I'm a fag who wants to be used abused humiliated.

If you are lucky enough to be placed in one and forced to cum right away, be happy (you got off, right?) but don’t be expecting to get out immediately. Getting off is like a natural sedative. You should just relax, slow your breathing, and drift away to sleep until they are ready to use you again.

I actually prefer being teased and edged until I’m exhausted, and am no longer hard. After all that struggling and writhing in the inescapable confines of the sack, I’m too tired to do anything but lay there in a restless, frustrated, state. I then doze in and out of sleep, waking up hard and dripping, and unable to do anything about it.

Sooo Boring #2 Robin's boyfriend decided to move him to a somewhat quieter room where there wouldn't be so many distractions.

The Replacement

I’d been driving through the countryside for hours when my car finally gave out on a quiet back road. No cell signal, of course. The only house in sight was a modest place tucked behind some trees. I figured I’d ask to borrow a phone and call for a tow.

The front door was unlocked. I pushed it open and stepped inside.

That’s when I saw him.

A figure completely encased in shiny black rubber sat strapped to a sturdy wooden chair in the middle of the living room. Thick belts pinned his arms, chest, waist, and legs to the frame. A heavy gas mask hood covered his head, the large lenses reflecting the room light, the breathing hose dangling. His hands were trapped in smooth, rounded rubber mitts that rendered his fingers useless. Even his boots were locked into place with more straps. He looked completely helpless.

“Oh my God,” I breathed, rushing forward. “Are you okay?”

He made muffled sounds behind the mask. I quickly worked at the buckles, loosening the restraints one by one until he could stand. He pulled the hood off slowly, revealing a sweaty, exhausted face.

“Thank you,” he gasped. “I’m Roy. His name is Master… he kidnapped me months ago. He keeps me like this almost every day — hooded, gagged, locked in rubber. He goes into town for hours and just leaves me here.”

He described it in a shaky voice: the constant bondage, the way the thick latex clung to every inch of skin, the way the hood and mask turned the world into a dark, muffled prison. He sounded broken. I felt terrible for him.

Once he seemed steadier, he asked if I could give him a minute to collect himself. I nodded and stepped back. He paced a little, rubbing his wrists, then turned to me with surprisingly calm eyes.

“You know… the rubber actually feels incredible once you get used to it,” he said softly. “The way it squeezes you, hugs every curve… it’s intense, but kind of addictive.”

I laughed nervously. “Yeah, I’ll take your word for it.”

But he kept talking — calm, persuasive, almost hypnotic. He showed me the suit, still warm from his body. Before I knew it, I was curiously touching the glossy material. He helped me peel off my clothes and slide into the rubber. The suit was thick, heavy, and incredibly tight. It took effort to pull it over my legs, my torso, my arms. The sensation was overwhelming — cool at first, then warming rapidly as it sealed around me like a second skin.

Roy smiled. “See? Feels good, right?”

It did feel… strange. Powerful. Intimate.

He picked up the heavy gas mask hood. “To really understand it, you have to be fully in it. The restraint is part of the experience. Trust me — just for a minute, so you can feel what I’ve been going through.”

I hesitated, but he seemed so sincere, so grateful. I sat down in the chair. He started buckling the straps — slowly, carefully. First my legs, then my waist, chest, and arms. The thick belts clicked into place with finality. He slid the heavy mitts over my hands, turning them into useless black rubber balls, then handcuffed them to the sides of the chair. Finally, he lifted the hood.

The world went dark and tight as the thick rubber settled over my head. The gas mask lenses pressed against my face. I felt the gag slide between my teeth just before he sealed everything. My muffled protest came out as nothing more than a quiet groan.

Roy stepped back and looked at me — exactly as I had first found him.

Then his expression changed. The exhaustion vanished. A slow, satisfied smile spread across his face.

“Thanks for the rescue, man,” he said, pulling on one of my old shirts. “I’ve been waiting for someone like you. Master will be back soon. He’ll think you’re me — Roy. The new Roy. I’m finally free.”

I thrashed wildly against the straps, but they held perfectly. The mitts made my hands completely useless. The gag turned every shout into a pathetic, muffled whimper behind the gas mask. The rubber suit gripped me tighter with every movement, hot and inescapable.

Roy picked up his bag and headed for the door. He paused for one last look.

“Enjoy your new life. The hood and mask stay on a long time… sometimes for days. Master loves that.”

The door clicked shut behind him.

I was alone in the quiet house, completely sealed in shiny black rubber, strapped helplessly to the chair exactly as I’d first seen him. Every breath echoed loudly inside the mask. The latex clung to me like it had been made for my body. And somewhere outside, a car engine started — taking my old life away.

