By Rubbag

Marcus turned and just left me in the cloakroom, left me dumbstruck. In thirty minutes I’d gone from some kinda card shark $30,000 up to just being a dumb jock cleaned out and made to stand here in a rubber chastity suit. It was just beginning to sink in as to what that might really mean, no girls, no wanking, no nothing, just this fucking dome. I’d seen what it had done to Josh and I wondered how long I could hold out for, but then hold out for what? Having to put on 20 pounds of muscle, having to find $20,000 in cash.

I find my hand playing about with the smooth dome under which my cock is locked away. I regret not having wanked off that morning. I look down at it again, there’s just no way in. There’s the dome with some kinda small hole at the top, not a hole more like some kinda valve set into it. The rubber runs down each leg about 4 inches, making it look like a cross between a pair of boxers and swimming briefs but skintight. It’s not moulded all in one piece, but there is strapping which runs through it, giving it a tailored look. At the back I can feel air on my ass hole. Curious, I let my hands slide other the slick surface of the suit until I find the opening at the back and feel my fingers touch the flesh of my sphincter and slip in.

Shit, I whip my fingers back out, confused, surprised at how clean they are. Trying to decide what it felt like and all self conscious now as I look across to see if the man in the elevator, Unit One, is watching me. He’s not, he’s not even moving, just looking straight ahead. He seems indifferent to young jocks who have suddenly found their fingers up their ass. But I suppose dressed as he is, naked under a transparent rubber bodysuit, he’s not really in any better position.

I find my pumas and with nothing else available wipe my fingers on the inside before I pull them on and lace up. Unit One just waits for me, not actually in the elevator, he’s standing outside to the right of the entrance, like at attention, arms by his side, every muscle ripped, doing nothing. Josh’s under armour is piled on the bench where I’m sitting.

“Where is … Unit One, where is Josh?”

His head does that thing again, tilting slightly to the left.

[ –This–unit–is–unit-one–it -has–no–thou-ghts–or–des-ir-es–Sir– ]

It’s like a default response to something it hasn’t practiced, and then:

[ –Pro–ce–ed–now–to–ele–va–tor –Jed–ze-ro–six– ]

I stand up.

“Ok, Ok.”

And I walk past him into the elevator. I turn around and find he’s already there standing in front of me. I can see all of him up close, his abs, his cock, his balls pressed into that suit. He spins round stiffly in one movement to face the closing doors and leaving me to wonder if my ass looks as good as his when seen through rubber. The limo is waiting as he leads out of the elevator. There is a click as the door unlocks and he opens it for me.

[ –En–ter–and–wait–Jed–ze-ro–six–]

and then that head movement again.

[ –Jo-sh–ze-ro–five–will —-]

and again

[ join–you–pre-sent –ly — ]

I climbed into the back of the limo and sat down as he closed the door behind me.

I did not have to wait long before I heard the door unlock and Josh climbed in. He was back in his full under armour looking fresh, smelling fresh, unlike me.

“How did it …” he stopped, his sentence dead as he sees me now like him in chastity.

“Oh shit!” is all he can say as he sees that even my leggings are gone.

I see him tense up, as if he doesn’t know how I’ll react, knowing that I came here to try and help him only to end up the same way.

But I can’t be angry with him.

“I blew it, man,” I half turn to face him to show that I’m not mad with him. “I blew it. I was up and one hand from getting you out of that — thing — and …”

He puts his hand around my wrist, gently lifting my arm up.

“Thanks, thanks for trying, for being there for me, Bro.”

There is a long pause, and we just stare into each other’s eyes.

The limo starts to move, and we both turn to face forwards. I just wonder how it’s been for him these past months and what it’s going to be like for me. Shit, 240 pounds and I’ve got to get to 260, that will take at best, fuck, four months or so. Four months in this, that’s longer than Josh has been in for, that’s like, fuck, no wonder Josh looks like he’s about to go crazy at times. I find my hand exploring the suit again, feeling the straps between the smooth rubber panels up to the flesh of my hips. Strange, it feels like there is some kinda wiring in there. Although it looks tight, it’s not that uncomfortable. In fact, it’s not as tight as it looks. I can almost slip a finger under, and then there is a low whine which rises in pitch and …

The pain is incredible, not that I can really remember it. It was like being outside my own body. Fuck, it was like my body wanted to be outside my body. I can remember both my feet kicking into the roof of the limo as my spine arched and locked upwards as I went into spasm. I could hear someone scream, Josh told me afterwards that I screamed the place out, but I can’t remember that. The next thing I remember is that I’m lying on the floor of the limo. Josh is beside me, holding close into his chest trying to protect me. I have my head tucked under his, tears running down to wet the fabric that covers his chest, just wanting to feel safe in him.

“I’m getting your gear wet,” very quiet, is all I can manage to say.

“You stupid,” as he holds me, “stupid fucka,” as close as he can.

“Didn’t I tell you?”

“Didn’t I tell you!?”

“You can’t take it off.”

The limo pulled and left us back at the docks with the short summer night almost gone. Josh helped me out, I was still far too shaky to walk by myself. Lady luck had gone from me, so had my bag and all my clothes. The hobo who must have taken my gear had left an old pair of trousers for me. I had a quick look at them, they were brown but that had not been their original color. Josh’s bag was still on top of the trashcan where he’d left it with all his gear still inside it. He wouldn’t let walk back to the dorm like this. He made me put on his clothes. Before he walked me back to our door room him still fully glad in his white under armour.

