By Rubber Dog

Cold, and with a desperate panic, the boy jolted back awake.  He heard his breath, course ragged breaths.  Darkness.  Cold and damp.  A hard floor, his body aching from laying on it.  His skin was cold.  He propped himself up with his arms, his hands feeling a tiled floor, he turned his head side to side.  Looking.  Nothing.  Panicked.  Where was he?  He’d been knocked out, but where was he now?

Why did he feel so cold?  He moved one hand to his jeans pocket, but just hit skin.  He was naked.  Cold and naked laying on a hard tiled floor, in complete darkness, his head still spinning and clouded from whatever had been on the rag.

He sat up, drew his knees to his chin and pulled his feet in.  Slowly he crept backwards, inching towards something he could lean against.  He found a wall, and carefully propped himself against it, getting himself used to the glassy chill of it down his naked back.  Gingerly he pulled his feet in further and wrapped his arms around his knees, more for safety now than anything else.

Now blinded.  There was a searing pain throughout his head as the lights came on.  He was just dazzled by it.  Shielding his eyes now with one hand and gradually getting used to it from the pitch darkness, he tried to take in his surroundings.  He was no longer pre-occupied with the cold, but just taking things in as best he could.

The room was indeed tiled, white ceramic tiles like a bathroom over the floor and walls.  There was a door at the far end painted white, but with no handle or window.  Just hinges that showed that it opened inwards.  The lights, two fluorescent tubes, were hung from the ceiling which was also tiled.

As his eyes got accustomed to the light he began to notice more about the room; the floor was sloped down towards him away from the door, and his butt was in a grate that ran along the length of the wall he’d backed into.  Above him and to his left was a shower nozzle but he didn’t see anything that would allow him to turn it on or off, and to his right a plain, white stool with a black, rectangular box on the top.

He sat there for a few moments wondering what to do, his head was clearing fast now and the only thing that it seemed possible for him to do was open the box.

Standing up he found he was a little unsteady on his feet, and felt a light headed as he caught his balance.  He held his hands up to his face to rub some life back into himself, wiped his eyes and ran his hands back over his head.

“Fuck! Fuck!” he said out loud.  He felt again all round his head, but it was true, his hair was gone.  All of it.  He looked down at his dick and that was hairless too.  Checking himself all over he realized he’d been shaved everywhere.  There wasn’t anything left, not on his head, his balls, his ass, under his arms, even his eyebrows had gone.  This was going way too far.  Pushing the box off the stool he sat down and just held his now skin head in his hands and thought and tried to imagine how he could get out of this.

For a few moments he sat there cursing himself and beating himself up for letting his dick get the better of him and landing him in this situation.  But then the box had looked hot when he’d seen in five minutes ago, or however long it now was.  It must have taken ages to shave him down like this.

“Maybe this is the storage”, he sneered to himself, angry that he’d fucked up.

“I can’t get out, I guess I am trapped in here.”  He got up and paced over to the door to see if he could get it open.

Banging as hard as he could on it, and after trying to shoulder it open for a while, he realized it was useless.  Try as he might it didn’t budge.  It felt too solid for him to force against its hinge and out.  Now, rather than just trapped, he was trapped and sore.

Almost in anger he was about to pick up the stool and throw it against the door, when he noticed that the box he’d pushed off it had come open on the floor.  Picking it up, its contents fell out around the stool.  Casually discarding the box in the direction of the door, rather than throwing the stool at it as he’d intended, he bent down to pick up each of the things that had fallen out, his curiosity now held firmly by what he saw: several pieces of plain and quite thin rubber clothing.  Looking at each he felt his dick begin to grow hard again.  There was a pair of rubber jeans, with a zip around the crotch, which fascinated him, a long sleeved t-shirt, and gloves.  He held each of them up in turn, looking at them, turning them over in his hands and just feeling them.

He needed no further prompting to know what he had to do; carefully he pulled each item on.  First the top, down over his head, and snapping into place over his chest.  He wriggled it down his back and then set about straightening the arms so that it fitted over him perfectly smoothly.  He hated it when he saw rubber guys out at the bars, who had just thrown their kit on sloppily, he always took his time and got rid of all the creases before polishing it up and going out.  Anything to show off his gym-toned body better deserved spending time on.

Next were the jeans, he had thought these would be tough without any talc or lube, but actually since he now had no hair on his legs it was quite easy, and the feeling of the rubber that close to his skin was amazing.  So tight, and snug, cooling one moment, only to be warmed the next as his skin heated it up.  Right then and there he decided he’d always keep himself shaved, how could he have missed out for so long on how great this felt?  Pulling them up all the way he then couldn’t decide what to do with his by now achingly hard dick.  Point it straight up, or down a leg?  Getting too tempted to stroke it, he just shoved it down the front and pulled the jeans up to meet the rubber top.  He wished there was a mirror he could look at himself in right now.