I heard tires on gravel.

Master was coming home.

I pulled desperately against the thick leather straps, but they didn’t budge even an inch. The heavy rubber mitts turned my hands into useless, shiny black balls, and the handcuffs locked to the chair made sure I couldn’t even twist my wrists. Every frantic movement just made the thick latex suit grip me tighter, hot and slick against my skin. The gag deep in my mouth turned every curse into a pathetic, wet gurgle behind the gas mask. My breathing echoed loudly inside the hood, fogging the lenses slightly with each panicked exhale.

I was completely helpless.

Then I heard the front door open.

Heavy footsteps crossed the floor. A deep, calm voice filled the room.

“Hey there, Roy. Miss me?”

Master stepped into view — a tall, broad-shouldered man in his late 30s with a short beard and calm, possessive eyes. He was carrying several shopping bags. He looked me up and down, clearly pleased with what he saw: me, sealed head-to-toe in shiny black rubber, strapped tightly to the chair exactly where he’d left the real Roy.

“Sorry I was gone so long,” he said casually, setting the bags down. “Traffic was a bitch. But I picked up some nice new toys for you.” He pulled out a thick leather harness with heavy D-rings, then a set of heavy metal cuffs connected by a short chain. “These are going to keep you a lot tighter tonight. No more of that squirming you like to do.”

He reached out and ran a gloved hand over the top of my hooded head, stroking the smooth rubber like he was petting an obedient pet.

“You know… I still remember the day I caught you,” he continued, a fond smile on his face as he reminisced. “You were out for a run on that lonely country road, all sweaty in those little shorts. Thought you were so tough. One quick chokehold from behind and you dropped like a sack. Woke up already zipped into your first rubber suit, gagged and hooded, right here in this chair.”

He chuckled softly, stepping closer until I could smell his cologne mixed with the scent of the new leather he’d bought.

“Best decision I ever made. You’ve been such a good boy since then, Roy. Even when you fight the straps… you always settle down eventually. The rubber owns you now.”

I screamed into the gag, thrashing wildly, trying to shake my head. The gas mask lenses flashed with the reflection of the room lights as I struggled, but it was completely useless. The straps held firm. The mitts kept my hands useless. The hood and gag turned all my protests into nothing but muffled, desperate noises.

Master just laughed quietly, misreading my panic for the usual resistance he was used to.

“Aw, look at you. Already excited to be played with. Don’t worry, boy. I’m not letting you out anytime soon.”

He picked up the new heavy harness and started unbuckling one of the existing straps across my chest, preparing to add even more layers of restraint.

“Welcome home, Roy.”

I was trapped.

Sealed.

Completely his now.

And he had no idea I wasn’t the man he thought I was.

Hours passed.

I lost track of time completely inside the heavy gas mask. The thick rubber hood turned the world into a stifling, muffled prison. Sweat rolled down my face and neck, trapped inside the suit. My muscles ached from the constant strain against the unyielding straps. Every breath was a loud, labored rasp through the filter. The gag kept my jaw sore and forced me to drool helplessly down my chin.

I had no choice but to endure.

Finally, I heard Master’s footsteps return. He stood in front of me and unbuckled the heavy gas mask hood with practiced ease. Cool air hit my sweat-soaked face as he pulled it off. I gasped, blinking against the sudden light.

Master froze.

His eyes widened in genuine surprise as he stared at my face — a face he had never seen before.

“What the fuck…?” he muttered.

I immediately started talking, my voice hoarse and desperate.

“Please… listen. My name isn’t Roy. I’m just some guy whose car broke down. I came in looking for a phone and found him tied up like that. He said you kidnapped him. I freed him… and he tricked me. He convinced me to try on the suit, then strapped me in here. He left me as his replacement so he could escape. Please, you have to believe me. Go after him — he can’t have gotten far!”

I thought that would be it. That any sane person would realize this was insane and let me go.

I was wrong.

Master listened quietly, his expression shifting from surprise to something darker — amusement. A slow, predatory grin spread across his face as I finished my story.

He let out a low chuckle, then started laughing properly.

“Well I’ll be damned,” he said, shaking his head. “Roy finally did something smart. He gave me a fresh upgrade.” He reached out and roughly grabbed my chin, tilting my face up to examine me closer. “New face. New body. New toy. And you walked right into it like a dumb little hero.”

I stared at him in horror. “Wait… you’re not going to—”

“Go chase after him?” He laughed again. “Hell no. He did me a favor. You’re mine now, boy. And since you were stupid enough to fall for his trick, I’m going to make damn sure no other hero tries to ‘save’ you.”