I learnt later that we were seen coming back onto campus by Becky Mathers, a sophomore who like us had also stayed to work on the Summer Program. Saw us walking by her dorm window at 5 am, thought we’d been on some kind of run. But the final irony and one that shows how easily people confused me with Josh is that she was convinced that it was me wearing the under armour having to help a tired Josh back home. We didn’t argue with her the next day, told her that Josh had got a cramp and I helped him home. And then what she really wanted to know about, did we go out running in our under armour very often, if she could come as well and her eyes growing wider asking if she could touch it.

The summer program started the following week. Me and Josh making sure we weren’t on the same team as Becky, too much temptation but with these chastity suits on, no where for it to go. Not that there was any lack of women, as the campus is used during the summer vacation for teaching English to foreign students mainly from Taiwan and Japan. Too many girls too close, and me just feeling my cock getting larger and getting horny. But now only feeling the pressure and then the pain as it grows to fill its rubber prison. Trying to talk to them, trying to think of anything else, trying not to answer their questions, like:

“Are you ok?”

“Are you good?”

As we hop from foot to foot trying to get our cocks back under control.

“Is this Washington?”

“Is this Lincoln?”

In the museum of the presidents.

“No, that’s … Thomas … Jefferson … Christ, Josh, I need a piss now.”

He told how.

“No fucking way, out of my ass!”

Talk about being fucking unmanned, after walking round for half the day with my cock floating in piss I find out that I have to squat down to take a leak. Stick my fingers up my ass press some kinda freaky valve and then feel it splash out over my fingers, like that’s some kinda accident of design.

Every hour we could get we spent in the gym, desperately trying to pump ourselves bigger and bigger, trying to get as many protein shakes as possible. I knew it was bad when I started checking out the guys in the gym. I had even started checking Josh out.

That night I found myself lying in bed thinking of some girl I’d seen that day. My right hand stroking the rubber dome over my crotch, thinking of having sex with her and Josh. Her in the middle with me and Josh pressing into her, crushing her between us, our faces coming closer until we, wait, woah. I force myself to sit up, trying not to think about what I was going to imagine next but making the mistake of looking at Josh in the next bed. He was asleep, lying on his back, the sheets pushed to the floor wearing nothing but the rubber of the chastity briefs. I turned on my side to look at him. Looking at the vastness of his pecs as my hands explore my own, a mirror image of his as my eyes linger over each of his abs and my fingers trace along the hard edges of my own, each a solid brick of pure muscle.

My hand goes down to the dome of my suit. A dark silhouette in the moonlight full of potential. So smooth a surface under which I’m trapped, but in a strange way grateful to for giving me this moment. I put my index and forefinger together like a blade as if I they could cut it open. I wait and then trace my fingers back up from the cup of the suit back onto the warmth of my chest.

I look again, and with a shock realise that Josh has rolled over to face me. His fingers copy my movements. I can feel it, feel as if it’s his fingers running cold along my sternum. I can see his eyes watching me. I feel my mouth hanging open, my breathing deepens as I realise that he’s awake, that he’s been watching me watching him watching his body. I slowly rise and walk across the room. Never taking my eyes off him, never breaking contact as I put my arm gently on his shoulder. I roll him onto his back before I slowly lower myself on top of him feeling the warmth of his flesh, closer and closer until our lips touch.

I can feel him, feel his warmth, feel his arms round me, feel me wanting him our bodies locked together trying to become one.

Feeling his strength press down on me.

Head down into his chest.

Down to his nipples.

Feeling my teeth lock onto.

Hard little dimes.

Bitten as he writhes.

Beneath me.

Arching his back.

Feeling me thrust into him.

Trying to thrust into him.

Rubber to rubber.

Stopped.

Trying to fuck.

Trying to fuck Josh.

Feeling our rubber.

Banging rubber together.

Going nowhere.

Wanting to get into his flesh.

And getting nothing.

Fuck

“Fuck.”

“Fuck.”

Getting fucking nowhere, just banging two bits of rubber together, getting no where, no where — fuck, I could start crying I’m so sick of this.

We both stop and stare at each other, trying not admit what we’ve just tried to do.

“Get off, Jed.”

“Uhh yeah, ok man.”

I back up from him, crawling back down the bed, letting him get up from under me. I put my legs over the side of the bed and just sit there letting my head sink into my hands, trying not to think about what I’ve just tried to do to my friend, what he must think of me, but knowing that I still need him, that I still want him. It’s this fucking chastity making me feel this way, making me act this way.

“I can’t take this. I can’t take this any more.”

“Shhh,” he sits up beside me, putting his arm around me. “It’ll be ok, Jed, we’ll get through this.”

I turn and look at him.

“I’ve got to cum Josh, I can’t take anymore of this.”

I then stop. I can see that he’s thinking carefully about what he’s going to say next.

“There is a way we can cum.”

“How? You mean they take them off?” I say, looking down at my chasity suit hoping that …

“No, but next weekend it will be the first month for you. You’ve got to go back to the club to be weighed.”

“But man, I’m nowhere like 260.”

“That’s not the point, Jed. Even if you don’t make the weight they’ll still give you a chance to cum, a forfeit bet they call it.”

“What sort of bet?”

But he’s turned his head away and then his voice quiet.

“They make you do things.”

and then almost silent

“While they put bets on, how how …”

And he turns and looks me straight in the eye and I know he’s more desperate than I am.

“And the worse of it is, Jed, you keep coming back, every week for more, just for one more chance to cum.”

I look away from him, thinking about what he’s just said but knowing that I’m in the same trap.

I’ve just got to cum.

That’s all I think about.

I go back to my own bed and I lie face down on it, pressing myself into it, trying to ignore the pain of my trapped erection.

Wanting to cum.

Needing to cum.

Just cum.

Just once.

 

To be continued …