By Rubbag

Josh and me have been dorm buddies all through college. We had hit it off straight away on the first day as sophomores, and since then we’ve shared the same room, the same gym, the same women. Even a sloppy kiss once, after having too much beer after college football. Our last season the finals, we won and then that night, don’t even go there, that’s best forgotten. We where drunk and stoned, that’s why, that’s all. That’s Josh and Jed, or the twins as we’re known in the halls, twin jocks. Now we’re not brothers, but we might as well be, same height, 5 10, same build, football jocks with the same boyish blond features, mid-west Corn Belt. Certainly Josh knows me better than anyone else the world. We know what each other are thinking, which makes most of our conversation wasted.

That’s how it had been for most of our four years at college, the two of us all but joined at the hip. It was only in the last that semester that things began to change.

Now Josh and I do not spend every minute of every day hand in hand, we do our own thing at times. At first I didn’t notice the few times he was out and came in late. We each had our tally of conquests to notch up, and there was nothing new about either of us being out late. It may have been weeks before I realised something was wrong it was February, cold in New England, Josh had been spending a lot of money, a lot of cash. I thought he’d gone wild with his card, especially since he would buy me stuff as well, a new set of under armour for the two of us, both of us perfect in tight spandex, letting our bods show through that kind of thing, generous at the start. We’ve both bought gear in the past for us both, but this time the list just kept growing by the week. And then there was the night he came in at two in the morning telling me he had been with Gina Harrison, and then he stopped cold as he saw Gina climbing out of my bed. I had to walk Gina home. It was cold, I didn’t know what to say to her and she didn’t know what to say, so we said nothing. It was twenty minutes later before I got back to find Josh already in bed trying to pretend he was asleep.

I turned the lights out before I sat on my bed, facing him.

“You are so busted, Josh, so busted. Where ya been then? Fess up.”

“Here, catch.” Without turning, he launched something across the room towards me would have hit me in the head, but years of football have given me good reflexes and that’s how I found myself holding the bundle of notes in my hands, staring down at it.

“Josh, there’s got to be … $2,000 here.”

“More like $2,400, its ours bro, you’ve always shared with me.”

I look up to see him turned over in his bed, grinning at me. A dozen crazy thoughts run through my head — drugs, prostitution — and then its my turn to grin back him.

“You’ve found a game, havn’t ya?”

“Yeah Jed, you’ve nailed it.”

“A poker game where?”

I knew it wasn’t on campus. We’d made the mistake of being too good years ago, especially Josh, and now no one would play us for any real money. But that had been for peanuts compared with this. I had a last look at the money, real money, before I threw it back to him. He caught it and stuck underneath the bed, hidden amongst his dead sock collection, before rolling back over to face the wall again.

“Can I get a game Josh?”

He spends a little too much time on his answer.

“No Jed, you’re good, but you know I’m the best card player,” his voice was trailing away at the end and then very quiet almost as if he’s talking only to himself.

“… and besides they have some strange bets …”

And then he reaches up to turn the room light off.

“Goodnight, Jed.”

We didn’t talk about in the next day. We didn’t talk about it at all. It was like some unwritten rule, a trust between us. Once a week, every Friday, he’d go out and come back late, though sometimes not as late as me. Sometimes he’d have cash, sometimes not, and I just ignored it. It was another month before I realised something else was up. He began to wear baggy boxers all the time, had to buy them all and threw all his tight briefs out one morning, and that was it — he was baggy boxer man. I suppose it was all obvious with hindsight, the way he started locking the bathroom door. How he was always already in bed before me or was making some excuse or another and waiting for me to go before he got up. And then the fact that he was always dragging me down to the gym, and god he began making us work harder than I had before, less reps but much heavier weights. I was happy to go along with it, and all the extra protein drinks and the power lifting, it was the two of us again. Even the gym though had it surprises. Josh wouldn’t change in the public area and wouldn’t shower afterwards, said he was afraid of pulling a muscle and went back to our room into the bathroom with the door locked. Shower goes on. Then there was the smell — a strange odour now and again. I’d just catch a hint of it in the air or on a towel. He said he couldn’t smell it, but after that he began using lot more after-shave. Then there was the way he was always distracted and fiddling with his crotch when he thought no one was looking. The nights were what finished it, though. He began to have trouble sleeping, constantly rolling and turning in his bed. Then when he did get to sleep he began taking to himself, well not talking, more like a moaning noise under his breath with him still rolling about in his sleep. His GPA began to drop, I thought it was all just exam stress. I told him he could see the doc, he said he was OK, I should have done more, but I was distracted by my finals and I began to do more work in the library just to get some quiet.