He stepped back and looked me over with new interest, his eyes gleaming with dark satisfaction.

“You’re going to be kept much more secure from now on. More straps. More locks. Maybe a permanent hood. We’ll weld some of these restraints on if we have to.” He smirked. “Can’t have you pulling the same stunt Roy did.”

Then the mocking really began.

“Look at you,” he taunted, circling the chair slowly. “Big strong hero rushes in to rescue the poor victim… and ends up sealed in his rubber suit, strapped to his chair, drooling behind his gag. You really believed him, didn’t you? Sat down willingly and let him buckle you in. Pathetic.”

He leaned in close, his voice low and cruel.

“Welcome to your new life… Roy. You’re going to look so good once I add all the new gear I bought today. And don’t worry — the mask is going back on right after I feed you. You’ll be spending a lot more time sealed up from now on.”

He picked up a bottle of water and a protein shake, clearly enjoying every second of my despair.

I was no longer a stranger who stumbled in.

I was the new Roy.

I don’t want……

Jesse could hear the neighborhood kids playing outside, he wished he could join them. Even though they were little kids, he wished he could at least be treated like a little kid instead of how we was treated now. When his “Daddy” picked him up from the one college course he went to each day he would have to go down for a nap like a toddler. He sulked and pouted but Daddy said that meant he was tired and really needed a nap. Jesse didn’t want a nap. He wanted to be treated his age not like a toddler. He wanted to wear boxers like he saw the other boys at college had when their pants would sag not the pull-ups “Daddy” made him wear in case he had an accident. He wanted to dress himself and take a shower himself not have “Daddy” dress and undress him and scrub him clean each night in a bubble bath. Most of all Jesse didn’t want to wear diapers when he was at home, they were the most humiliating part. Jesse had made progress though and “Daddy” promised him that if he continued to be a good little toddler and work on his potty training he might get to wear underoos during the day and pull-ups at night. Jesse thought back on how grown up he’d felt to be starting college last year until it all fell apart.

After one accident when Jesse came home from his first college party his landlord spanked him until he was bawling his eyes out then laid out the new rules. It started with plain white pharmacy brand diapers at night and an earlier bed time. Jesse was also subjected to increasingly more frequent spankings for being “naughty” like when he wouldn’t put his clothes in the hamper or forgetting to brush his teeth. After each spanking, he lost more of his adult privileges. Since he couldn’t put his clothes in the hamper he wasn’t allowed to dress or undress himself. When forgot to shower one morning he was put into a bubble bath after dinner. During the bath, all of his body hair below his neck was removed. Jesse was told he could have it back when he learned to keep himself clean but he was never given a chance to prove he could. He also wasn’t given a chance to prove he could stay dry at night because he had to wear the plain pull on diapers as soon as his bath was over and until it was time to get up in the morning. “Daddy” kept a chart on the wall above Jesse’s bed and marked each day with a wet or dry sticker. Each wet sticker earned Jesse a spanking that only stopped when he was sobbing and promising to be a big boy.

When the first pack of store brand diapers was gone Jesse was put into diapers that had to be taped on each night with cute pictures on the front. Jesse had to wear these all the time when he was home and never allowed to wear pants. When it got colder he was also allowed to wear a onesie or other babyish clothing that made it easy for “Daddy” to change him. Before going to class, he would be changed in to a colorful pull up with cartoon characters on it. Jesse was told not to try and use the toilets on campus or he would be punished. A few times a week he would come home with a soaking wet pull-up. “Daddy” would change him into a double layered diapers that would last until bath time then put him down for a nap. Soon enough “Daddy” started putting Jesse into a playpen to watch cartoons after his nap. He would stay in the playpen until “Daddy” stripped him down to his diaper and put him in his high chair for dinner. Dinner was always messy foods that Jesse had to eat with his hands making him look and feel even more like a toddler. He would also spend most of the weekend sitting in his playpen watching Nick Jr or Disney Jr. Sometimes “Daddy” would have friends over and they would treat Jesse like a little toddler not like a college-aged boy.