Lastly, the gloves; they were quite long and tight so they made a good seal with the sleeves of the top when he pulled them on.  Now he was all set.  But all set for what.  He sat down again and started to feel stupid that he’d just played around getting the rubber on when he should have been trying to get out.

Then the door then opened.  It swung wide open, and he saw the man standing in the door frame.  He still had on his rubber biker gear, and still looked just as hot.

“Here, boy!”

Instinctively he got up and ran over to him and knelt down in front of him.  He felt the man’s hand rest on his smooth head and rub it around.

“Doesn’t that feel better now, boy?”

“Yes, Sir”

“This is how you will keep it from now on.  Slaves don’t merit hair.  And you are a slave aren’t you?”

“Aren’t you, boy?”

“Yes, Sir.  I am, Sir”

“Say it boy, tell me what you are boy.”

“Sir…,” he stammered still unsure, but then he took a deep breath, let it out slowly then, with his Master’s hand still on his head, he continued, “i am a rubber slave boy, Sir, your dog boy, Sir.”

He laughed a little, not in ridicule, but just at the pleasure of hearing the boy say it.

“You’re a dog are you, boy?”

“Yes, Sir”, now feeling embarrassed that he’d maybe been a bit too enthusiastic, “i mean if that is what you want Sir, yes, Sir, i think, Sir.”

“That’s alright. Boy,” he laughed again at the boy’s quickening enthusiasm.  This was going to be fun.  He took his hand away and brought it back with a wide leather collar which he buckled around the boy’s neck.

“Follow!”

He pulled the boy from the room, on two legs, but he’d learn eventually, back in the main part of the shed  with the box.  As he led him around it, he felt the boy pulling slightly towards it, clearly wanting to get a better look at it.  He’d get a much closer look soon enough, he thought as he smiled to himself, bringing the boy to the far end of the room by the cage.

The cage had four heavy duty rings welded to the top side that were usually used to suspend it from the ceiling, but with the cage down on the concrete floor they served equally well as anchor points for boys being prepared.  He pushed the boy against it, his waist just level with the top, and then forced him to bend forwards across the cold iron bars.

As he moved around to the far side, away from the boy, he could see the goose bumps come up on the back of his neck down to the rubber as the cold from the bars crept through his new skin.  Pulling each arm roughly he buckled the slave’s wrists into restraints already waiting at the ends of two chains from the rings furthest away from where the boy was bent over the cage, he’d shorten those later, but for now he just needed to get him fixed into position.

Down by the slave’s bare feet were two similar restraints, he held the boy’s feet firmly as he attached the leather straps tightly, feeling the boy gently shivering.  With this done, he then unclipped the wrist restraints and dragged the boy’s arms as far as they’d go and re-attached them to the chains, thereby stretching the boy taut over the cage.

Mark had his head looking down into the cage between his out stretched arms, resting on the bars.  He looked at the leather covered mat lining the inside of the cage and wondered who had last been in there and what had happened to them.  He could make out smudges of lube on the leather from where a slave had sat with something up his butt.  His cock twitched.

Standing behind the boy he took hold of the zip on the jeans and slowly drew it open, first down along the boy’s ass then all the way forwards letting his dick hang out.  As it fell out, long clear ropes of precum connected it back to rubber, and it hung there pointing straight ahead through the cage towards the boy’s shoulders.  His balls were a good size and hung there responding with slight movements as the boy’s dick occasionally dipped and twitched.

Taking two lengths of rope, he wound each round the slave’s legs just below the knee, making 4 turns on each.  Tying a good strong knot to prevent the loops slipping, he then tied off each piece of rope to the side of the cage, pulling the boy’s knees wide apart and effectively holding them rigidly to the cage.  This left everything hanging freely and spread his butt cheeks well.

He stood back; a Kodak moment perhaps?  The turns of the rope, white against the glossy black of the rubber looked hot, and the small movements the boy was trying to make to ease the strain on his legs forced into that position were quite cute.  Not quite ready yet, though.  He always used the same rope, magician’s rope, which was all cotton without any nylon core which ensured the knots never slipped.  He tied a further length of rope around the boy’s balls, tugging them firmly with a couple of turns of the cord, and tying it off with a short length.  As he handled the slave’s balls, the boy let out some gentle whimpers, clearly very turned on by being restrained, and bead after bead of precum now flowed out of his cock down the rope of older precum that had been attached to the rubber.  Some of it got on his hands, and when he put them under the boy’s nose he started licking it off slowly but completely, savouring every moment of it.  The boy clearly wasn’t confused about his role anymore!

