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遅刻の #縄の日 7月8日 Belated the day of 🪢 July-8

We played around online at first, giving me orders and tasks to perform and send picture proof, he got me to buy some gear of his choosing, i spent the occasional weekends or even extended weekends in gear like this, but at some point i also visited him, shorter long weekends but also some smaller holiday periods, there he forced his dress codes on me even more strictly, adding more gear, locking me inside without breaks much longer than i did on my own.

But what i still cannot believe, sitting here like this… i retired two weeks ago and we had agreed to celebrate that day together. At my arrival he insisted of course we’d keep me packed proper for that celebration, i never spent days at his place without gear like that, so this would not be an exception.

As always, i got plugged, locked in a tiny chastity device, heavy padded and stuffed into 4 layers of heavy plastic and rainwear, heavy wader boots, most of the gear locked on so i would not be tempted to even try to get out of it.

And today.. i am still wearing all of the gear as i have done every day with just one hour every other day out for cleaning. In those two weeks since that day he donated all my other clothing, sold everything i had inside my house, the house itself is on the market for sale also. While he did not say anything about it the first two days, when i got re=packed after the cleaning hour, he revealed it, since i no longer had to work, i no longer needed to wear anything else but this, permanent, forever…

/typical masculinization tf, nerd to jock, race change

The light burned Cole's eyes, the flickering bulb slowly drawing him out of his sleep. He sat up disoriented and confused, the “bed’’ he was sleeping on– if you could call it that– was made out of a blanket draped haphazardly over a metal bench connected to the wall. The room was gray and sterile, a drab cement box with a heavy metal door. The smell of bleach permeated his senses as he rubbed his head. He could barely remember how he got there- a fuzzy recollection of walking to school, but not of getting there. Looking down at himself he realized he wasn’t wearing what he remembered putting on. Instead of the musty sweater and oversized cargo shorts he wore a clean crisp white shirt, the factory folds still indented in it like it had just been taken out of a package, along with a pair of gray sweatpants that seemed much too big and too long for his short scrawny legs and bony waist. The drawstring was as tight as it could possibly go, making the sweatpants billow out like sails. What the fuck, he whispered– finally breaking the silence.

“Looks like you’re finally awake” a deep calm voice muttered. It held power behind it without trying, almost hypnotic. Through the bars of the metal door he saw a pair of intense eyes that shone a brilliant blue. They seemed familiar– but he couldn't quite place it. The eyes disappeared as the figure put on a mask, the sound of keys following shortly after.

*click*

“I wish he loved me back.”

“Well, that requires a few changes.”

You whirl around. Behind you stands a tall, lean Arabian man in an immaculate three-piece suit. “Most straight men have an exception.” The genie begins to walk around you. “One thing that they find so attractive that they’ll do just about anything for it. You are about to become your training partner’s exception.”

The genie taps you once on the forehead, and you fall backwards. It feels like you’re falling a long time, and then…

“Whoa, man!” It’s the voice of your friend, the guy you’ve been training with. He hooks his arms under yours and breaks your fall. “Did you eat enough today?”

You look around. You’re in the gym with your partner. You must have been walking between machines. Wow, you’re spaced out, you thought you were talking to a genie…

There’s a strange, warm sensation spreading from your armpits, where your friend is touching you. “You okay?” he asks again, lowering you to the floor.

“Uh, I don’t know,” you say, “Sir.” Why did you say that? The skin under your arms gets unbearably hot, and you feel the tickle of thick hair starting to grow in. It spreads down your arms and across your chest.

He kneels in front of you. “It’s okay, Boy,” he says, and looks a little puzzled as he says it.

You feel a beard grow out of your sweating face. Hair’s grown everywhere now, and it’s all covered in thick, rich-smelling sweat. You feel your head hair contracting into a regimented buzz cut. Your body looks so masculine now, but why do you feel so small next to your less muscular training partner?

Something dawns in his eyes, and he looks at you slyly. “Hey Boy, I know what will cheer you up.” He stands up and lifts one of his shoes up to your face.

“Oh yes, Sir!” you say, and push yourself to your feet. You love it when Sir steps on you, and you know it’s his favourite thing in the world to get his dirty little feet on your ultramasculine bearded face.

Another wish fulfilled.

I’d have loved to get one of those cigarettes too, but instead he watched me struggle, testing the futility of trying to get away from the spot he decided me to be stuck in, grunting and moaning helplessly, that plug and chastity underneath not supporting my frustration either.

Finally, after haiving slowly finished his cigarette he says:

That was fun, i enjoyed that, i’ll get myself some more of that later, but now i have other things planned to do. It’s clear that you won’t be going anywhere in the meantime…

See you later then, maybe tomorrow… i have you here the next few days, so plenty time…