After the last day of the Spring Semester when “Daddy” brought Jesse into his room there was a large crib where his bed had been and a changing table over to the side. “Daddy” said that since Jesse had the Summer off from classes he would be kept in his double layer baby diapers all day and night. If he was a good baby all Summer and kept dry at night “Daddy” would let him take classes again in the Fall, if not Jesse would have to wait a whole year to try again. Jesse immediately tried to pull away from “Daddy” put it was too late. His pants and wet pull-up were taken down and “Daddy” spanked him harder than he ever had before. It seems to go on forever until Jesse was a sobbing mess with no fight left. “Daddy” calmly pulled the rest of Jesse’s clothes off and laid him down on the changing table. Baby powder and lotion were liberally applied so Jesse smelled as infantile as possible. After the double layer of diapers thick plastic pants were pulled on. Jesse was let down from the changing table and had to waddle over to his crib. “Daddy” tucked him in for his nap and popped a pacifier in his mouth to keep him quiet.

Derek is downright humiliated. Here he is, tied to his own bed, dressed in the old sweaty purple singlet his bros from the team are forcing him to wear. His big bro Chad told him they all went through this, and it’s been worn and sweat in by every player of the team for generations, never once washed. The tradition goes, the newest member of the team has to put on the singlet, and get tied up in it, and if he can last a full night without getting a boner once, he’s in. They didn’t tell him what else would happen if he did happen to get aroused.

Wearing it and being tied up, laughed at by all these jocks and having pictures taken of him in it seems to eventually erode his resistance, and soon the humiliated jock gets rock hard and starts to leak pre-cum into the stink-stained purple fabric. He notices that the spandex of the singlet has a distinct smell, not only of all the jocks who have worked it, but some sort of special invisible gas that’s intoxicating his mind.

The other wrestlers, who are having a party in Derek’s house just outside his locked bedroom where he’s tied up, periodically come in to laugh at him and tease him, calling him Spandex Boy, telling him if he can’t do what he’s gotta do to make it through the challenge, he’s gonna wear the thing forever, and the idea turns him on even more. As you can see here, Derek’s humiliation from this whole ordeal is quickly turning into intense pleasure. He doesn’t know it yet, but this purple wrestling singlet has special magical qualities, having been actually created by a warlock coach a long time ago. If he gets so turned on that cums in the singlet, the magic fabric will bond with him, and he’ll become slave to the singlet itself, forced to wear it forever for the rest of his life, only taking it off to shit and shower, and otherwise wearing it under his clothes, and to every single practice and match for all to see. Even if he quits the team, which he most likely will, he’ll be forever marked by the purple singlet and forever trapped in it. Since the singlet was created, the wrestling team has searched for someone weak-willed enough to be cursed by it. They never really wanted Derek for the team, because they could sense his shame and submission right from the start. Jocks and bullies have a knack for weeding out guys like Derek. They knew he was a spandex-fetish weirdo who only wanted to be in the team to rub up against other guys in sexy spandex singlets anyway, and they knew this would happen.

Trail cameras. That's what he forgot about. The sissy loved exposing his diaper but it had become an increasingly treacherous sport. Seemed like every gosh darn parking lot, store, sidewalk or open space had a security camera recording every little thing. Dangerous stuff for a diaper-addicted sissy with a public humiliation fetish! Jeez, even random cars could have some dash cams now taping his perversions.

So that's why he'd ventured into the woods on his daily walk, properly and thickly diapered with his faggy Pampers. This would be a fun day: a stroll through the park while wearing shorts over his shameful and crinkly underwear. He'd pass various people, normal people, and give them a friendly nod, the whole time feeling the waddle worsen as he made his way on the trail. He loved Mother Nature--Mommy Nature?--and combining his love of outdoor walks with his diaper fetish, well, what a perfect kind of day!

And then, when he thought the coast was clear he took that extra little step that his leaking clitty demanded: removing the shorts. Goodbye coverage, hello total exposure. Now he truly was out there for all to see, though he had first seen to make sure the coast was clear. It was. So there he stood, counting to 60 in his head as the imaginary domme who had made him do this task would have instructed him to do. "One Mith-i-thippi, two Mith-i-thippi" he droned on with his sissy lisp. Sixty seconds is a long time to hang out in your Pampers on a public trail. He felt his clitty almost exploding from the danger and the degradation, knowing there wasn't in fact a domme making him do this: This was all his own doing.

But in the end, no one was around and it was good clean, dirty-diaper fun.

Until a week later. When an email arrived from a guy he knew around town. A guy who also frequented that trail. A guy who had recently installed trail cams to pick up on the action of squirrels and birds and various other creatures of the woods. And lo and behold what had he found? A respected member of the community. Diapered. Waddling. Lisping. Squatting. Pissing. Shitting? Shitting his Pampers? All in full view of that tiny little camera.

“Uh, okay. Classes are fine, you know. Went to a cool party, met a couple of awesome chicks.”

“Oh look at you! My son is now big man on campus!”

“Mom, stop, I’m just hanging out with them.”

