughts about Blackwatch and unfamiliar faces, people behind the codenames Sombra and Doomfist and reports he read. He quickly looked down, panting just in time to see his visage in the polished reflection of his desk. The pursed lips and smooth nose were shifting. The lips were growing wider, the nose sharper, the tanned cheekbones higher. The very shape of his face was morphing with each stroke. “W-What the?! What is happening to me?!” Cole merely chuckled instead of indulging in panic. 

“Calm down Commander, just let your subordinate here do his job,” Cole said slowly and something in his voice made Oliver throb. A thick glob of pre-cum spilled out the tip of his cock and suddenly wrinkles appeared over Oliver’s brow as his birthday year was suddenly older. In fact he remembered his birthday on a different date.

“N-No s-stop you’re…you can’t…I…”

“Relax Commander…You’re Commander Gabriel Reyes…” Stroke. Leak. Another forgotten memory. 

“N-no I’m…I’m not! I…I…” Oliver panted, trying to argue but his mind was coming up blank. 

“Relax. After all Commander…You know I’m always right.” Something about those words made Oliver moan and throb and leak some more. He knew the man was always right. He was his subordinate. Of course he would hire a good subordinate that was always right. It was just like him. There was no way that he was going to waste time getting someone so incompetent, he thought. And the more that he thought, the more he realised how little there was to think about as his cock continued to be stroked. 

“I…I’m…I’m…” His cock was so close, so ready to let go, if only he wasn’t holding back. But there was absolutely no chance that he could stop himself. All he had to do was let go. All he had to do was let the new memories surface. And like a strained rope that finally snapped, he let go. “I’m Gabriellllllll-” 

The last of Oliver’s face shifted, a goatee quickly sprouting around his lips as a beard formed over his jawline. His hair darkened completely. 

Seed spilled out of Gabriel’s thick musky cock, pearlescent ropes that shot out one after another as euphoria exploded within him like fireworks. His entire body was alight with desire and the orgasmic bliss that came from the expert hands of his subordinates as Oliver Queen let out one last yelp and then quickly faded into the cum that shot out of his cock, completely gone.

As cum continued to shoot out of the throbbing rod again and again and again, all that was left in Gabriel’s mind was space and with each wave of pleasure, he could fill that space with new memories.

He could remember the experiment, Soldier 76, Blackwatch. All of it surfaced together like the smog that he was made of and filled his mind, stretching to all corners of his brain and filling them with nothing more than Gabriel Reyes. Finally, after what felt like the fifth or sixth time he had shot his load all over his desk, Gabriel smirked down at himself and looked at his own gloved hands. He hadn’t even realised he had any other clothes on besides the green hoodie. 

All Gabriel could do was laugh as he tensed the fingers and realised he was now in control of the body. 

“Good job Cole,” Gabriel purred as he felt his arms, checking that he was all there. His smile widened in confirmation. “Looks like our next mission will be easy. Now…what do you want as a reward? More money?” “No sir, you know what I want,” said Cole as he admired the sweaty and hairy muscle. “I want you sir.” Gabriel nodded.

“Lean against the desk and you better get ready. Let’s see if your hole is made for this cock,” replied Gabriel as he didn’t even wait for Cole to finish. He pushed the man against the desk and helped the cowboy pull down his pants and boxers, already satisfied to see his hole clenching. “Looks like you’re practically begging for me. Hold still.” “S-Sir-” Cole spoke with an uneasiness of how fast it was going. And then he forgot about that and everything else when he felt how Gabriel’s thick meaty cock easily slid right into his cheeks, plunged there like a key to a lock. “Sirrrrrrr~” “Fucking look at that. Fits perfect doesn’t it? Yeah and your tight hole feels fucking good,” Gabriel began to thrust. Hard. “Moan for me Cole.” That was a command Cole didn’t need as he was already a groaning and grunting mess with each thrust as Gabriel’s member already met prostate. 

“S-Sir, oh fuck you’re so…so…” “So what Cole?” Gabriel already knew the answer. “Say it.” “So…dominant…Oh fuck…” Cole’s legs were already shaking as it was his turn to get wet, eyes threatening to roll into the back of the cowboy’s head. His hat threatened to fall off his head from how fast and hard Gabriel was thrusting into him, each throb expanding the walls of the cowboy’s anus. 

“Damn right I am. I’m your Commander after all, now take it.” And Cole obeyed because he was no longer meeting with the Mayor. He was enjoying a private rendezvous with his Commander, the one and only Gabriel Reyes and there was nothing either of the men enjoyed more. 

“Mmmm??” Jax groaned, waking up. He looked around, confused at the sports posters and jersey on the wall, and the messy state of the room. The gray sheets with white windowpane pattern were foreign sight to him. Not to mention the size of the bed. Almost too damn small for him. Like the pair of briefs hugging his ass.

This wasn’t his room. Where was his black guitar? His album collection? Framed art on the walls? He kept looking around, it definitely wasn’t his boyfriend’s room. Bryan Young would flip to be trapped in a room like this. Jax smiled half awake, on the verge of drifting back to sleep, as he imagined calming his boyfriend down. The memory of last night played in his head crawling into his boyfriend’s bed, spooning each other. Boyfriend was too weak of a term to describe how Jax felt about Bryan, but they weren’t fiancés since Jax wasn’t a big marriage guy. Or maybe it was insecurity? Why did he still have his own place after being with Bryan for five years? Jax was barely home anyways.

Jax grumbled in his half-asleep state annoyed by his usual morning thoughts. His friends would give him so much shit about Bryan. For all the man’s muscle it was clear that the single father, Bryan, was a cupcake on the inside. No one, not even Jax himself, knew how much he was into sweet things. As a lifelong punk that didn’t quite sit well with Jax’s friends, telling him he’d gone soft over the years. How he never messed with people anymore. Jax had finally had enough and gave into the pressure. He’d do one last prank, and he’d do it on Bryan.

The main reason he relented was that his friends had a point: Bryan didn’t know the true him, not really. He wanted to fix that. Byran had already seen beyond the tattoos and rock music, now he needed to see one last thing.

Jax popped an eye open, scanned the room again, remembering what the prank was. It wasn’t Bryan’s room, but it was his house. Jax was currently in Kade Young’s bedroom, Bryan’s son. Kade nowhere in sight, “Oh fuck,” he muttered, not quite up. Yesterday, he came funneling back to him.

The early morning sunlight streamed through Mike’s window, casting warm golden hues across his bedroom. He stood in front of the mirror, examining his reflection as he pulled on his new cycling jersey. The tight, silky fabric clung to his athletic frame like a second skin, every line and curve of his body accentuated. He adjusted the fit, smoothing it over his chest and down to his hips, his hands moving with meticulous care.

The jersey was new—carbon black with white stripes accents that streaked along the sides, giving it a sleek, aerodynamic look. Mike had always loved the feel of high-performance cycling gear; it made him feel alive, like he was part of the road itself. Today, however, the familiar sensation was different. There was a warmth in the way the fabric hugged him, a faint tingling that started at his chest and radiated outward. He chalked it up to excitement.

Carlos sat on the edge of Mike’s bed, his own gear already on—deep blue with silver streaks that matched his sharp, focused demeanor. He had been quiet as Mike dressed, his gaze steady and unwavering. Carlos had always been like that: confident, self-assured, with an intensity that drew people in. They’d met a few weeks ago during a long ride through the hills, bonding over their shared love of cycling and the thrill of the open road. Since then, their weekend rides had become a ritual, and they often spent hours pushing each other to their limits.

"You almost ready?" Carlos asked, his voice low and steady. There was something in his tone—something calm yet electric—that made Mike pause.

"Almost," Mike replied, his voice slightly breathless as he zipped up the jersey. The tingling sensation surged, spreading across his chest and down his arms, like an invisible current tracing his veins. His mind went blank as he ran a hand across his chest instinctively, feeling the firmness of his muscles beneath the taut fabric. The motion sent another rush through him, his fingers trembling slightly as they lingered.

“Mike? You okay?” Carlos’s voice was steady, but there was a glint of something in his eyes—concern, curiosity, or something else entirely.

“Yeah, I- I'm.... fine,” Mike muttered. He ran a hand across his chest, the fabric of the jersey cool beneath his fingertips. But the sensation was electric, sending a shiver down his spine.

Carlos stepped closer, his brow furrowing. “You sure? You look… different today.”

Mike glanced at him, his mouth dry. He tried to speak, but his thoughts scattered like leaves in the wind. His hand drifted over his chest again, almost of its own accord, tracing the contours of his pecs. The tingling was overwhelming now, spreading through his body, clouding his mind.

“Mike,” Carlos said softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. His touch was firm, grounding. “Doesn’t it feel good? To give in?”

Mike’s head tilted, his eyes half-lidded and unfocused. He wanted to respond, to ask what Carlos meant, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, a soft sigh escaped him, and he felt his body relax, leaning slightly into Carlos’s touch.

Carlos’s hand slid down to Mike’s chest, his fingers brushing over the taut fabric of the jersey. “Good boy,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “You look sharp in your gear. I couldn’t resist.”

A flicker of confusion passed through Mike’s mind, but it was quickly drowned out by the wave of warmth and pleasure coursing through him. He felt Carlos’s hand move in slow, deliberate circles, his touch both comforting and electrifying.

For weeks, Carlos had been subtly planting the idea in Mike’s mind, steering their conversations, guiding their interactions. It had started with innocent compliments, the casual touch of a hand on a shoulder or back, and the shared thrill of their rides. Slowly, he’d woven a web of trust and subtle suggestion, waiting for the moment when Mike would be ready to let go.

Mike’s breath hitched as Carlos’s hand pressed gently against his chest. “You’ve worked so hard to get here,” Carlos whispered. “To become the best version of yourself. Don’t fight it. Just… feel.”

The words sank into Mike’s mind like stones in a pond, rippling through the fog of his thoughts. His body responded instinctively, leaning further into Carlos, seeking more of that grounding touch. A soft sound—half moan, half sigh—escaped his lips, and he felt a bead of saliva slip past the corner of his mouth.

Carlos chuckled, his tone warm and indulgent. “That’s it. Just let go. Trust me.”

Mike’s hands hung limply at his sides, his body pliant under Carlos’s guidance. He barely registered the world around him, his focus narrowing to the sensations flooding his senses: the tight embrace of his cycling gear, the warmth of Carlos’s hand, and the soothing rhythm of his voice.

“You’re perfect,” Carlos murmured, his hand moving to cup Mike’s jaw, tilting his head up so their eyes met. “Exactly as you should be.”

For a moment, time seemed to stand still. Mike’s heart pounded in his chest, his breath shallow and uneven. And then, as if a switch had been flipped, he felt a surge of clarity—a sense of rightness he couldn’t explain.

Mike stood frozen, his chest rising and falling with each shaky breath as Carlos’s hands roamed over his body. The firm press of Carlos’s palm on his chest felt impossibly intense, like a flame stoking embers just beneath his skin. Mike’s head tipped back slightly, his lips parted as the sensation deepened, spreading from his chest to his arms, shoulders, and biceps.

Carlos’s touch was deliberate, lingering as his fingers traced the curves of Mike’s muscles through the taut fabric of his cycling gear. “You’ve been working hard, haven’t you?” Carlos murmured, his voice low and velvety. “All those rides, pushing your limits, building this incredible body. And now, here you are. My perfect cyclist.”

Mike’s mind swirled, his thoughts a jumbled mess as the tingling sensation intensified. He barely registered Carlos’s words, but they sank into him nonetheless, feeding the warmth that radiated through his body.

Carlos’s hands slid back to Mike’s shoulders, squeezing them firmly before moving down to his biceps, caressing the tense muscles as if he owned them. “That’s a good boy, Mike,” Carlos whispered, his tone both soothing and commanding. “Let the tingling spread. Let it take over.”

Mike’s breath hitched as Carlos’s hands moved back to his chest, rubbing slow circles over the fabric of his jersey. The tight gear seemed to amplify every touch, every movement, sending waves of heat coursing through him. His body felt both tense and relaxed, caught in a strange limbo between resistance and surrender.

“Feel your gear,” Carlos coaxed, his lips curving into a knowing smile. “Feel your body. The way it moves, the way it reacts. You can’t fight it, can you? It feels too good.”

Mike’s knees wobbled slightly, and he let out a soft, involuntary moan. Carlos chuckled, his hands moving lower, grazing Mike’s waist before settling firmly on his hips. He leaned in closer, his breath warm against Mike’s ear. “Oh?” Carlos’s voice held a teasing edge. “Someone’s enjoying himself, huh?”

