By GratDelay

Ken Keavey dropped his keys on the table and his duffle on the floor. He was tired but he felt great. He was back from his friend Dmitri’s house and one of the most intense bondage scenes he’d ever experienced. He felt like he had plumbed new depths of subspace. Even now, thinking back on it brought his hand to his crotch. The total immobilization in The Chair, the sensory deprivation and overload, the control of all his most sensitive areas… he was practically ready to do it all again.

But after such an intense experience, what he really wanted to do was to chill. He decided he’d clean off his gear and put it away later and headed into his living room to watch some |||

With a satisfied sigh, Keavey folded up his polishing cloth and set it down. His catsuit was hanging in the shower with a mirror-like shine. All the rest of his gear was cleaned up and properly stowed. After a job well done, he felt ready to chill. He decided to grab a snack before checking out the porn on his Twitter |||

Keavey nudged the last bit of cereal down the drain, turned off the disposal and shut off the tap. Another job well done. He looked into his pantry for something to snack on, but stuff seems to be missing. What happened to his Wheaty Snax or that half-finished bag of cookies from Merchant Pete’s? He felt simultaneous pangs of hunger and dissatisfaction with himself, like he did every night. He’d been meaning to make changes to his diet for some time now, since he’d put on some unwanted pounds; but every night the craving for something sugary caused him to put off his self-discipline for another day.

But now he seemed to be out of anything to satisfy his hunger. He looked in the freezer, but there was no ice cream. A search through his cupboards and all of his pantry shelves proved that he had no carbs in the house. When did he use them up?

Well, he thought, I guess this is the night to start having some self-control. For some reason this thought gave him an unusual thrill of satisfaction. He found a tub with some raw almonds and emptied them into a bowl. When he dumped the empty tub into the trashcan, he glimpsed crushed cartons and boxes in the bright colors of the snack food industry. Hadn’t he just emptied the trash the day before? Weird.

He carried his less-than-satisfying bowl of almonds into the living room and scooped up his remote control from the coffee table. He wanted nothing more than to chill out with some YouTube or Netflix on his sweet home theater setup with a huge screen. He usually spent hours on his couch, giving his brain a rest after a hard day’s work of meetings, time management, decisions and deliverables.

His couch was somehow inaccessible. He found himself standing in front of it, still holding the remote and the bowl of almonds, but hadn’t turned on the TV, and he hadn’t flopped down on the couch.

How long had he been standing there? Why hadn’t he sat down? He looked over at the armchair. It was a comfy chair with big padded arms good for sideways sitting. Maybe he’d rather sit there?

After a bit, Keavey put down the remote and drifted towards his office. Perhaps he didn’t really feel like watching TV that night.

He sat in his comfortable office chair and flipped open his laptop. Now to check out his favorite porn sites. As his hands went to work with the mouse and keyboard, he thought ruefully that he tended to spend too much time looking for hot kinky pics. Even after Tumblr had sold out the kink communities, there was always something new to find every day.

His hands done with their busy activity, Keavey decided to start with Twitter, but he frowned when he realized that his bookmarks bar was empty. He opened the bookmark menu, but it was empty too! When did that happen?

He was not in the mood for chasing down some weird bug, so he just typed in twitter.com. Instead of his feed, though, it displayed the login page. Swearing under his breath, he typed in his login and password, only to get the bad login message! After a few tries, he resorted to pulling up his password manager to verify his login credentials. But then he found he was locked out of his own password manager. Typing slower and slower, he carefully entered the one password that ruled them all, or should have.

It looked like he would be spending time debugging after all, or hunting down malware. He opened up his virus protection |||

Keavey finished brushing his teeth. He frowned, trying to recall what he had been doing before he apparently decided to get ready for bed. Stepping out of his bathroom, he could see that the lights were off in the living room and his office. Glancing at his watch, he realized it was only 9:45! He decided to watch some TV before bed and turned towards the living room |||

The clock beside his bed said 10:00. What the hell? He thought about sitting up and getting out of bed; well, he thought he decided to do these things, but apparently he didn’t, because instead he put on his headphones and turned out the light.

His headphones? Why did he put on |||

 

And then he woke up.

 

Ken Keavey did his morning bathroom routine and made breakfast (eggs and bacon with no toast, because all the bread was gone). After eating he washed all the dishes instead of just putting them in the sink like usual. He brushed his teeth and headed off to work.

 

As he left work that day, his boss complimented him on turning in so many deliverables ahead of schedule. Driving home, he looked back on the day, and realized he had felt unusually able to stay on task. In fact, he hadn’t browsed the web once. Usually he at least let himself check the news and his non-porn twitter account while having his morning coffee, but he had dived straight into his emails this time. It was odd to realize that he hadn’t been on the web in over 24 hours, since the problem with his bookmarks and passwords had kept him off the night before. When he got home, he decided, he would have to deal with whatever was going on with his laptop.