“Of course. So how about your roommate, Jeff? How’s that going?”

“Well, uh, he’s, you know, kind of weird, I think.”

“Oh that happens, sweetie. It wouldn’t be college without a weird roommate story you can tell 10 years later.”

“Yeah. I think this might go beyond most weird roommate stories, mom.”

“Oh? Really? Are you okay? What’s happening?”

“I’m fine, mom. It’s just…he’s VERY weird. In fact, his mom is even weirder.”

“Oh you met her? I thought it was too bad she wasn’t there for move in day.”

“Yeah she came three days ago.”

“And?”

“And…okay. But just keep this to yourself okay? I think Jeff has enough problems without everyone knowing this about him. So, his mom shows up and we’re all already set up and he seems like a cool guy. Quiet, shy, bit passive, but cool, you know? Then his mom shows up. First, mom, I’m not joking when I say she’s probably 350 pounds. Huge woman.”

“Oh dear. But sweetie we don’t make fun of people’s weight.”

“I know, I’m not. I’m just giving a physical description so you understand what happened. So she rolls in, quite literally. Sorry. She walks in. And Jeff like crumbled. I mean he was quiet the first few days but like the life drained out of him. She shakes my hand and then immediately starts chastising him. Saying she hopes he’s happy that he left home. That she hopes he’s happy being two hours away from mommy. That’s what she said. She called herself mommy. She hopes he’s happy sticking his penis in the vaginas of college girls. Direct quote. He yelled and said he would never do that, he would listen to mommy. And she said, oh would you? And then I’m not joking she said, ‘So you’re wearing your pullups to bed like a good girl?’”

“What?”

“Yes mom, that’s what she said. And he started bawling and said no, he’s a college boy now and doesn’t need them and she said it sounded like he was still a naughty girl. So right then and there she picks him up by his ear, yanks his shorts down and starts SPANKING his bare ass. I’m sitting there watching an 18 year old guy get spanked by his obese mom. His legs are kicking and he’s wailing and she just keeps saying this is what happens to bad girls who don’t listen to their mommies.”

“Sweetie! Did you intervene?”

“I tried, mom! I said Mrs. Jensen this is too much. And she looked at me and said if I wanted to go over her knee next she’d be happy to oblige. 'I can tell your mommy never disciplined you properly.’”

“She WHAT?”

“Yeah. Mom, it’s fine. Let me continue. So she rolls him off. It’s like 8 p.m. and she pulls out a huge bag of like adult pullups out of her bag she’d brought and makes him step into them. She even flicked his dick and said no girl better touch that. Ever.”

“Dear god.”

“Yeah. She puts him in them and then puts him into his bed and tells him to go to his sleep and I’m not kidding, within like 5 minutes he cried himself to sleep. And then she told me that I needed to take a picture of his pullups in the morning and send it to her because if he wet overnight it would prove to her he needed his diapers again not just pullups. And not just at night, but all the time. So…I did it. The next morning it was obvious he’d pissed his pullups so I sent her a pic. And she texted and said she’ll be driving back up to quote unquote get him back into his Pampers for good. Then we’ll see if he wants to stay at college when all the pretty girls on your floor see him pooping his Pampers.”

“This is a joke.”

Oh how he'd always hated urinals. Gross, smelly, disgusting, floor covered in piss. Often standing next to other men who could see his tiny cock. Standing in line at ballgames, lined up like cattle just to piss in a revolting receptacle.

But now...now he'd give anything for the freedom to piss in a urinal. Now he was confined to diapers forever. Now all his piss went into his sissy diapers. And would for the rest of time. His daddy assured him of that. Now he would love to get up after a movie and go take a leak after drinking a 64-ounce soda, instead of releasing his pissy waste into his diaper in his seat. He'd give anything to be at a bar with buddies and excuse himself to go take a leak, instead of standing there, panicked, that they'd notice his bulging butt or hear the crinkle and call him out for being a diaper sissy faggot.

And so his daddy wanted him to go to a urinal and apologize for ever being mean to them and to also say goodbye to them for good. "Show Mr. Urinal your diapers so he understands why he'll never see you again, or your miserable cock," his daddy had instructed. So the sissy stood there in his Pampers, reciting his apology to a urinal in the mall, terrified someone could walk in at anytime.

"Mr. Urinal. I'm sorry I took you for granted all those years. You are one of the greatest inventions in the history of mankind and I should have appreciated your technological marvel more when I was younger. I will now be in Pampers for the rest of my life so this is the last time you will ever see me. Unless Daddy makes me lick you at some point if I'm naughty."