Mike blinked, his eyes heavy-lidded as Carlos stepped back slightly, his gaze dropping to the unmistakable strain in the front of Mike’s tight cycling shorts. The fabric left little to the imagination, and Mike’s arousal was impossible to ignore.

Carlos grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief and satisfaction. “Your gear can’t hide your excitement, Mike. Looks like you’re really feeling it now.”

Mike’s face flushed, a mix of embarrassment and helplessness washing over him. He tried to move, to say something, but his body refused to obey. Carlos reached out, his hand cupping Mike’s face possessively, tilting it upward so their eyes met.

“There’s no need to be shy,” Carlos murmured, his thumb brushing over Mike’s cheek. “This is exactly where you’re meant to be. Exactly who you’re meant to be.”

Mike’s heart pounded in his chest, his breath shallow as Carlos’s words seeped into his mind, soothing and intoxicating. The world around him faded, leaving only the sensation of Carlos’s touch, the warmth of his gaze, and the unrelenting tension in his body.

“Good boy,” Carlos said again, his voice soft but firm. His thumb traced the curve of Mike’s jaw before sliding down to press lightly against his bottom lip. “Just let go. Trust me. Let it all take over.”

Mike’s lips trembled, a small, breathy sound escaping him as he leaned into Carlos’s touch. The tingling warmth inside him swelled, washing away the last traces of resistance. His body felt alive, every nerve humming with sensation as Carlos continued to caress him, guiding him deeper into the moment.

Carlos’s smile widened, his satisfaction evident as he stroked Mike’s cheek, his hand lingering possessively. “That’s it, Mike,” he whispered. “You’re perfect. My perfect boy.”

Carlos’s fingers trailed along Mike’s jawline, tracing the soft curve of his lips with an intimacy that made Mike shudder. His touch was slow, deliberate, lingering just enough to send a fresh wave of tingling heat coursing through Mike’s body. Carlos’s thumb brushed over Mike’s bottom lip, pressing lightly, as if testing his resolve.

“You feel that?” Carlos whispered, his voice low and commanding. “That pull? That need? Be a good boy, Mike. Submit fully. Let it all go.”

Mike’s breath hitched, his lips parting slightly under Carlos’s thumb. He wanted to resist, to pull away, but his body betrayed him, leaning into Carlos’s touch instead. The faint stubble on Mike’s chin scraped lightly against Carlos’s fingertips as they traveled upward, tracing the line of his cheekbone, brushing over his temple with an almost reverent touch.

“Good boy,” Carlos murmured, his dark eyes locked on Mike’s. His tone was soothing yet possessive, drawing Mike deeper into the warm haze clouding his mind.

Mike felt Carlos’s hand drift downward, his palm flat against his chest, pressing firmly over his pounding heart before sliding lower. The tight fabric of Mike’s cycling jersey did little to hide the contours of his body, and Carlos’s hand moved with purpose, tracing the defined lines of his torso, his hips, and the growing tension in his shorts.

Carlos’s lips curled into a knowing smirk as his fingers brushed against the palpable outline of Mike’s cock. “Oh, Mike,” he said softly, almost teasingly. “You’re holding back, aren’t you? Don’t fight it. Let it out—all of it. Give it to me.”

Mike’s knees threatened to buckle as Carlos’s touch became firmer, his hand pressing against the strained fabric. The warmth inside Mike swelled, threatening to consume him entirely. His mind was a blur, unable to form coherent thoughts as Carlos’s words sank deep into his subconscious, coaxing him to surrender.

“Feel it, Mike,” Carlos urged, his hand moving with slow, deliberate pressure. “Feel the tension, the heat. Let it take over. Let me guide you.”

Mike’s breath came in shallow gasps, his body trembling as Carlos’s grip tightened, grounding him in the overwhelming sensation. He let out a soft, broken moan, his head tipping back as the last vestiges of his resistance crumbled.

“That’s it,” Carlos said, his voice filled with satisfaction. His hand lingered, commanding and unyielding, as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against Mike’s ear.

Carlos’s voice dripped with satisfaction as his fingers trailed teasingly along the curve of Mike’s jaw, his dark eyes glinting with possessive intent. “You know, Mikey,” Carlos began, his tone low and almost purring, “I knew I wanted you the moment I saw you in that pretty gear. The way it clung to you, showing off everything. I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”

Mike shivered, his breath hitching as Carlos leaned in closer, his lips brushing against his ear. “And you’re so easy to control, aren’t you?” Carlos continued, his hand wandering back to Mike’s chest, pressing against the tight fabric. “Making this gear your trigger? That was genius. Every time you pull it on, you’ll feel it—the warmth, the sensation, the need. You’ll crave this, just like you’re craving it now.”

A soft, involuntary moan escaped Mike’s lips as Carlos’s hand slid downward, his fingers grazing the unmistakable strain in Mike’s shorts. The tight fabric did nothing to hide his cock, and Carlos’s touch was unrelenting, coaxing another breathy sound from Mike.

“You don’t have to hold back, Mikey,” Carlos murmured, his voice velvet smooth. He cupped the bulge firmly, his hand applying just enough pressure to make Mike’s knees wobble. “Let it all out. Don’t be shy.”

Mike’s head tipped back, his eyes fluttering shut as Carlos’s words wrapped around him like a spell. His body betrayed him completely, leaning into the touch, chasing the heat and the pleasure that came with it.

Carlos smirked, his hand moving with calculated precision, stroking the sensitive bulge as Mike let out another helpless moan. “Good boy,” Carlos whispered, his voice laced with satisfaction. “You’re exactly where I want you. Completely under my control. And it feels so good, doesn’t it?”

Mike could only nod weakly, his mind a haze of sensation and submission. His body trembled, utterly at Carlos’s mercy, and as the tingling warmth spread through him once more, he knew there was no going back.

Mike’s world narrowed to the feel of Carlos’s touch, the sound of his voice, and the unbearable tension building inside him. With a final, shaky exhale, he surrendered completely, letting the wave of warmth and pleasure crash over him.

Carlos’s hand moved with firm purpose, his touch both commanding and deliberate as Mike’s body trembled under him. The tension in the air was thick, the heat radiating from Mike’s body palpable. Carlos leaned closer, his breath warm against Mike’s ear as his fingers pressed into the fabric, now damp with the unmistakable evidence of Mike’s pre-cum.

“Can you feel it, Mikey?” Carlos murmured, his voice a low, sultry whisper. “The wetness? I can. Oh, I do. You’ve been holding back so much, haven’t you?”

Mike’s breath hitched, a soft whimper escaping his lips as Carlos’s words sank into him. His body was taut, trembling on the edge of release, and the relentless heat spreading through him made it impossible to think, to resist.

Carlos’s smirk widened as he stroked the damp fabric, his hand coaxing more soft sounds from Mike. “Let it out now,” Carlos commanded, his tone both soothing and firm. “Don’t fight it, Mikey. Stain your pretty gear. Show me how good it feels to let go.”

Mike let out a broken moan, his head tipping back as the last threads of his composure unraveled. His body arched slightly, pressing into Carlos’s hand as the overwhelming warmth and pressure finally spilled over.

Carlos’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he felt the fabric grow wetter beneath his touch, the proof of Mike’s surrender clear. “Good boy,” he murmured, his voice soft but possessive. “You’ve done so well for me. That’s it—let go. Give it all to me.”

Mike sagged against Carlos, his breath coming in ragged gasps as the tension drained from his body, leaving only the hazy, blissful aftermath. Carlos’s hands remained steady, grounding him as he murmured soft praises, stroking his cheek with a gentle possessiveness.

Carlos’s hand lingered, pressing and stroking over the damp fabric with deliberate care. His touch was firm yet unhurried, a steady rhythm designed to keep Mike caught in the haze of sensation. Each stroke sent fresh shivers through Mike’s body, the wetness against the tight cycling gear amplifying the intensity of every movement.

“Good boy,” Carlos murmured, his voice low and velvety. “Such a good boy. You’ve done exactly what I wanted. Do you feel it now? How much better the gear feels like this?”

Mike let out a soft, breathless whimper, his body trembling under Carlos’s touch. The tight, wet fabric clung to him, every sensation heightened as the tingling warmth continued to spread through him. He managed a shaky nod, his lips parting as if to speak, but no words came out.

Carlos chuckled softly, his hand never stopping. “Oh, come on, Mikey. You can do better than that,” he coaxed, his tone teasing but laced with command. “Tell me. Tell me all about it. How does it feel now? How does it feel to give in completely?”

Mike’s head tipped forward slightly, his breath coming in shallow gasps. “It… it feels…” he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. He struggled to form words, his mind still clouded with the overwhelming sensations.

“Go on,” Carlos urged, his hand pressing firmly over the wet bulge, sending another shiver through Mike. “Tell me. I want to hear it from you.”

“It feels… so good,” Mike finally managed, his voice breaking as another soft moan escaped him. “The gear… it feels better now. Tighter… warmer…” He trailed off, his cheeks flushing as he realized what he was saying.

Carlos’s grin widened, his satisfaction clear. “That’s my good boy,” he said softly, his fingers tracing slow, deliberate circles over the wet fabric. “You’re right—it does feel better, doesn’t it? The warmth, the wetness, the way it clings to you. You can’t get enough of it now, can you?”

Mike shook his head weakly, his body sagging slightly as Carlos continued to stroke him, coaxing out every last bit of his surrender.

“That’s it,” Carlos murmured, his tone soothing and possessive. “Let yourself feel it all. Don’t hold back. You’re mine now, Mikey. And I’m so proud of you.”

Carlos’s grip on Mike was firm yet guiding as he reached down, taking Mike’s trembling hand in his own and pressing it firmly against the wet, sticky fabric of his bulge. Mike gasped softly at the contact, his eyes widening slightly as Carlos moved his hand over the wetness, making him feel every inch of himself.

“This is all you,” Carlos murmured, his voice smooth and commanding. “Feel it, Mikey. The sticky fabric clinging to you. You did this, and it’s perfect.”

Mike’s breath quickened, his hand hesitating for a moment before Carlos’s firm guidance encouraged him to press harder, to explore. His fingers trembled as he traced the contours beneath the gear, the sensations overwhelming.

Carlos leaned in, his lips brushing against Mike’s ear as he whispered, “And the smell? Can you sense it, Mikey? That intoxicating, heady scent of you, of everything you’ve let out. Good. So good.”

Mike let out a shaky moan, his face flushing deeper as Carlos’s other hand slid up to his chest. He stroked Mike’s pecs through the tight, damp jersey, his fingers tracing slow circles over the fabric. “You’re beautiful like this,” Carlos said softly, his hand drifting upward to cup Mike’s flushed face. He caressed him gently, his thumb brushing over Mike’s reddened cheek. “Your face says it all, Mikey. You love this. You need this.”

Mike’s head tipped forward slightly, leaning into Carlos’s touch as his fingers twitched against the wetness. The tingling warmth still coursed through him, making every touch feel electric.

Carlos smiled, his hand guiding Mike’s again, encouraging him to stroke himself through the gear. “Go ahead, Mikey,” he urged, his voice a mix of command and encouragement. “Stroke yourself. Feel it all. Tell me how it feels.”

Mike’s lips parted, his breath coming in shallow gasps as he obeyed, his hand moving tentatively at first before growing bolder. His fingers pressed and traced, each movement sending a fresh wave of sensation through him.

“It feels… so good,” Mike whispered, his voice trembling with vulnerability and pleasure. “The fabric… it’s so tight, so sticky… it feels… incredible.”

Carlos chuckled softly, his hand moving back to Mike’s chest, stroking and kneading the firm muscles beneath the damp jersey. “That’s my good boy,” he murmured, his tone laced with satisfaction. “Keep going. Let yourself feel everything. Don’t hold back.”

Mike’s moans grew louder, his body responding helplessly to the overwhelming sensations. Carlos’s words and touch grounded him, keeping him in the moment as he surrendered completely, lost in the haze of pleasure and submission.

Carlos’s hand moved swiftly to Mike’s chin, tilting his head upward so their eyes met. The grip was firm but not rough, a silent assertion of control. Mike’s breath hitched, his body frozen under Carlos’s intense gaze.

“Ah, ah,” Carlos chided, his voice low and teasing. “You’re not allowed to cum unless I say so, Mikey. You’re mine to control, and we both know you like it that way.”

Mike whimpered softly, his lips trembling as Carlos’s thumb brushed over his bottom lip. His hand stilled against the wetness of his gear, his body caught in a limbo of need and obedience.