It occurred to him as he changed out of his workout clothes in the locker room that this was not a day when he usually went to the gym. Oh, well, it had been an especially good workout. Heading out to his car, he remembered that he should stop at the store because he had run out of rice, and bread, and snack |||

Looking down at his plate, he felt proud that he had made an especially healthy meal, with some grilled meat, steamed broccoli and a mixed greens salad, with a glass of water. Usually there’d be a mess of rice or potatoes or noodles. Damn, he’d forgotten to stop at the store!

In fact, he’d forgotten making dinner.

He’d often wondered if he had low-grade ADD, but this was ridiculous! How could he be so absent-minded that he tuned out the entire process of cooking a meal? Maybe he wasn’t getting enough sleep?

That couldn’t be it, he thought, as he recalled that he had gone to bed two hours earlier than usual the night before. Why had he done that? And why had he decided to put on his headphones and play some music from his phone while in bed? He didn’t usually do that.

It seemed like these strange memory lapses should concern him, but he found he really didn’t want to think about it. He decided to distract himself with some TV.

 

He wondered: when you decide to do something, but then don’t, how do you know you decided? Wasn’t it actually something you just thought about doing? Clearly you must have decided not to do it.

He was wondering about this as he stood looking down at his couch, which he had not sat upon since before he went to Dmitri’s the day before. At the thought of Dmitri, he had a hot flashback to being strapped into Dmitri’s bondage chair… mmm! But it was strange, because the couch was where he spent most of his time when he was home. It was even stranger, because he was deciding, again and again, to sit down. But it seemed he was really just thinking about sitting down, since clearly he was still standing, staring at the couch. He decided to really decide to sit down, and not just think about sitting down… nope, apparently he was still just thinking about deciding to sit down.

He moved over towards his armchair. Maybe it was something about the couch? No, the armchair was equally repellent, even though he thought he wanted to sit on it.

Was it about sitting? This is getting ridiculous, he thought, as he recalled having no trouble sitting all day at work, and in his car, and his office chair the night before, and Dmitri’s awesome bondage chair… he felt a twinge in his pants at the memory, but he was too concerned about what was going on with his brain. Why was he forgetting things? Why couldn’t he sit down in his living room?

Was it something about the living room itself? Could he, for example, sit on the floor? He lowered himself to the carpet, reaching for the remote on the coffee table as |||

It was time to get ready for bed. He rose from the floor, turned off the lights, and headed to the bathroom to piss and brush his teeth.

Staring at the mirror, he thought that he didn’t look deranged, despite some of the odd things he had done since he got back from Dmitri’s. One of the odd things was that he wasn’t just losing track of time, he was losing track of his concern about it. For example, it hadn’t worried him at all while he was kneeling in the living room after dinner.

Fuck, he thought, why was I kneeling in the living room? I was going to watch TV, and I went to sit down and |||

It was 10:00 PM. Bedtime. He put on his headphones and turned off his light.

 

And then he woke up.

 

Apparently Keavey was having a good week. Once again he dove right into work, and by 4 he was so far ahead that decided he could leave early and get more gym time in, plus he could do that shopping he forgot to do the day before.

At the gym he was extremely methodical, paying attention to his form and making sure that each rep actually worked the right muscles. He made sure to do enough sets to get to the point of maximum muscle fatigue. He knew he’d be good and sore the next day.

As he left the store with his groceries, he reflected that whatever else was going on, he did seem to be making excellent headway on his New Year’s goals (which, to be honest, were the same goals as the previous year’s). He had this odd sense that he was not in control of what he was doing and at the same time he felt more on top of his self-discipline than ever before. Maybe in a weird way it was his willpower kicking in that was freeing him up from some of his worst habits.

Once again he cooked dinner instead of eating out or nuking a frozen dinner. With another one of those strange memory hiccups he’d been having the last few days, he recalled that when he looked for ice cream a couple nights before, that all of his frozen dinners were also missing. And he hadn’t thought to re-stock his freezer while he was at the store. In fact, dammit, he had forgotten to get the cookies and crackers again.

The sight of the fish bones he was scraping off his plate into the trash gave him another jolt. He hated fish! Had he just eaten fish for dinner?

Something was clearly going on with his cognitive functions. This reminded him of something about his friend Blake, and he had a flash of memory about coding an app with a wicked grin on his face; of Blake’s sounds of surprise and arousal around a gag… he had gotten distracted again!

