By R8080

“You lost kid?”

The car pulled up alongside Alex, a big 4×4 with the dirt marks to show it was used by a local and not some rich mother dropping her kids off at school.

Alex leant on the frame of his broken road bike and tried to make out the drivers face in the shadow of the car. Alex had taken the Friday off work and spent most of the day out on his bike so he could recover the rest of the weekend.

“Broke some spokes and my battery’s dead,” Alex said.

“Where you going?”

“Kings Forest.”

The driver whistled.

“That’s a long way to push a bike,” he finally said. “Hop in. I’ll take care of you.”

Alex began to protest but realised it would be gone midnight before he made it back. A double century, what an achievement he thought it’d be, cycling two hundred miles in a day only to get wrap a wheel around a fallen branch the far side of the turnpike.

“Come on boy,” the driver said impatiently. “Put your bike in the boot.”

Alex popped the bike in the boot, being careful not to let the muddy wheels touch the oddly clean interior of the car, before opening the passenger door, his cleats clacking the whole time. As the lights came on, he could finally make out the driver. He was a big man. Not fat, Alex doubted there was an ounce of fat on his entire body. No, this was all muscle, the kind you got from working outdoors everyday.

In turn, the driver took a proper look at Alex in his sodden white skinsuit. It was a short sleeve design, with matching overshoes and fingerless gloves. The thick pad between Alex’s legs had soaked up a lot of moisture, hanging and pulling down on the rest of the material until it highlighted the contours of everything down there.

“You’re not getting in here like that,” the driver said, patting his dry seats. “Here, put these on.”

Alex caught the bundle of clothes tossed his way and quickly unfolded them to reveal some form of coveralls. They were white, just like his skin suit, but very thick and heavy by comparison. Opening them out fully he found the logo of a dairy farm splashed across the back explaining the rubbery lining and the inbuilt pads that lined the knees and elbows and other parts of the suit so that it seemed to keep it’s shape without needing a person inside.

“Boy you better hurry up, or I’m going to leave you out here to freeze.”

Taking his cue, Alex lifted a leg of the coveralls but found it had a welly attached to the bottom. The driver tapped the wheel. Alex unclipped one of his cleats and fed his leg into the coveralls. They were cold, coated with the same rubber on the inside as out, but his leg was soon enveloped by the folds. He repeated the procedure with his other foot and soon had the coveralls up around his waist.

Alex pushed his hand into the right arm and found another surprise; attached gloves. They were almost as thick as the rest of the coveralls, letting him bend his fingers only a little.

“Erm,” he said, once he’d got both hands into the gloves and stood staring down at his chest, where the zip rested above his crotch.

“For heaven’s sake boy,” the driver said. “Just get in.”

Alex clumsily picked up his cleats and dropped them into the footwell before clambering in himself. The coveralls squeaked and moaned as he reached for the door handle, fingers slipping against the sill.

With a sigh, the driver got out of the car and walked round. Standing he appeared even taller to Alex. The man was clad in a suit that seemed to be similar, only it included a web of straps. Alex guessed they must be for working with various machinery around the farm but said nothing.

The driver pushed Alex back against the seat and ran his hand over Alex’s lycra-clad chest beneath the coveralls. His fingers brushed against Alex’s cold nipples, standing out against the material.

“See boy, I told you it was cold out there,” he said.

Pulling the zip up, Alex was sealed into the coveralls. The driver pulled an open-face hood that Alex hadn’t even noticed over his head. It was padded, like the rest of the suit, and clipped into the collar of the rest of the coveralls. Almost instantly Alex felt himself begin to warm.

Buckling Alex in tight, the driver looked down at Alex’s hands in the thick gloves and frowned.

“Can I trust you not to fidget boy?” he asked.

“Of course sir,” Alex said.

And with that the driver seemed satisfied. Alex watched the driver walk, the way his suit pulled and moved under the straps as he passed in front of the headlights and felt his groin stir. Not now he thought. He’d already slipped slightly, calling the older man sir. Hopefully this old-fashioned farmer wouldn’t figure him for what he was and abandon him even further out in the middle of nowhere.

Soon they were driving but Alex felt a sinking feeling in his stomach as he saw the local TV mast recede in the wrong direction. His hands, which he’d kept motionless in his lap, had begun to twitch.

“Goddammit boy, I said no fidgeting,” the driver said angrily.

“I’m sorry sir, but… Kings Forest is the other side of the city and we seem to be heading further out.”

“Damn straight. I’m not driving through that cesspool this time of night. No. You’re coming back to my house. You can charge your phone and fix your bike tomorrow in the light.”

Alex felt his stomach drop. He turned and tried to point at his bike, to show it was beyond repair, but suddenly found himself flung against the seatbelt as the driver slammed on the brakes. The man was furious, throwing open his door and disappearing from view. Alex heard the boot open, his bike and other items being moved and then the passenger door opened.

A thin line of sweat had begun to trickle down Alex’s head from the hood, a mixture of the heat trapped form his body along with something new. Fear.

The driver dropped a pile of straps on Alex’s lap, muttering angrily to himself as he sorted through them. Alex tried to remain motionless.

“Stupid city boys. Coming out here. Not appreciating when a proper man tries to take care of them. Forgetting the rules. They need discipline. A firm hand.”

“Please sir,” Alex said. “I can go now. I’m sorry for any offence caused.”

The driver stopped his muttering and looked sharply into Alex’s eyes. He raised one of the straps, a long piece of rubber made from the same material of the suit with a thick buckle at each end and two smaller loops in the middle. Alex let his eyes flick between the driver and the strap.

“You’re going to learn a bit of respect boy. You’re going to learn to follow a mans orders. I know your kind. I know you need this.”

Alex hung his head in shame. The driver lifted both of Alex’s arms and buckled the strap around Alex’s chest and the car seat. Then he brought Alex’s hands down, one of by one, and placed them through one of the loops, before pulling it tight like a zip-cuff. When it was done, Alex was sitting like a dog in the begging position, both hands raised against his chest with his hands raised by his shoulders.

“Have you ever lain with a man boy?” the driver asked.

“No sir,” Alex said.

The slap was vicious. The heavy rubber of the driver’s glove stung Alex’s cheek and left his eyes watering.

“Don’t lie to me boy.”

“Yes. Yes sir. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry you lied or sorry you need a man to make you cum?”

Alex stammered, his face turning a bright red to match the handprint on his cheek.

“If you can’t use your mouth to tell the truth, then you don’t deserve to use it at all,” the driver said.

Before Alex could realise what he meant, the driver had slipped a monstrous gag into his mouth. A leather panel covered his mouth, with a thin wedge protruding inwards, pushing his tongue down. The driver looped the thick strap of the gag around the back of his head, before buckling it at the front.

Alex was crying freely now as the driver nodded in approval and returned to the drivers seat. Soon they were on their way again, Alex sitting in absolute silence.

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