Carlos’s lips curled into a sly smile as he released Mike’s chin, his hand trailing down to pat his cheek lightly. “That’s a good boy,” he murmured. “We’ve got plans, don’t we? We want to go on our ride, show you off in that perfect gear. Let the world see how good you look. How irresistible you are.”

Mike swallowed hard, his mind hazy but his body still tingling with anticipation. He nodded faintly, his eyes wide and glassy as he hung onto Carlos’s every word.

“But we can’t forget the most important thing,” Carlos continued, his tone shifting to one of playful practicality. He stepped back slightly, picking up Mike’s helmet from a nearby surface. “Safety first, Mikey. Always safety first.”

He leaned in, placing the helmet gently on Mike’s head and adjusting the straps with practiced care. The intimate, deliberate motions grounded Mike, pulling him slightly out of the haze. Carlos patted his cheek again, his grin widening as he stepped back to admire his work.

“There we go,” Carlos said, satisfaction dripping from his voice. “Now you’re ready. But remember, Mikey—no cumming until I say so. Let that tension build. Let it drive you. You’ll thank me later.”

Mike nodded again, his body taut with both anticipation and obedience as Carlos’s words settled over him like a warm blanket. The promise of the ride ahead and the electric tension in his body left him trembling, completely under Carlos’s control.

Carlos let out a low chuckle, his hand still resting lightly on Mike’s cheek as he took in the dazed, almost dreamy expression on his face. Mike’s wide, unfocused eyes and slightly parted lips gave him the look of someone completely lost in a world of sensation and command.

Carlos’s gaze followed Mike’s as it drifted downward, taking in his own body as though he were seeing it for the very first time. The way the cycling gear clung to him, damp and snug, seemed to mesmerize him, and Carlos smirked at the sight.

“There you are,” Carlos murmured softly, smoothing his hands over Mike’s chest and down along his sides. He tugged slightly at the fabric, straightening it with deliberate care. Each touch sent a fresh shiver through Mike, who stood still, pliant under Carlos’s hands. “Perfect. Absolutely perfect. My good boy.”

Satisfied, Carlos stepped back slightly, his gaze drifting toward the window. The sun was bright and inviting, casting a golden glow over the landscape outside. Carlos’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully for a moment before a grin spread across his face.

“Oh, we could use something extra, couldn’t we?” Carlos mused, turning back to Mike with a glint of mischief in his eyes. He reached for a sleek pair of cycling glasses resting on a nearby counter, holding them up for Mike to see. “What do you think, Mikey? Don’t you think these would complete the look? Make you even more irresistible?”

Mike blinked slowly, his eyes flickering to the glasses in Carlos’s hand. His lips moved as though he wanted to say something, but no words came out.

Carlos leaned in closer, slipping the glasses gently over Mike’s ears and positioning them carefully on his face. “There we go,” he murmured, adjusting them until they sat just right. “Perfect fit. Now, put them on properly, Mikey. Show me how good you look.”

Mike’s trembling hands rose obediently, pressing the glasses firmly into place. The tinted lenses added an edge to his appearance, making him look sharp and focused even in his dazed state.

Carlos stepped back, his grin widening as he admired the sight before him. “There it is,” he said softly, almost to himself. “Now you’re ready. The world won’t know what hit it when it sees you like this.”

--- Originally posted on 2021-04-21 by newyoutf ---

Jon twisted back and forth under the showerhead, singing along to the music blasting from his phone on the counter.

The music lowered in volume for a second, making way for two loud dings. Jon reached out from the stream of water and fumbled with the screen in his wet hands. It was a message from Oliver, his best friend, “Hey bro, got something you should listen to.”

“Bro?” Jon wondered. Since when did Oliver say “bro”? Jon blinked, struggling to think for a moment. Oliver talked like that all the time, he was American after all... wasn’t he?

Attached to the message was an audio file. Jon figured it must have been a new song by one of the pair’s favorite pop divas, perhaps a new leaked track. Jon hit the play button, placed the phone back down, and returned to the hot water.

A harsh static buzz and what sounded like garbled speech boomed from the phone, taking Jon by surprise. The corrupted audio cleared up after a moment and a deep, male voice started.

“Welcome. This audio program is custom designed. Just for you. Ensure you are in a comfortable, private place. You will not want to be disturbed.”

“Oliver,” Jon rolled his eyes, thinking that surely something starting this ridiculous would be some sort of joke or meme. After all, Oliver had always been a dumb joker. “Wait,” Jon felt confused, he could have sworn Oliver was a quiet, twinky lad like himself?

Jon realized couldn’t form a solid impression of his friend in his mind. They met at their university in London and became best friends, bonding over their mutual love of pop music and ogling the campus jocks. But now it was like that reality had been shattered. Those memories gave way for ones of meeting each other at the campus gym shortly after Oliver arrived from the US. Oliver was his best, hot, American friend, right? Jon’s cock twitched at the new image of his friend as he placed his face under the stream of hot water in an attempt to clear his head.

“Relax. Take a deep breath, in and out.”

Jon unwittingly followed the instructions. The frown fell from his face and his body relaxed, taking in the warmth of the water.

“You’re Oliver's best friend. Makes sense, given you’re a total alpha too.”

“Both wha- ah! Ah!”, Jon planted his hands against the wet, tiled wall as the words sent pleasure rippling through his body. He looked down feeling a strong warmth against his leg but it wasn’t the hot water. His semi-hard cock had blasted a rope of cum against his leg. “What the fuck?” Jon mumbled.

“What a coincidence that you’re both six-foot-four. It serves him well in the gym, the same way it serves you well in the water.”

Jon howled in ecstasy, spluttering and moaning, as his five-foot-nine body stretched higher. His soft cock drooled hot cum as it rapidly began to rise. His arms pushed against the wall, lengthening for better performance in the pool. He stepped backward as his head struck the showerhead and rose even higher. Hot water poured down the front of his much longer torso and legs.

“Your shoulders are so broad. Typical of you swimming jocks.”

Unable to resist the command, Jon's shoulders crunched and throbbed, thrusting out larger and bulging with muscle. “God! W- What the fuck i- is... ugh... happening?!” he roared, terrified not just by the growth gripping his body, but the incredible pleasure it wrought on him.

“Those are some long, meaty fucking arms, Jon.”

“F- fuck!” Jon roared, spraying a massive load up the back of the shower feeling his narrow arms explode with thick mounds of muscle, rippling across his biceps and triceps. The growth spread down his arms, his forearms bloating with tight, lean muscle. His wrists cracked as they thickened.

“Hands that big must be useful for pushing through the water.”

Stifled screams rumbled from Jon’s tightly clenched mouth. His hands were pressed against the back of the shower, clicking and twitching as they began to swell across the tiles. The fingers accelerated longer and longer. His palms spread monstrously broad. He flexed his hands, in total awe of their disproportionate size; perfect for pushing through the water.

The experience was like nothing Jon ever felt. A sexual eruption taking place across every cell as the words rewrote his body. “Can’t... resist... so g- good,” Jon grunted, gasping for air.

“You clearly work out for the aesthetics as well, not just the pool. Your shredded chest is proof of that.”

Jon couldn’t even attempt to fight anymore, but nor did he want to. His chest puffed and bulged, distorting the path of the water running across it. The previously non-existent pecs pushed outward from his widening chest. His cock trembled as the changes took hold in his abdomen, causing his flat stomach to erupt with tight, thick abs. Jon gripped his ass, feeling it swell into his huge hands while he erupted cum across the tiles once more.

*“That’s the spirit, Jon. You’re a *stud.”

Jon felt those words echo in his ears and rumble down his throat. Grunts and pants became deeper and deeper as his thickened and voice morphed. His head groaned as it enlarged to fit his frame. Hair began to flourish out of his cheeks and across his upper lip while the mop of medium-length hair on his head retreated, leaving a short, handsome cut in its place. He stroked his cock with one hand and clasped his face with the other feeling his jawline refine and the angles of his face sharpen. He turned to the mirror cabinet, seeing just a sliver of his improved visage. Jon gasped at the sight and immediately ejected another load of cum.

He didn’t just look like a swole swimming jock. He felt like one too. He rejoiced in his mind being filled with thoughts of the pool, weightlifting, spotting his bros at the gym, and fucking them afterward.

“Good to see the bottom half matches the top.”

Jon’s legs trembled. He clutched the slippery tiles harder to hold himself up, the pleasure reverberating through his legs almost too much to bear. Muscles spasmed in his calves, swelling with every little twitch. Muscle wasn’t all that was gracing his legs. Dark hair grew forth from the skin, coating his powerful legs in a layer of fur. Jon swore under his breath, impressed by the hair spreading up and down his legs. He thought about how he refused to shave like other swimmers, he liked the hair, and regardless his superior form needed no extra boost. His body responded to the suggestion, triggering a fine layer of hair to sprout from his forearms, between his pecs, in a trail over his abs and across the tops of his feet.

Memories of the pool, the beach, and victories across university swimming tournaments swarmed his brain. Trophies and medals materialized in the bedroom just next to where he was showering.

“Damn, it’s no surprise you outperform everyone in the water with feet that massive. And you know what they say about that, Jon.”

Every one of the toes on Jon’s size eight feet surged with pleasure. He moaned loudly as they began to push across the floor of the shower while his soles stretched to catch up. He recalled new memories of having large feet, how they propelled him to victory in the pool, and the comments people would make: “Bigfoot”, “You know what they say...”, “Where can you even buy size sixteens?”

“Sixteen?!” he repeated in his mind. The brief shock turned to anticipation as he felt his soles continue to march forward longer and wider, his toes twitching while they reshaped long and meaty. Jon growled aloud as he expelled another load, “God, yeah... so f- fucking... big.”

The jock trembled under the stream of hot water, desperate for sexual release. He looked down as the expanding feet settled into excessively large size sixteens, curling his long toes as his six-inch cock began to quiver in its desperation to grow larger as well. It felt as though it were perpetually hardening, only to then push longer and girthier instead. Jon grasped his wet cock and thrust into his grip hard and repeatedly. He relished in the sensation of the veins bulging and the shaft thickening.

*“I guess what they say really is true, isn’t *it?”

The audio toyed with him, pushing his cock just that little bit longer and pumping it ever so slightly thicker. It pulsed and twitched, gradually and slowly with every breath. His uncut, British foreskin slid further backward, as a larger, blunter head swelled outward. Jon smirked as he groaned and growled, stroking faster and faster, enthralled by the beautiful nine-inch weapon he now possessed.

“Cum.”

“Oh yeah! Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Jon made three final long, hard tugs on his thick pole before roaring in delight as unspeakable ecstasy filled him. Cum rocketed upward against the water rushing from the showerhead, ejecting what remained of Jon’s old genetic material while orgasm after orgasm pounded his body.

Exhausted and dripping wet, he stepped slowly out of the tub, unsteady on his new legs and feet.

*“Remember to share this recording with your friends*.”

And with that, the playback stopped. Jon looked at himself in the mirror, still shocked, but enraptured with his new body and looks. He grabbed his phone and wiped the water from the screen, struggling to unlock it with his longer fingers. He typed out a reply to Oliver, “That shit was fucking lit mate!”

A few miles away, a sweaty Oliver was busy lifting weights, waiting for his friend to give him some indication that something had happened. He had to place the weight down slowly as his mind blurred for a moment. He saw the images and memories that he had of his friend change and shift. Gone were the images of a quiet little twink, replaced by those of a loud, masculine swimming jock. Oliver smiled cockily realizing what had just happened. Then, as if on cue, his phone vibrated with Jon’s reply. Following was a photo of a huge, semi-hard cock swinging above two gargantuan feet. Oliver felt his own cock stiffen slightly at the image.

“Hell yeah, bro! You should be selling these pics like I do,” Oliver sent in response, getting a deep chuckle out of Jon.

---

Originally posted on 2020-05-27 by dumb-and-jocked

Unfortunately dumb-and-jocked's account has been deactivated.

If the original author ever reads this: thank you for all your works!

---

Zane wasn’t particularly excited about going out to his uncle’s ranch. The two had never really known how to connect, with one being from the East Coast and the other in rural Wyoming. Zane had grown up privileged in the urban lifestyle, with many stores, jobs, and more progressive influences around every corner. His parents were also a little richer than most, so he was able to enjoy a luxurious apartment all to himself while he attended Yale. Well... not all to himself. His boyfriend Kaeden visited so often he was practically a second resident, but Zane didn’t mind--he loved the attention.