We got through the finals and were waiting for the results when I at last did something. I was trying to get some sleep, he was worse than ever, moaning and panting in his sleep, his hips pumping up into the sheets, his whole lifting them up like a bitch in heat. I’d had enough.

“Josh! Josh! Wake up!”

The first pillow didn’t wake him, but the second one did.

“What … Jed?” His eyes wide and dilated, face covered in sweat, drooling from the side of his mouth, it takes him a while for him to pull himself together, before he can face me. I don’t give him that time while he’s still trying to get it together. I cross the room and rip the covers from his bed, leaving him naked there accept for his boxers. I had expected to see him lying there with a big boner, he was certainly making the noise for, but there was nothing, just those green boxers.

I stood back and let him sit up.

I could tell he was ready to talk.

“Fess up, Josh, what’s going on?”

“It’s the club, Jed, it’s big money or if you don’t have money — he reaches down to put his hand under the rim of his boxers before looking me in the eyes.

“If you don’t have money you have to bet with something else.”

As pushes the boxers down.

I had expected to see his big cock and balls flop out.

But they’re not there.

No they must be there still, in there.

He’s wearing what looks like a black pair of speedos.

But these speedos are rubber?

Black, shiny rubber.

Where his cock should be, there’s a dome of rubber.

Like a big rubber cup with the cock and balls hidden beneath.

“I’d run out of cash, Jed. I had to bet … my chastity, 260 of it.”

“260 days? Like this?” I ran it back through it in my mind. It all made sense, everything. Fuck, he hadn’t even been with any girls for, for …

“You’ve been two months like this,” and then, almost to myself, began reckoning how many days he had left.

“Man, you’ve got 200 days to …”

“It’s worse than that, Jed. I thought it was 260 days, but it’s worse than that.”

And then he looks up into my eyes, and I can see how desperate he is.

“It’s 260 pounds! I’ve got to be 260 pounds of muscle. I’ve got to be a fucking bodybuilder before they’ll take it off!”

I can’t help but stare at him, at it, fascinated by the looks, neutered — no, not neutered — the opposite, in fact … bulging but not able to do anything about it.

“How do you clean, well clean in there?

He looks at it himself.

“I can’t bet anymore, but I still have to go the club every Friday to be cleaned out and weighed and …”

“How do they do that?” I’m crouching down next to him, trying to get a closer look at it, amazed at how reflective it is and the fact that there is no trace of his cock at all.

“There’s a valve at the top here,” he says, pointing just above the bulge, “and here,” pointing below.

I can see that there is some kind of complicated seam or wiring running through it.

“Why don’t you just,” I try and put my fingers under the edge of the rubber. There’s some resistance like it’s stuck. Josh lets out an ear-piercing yelp and jumps back to curl up on the bed like a wounded dog.

“Josh!”

With one hand he fends me off.

“No Jed, it wont come off, I’ve tried and if you do try it shocks you, you know where.”

I try and think of something, anything, that will help him.

“I need your help, Jed.”

I can see that he really is desperate.

That he can’t take much more.

“I need to get back into the game to win back my …”

I try and think of how much money I can raise, but its chicken feed compared to this.

“Jed, I can’t take any more of this,” his hands are pressing on where his crotch should be.

And then I know before he speaks what he’s going to ask.

“I want you to come with me and cash in your chastity to get me back in the game.”

 

 

Note from Metal: This is a story that I have had on my hard drive for several years now, and despite numerous attempts to contact the author I have not been successful in locating him. But this is such a hot story that I am reposting it here (without permission) in the hopes of locating this Rubbag dude. Like I said, it is a fucking hot story, if you ask me. I have had to copy edit it quite a bit, though.

I will have more to say about this in future installments.