“Good boy, good boy”, he said softly.

When he’d licked it all off he thanked his Master dutifully with the meekest voice he’d ever heard.  But the boy had to take pain as well as pleasure, so what happened next probably came as a rude awakening.  He cupped his tied off balls in one hand, the other still being licked even though it was already more than clean, and then mid-lick, squeezed hard.  Instantly, the boy tried to double up from the pain as it built up in the pit of his stomach, but he couldn’t and simply slammed his head into the bars.  It’s good when a boy’s instincts cause him more discomfort.

He was obviously trying to get up off the cage as his feet were working back and forth as though trying to stand up.  But he wasn’t going anywhere; he started to howl and then he started to plead.

“Aahh, let go!”

“Let go of me!”

“Aarghhh, please, Sir, please don’t, Sir!”

He let go, but not before squeezing just a bit harder which made the boy jolt and yelp wonderfully.  He sagged back onto the cage, no longer trying to get off, his cock still standing out proudly, but the rope of precum had come off and there was now a pool of it just inside the cage on the mat.  He pulled the rope round the slave’s balls back, making them stick out behind him and pointing his dick straight down.  He saw his body tense, anticipating what was to come next.  He tied the rope off to a hook on the wall, fixing his slave’s genitals in that position and then stood alongside his stretched out body, running his hands up and down the boy’s back and then his head.  Just watching his slave.  In a few moments the boy turned his head to look at his Master, wondering why nothing had happened.  Then a few more minutes passing, the slave getting daring, and starting to push back and pull forward as much as he can to try and get some leverage on his cock.

Out of the sight of his boy, he reached up to the shelves above the cage and rooted around for something.  This much the boy could now hear, but could not turn to see what it was.  His movements, as limited as they were, became more inquisitive and adventurous as he determined to twist enough by some means in order to see what his Master was doing.

Then he found it and brought it down in front of the boy’s face, but just out of reach.  The boy saw it and immediately clamped his mouth shut, whimpering and trying to pull his head as far away from it as possible.  The gag was the size and shape of a small fist and made out of solid black rubber.  The shape was a little strange, but the boy quickly recognized that this was meant to fit snuggly within his mouth completely.  But the degree to which it would obviously have filled his mouth, and stretched his jaw had it been held closed around it wasn’t the bit that frightened the boy; it was the thick tube that ran through the gag, going an inch further inside its victim, and hanging out about a foot on the outside.  Surely if that went in him he’d spend the whole time concentrating on keeping his gag reflex in check, or he’d be in serious trouble.

The boy was adamant that this gag was not going in him, but his Master had expected this and from where he was standing alongside the boy, with the gag held in front of his face with one hand, he brought the other down firmly on the boy’s tethered balls, eliciting an immediate and pitiful scream.  But it was short lived of course; no sooner was his head thrown back in pain, and his mouth opened to scream than the gag was deftly shoved in.

Realizing his position, the boy fought hard to push the gag back out, but his tongue was held down firmly in the bottom of his mouth by the sheer bulk and shape of it.  Now he really did start to panic, trying desperately to writhe out of his bonds and kick himself away from the cage over which he was securely stretched, but he managed only to pull on his arms painfully and slap his dick against the cold bars of the door of the cage between which it was still pointing straight down and steadily leaking precum despite his fear.

He was unable to think properly now, scared of what was happening to him.  He was fighting with the desire to trust himself in his Master’s hands, and the will to curl up and protect himself.  Knowing what the boy was going thought, he spoke soothingly to him, calming him down, reassuring him.  Still though, the slave was gulping air in hard through the gag’s breathing pipe, almost choking it back out again, spluttering flecks of spit out with every exhale, but gradually getting used to its feeling in his mouth and towards the back of his throat, fighting back the urge to vomit it out.  But he would have to cope; it was in there to stay now.

But he wasn’t finished with the boy yet.  Sooner or later he would be able to get the gag out if just left as it was, so he reached for a hood, thick rubber and almost rigid, which he began to peel down over the slave’s head.  At first the boy thrashed around anew from this, but a couple of similar, sharp slaps to his balls brought him back into line quickly.  Within a few moments, he was able to continue pulling the hood down over the boy’s naked head, with only the sound of his breathing, now hard again and the gentle rise and fall of his back as his chest pushed it up and down.

The hood found its home with a snap and fitted around his head perfectly.  Although made from thick rubber, it was shaped and molded at the front so that the boy felt his chin slip into a dip which might almost have been made to fit it exactly.  The only holes in the hood were those through which his head had been pushed, and which now lined up with the high collar of the rubber top he already wore, and a round grommeted hole in the front through which his breathing pipe was threaded.