Zane practically adored his modern lifestyle, and made sure to show it by never leaving a five-mile radius. This caused his parents to worry, assuming if he didn’t start now he’d never know how to go out on his own. Trying to help (like all parents did), his father spoke with his brother and the two set up a little spring vacation for Zane. When Zane’s father had proposed the idea, Zane didn’t exactly jump in excitement. In fact, he didn’t seem excited at all.

“Really?” Zane asked coarsely. “Spring break is for beaches, coasts, actual fun!”

“Zane,” his father replied coolly. “I didn’t raise you to be a leech off of my own money. Go out to your uncle’s ranch and give him a hand; earn something for once. And anyway, Wyoming’s great this time of year--you might enjoy it!”

“Can I at least bring Kaeden with me?”

His father’s eyes went down for a moment. Zane always had a lurking feeling that his father wasn’t truly alright with his only son being gay, his Western Christian roots molding him that way, but his dad always acted like he was accepting. Proving Zane’s point, he swore he could’ve seen his dad’s ears perk up a second after the proposal was made.

“That’s a great idea!” his dad cheered, almost too enthusiastically. “Now someone can relish in the same pain you’ll be experiencing.” Zane rolled his eyes in response to the sarcasm before walking out to his car.

Reflecting back on that moment, his father did seem a little more eager than usual, but Zane didn’t care. It was too late now, as the old pickup truck was pulling into the driveway of the ranch. A huge arch loomed above them, displaying “WELCH” in iron letters across the top. Back when it used to be his grandparents’ ranch, Zane’s father loved this place. He used to thrive as a cowboy, but once he got a taste of the other side of the Mississippi, he left the lifestyle behind him. The rest of the family seemed alright with the transition, with Zane’s uncle being the older brother anyway, meaning he would be taking the ranch, so they decided to let him roam. His uncle had now been running the ranch for almost ten years, just him, his wife, and a small crew to help with the daily tasks.

“Alright, boys, enjoy the trip,” the man in the front grunted as he halted to a stop. Kaeden and Zane slowly jumped out of the truck, grabbing their bags as they looked at the massive farm. Zane swore it looked bigger than the last time he was here, but that was to be expected. The last time he was here was a decade ago for his grandparents’ funerals, so there was probably going to be change. While Kaedan gazed around in awe, Zane spotted what--or who--he was looking for. Leaning against one looming building was a tall man wearing a blue button-up and worn-out jeans. His large boots were placed firmly on the ground and a barn wall, while a beige hat rested proudly on top of his head. He looked like a more muscular, worn-out version of his father, his similar salt and pepper stubble pulling the whole look together.

“Zaney boy, is that yeu?” the man asked in astonishment, the southern accent as prominent as ever.

“Yeah, Uncle Treyton.”

Zane tried to sound enthusiastic, but he never felt like family with the redneck. Not only did the two have completely different perspectives, but they didn’t even look related. Zane didn’t share the same muscular body as the silver fox, but instead had a little too much meat on his bones. He also didn’t get the Welch height, with Zane’s lime-dyed hair barely even reaching his uncle’s neck.

“And this must be Kaeden Sargent, put it here!”

Zane’s uncle shoved a meaty hand in front of him and Kaeden quickly accepted. He was always more optimistic than Zane, putting his best foot forward into every situation. The tall, lanky man took the other’s hand and shook it vigorously, so much in fact that his ginger curls bounced in a rhythm. Fortunately, the baby fat surrounding his face allowed him to act a little childish.

“Firm, that’ll go a long ways here, son.”

“Thanks, sir.”

“Ah, y’all can call me Treyton.”

Kaeden and Zane exchanged looks at each other. For a Christian cowboy, he was awfully accepting of their relationship. Neither of them expected Zane’s uncle to be so understanding.

“Where’s Aunt Joelene at?” Zane inquired as they hauled their bags inside.

“Her and the lady folk already had a vacation planned, so she ain’t gonna be here this week. Just some good ‘ol male bonding!”

He led them to two guest rooms on opposite sides of a hallway, telling them to toss their individual bags into one or the other. Zane and Kaeden exchanged looks again, although this time it was for a different reason. They both knew they might be staying in different rooms, but not sleeping.

All of a sudden, the doorbell rang from the front of the house. After dropping their things, Zane and Kaedan followed Treyton back out to the front door. The trio wandered out to the foyer to see another cowboy smugly standing on the porch.

“Harry!” Treyton shouted as he swung the door open. “‘Bout time ya got here--the nephew’s in town.”

Harry looked over at Zane, inspecting him and then Kaeden with hawk eyes. His tight black shirt didn’t hide the impressive muscles from years on the farm. The same could be said for his faded jeans and massive belt buckle, both of which did nothing to camouflage his gargantuan pouch.

“Is yers that paddy?” he remarked with a deep voice, his accent as thick as Treyton’s. “Or the fag.”

“They’re both fags,” Treyton corrected. “The paddy’s his ‘boyfriend’.”

Kaeden patted Zane’s shoulder in a comforting way. Treyton’s language had just confirmed that they had signed themselves up for a long vacation.

“I don’t mean to be abandonin’ y’all so quickly, but the town’s rodeo’s goin’ on tonight and I’m a volunteerin’,” Zane’s uncle began. “Everythin’ there is free, so I expect to see y’all out there. It’ll be a great time!”

The two hicks strutted over to Harry’s old pickup truck, the engine roaring mighty proud as it came to life. Zane and Kaedan wondered how they hadn’t heard it coming down the driveway.

“Keys are on the counter!” Treyton hollered as they drove off. Kaeden smirked lowering his hand from Zane’s shoulder to his butt as they watched the other pair leave.

“Might as well taint your uncle’s house before we go to the rodeo.”

“You really want to go to that thing?” Zane whined, missing the hint.

“No, but we should,” Kaeden replied. “Until then, let me keep you entertained.” He then started kissing Zane’s neck passionately, dragging him down a hallway.

“Alright!” Zane giggled, following along. He loved his boyfriend.

— —

Kaeden and Zane hesitantly pulled into the parking lot, the dirt flying into the air as they parked the rusty pickup near the back. The whole event took place in some kind of stadium, but instead of a neatly trimmed field with shiny seats, there were wooden bleachers and a dirt floor. They weren’t particularly excited, going from hardcore sex to this dump, but as long as they were at each other’s sides they’d make it through. At least, that’s what Zane kept telling himself.

The two cautiously jumped out, wearing sweatpants and matching concert tees from an event they went to on their fifth date. Zane had thought that if they wore their most casual clothes, they’d blend into the crowd, but it turned out this was truly his first rodeo. Walking up to the front gate, they saw a rainbow of button-ups scattered among the stretched and stained tees. Hicks and cowboys galore excitedly hollered as they entered the rodeo grounds. The strange thing was, it seemed like people were gathering by color. Zane and Kaeden watched the red button-ups slowly separate from the yellow tees, who themselves avoided the purple plaid-clad group. Even with the odd formation, the pair stuck out like two weeds in a freshly-planted garden.

“Alright next!”

Zane and Kaeden had been so perplexed by the entire situation that they hadn’t noticed they had crossed the parking lot, gotten in line, and made it to the front.

“Zaney boy, ya made it!”

Zane’s uncle proudly stood behind a booth, waving as the boyfriends walked up. Harry was placed on the other side, his look much more calculating than Treyton’s inviting smile.

“Are y’all excited?” Uncle Treyton asked, his accent coming out stronger with each syllable.

“Totally,” Kaeden answered, assuming his other half wouldn’t.

“Let us just stamp y’all and yeu’ll be on in.”

“Wait, why are we the only one’s getting stamped?” Kaedan observed. Zane hadn’t noticed, but all the other attendees had gotten in without a mark.

“Remember how I said y’all are gettin’ in free tonight,” Treyton explained. “This is yer free ticket.”

They nodded their heads as Kaeden extended the back of his hand out to Zane’s uncle. Treyton solidly pressed a stamp down on his hand, the blue color left behind sinking deep into his pale skin like a tattoo. Zane proceeded to do the same for Harry, who marked his hand with a black darker than the night itself.

“What do the colors mean?” Zane questioned.

“Whatever ink we’re usin’.” Harry snarked, sending him on his way. Zane sighed as he strolled through the gate.

“I’ll be at a food stand later tonight so make sure to come and visit me!” Treyton shouted as they disappeared into the crowd.

“We can do this,” Kaeden whispered, grabbing Zane’s hand and dragging him to the stands. He sounded reassuring, but Zane couldn’t tell if it was for him or Kaedan himself.

“It’s just for tonight,” Kaedan continued, “After that, we won’t have to deal with Harry, or anyone for that matter. Except for your uncle of course.”

Zane grinned--his boyfriend always knew how to cheer him up.

“And besides,” Kaeden continued. “Look at how much we have to explore!”

It might have been a bit exaggerated, but there was a some space to venture. Besides the stands, there were a few porta potties, some food stands, and a big tent filled with gear for the local country radio station. The tent was their first destination, looking through all the merchandise and advertisements. Although they both hated country music, they had fun exploring the booth, even signing up for a raffle to a Chase Rice concert. Did they know who he was? No--but they didn’t care. Even though they got a few sideways glances from passing families and couples, they were actually enjoying their time at the rodeo. Zane and Kaeden were there to have fun just like everyone else.

9.8 SECONDS! THAT WAS A GOOD TUSSLE, DAVE!

The pair watched on as the participant was whipped off the horse’s back. The first few rounds had looked painful, but Kaeden and Zane eventually stopped flinching after every contestant. It was the sport after all, so they shouldn’t be worried unless everyone else was worried. The uncomfortable thing was, everyone at the rodeo did seem slightly on edge, but it wasn’t over the participants. Unsurprisingly, it was over them.

“Hey,” Zane said, elbowing his partner to grab his attention. “Is it me or is there something strange about the crowd here?”

“You mean how they’re all looking at us like we’re sick?” Kaeden asked, not tearing his eyes away from the next contestant.

8.7 SECONDS! IMPRESSIVE GRIP FROM HANK!

“Well, yeah, but that’s not what I’m talking about.”

“What’s on your mind?”

“I don’t know, I mean…” Zane stumbled off, noticing Kaeden was still focused on the riders.

9.4 SECONDS! NICE JOB MARV!

“Earth to Kaedan!” Zane snapped, finally snatching the other’s attention. “For example, did we miss out on some color-coded theme? Why is everyone segregated?”

Kaeden glanced around the stands, noticing what his boyfriend was talking about. Although everyone was clumped together, there were noticeable separations. It seemed like groups of men, women, and children were organized by the shading of their clothes. It was peculiar, but so were most small, rural towns.

“Calm down, babe,” Kaeden replied nonchalantly. “It’s probably just some cheerleading thing, you know? Like someone’s family wears orange because their their fanclub.”

“Yeah, I guess that makes sense,” Zane conceded.

10.1 SECONDS! I’D EXPECT NOTHING LESS FROM RYLAN!

“You’re probably just paranoid from all the homophobia around here,” Kaeden reasoned. “But luckily, I know what’ll cheer you up.”

“Oh really,” Zane responded coyly.

“Definitely, meet me at your uncle’s food stand and I’ll get us some snacks.”

“Alright, but I’m gonna head to a restroom first.”

“Miss me!” Kaeden exclaimed as he rushed down the risers. Zane grinned, knowing he was lucky to have snagged his boyfriend.

— —

“Ah! Sorry,” Zane grunted as he shimmied out of the porta potty door, noticing the growing line that had assembled outside. He thought he hadn’t taken too long, but when one’s bowels beg for release, one has to give in. Walking with a little pep in his step, he eagerly bounced his way around the rodeo grounds to find his uncle’s food stand. Kaeden knew Zane had a soft spot for food, which was pretty evident by the soft spots around his hips. He was excited to see what he had gotten for him. After wandering around for a minute, he finally spotted his uncle stepping outside an old trailer.

“Uncle Treyton!” Zane shouted as he approached.

“Eh, Zane! What’s up? Enjoyin’ the rodeo?”

“I guess?” Zane replied honestly. “Have you seen Kaeden?”

“Ah yeah, he was my last customer for the night. I saw him walkin’ over to the picnic area,” Treyton grunted, locking the door to the trailer as he closed up.

“Thanks!” Zane responded, beginning to walk off.

“Hold on there, cowboy!” Treyton demanded, chuckling at his own irony. “I’m gonna be headin’ back to the ranch, gotta long day of work tomorrow, so make sure y’all don’t stay out too late.”

“Sounds good, Uncle Treyton!” Zane started again, desperately wanting to get back to Kaeden.

“AND!” Treyton emphasized. “Harry wanted to see ya ‘bout somethin’ before ya left. He should be at the stables.”

“Great, thanks!” Zane tore off, almost kicking up the dirt behind him as he darted back towards the porta potties. He made it to the picnic area in record time, almost panting as he slowed down. The so-called “picnic area” was really just a group of tables resting behind the bleachers, with no real purpose besides having a surface to eat at. Zane searched for Kaeden, but it seemed like the place was totally empty. The only person he saw was a man sitting alone, ravenously scarfing down an order of nachos. He was wearing a blue plaid button-up and the same straight, overused jeans as every other man at the rodeo. He also adorned a cowboy hat, a quite brawny body, and a bulge much larger than both Kaedan and Zane’s combined. The cowboy looked to be in his late 20’s, but his brunette chin strap and mustache combo made him seem older. Zane approached the other man delicately, noticing the redneck’s very large boots tap eagerly as he chowed on his food.

“Um, excuse me…” Zane mumbled quietly. “I was wondering if-”

“Zane!” the man jumped up from his seat. “I was worryin’ ‘bout you! Thought you might’ve gotten stuck er somethin’.” Zane shook his head, confused at who the low-pitched, southern gent was exactly.

“I’m sorry, who are you?”

“Zane, it’s Clayton!” he paused, waiting for Zane to remember.

“Clayton Sherman?” Zane was still bewildered, until something clicked in his head.

“Wait, Kaedan?”

“No, Clayton. Didja hit yer head or somethin’?”

Zane felt a little crazy, but something supernatural was pulling him towards this stranger. He didn’t know what the force was, but his curiosity guided him.

“One sec, just let me check something.”

Zane grabbed Clayton’s right hand swiftly, finding the same blue stamp that his boyfriend had received earlier. Although it had faded dramatically, it was good enough proof for Zane.

“Kaedan, what happened to you? How did you become like this? What happened after you left the stand?” Zane must have been hallucinating. There was no way his long, slim, ginger lover had become some horse-kickin’, tobacco-spittin’ cowboy, right?

“First off, it’s Clayton,” Clayton responded calmly. “And I did exactly what I said I would. I went to yer uncle’s stand and got us some food. He told me he’d give us ‘somethin’ special’ and slapped my hand, saying it would be on the house. Can you believe it? These darn nachos were free!”

“Alright,” Zane quickly remarked. “Then what?”

“Well, I waited for ya, but the nachos kept lookin’ at me. So, I thought ya wouldn’t mind if I took a bite. One bite became two, then three, and now we’re here.” Clayton showed Zane the empty box, beaming a childish smile.

“Kaedan, I don’t under-”

Suddenly, Zane grabbed his head as he felt a shock go through his skull. He grimaced as it coursed through his brain, causing him to shake momentarily before regaining his thoughts. As fast as the pain had come, it had disappeared too.

“Y’all ok there?” Clayton asked, patting Zane’s shoulder in a brotherly way.

“Yeah, I think so,” Zane blinked. “What were we talking about again?”

“How I ate all the food!” Clayton hollered, laughing at himself in a low guffaw. “We oughta get back to the rodeo though, Little Petey’s going up soon.”

“Little Petey?” Zane mumbled to himself as the two hoisted themselves up. At first, he didn’t recognize the name, but the more he thought about it, the more memories that seemed to appear. Little Petey was Clayton’s little brother of course! Both Clayton and Pete Sherman were expert horse riders, having both broken records for steer wrestling and bull riding. They’d also been the star quarterbacks for the town back in their prime, but now with Pete turning 26 and Clayton having his second kid on the way, they were ready to settle down and start (or continue) their families.

“Yeah! I gotta run on back to Cassie and Trevor. Nice seein’ ya round these parts again!”

Clayton tossed the empty carton into the trash and ran off back to the stands. Zane watched the man dash up the wooden bleachers to his wife and first boy, embracing them as he sat down to continue watching the show. He sunk right back into the cluster of blue, completely camouflaged by the other people in the crowd. Zane didn’t really know Clayton, just remembered him as someone who worked at his uncle’s farm. He seemed nice, but definitely not friend-material. He had a little too much homophobia and country in him. Zane stopped for a moment to correct himself. Clayton didn’t have a little too much; he had a lot of too much.

8.3 SECONDS! LET’S HEAR IT FOR MIKE!

Deciding he had nothing else to do, Zane started heading back towards the parking lot. Although the event seemed kind of interesting, Zane was too lonesome to really find any joy in the situation. Even his uncle’s presence would’ve made him want to stay, but with no one there by his side, Zane decided to head out. Right as he stepped through the gate, he suddenly recalled his uncle saying something about Harry wanting to see him. He didn’t like Harry, and he assumed it worked the other way around too, but Zane knew he should respect his uncle’s wishes.

8.9 SECONDS! DANNY’S HERE TO STAY!

Zane stumbled into the area housing the horse stables, the place completely deserted besides the rolling tumbleweeds. Strolling past a few horse-buses, it didn’t take long to find Harry. He grinned as Zane approached, holding a lasso in one hand.

“‘Bout time you got here, thinkin’ you got lost er somethin’.”

“Wish I would have,” Zane mumbled to himself as Harry tossed an arm around his shoulder. Harry suddenly seemed more cheery than he had been before.

“Did yer uncle tell ya what yer doing here?”

“No, but I hope it’s not too long; I’m getting tired.” To emphasize his point, Zane faked a huge yawn.

“Not that, fag,” Harry chuckled, dropping down one end of the rope. “I mean this vacation.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Back in high school, yer pops, uncle, and I used to be the studs of the town. Valuable players, intimidatin’ cowboys, 100% corn-fed beef. But when yer pops was offered an education out east, the three of us fell apart.”

“Yeah, so what?”Zane was uninterested, finding the cowboy’s bulge as the only thing appealing about Harry. Zane had a bad habit of checking out other men when he was single.

“Well,” Harry continued, dragging Zane into a stable. “When yer pops saw how off-track he had raised ya, he called up Treyton and I to put a little country in ya. We knew we were gonna have fun, but when ya brought along that Irish laddy too, that was just a cherry for the top.”

Zane shook his head in bewilderment. Who was Harry talking about? He had obviously come here alone.

“See, originally Treyton wanted you as part of his ranch, but when yer boyfriend came he decided to pass the sweeter treat off to me. I think yeu’ll really-”

“Woah, slow down a moment,” Zane rubbed his temples, losing track of everything.

“Ah, I fergot about the mental stuff,” Harry contemplated, thinking about how to explain everything. He had to find a way to explain it all to the boy.

“Remember how everyone in the stands was segregated by their clothin’ color?”

“Yeah?” Zane clearly remembered, as he had stuck out like a sore thumb, but he didn’t understand why this was important now.

“Well, they’re all branded to some ranch, that’s why they stick to one color.”

Harry’s answer made sense to him, but Zane was still visibly perplexed.

“Look at Kae- I mean Clayton Sherman,” Harry started. “He works for yer uncle’s ranch. What color to they wear?”

“Blue?”

“Exactly!” Harry slapped Zane’s back, knocking the wind out of the other man.

“Every color here is for someone’s ranch. Blue is Welch, green is Smith, white for Johnson-”

“How... how many are there?” Zane stuttered, the pieces gradually coming together.

“10, ‘cluding myself,” Harry responded proudly.

“So what you’re saying,” Zane reasoned. “Is that these ranch owner’s ‘brand’ people to be part of their ‘ranch,’ claiming them as their property?”

“Eeyup.”

“And why are you telling me this?”

“Thought you oughta know beforehand.”Zane was about to ask what that meant, but before he could speak, something clicked together in his head.

“You own one of these ‘ranches’?”

“The stunnin’ Mueller Ranch.”

“And what color are you?”

Zane already knew the answer, hoping to distract the other man, but he wasn’t fast enough to dodge Harry’s launch. The older cowboy tackled Zane to the ground, the stench of hay and manure infiltrating Zane’s lungs as his face graced the dirt floor. Zane, not one to be athletic, surprisingly twisted himself out of Harry’s grasp, rolling sideways before getting up and escaping. He started running to his truck, desperately shuffling through his pockets to find the keys. Frantically scurrying away, he didn’t even notice his foot slip right out from beneath him.

“Gotcha!”

Harry cackled heartily as he looked upon his captured prey, who was clawing at the rope helplessly. It seemed like a scene from an old western cartoon: the fool stepping into the lasso and getting caught. Harry had already tied the other end of the rope to a stable post, approaching Zane with a face gleaming with malice. Zane trembled in fear, giving up hope on flight and nervously accepting the fight. As Harry took the final steps, Zane's cowered timidly as he gave up. He didn’t know what was going to happen, but he knew something was going to be over. Then, to Zane’s pure surprise, a hand stretched out to help him up.

“Come on,” Harry welcomed warmly.

Zane’s heart stopped. Was Harry… serious? Was this all some prank just to scare him? Zane didn’t know what was going on, but he decided that once he got out of this mess he’d stay in the sweet shelter of his uncle’s ranch. After the week was over, he was never coming back to this pathetic town, or Wyoming for that sake.

“Are ya gonna take it or what?”

Zane sighed, clasping his hand into Harry’s. As soon as they connected, Harry’s flowery smile instantly twisted back into the thorny smirk.

“It’s just too easy.”

Before Zane could react, Harry flipped the other’s hand over and tapped the black stamp. Instantaneously, time stopped around them. The whole moment felt electric, almost as if everything in existence had shifted, but it was simply only a light touch. Zane gasped as he got up, struggling to speak.

“What… what did you do?”

“Eh, nothin’ yeu’ll remember,” Harry chimed. Zane investigated the back of his hand, noticing a slight pulse as the black stamp began to fade. He was shocked to see the color slowly draining from it into his veins, noticing the same inky shade pumping into his bloodstream.

“Oh no,” Zane cried as a small crackling came from his knuckles. It sounded similar to an orchestra of crickets, the hundreds of minuscule pops signifying the growth of his average hands. Zane’s palms grew thicker at a sluggish pace, bloating with meat as his fingers grew into calloused sausages. Zane groaned in pain while his hands became paws, now feeling like he was wearing bulky, leather mittens instead of skin.

The raven color flew through Zane’s arms, gliding across his chest before venturing vertically. To Zane’s dismay, his unused tendons stretched intensely, expanding as they made room for the arriving muscular tissue. Biceps proudly emerged as their brotherly triceps erupted from underneath Zane’s flesh, causing him to writhe. His forearms gained some meat too before a tan wave swept across the surface of his skin. The classic shade darkened Zane’s pale skin as a field of hair was planted on top. Before long, Zane’s arms looked like an avid gym-goer’s, yet for some reason his mind told him they were from the farm.

After improving the upper appendages, the ink moved downwards, cutting through Zane’s chest. His deltoids pushed outwards as his collarbone expanded, barely extending his traps as his torso began to shift into the shape of a “T”. His pectorals ballooned outwards, forming into meaty packages with two perky nipples, obviously erect underneath his shrinking tee. After the pecs squared out, Zane moaned as a sturdy six pack pounded in, each abdominal packing a punch as it pushed forward. A light covering of fur erupted from his chest while the tan wave made sure to paint itself once more. Zane began panting for air violently, each breath sucking in a little body fat. It didn’t remove all of his fat, but enough to maintain something barely below a body-builder’s standards. His shirt also stitched itself back together, having been torn apart seconds before. The cheap concert tee grew black as it painted itself back onto Zane’s torso, the dusky color hiding its overuse.

Following were Zane’s legs, as the black blood dove deeper. His juicy thighs began to tighten, retaining their above-average size, but now containing more muscle than meat. After his quadriceps had hardened, his knees cracked violently, stretching out Zane’s calves to max him out at 6’2. The bottom of his sweatpants violently tore to reveal two meaty forelegs, both veiny, firm, and covered in a lathering of hair. His pale skin darkened as his legs were covered in a loose denim, locking away his lower appendages.

With Zane’s lower body now covered in an old pair of Wranglers, the ink took hold of his feet, which were currently snug in a pair of Sperry’s boat shoes, the only shoes he had brought with him. In an instant, the leather and cloth tore apart in the middle, blossoming open like a flower to reveal gargantuan Size 15 feet. Zane was appalled to see the hairy, meaty, and awfully rank monsters attached below his ankles, but to his luck, the shredded shoes began to reform. The leather gracefully became cowhide as it expertly resowed itself around Zane’s feet, traveling up to his midcalves to create two authentic cowboy boots. Zane however didn’t feel relieved, in fact all he could feel was the sweat of his massive feet filling up the shoes. His socks hadn’t reformed, so it appeared he was going commando in his boots.