The hood effectively fastened the boy’s jaw closed, tightly compressing it into the gag inside his mouth, the result being that not only was the boy’s head covered in rubber, but it was virtually completely filled with it as well, wherever possible.  He patted the boy’s head through the rubber and was pleased to hear a couple of pleasant sounding puppy moans come from within, made slightly metallic sounding from the passage of the sound through the wide breathing tube.

If the boy had had a moment to consider what had gone before, he might have known what to expect next, but as it was he was busy relishing the feeling of the rapidly warming rubber now encasing his head and isolating him to a large extent from the sights and sounds of the outside world, the world within his Master’s playroom.  Often with rubber hoods, once on he could still make out shapes and bright lights as the rubber was stretched tightly over his face, but not with this one, it was just darkness.  No shadows of the bars, or sparkles from the overhead lights reflected off the metal and rubber around the room which had filled his field of vision only a minute ago.

In an instant he was brought back to reality as he felt ice cold lube being rubbed against his exposed, and vulnerable butt, his Master’s fingering expertly pushing in then letting them slip out, rubbing the lube around and in, and over and then adding more, pushing it in a little further.  The boy’s mouth fell dry and he caught himself only just in time before gagging on the tip of the gag’s tube attempting to tickle the back of his throat.  How could he concentrate on everything that was going on, how could he cope with the gag, his now aching legs and tightly rubbered body?  Only his dick, his balls and his now well lubed ass were free of rubber, save for his feet now getting colder by the second as they rested on the harsh concrete floor.

Then nothing.  His Master’s touch had gone, no feeling.  Nothing was touching him, except the steel of the cage and the ropes that bound him to it.  Unused to the thickness of the hood and the effect it had on his ability to listen, he brought his head up and cocked it slightly to one side, intent to listen for any clue of what had happened to his Master.

And then he knew.  Pushing firmly at his ass, he felt the tip of a plug.  Trying to relax and push back as he could, he wanted to get it in him, just begging to be touched.

Master turned the plug slowly, rotating it, pushing against his boy’s eager hole, watching him greedily trying to get onto it.  Then pushing hard, allowed the first of the plug proper to enter the slave.  The shape of the plug was of three bulbs, each larger than the next, making the whole about 8″ long and 2″ at its widest.  As the first bulb slipped in, the boy clearly enjoying it, he lifted his head a little, softly whimpering in pleasure, and perhaps thinking that this was the extent of the plug.

He turned it again, and then turned it the other way, enjoying the sounds this produced from the excited slave boy.  But now pushing again further in, which caused the boy to draw in air quickly through the tube and suddenly open his hands, pushing his own head down into the bars, a picture of concentration.

Smearing more lube around the part of the plug still outside, he turned it faster now, but kept up the pressure inwards.  The second bulb had not yet gone in, but he felt that only a little more pressure separated that moment from now.  He kept the boy at this point, wanting more and being stretched, eager and greedy to get it in.  He let the moment linger, turning the plug the other way, keeping the force just short of ramming the second bulb in.  And then he let it go, he pushed it, pushed the second of the three bulbs in and stiffened himself from the yelp that the boy tried to let out.

But he wasn’t through; without letting the pressure up he slammed the third and final bulb into the boys now well stretched hole without giving him a chance to get his breath from the shock of the size of the second.  As soon as it was shoved home, the boy’s muscles clamped quickly around the narrow neck of the plug, cruelly making his body keep it in by itself.  With the boy’s limited movements, this created a moment of near total panic for him.  But it got the worse of that ordeal over for him quickly – a luxury he would have less of when he would be moved to the box.

Whilst the boy was trying to recover from the pain of the intrusion into his ass, his Master busied himself untying the boy’s balls and packing everything away again under the rubber jeans.  If the boy composed himself quickly enough, he would try and force the plug back out to a more comfortable point.  But this wasn’t going to happen!  The zip was closed, trapping the plug inside him with no way out.  He pushed the boy’s painfully swollen dick awkwardly down one leg, adding its own lubricant to the sweat already building up there.

He looked at his rubbered slave boy, admiring now how much he was already transformed from the preppy sub that had knocked at the door, to a whimpering, aching, and cum-hungry dog boy ready for the box.  Well almost ready, he had his first skin of rubber on; but this was too thin and delicate to have any straps or restraints placed directly over it.  The main rubber suit, key to holding the boy in storage had to go on next.

 

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NOTE: You can contact the author through his own site, Male Restraint Stories, where this story was originally posted.