The ink swam up to the top, touching up on any missed spots. After filling in Zane’s pits with a hearty amount of hair, the black blood filled in his neck, adding girth to support the maturing Adam’s apple. Vocal chords stretched as the Zane’s register reached new depths, causing him to violently cough and sputter as he adjusted, allowing the ink to shoot upwards. Zane cried out in pain as the black blood clutched his skull, pulling apart at the bones to give him a thicker head. While the baby fat was removed, his jaw was stretched horizontally, giving him a prominent chin just large enough for a cleft. His lips shrunk while his nose expanded, filling in along with his expanding brows. Zane’s eyes shifted from a bland brown to easy-going blue as his hair shaved away, leaving a no-effort buzzcut where a manicured mane once laid. The vibrant green color rapidly faded, giving way to a light brown that easily shaded in Zane’s new haircut and thickening chinstrap. Across his body, his skin tightened barely as his body packed on a few extra years. It wasn’t a noticeable difference, but Zane no longer had the same glow of young adulthood.

“Ah Lordee,” Zane grumbled, getting up as his language center reorganized itself. “What’d y’all do to me?”

“Well, there’s still one more thing to go,” Harry replied, watching Zane shakily ascend. When the other man stood straight, he now faced eye to eye with the other cowboy.

“What in tarnation is left?”

“Just give it a sec-”

“I ain’t got no time for games, I’m gettin’-”

Suddenly, Zane felt an electrifying pulse throughout his groin, the rest of the ink finally reaching his reproductive center. The black blood infiltrated his testicles, killing off the weak sperm as it overtook his pouch. Zane’s balls bloated as they became heavy with cowboy sperm, dropping dramatically due to the increased weight. The ink traveled into his medium-sized penis, engorging it almost instantly. At first, Zane felt like he was having the most powerful boner of his life, but he began to realize his dick was in fact growing. His member began pulsating with the foreign blood, elongating as it grew to a mighty 10 inches. In the back end, his buttocks blew up into two massive, hardened globes, pushing against the confines of one end of the jeans while his pouch took the other.

Losing all sense of reality, Zane furiously palmed himself through his jeans, the feeling of his newly-materialized boxer shorts rubbing against his sensitive tip driving him crazy. Precumming in seconds due to the pent up stress, Zane was too horny to realize what he was doing, or what he was losing. His prized Yale education evaporated like powdered milk into his ballsack. Next went his East Coast upbringing, his progressive ideas and urban lifestyle disappearing into the void that was his semen. In tow was his homosexuality, which was thrown into the fire inside his testicles. Even a sizeable chunk of his IQ was tossed into the mixing pot. Everything about Zane was sucked down into his sperm, ready to be expelled permanently.

“C’mon boy,” Harry shouted eagerly. “Ya know what ya want to do!”

Zane grunted as he groped himself once more, feeling a burst of static electricity coarse across his body. Grabbing a nearby fence, Zane steadied himself against the stable wall as he felt the rush coming.

“Wow-ie!”

A huge load of sperm coated the front of the Wranglers, causing the area beneath the giant belt buckle to darken dramatically. Not bothering to clean himself up, the young cowboy basked in the afterglow of ejaculation, truly content with himself. He adjusted his pouch one last time, with his other hand still secured to the fence.

“There ya go, that felt better, didn’t it?” Harry slapped a hand around the other man, securing the black cowboy hat on top of the other’s head while doing so.

“Ah yeah, Sir, that one was a goodie,” the other replied, the two slowly making their way back to the main grounds.

“Tell me, Wayne, where the wife and kids at? Shouldn’t they be at the rodeo?”

“They are, Sir,” Wayne responded quickly. “They’re sittin’ near the back of the bleachers with the other ranch families.”

“Ah I see.”

10.5 SECONDS! PETE’S WOWED US AGAIN FOLKS!

Harry paused in front of the main gate, shuffling his hand through his pocket to find his keys and some Copenhagen chew.

“I best be headin’ out,” he stated. “We got a long day at the ranch tomorrow, lots of hay bale shipments to move out.”

“Sounds good, Sir.” Wayne extended his hand out, “I’ll see y’all bright and early tomorrow mornin’.”

“See y’all then, Wayne.”

The two vigorously shook hands, with Harry delighted to see the disappearance of a certain black stamp. They waved each other off as Harry walked back to his truck. After watching his boss leave, Wayne was elated to go back to his family, with one beautiful wife and three handsome sons to entertain. Turning 29 in a matter of days (his birthday shared with Pete Sherman’s, or “Little Petey” as the town called him), Wayne had already accomplished his major goal in life, growing the Woods family. It only seemed like yesterday that he and his wife were high school sweethearts, but now they owned their own little home with three rowdy chaps running around everywhere. It was going to be Wayne’s job to teach them the right morals just like how his father taught him. Over the years, he’d teach them about Christianity, voting Red, being country men, and how to swoon ladies. But, with the oldest one only in first grade, he thought it might be best to wait a bit longer.

Inspecting the bleachers, it didn’t take Wayne long to find his family. He ran up to them and sat down immediately, ready to keep enjoying the show. He quickly explained to his wife what his boss had wanted him for, saying Harry had just wanted an update on the coming fourth child. Wayne then kissed his wife passionately before giving his attention back to the rodeo, applauding as the last participant finished off the night.

10.3 SECONDS! CHRIS ENDED THE NIGHT STRONG!

“Damn, I look so fucking hot..” He mumbled to himself as he admired the picture of his exposed self.

“Wonder which one I should use for the next post..”

…

Draft edited 05/04/2015

Sup guys! Jason here.

As you can see, I’ve been taking pictures of myself out in the open and exposed! Why? Well, people don’t really pass by these areas and it gives me this weird (but good) feeling when I show myself off. Not in the kind of way where you feel like you could get caught- but in a way where someone is actively watching you. No one was ever there when I checked around though. Dunno. I swear I never got this feeling before getting to this place but it’s prob nothing.

Aside from my sexy little shots, everything here is pretty cool. Lots of nature, sunlight, mountains, and hot locals. One of the guys here in particular has really stuck in my mind. He didn’t really do anything interesting- he just seems to be everywhere. Dunno how he does it but I see him at least 3 times whenever I go out, and he has a different outfit on each time. Not gonna lie I was a bit creeped out because I thought he was stalking me. The more I thought about it though, the more I realized that he never glanced in my direction until I approached him. I was able to talk to him a bit and I guess he’s cool and pretty hot up close. Also noticed something about his neck but I didn’t say anything.

He also told me that I was welcome to “head on over” anytime. Wasn’t sure if I really wanted to enter a stranger’s house at first,  but we’d already talked for a good bit so why not? What could go wrong? I could totally beat his ass if needed to. And I’m pretty sure that this area is relatively safe too so maybe he won’t kill me lol. Don’t really have much else to do anyway since my vacation is almost over. Might as well have a bit more fun before I go.

Draft edited 05/05/2015

Alright, I’m heading over to that guy’s house. Wish me luck dudes.

…

“Hey! Good to see you, Jason.” He nonchalantly said as he waved his muscular left arm at Jason. His smile was wide as he sat up from his shaded porch to walk towards him. As he moved into the sun, his hard and defined muscles revealed its chiseled form under its light. 

“What’s up, man.” Jason returned the smile, his eyes darting between the man’s face and abs.

“Come on in.” He said with a knowing smirk  “I’ve only got milk for drinks right now. Is that alright?”

“..You hinting at something?”

“...No.” He smirked as he pulled the door open.

…

The moment I walked through that door… I suddenly remembered the pictures that I took of myself and the feeling of it. Huh, that’s random.

Before I could question it any further, his voice pulls my attention towards him.

“Follow me.” He said in his usual friendly manner.

I immediately listened for some reason. I assumed that he was going to lead me to the living room or something, but he just kept bringing me to these doorless, empty, and identical hallways. We occasionally took a few turns but that was it. And throughout it all, he seemed a bit.. Out of it? Each time I tried to make conversation, he just gave me clipped answers with that same smile. What was up with him..? 

I looked behind me, contemplating whether or not I should leave but only saw the endless hallway.

“Oh- we’re almost there! Don’t turn around just yet!” He suddenly called to me from farther ahead. At this point, I really didn’t want to be here anymore. When I tried to just leave though, my feet just wouldn’t budge. It was like the carpet was gripping onto me whenever I tried to step away from the man, so the only way was towards him.

Ugh…

We eventually reached a room that seemed to somewhat resemble a living room. Wooden floor, two couches and a table.. And that was it. No windows or decorations. I knew it- this guy was a weirdo… I sigh as I stepped forward.

…

The moment he stepped into the room, he was overcome by an overwhelming numbness.

“…”

“…”

… Wait.. Why does my neck- Why can’t I feel anything…? 

“Sorry- ” the man apologetically said as he turned to me.

What’s going on..? 

“I’ve really been needing this..and so has the house so… Yeah.”

He shrugged. There was a bent smile on his lips.

“But I’ll take good care of your body, alright? It’s a promise.”

What the fuck is he talking about?? What’s happening?!

I tried to scream as I felt his cold hands gently clasp around my neck. And then, they suddenly tightened and pulled upwards.

Pop

“There we go!”

My eyes widened as I looked down after hearing the noise.

Is that.. 

My body? 

…

The man gently placed Jason’s head down onto the little table, facing him in a way that guaranteed that he would see what was about to happen. He silently smirked at Jason as he roamed his hands around the headless body’s bulging muscles. As he did so, his hands slowly inched towards his pants… and suddenly, the body’s semi-hardened package straining against his jocks was in full view for both Jason and the man. Jason couldn’t believe his eyes as he witnessed what was unfolding. His very own body twitched and squirmed whilst under the mercy of the grinning man.

For a moment, he stopped his groping and stepped back.

“Alright, give it to him.” He said, clapping his hands twice.

Just then, the spot of the ceiling directly above the body began to twist and morph as if it were slime. It only did so for a few seconds until something familiar emerged from it. A hint of recognition passed through Jason’s eyes as he watched it cleanly plunge onto the stump of his headless body. He glanced between the man that brought him here, and the head. They shared the same dark hair, dark eyes, stubble, thick eyebrows, styled hair, and mismatching skin tones on their necks… Suddenly, everything made sense to him.

The newly attached head slowly opened its eyes and looked around. Its lips curled into a smirk when its eyes fell upon Jason’s bodiless form. 

“Finally…”

Its right arm rose up and bent into a flex, while its other hand made its way down to its bulging jock, firmly squeezing it.

“Mmmm… Fuuuuck…” It moaned as it began to peel away its jockstrap to free his throbbing member.

As it controlled Jason’s limbs to feel its stolen muscles up, the other man approached his body from behind, pressing his tented pants against his bubble butt. The two of them lustfully grinned at each other before pressing their lips together. Their tongues twisted into each other whilst their warm bodies grazed on one another. The head began to stroke his hardened length and the man hungrily rubbed his cock against his ass, the both of them desperate for a release. The man then pulled away and repositioned himself in front of the body. He kneeled down and quickly took its length deep into his throat. Wet squelches of his mouth echoed throughout the room as he relentlessly thrusted his head back and forth.

The body thief reeled its head back and grunted in pleasure. It thrusted forward, grasping the man’s head as he erupted, warm drops of white leaking out from the corners of the man’s mouth.

And throughout all of this, Jason could only watch as a bystander- hindered by his bodiless form. 

“...It’s… cold…” he finally said. His eyelids became heavy as he drifted off to a deep slumber. The ceiling shifts again, twisting and turning. This time, thick tendrils emerge from it, reaching down onto Jason’s head and encircling it. As if accepting an offering, it pulled his head into itself.

“Do you think he’ll mind a little makeover?” The man nonchalantly asked the head as he looked at the ceiling.

“Well, who would mind looking like me… or rather, us?” The head replied with a laugh.

The man smiled “Hm, no one of course- but we’ll need to find a body for him.”

“Right right… But why don’t we have a bit more fun before that..?”

Two kneeling men dressed in black glossy rubber, their eyes fixed on the center of the room, their minds lost in the rhythm of their mantras. "I am a good obedient rubber man. My body is for rubber. I crave to be in rubber." The words whispered through their lips, but echoed in their minds, driving them deeper into the trance. Their cocks, encased in tight rubber sheaths, throbbed in time with their hearts, straining against the confines of their bondage.

The room was dimly lit, casting an eerie glow over the array of shiny rubber toys scattered about: hoods, gloves, boots, suits, even a massive horse harness with an enormous rubber phallus. The air was thick with the scent of rubber and sweat, and the low bass of the hypnotic music vibrated through their bodies, adding to the sensory overload.

The two men, Mark and Tom, had been coming to this underground club for years, drawn by a desire they could never fully satisfy in the outside world. They longed to lose themselves in the world of rubber, to become nothing more than obedient playthings for their Master's amusement. And in this place, they found a kind of freedom, however temporary.

As they continued to chant their mantras, their arousal grew, the words becoming almost painful to speak as their cocks twitched and ached for release. They could feel their skin tingling, the boundaries between their bodies and the rubber blurring, as if they were becoming one with the inanimate objects that surrounded them. They knew that soon, their Master would choose one of them to be his plaything for the night, and they would willingly surrender their bodies to his desires.

After I settled in the hotel, finally the holiday can start. I had not been away other than for business for a while, so these two weeks will do me good, no obligations, no appointments, just enjoying myself. all unpacked and after having had some food, time to go out and see what the surrounding area has to offer, tomorrow I would do some more of the tourist stuff then here.

After wandering around a while I found a little bar, the gay flag next to the leather flag on its outside lead me to entering. It was a Thursday evening, I did not expect much, but a beer or two and maybe find someone to chat with, talk about what’s interesting in the area and so on.

After some brief talking with the barman, a horny looking guy, but probably out of my league anyway, another guy sat next to me at the bar, overhearing that I was visiting he waved in and we chatted a while. on the term of what is interesting or not he did ask at some point also where my not so touristy interests were, I was never shy on that so told him about my fable for bondage, the more the merrier, my love for fetish gear, leather, army but especially rubber. He mentioned some fetish party at the weekend at one of his friends’ houses, but also some events the weekend after, if I would still be in town by then. I told him that I have two weeks of nothingness ahead, so would definitely want to check those out.

He told me that he would make sure I get an invite to that party on Saturday, we exchanged emails for that purpose and then chatted a bit further on, about much and nothing. A few beers later though he went more direct, asking me if I would be interested in a little bondage session right now at his place. He lived not too far and I could stay overnight at his place or he’d bring me back to my hotel at the end if I wanted to.

I told him I did not really pack heavily, mainly due to luggage restraints on flights, but also as I had not really expected too much kink fun during my travels either. He laughed and waved, looking me up he said he’d be happy to help out on that with some of his own gear, it would surely fit well. If need be he even offered to lend me some stuff for the upcoming party, unless I was equipped myself for that kind event.

It does hit another favorite of mine, being told or even forced to wear someone else’s gear … so my dick sprung to life and I quickly accepted, both, his offer for a little session right now and the offer to pick something for the weekend party, joining it with him together then.

Said, done - we paid quickly our tap and went off to his place. 20 minutes ride only, so indeed close, yet in 20 minutes you can reach far with a car, we were rather far out of the city center, a more rural part of the suburbs, lots of standalone houses rather far apart from each other, I thought I’d love something like that, no disturbance from neighbors, I could sit in my garden naked or all rubbered up and nobody would care… He confirmed that very same thought to me, he too enjoyed to be close to the city center and actions, yet have his place to himself without nosy looks from others.

Inside his home he offered me another beer, but I waved, I had a few and did not really want to be drunk when playing, he nodded and said that it would be best to get started then right away - smiling wide. I nodded and he told me to follow him down his basement.

Down there, a small playroom, but lots of possibilities. Cross, pole, cage, bench, table, hooks everywhere, he definitely created a great space for a good fun time. He told me that it was best to get me all dressed then, so I should strip. Despite being a stranger, I had no second thoughts at all, I stripped naked immediately while he picked a few items from a closet in the corner.

In no time I stood then head to toe in rubber, a full one piece suit, attached feet and gloves, a well head shaped thick rubber hood with eye, nose and mouth hole, a pair of rubber boots, a rubber body harness strapped and buckled on, a collar, wrist and ankle restraints buckled on, the fun was to begin. he placed me in various positions to almost all of the devices, sitting, standing, laying, hanging, played with, teased, tortured my butt hole, dick, balls, zips in the suit allowed free access for him, he fucked me twice while helpless strapped up or down, exhausting but extremely horny playing around constantly, he certainly did not fail keeping his promise of a horny rubber bondage session.

A few hours passed, no idea how many though, he just released me from the fuck bench he kept me immobilized on for the last fucking, not before though stuffing a plug up my just abused butt hole and zipping the rubber suit shut again. I still had not cum yet, he brought me to the edge a few times but never got me over the finish line, on purpose he kept saying. Now that I stood there again, he fetched a chastity cage and began strapping it on me, still no cumming yet I mumbled, he grinned and confirmed: not yet indeed.

He then took another hood off the shelf, a gasmask hood, covering the full head, pulling it over my already rubbered head, aligning it proper before closing the zip on its back, making it fit snug over my head now, the eyes however were blacked out, I was now in the dark. When he said to stretch my arms forward I assumed already what was to come and I was right, a heavy rubber straitjacket followed. once arms inside he zipped it on the back and then buckled it in the back first, telling me he even had the needed plastic security buckles that snap on top of the straps actual buckles, preventing any accidental or wanted opening. My arms then went crossed at the front, lead through the side straps on the jacket, tightly pulled the straps on the arms on the back and made me hug myself tightly. The strap over the arms in the front followed and then the two straps through the crotch sealed it all up. Blind, breathing through the hole of the gasmask, rubber from heat to tow, a dick locked in a tube, a plug up my butt, and a thick rubber straitjacket keeping me snug helpless. I got hornier than I was, still not having cum yet just made it worse.

He then grabbed me by the shoulders and lead me, pushing me towards the side of the room, I know there was this large box that I had not yet asked what it was for, still of course could easily imagine its purpose, and right I was… he turned me in front of it and then helped me crunch and slowly back into it until I reached with my back the back wall of that box. by the feel of it I had little space to the left or right with my jacketed arms, little space to the top, and once he helped me cross my legs in front of me tight enough to fit inside that box completely, I knew there was not much space left to the front either when that door closes. I felt him then attach a hose to the gas mask, immediately noticing that breathing got a little harder, there was definitely a filter at the end of that hose. again being right, he confirmed the filter was on the outside of the box on its top, once that door closes, the only visible and hearable connection between me inside here and the world outside of my prison. I liked the way he described this isolation in captivity, enhanced by double isolation, one in total rubber, another in this box.

He then closed that door and I even heard two padlocks being locked on to the latches. what I heard then though did not really make me enjoy it, he knocked on top of the box and shouted so I could hear that he would be back tomorrow, he was tired and needed sleep and then wished me a good night. a good night, sitting like that, sweating, plug being pushed deeper inside as I sat on it and would not be able to get relief on that, neither would be able to cum, or move much, or …. Anything at all actually…

I shouted into the gasmask to let me out, that I did not want to stay in the box overnight, a cage or strapped on a bench maybe, but not here in this position, but no reaction at all, I shouted a while actually, but nothing to hear, no release, he actually went to bed and just left me here….

I was tired, yet still it took hours before I napped away finally, aching, horny, sweaty, in discomfort, but I gave in to it, no choice but to wait until he came for my release.

I woke up a few times and dozed away again after some time, I had no idea about the time passed, but as long as that door was locked, I had no choice but to wait, and once I was awake completely, that time just passed even slower. When that door finally opened, I told him that I had enough and wanted out. Still blind and restrained I still needed his help for that of course.

Once out of that box he stood me on my feet and then told me: be quiet, not a word once I remove that gasmask, else you go right back into that box again. I try complaining, he interrupted me, stopping his attempt to unzip the gasmask hood, telling me he will close it again and shove me back into the box right now if I do not remain totally silent and cooperate. Having little choice mumbling to myself I cursed him for that but kept quiet then.

The gasmask came off and I saw again finally. he was all rubbered up himself, actually horny looking, at least my dick said so, then again it still ached to be allowed to cum from the session we had, not necessarily answered to the current situation. Everything else still in place he lead me to the chair in the corner, sat me down and then fed me. Some snacks, lots of water. I expected full release, but actually was hungry and thirsty, so gladly took what he offered. the room had no windows, I was not sure what time it was, morning, noon, afternoon … I hoped he would tell me soon…

After finishing food and drink, he stood me in the middle of the room, hooking a steel collar dangling off chains from the ceiling, keeping me stand straight up before undoing the straitjacket, reminding me to keep quiet. He took his time but slowly removed the chastity device and the plug too then. then he told me that him and me have about the same size, a reason why his gear fits so well on me, so he went over to a friend during day to borrow something, then he lifted this steel chastity device in front of my eyes, a full steel belt, covering front and back completely, I had seen it on pictures before, never tried it, and right now did not know whether I should be excited about having it locked on or angry for not being released … he looked down and told me what I knew, my dick answered that already. It took a few hard slaps, painful, to get my dick soften again enough for that device to come on, but once soft enough he did not waste time. minutes later that front part was adjusted in place, holding my dick inside a silicone mold, tight, no room to expand, but more disturbing, a steel sound or catheter on its inside was forced up my dick as well, my shouting out when he forced it in were silenced by the treat of being back in the box quicker than I can say ouch one more time. The back of the device followed and when I heard the locks snap in place I knew that thing would not come off easily. He made sure the zips of the rubber suit were tight in place by looping a tiny chain through the clips and locking that in place, almost no room between zip and the now locked dick and balls, but also on the back he applied that little chain, and I felt now why. The opening in the zip was just big enough to allow that plug he now used. that chastity device had a hole on just the right place to allow insertion of that plug, not too big, not too deep, but enough to feel it all the time, and once it was in place, fiddling around with something I did not see, then I heard the lock snap in place, the plate on that back hole keeping everything in place and secured.

He told me it was a modified version of that original belt, in the front electrode contacts embedded around dick and balls, but as well allowing the electric plug to be hooked into its system. He then took an extra small box, shiny as the belt, matching some latched on its back, snapping on to them and thus being locked on to it, on that box the contacts of the electrodes hooked in now, inside that box a remote controlled battery pack. He told me there is a spare pack like it, one pack usually lasts about 72 hours, depending on how it is used, but all it takes is swapping that box when the batteries are empty.

Holding the remote up he gave a demonstration then, from tingling pleasant stimulation, getting me hard, or at least attempting to, up to real heavy painful torture, in just a minute he got me from pleasant moaning to futile pain screams back to tingling stimulation at least 5 times. Then he told me: obey, follow every command, do not resist, do not attempt to refuse or reject, and no more than pleasant stimulation will be used, if at any time I do not cooperate 100%, I know what setting will be used. That did certainly not leave any options, I knew if I wanted out at some point, I had to do as he told me to.

Then he released me from all restraints, not without ordering me to do as told - and another few hours of bondage and tease/torture in his playroom followed. I actually enjoyed most of it again, like the time before, with the exception that I was desperate to cum, yet I knew there was no way he could make that happen without taking that belt off. But the only thing he took of a few times, just to reinsert right after, was that plug, so I could get fucked again and again, and remain filled up all other times.

I had not expected, but feared it when the gasmask and straitjacket came back in to play, I ended up in that box again for the night. at least I knew I spent half of the day in it last time, the other half being abused by him (in more or less pleasant ways though) and expected the same to come again now.

The next release was again with feeding, watering, but no release from anything but the gasmask during that. after drinking everything, having by the way pissed into the rubber several times since I got stuck in it, he did not mind the mess it made in his playroom, that gasmask went back on, and being left sitting there, helpless eno0guyh not to even attempt getting anywhere, he snapped a leash into the collar I had locked on and tugged, having me follow him upstairs and then, by feeling the cool air around me I knew, outside, into his garage, and into the boot of his car. Lid closed, engine started and off we went to an unknown destination. My hotel? The bar? Someone else? I had no idea, then again my clothes, wallet, keys, everything was at his place … now that I think of it, I did not even know where there he kept it. I began to realize I was actually totally dependent, delivered to him, someone I just met, talked briefly, had no idea where or who or what …

At least an hour drive, but then he helped me out of the car boot and tug of the leash made me follow, a short walk, some stairs, suddenly noises of other people, I remembered … that party he talked about, did we go there? I had no idea, could not see, and could not know. Lead around a while, hearing him chat with others while I just stood there all rubbered, helpless, captured in rubber isolation. at some point then I got strapped on to a bench again, a fuck bench as I realized, just to have that plug unlocked and removed, but then nothing happened for a while. I had no idea what went on until I felt a dick intruding my butt, whoever that was, I could not tell, but I also could not prevent it so thought I make the best out of it. Relentless, hard, long thrusting, I was not sure if I enjoyed the situation or not, I was definitely horny in my chastity, but also excited about the current situation, but then again also annoyed and scared, none of this was agreed to, none was asked, it just happened and I was unable to do anything about it.

The hours passed though, and I spent those right there strapped to that bench, not attended in any way directly except … at least ten people fucked my presented butt. I made the mistake to attempt complaining twice in-between those fucks, each time though was answered with a huge amount of pain on dick and balls, so I gave up on that, knowing that it was futile as long as that device is locked on me.

At some point the plug went back in, hopefully the fucking by strangers ended I thought, but the plug in my sore ass did not help much on the discomfort. at least another hour or maybe more passed where I was left unattended with the exception of several beer feedings into my mouth before I was finally taken off that bench, just to be led by the leash again, hearing some good byes spoken around me, back to the car, back to the house, and … as I was afraid of… back into the box. I really had enough, grunted into the gag, just to be shocked again, this time both ends again with the plug being locked into my butt now again.

He told me then to keep quiet, even more because the moment that door of the box closes, the sound control will be active, any noise I make will immediately lead to high shocks, so it was up to me if I feel those or not, then the door closed, the locks snapped shut again, I knew I had some long time of waiting ahead again. I was exhausted though, so it did this time not take that long to fall asleep and even sleep a longer time through.

Being awake at some point though again, no idea what time passed, what time it is, when he would get me out here. when it finally happened, feeding happened again as before, I needed that again, aching everywhere from the uncomfortable sleep, definitely wanting out, but I knew better than to complain, I still was locked into this torture device.

Back to the middle of the room, hooked into that steel collar, not allowing me to go anywhere, then he undid all restraints, the chastity device and even helped me get out of all the rubber, I was hoping it was over, but …

Once I stood naked, that chastity device came back on, all of it, including a new battery pack. Only then he released me from that collar holding me in place and told me to sit down, not without showing me that he kept that vicious remote control in his hands.

He then told me: I am going to take you upstairs, have a shower, get the sweat off your skin and allow it to breathe for a bit, but after that you will on your own go down here again and put that rubber suit back on, on top of that chastity, also put that hood back on, then use this collar and padlock - pointing at them on the bench - to lock the zips of suit and hood together, after that you can come upstairs again and find me in the living room at the end of the hallway. If I hear any other sounds but the water from the shower or doors closing that you use, you know what will happen, boy.

I knew, and did not want to go there again, so I actually followed his orders, went up with him, had a long shower of at least half an hour, toweled myself off and then did as told, getting myself all rubbered up - and locked into it. Then I went back up to find him, stood in front of him sitting on the couch with a fresh coffee, another cup of steaming coffee on the table.

He told me to kneel at the table and enjoy the coffee, not seeing any choice I did as told, and DID enjoy that coffee. While I did he showed me that remote, his finger right on the button, telling me that no matter how I felt about what he will tell me, opening my mouth will lead to highest settings punishment. I was not sure if what I felt the times before was highest or not, but it was definitely more than I would ever want to feel again, so I knew I’d keep my mouth shut.

He then told me: I took the liberty to go to your hotel, by then way a close friend of mine who runs it, and had you checked out there, picked your stuff up and brought it here. You said you had some time at hands, and having had quite some fun with you since we met, I thought it would be a shame to let you go so easily. Since you were foolish enough to allow me to establish a quite severe form of control over what you do or not do, I decided that it is best to no longer allow you any choices and instead make those for you. my friends at the party enjoyed you too by the way, that was the moment I made up my mind to keep you here instead of having you go back to the hotel, so you are going to be my rubbered play toy, obedient, following every order to the letter and making sure I will never have to use this - holding up that remote - again, understood?

I nodded, not sure if he expected me to speak, but his finger on that control seemed to have the expected affect. He continued: now for the rules of your stay: unless I specifically choose, you will not wear anything else but head to toe rubber, what you wear now is your permanent outfit. you will spend time locked away, time working for me, time running errands, time being used to my likings, by myself of friends of mine, and you will at no time resist, hesitated, refuse or in any form disobey. If that is clear, nod, because I do not want you to speak unless I tell you to, at no time, understood?

I nodded again, not really happy about it, then again, why not, this is going to be the best holiday I can imagine, all rubber, all bondage, all fun… well with the exception of the chastity and plug, I desperately wanted to cum, but that was - as everything else at the moment - out of my control.

We have to pick up one more item from a friend of mine, the one who loaned me that chastity belt, finish your coffee while you wait here, boy. Then he left the room. When he came back he had a pile of clothes in his arms and another rather heavy straitjacket. He threw it on a chair and then picked out one item after the other, with each telling me to put it on.

A long john underwear first, as if I was not warm enough inside the rubber already, but I did as told and put it on. Knee high wool socks followed, a rough checkered shirt followed, a slightly oversized worker jeans came next. Then he threw a pair of worker boots at me to put on. Once I stood there, only my rubbered hands and head were visible, the rest looked just like a simple worker, but that was taken care of too then. he stood in front of me and pulled a mask over my rubbered head, one of those real face masks, from close certainly easy to spot, but from far it would hide my rubbered head perfectly. however this mask was not just any mask, it had a special mouth piece, filling the inside of my mouth, covering the sides inside my mouth, built in compartment for the teeth and even the tongue, but teeth and tongue parts hard material, not soft, unless pressed out that would keep me quiet, but then again, the pressing out was prevented immediately, on the inside of the mask straps were embedded, pulled tightly to the back and buckled they kept that mouth piece exactly where it was meant to be and once he pulled the mask completely over my head, none of that was visible anymore. An ingenious device I thought, of course not enjoying the impact to me, but definitely admiring the idea behind it. Then he took a pair or worker gloves and had me pull those over my rubbered hands.

He had me follow him then, grabbing the strait jacket on the way out, in the hallway we stopped briefly, I stood in front of a large mirror, what I saw … a stranger looking at me, a worker, no rubber visible other than in the eyes of the mask, no hint of the gag keeping me silent, no hint of anything underneath the unsuspicious worker clothing. He took a pair of sun glasses then and put them on me, the last bit of rubber disappeared behind them, a base cap puled over the blank head of the mask completed it. I could tell from the view of that stranger in the mirror that if not close enough, nobody would realize what was underneath, or who…

Then we went out, into his car, he had me sit in the passenger’s seat, and we drove off, right into town. I was unable to speak anyway, but would not really have known what to say, it was strange, weird, in rubber, plugged, gagged, under control, yet so ‘freely’ sitting in the car for everyone else to see. and nobody realizing what was going on, it was again scary, yet at the end exciting again, that way I could be with him out in public in a very horny setting yet undetected for anyone else, I loved it, or would have if my dick did not complain about the lack of space.

We pulled up the driveway of a house then, it was his friends home, we went and knocked on the door, I did not know who that guy was, he obviously knew who I was, when we entered he whistled, looking good, he said to the guy, you were right, pretty undetectable, and that so nicely fuckable ass of his still plugged? He asked, the guy nodded, obviously this one must have been at that party yesterday I assumed, but since I could not answer, ask or respond to anything, I could just think everything on my own.

I was left standing in the hallway, not to move, while both disappeared for a short while. when they came back, my guy had a collar in his hands, the neck part of the mask was then lifted up, the existing collar unlocked and removed, and this one, thinner, but not less secure, was locked on, an embedded buckle lock, making it less obvious than the previous one, and the ends of the sippers were just as well locked into this buckle again. He then said to his friend that he would post a check for the total amount. Obviously he bought those times off him now. He explained then: I thought since that belt will stay locked on you, I could not just borrow it, best to buy it off his hands, and that collar, well it is part of that belt actually. You see the belt has the controls, this collar though is equipped with a sensor and is wirelessly hooked into that control. Once activated it will recognize the vibrations whenever you make any kind of vocal noise, and that will lead, well you know what will happen, I am sure. So nod if you understood because it is activated already, and should you try speaking or even grunting it will already go off. I had little choice on that, nodded as he expected, knowing that anything else will set off those shocks, and I was sure they would not be set on easy pleasant tingling then. I did think again though, another ingenious device, surrounding noises had no influence, but I myself, as long as this device is active I am doomed to keep absolute silence.

We then went back to the car and drove off, this time out of town, far out of it, an hour drive approximately, right into some deep woods, until we reached a small hut hidden in a small opening. We got out and without anything in-between he ordered me towards a pole on that small porch of that hut, stood me with my back to it and started putting that strait jacket on me. It was heavy, but also big enough to lead around that pole, zipped and buckled up with that pole inside the jacket on my back, arms crossed, all straps buckled shut, I stood upright on that pole unable to move much again. He disappeared briefly into the hut just to come back with a few extra straps in his hands, one by one used on my legs then. at my ankles, just below and above the knee, by that immobilizing me almost complete, with exception of the head, the last straps though took care of that, one around my neck and that pole, one over my forehead and that pole. completely immobile, unable to speak or shout or even grunt, helpless to the full extent of possibilities right now, staring out away from the hut into the middle of that small area barely seeing that car parked on the side of it.

He reminded me about the collar, its impact, should I choose to make noise and then went to the car. I know now why I sat in front, the boot was filled with all my stuff he picked up at the hotel. He emptied it and placed it near the middle of that area I looked at, in the middle itself though, and that is when I definitely felt scared, a fire place. I had no way to say anything so could just watch, and what I feared happened then. he got the fireplace filled with branched and lit the fire, fed it until it was big enough and then started…. piece by piece he emptied out of my suitcase and bags, piece by piece went into the fire. I wanted to tell him to stop but knew what would come then. For a long time, no idea how long though, I watched him burn one piece after the other, and when all was empty, burn the suitcase and bags themselves too. When almost all of it was burned up to ashes, he briefly went to the car and when back in my vision, he held up the last item, my wallet. He removed the money, telling me I would no longer need that, then emptied the content of that wallet too, one by one, every card, every piece of paper I had in there melted and burned into he fire, and the last item … my passport…. I shouted a loud no - well grunted it into the confinement of my mouth and tongue, just to be followed by incredible pain in my butt, my dick, my balls, so much pain that the pain itself caused more grunting and more shocks, it took a while for me to calm myself enough to stop the shock, all that time he stood there, holding my passport in his hands.

He then told me that I know now what happens if I do not do as told, and then with a very demonstrating swing - just to show me who is in charge - there went that passport into the fire too, all I could do is watch it burn, and feel a few tears in my eyes. What did that guy do, what the heck has happened, what….?

After he was sure everything was burned down completely, he put out the fire and came to me. he told me we would spend a few days out here in his hut, so he could train me the basics here before we go back to his home and my new life as his slave will begin … he then explained: I had enough time at hands while you were locked in the box in the basement, by the way a place you will spend often when there is no need for you, boy. I checked you out of the hotel, but went further, I checked you into a train as well, booked a trip for you, down to Mexico and then on to South America, the coming two weeks officially you are on a trip down there somewhere, and … well… you will just not return, disappeared somewhere during that rip. the places I checked were specially chosen, dangerous, known to have people disappear, high criminal areas, it will be not a big surprise to the authorities, so it is doubtful that there will be a large search for you, but for sure nobody will assume you are here, with me, kept as my slave. I have enough connections and friends around here to explain whatever needs explaining, I have the means to keep you in line, be it tied up, locked up or even as free as we were on our trip to my friend, I would not think of finding an opportunity to leave if I were you, then again, I think you actually like your new life, or will learn to like it due to lack of choice anyway.

What I can tell you already, as I said before, head to toe rubber will be your life, if at all out of the house, and for the next year or two that will not happen much at all, this - pointing at all of me - is about how you will be seen, but as you can imagine not heard, ever again - but the majority of your future life will be in one or more layers of rubber and restraints. I got my own firm where I will make you work, earning your keep, of course you’ll work in the house as well, someone has to scrub those floors and whatever else is to do, and when you’re not working, running errands or are used as my play toy, I’ll keep you nicely locked away, out of sight, out of trouble. So until I have you retrained and fully trust your loyalty as my slave, hardly anyone will know you exist, later then I will introduce you eventually to more people again. But now, let me get some rest before we start your initial training, see you in a couple of hours.