Even though he was performing all healthy, responsible behaviors he thought briefly that he should be freaking out about this, but the urge to just go with it won out.

After cleaning up the kitchen, he didn’t even try to enter the living room. He went to his office and cleared out over a year’s worth of statements and invoices from his in basket. He couldn’t believe how quickly that went, after letting it loom over his conscience for so long.

Keavey decided he deserved some sort of reward for his diligence, and it had been a few days since he got off in Dmitri’s intense bondage chair, so he decided to masturbate.

He was going to skip the online porn he usually looked at while jacking off, because he didn’t want the moment ruined trying to figure out what was going on with the passwords on his computer (when had it slipped his mind that he needed to take care of that?), so he just headed to his bedroom and opened the drawer where he kept |||

His hands were rubbing the smooth steel surface of his BehindBarz chastity belt. Hadn’t he just been reaching for his lube?

He loved wearing the belt, and it made him so horny. Maybe it would be fun to keep it on for a bit, building up the charge as it were, before he went back to his plan to whack off that night. He thought about the subliminal app he had downloaded on his phone, and the affirmations of chastity-love he had recorded. He couldn’t really tell if they made any difference, since it was his love of chastity that had prompted him to make the subliminals about it. Not that he was into mind control; not like his friend Blake. But it was kinda hot thinking about the idea that his chastity experience was enhanced by messages that had been slipped into his brain…

Something about Blake and his rubber drone fetish surfaced in his head, but then his attention was drawn to the horny signals from his trapped dick. He flopped down on the bed and grabbed the belt near his hips and pushed it downward, as if trying to force it past his hips, though he knew that was not possible. He tweaked one of his nipples through the smooth texture of his Under Armour shirt. When did he put on… oh right, he always wore Under Armour between his skin and the steel waistband, to help make it more comfortable for long-term wear.

When he was in bondage, he loved fighting it. How else would you know you were secure if you didn’t try to escape? So he pushed and pulled and tugged on every part of his belt, getting harder and harder inside the tube hidden behind the smooth outer shield. He tried to get his finger in between the shield and the built-in cock ring to get at his dick, but it was completely out of reach.

Usually the problem for Keavey with chastity is that he found being locked up so hot that he could always come if he wasn’t careful. He considered this a suboptimal situation, because what he most wanted from chastity was to be driven to maximum horniness without any hope of release. Instead, it often became the opposite sort of challenge, where he had to fight with all his willpower not to come. This was one of the things he had tried to change with the subliminal recording on his phone.

This night, he seemed to be doing better than usual, getting hotter and hotter without going over the edge. Still, he reached a point where he was sure if kept fooling around with his belt, he would have a less-than-ideal orgasm, so he sat up and opened the drawer in his nightstand and pulled out the box with all of his keys.

He would have thought the keys to his BehindBarz belt would be right on top, since he had just put the belt on, but they weren’t. He sifted through the various keys for padlocks and the locks to his other chastity toys. Then he dumped them all out on the bed and spread them out. The keys he needed weren’t there.

He wasn’t horny at all by the time he had searched every part of his room. This took a while because of course he straightened up and folded things neatly and put everything back in its proper place as he went along. In fact, by the time he was done, his bedroom was spotless. But where were his keys?

He sat down on the bed, truly locked up, and really facing up to a fact he had been avoiding for a couple of days. Somebody had done something to him. But who?

The obvious first person to consider was Dmitri, since he hadn’t seen or chatted with anyone else in days (at that moment he realized that he hadn’t just been cut off from porn since getting bumped off the web; he had also been cut off from chatting with a number of friends on Recon, and it hadn’t even entered his mind. They must be wondering what had happened to him).

Fortunately he didn’t need the web to reach Dmitri. He could just message him on his phone and ask |||

Keavey put away his toothbrush, wiped off the underside of his belt’s shield after peeing, flushed the toilet, washed his hands, turned out the light, and went to his bedroom. He climbed into bed.

With a start, he realized that his ass was plugged. He wondered when he had installed the plug attachment in his belt, since you needed the keys to do that, and he didn’t know where the keys |||

It was 10:00 PM. Bedtime. He put on the headphones and turned off the light.

 

And then he woke up.

 

Keavey did his morning ablutions, weighed himself, and ate a quick zero-carb breakfast. He carefully made note of his calories and macronutrients, along with his weight, in the health-tracking app he didn’t remember loading onto his phone. He straightened up the kitchen and headed out for work.

At work he was as productive as he felt a good employee should be, though his boss apparently thought it was something exceptional and was very nice to say so.

As he drove away from work, his hand rested on his crotch, and he remembered for the first time that day that he was locked in chastity. How could he have not noticed?

He found himself flushing and his breathing was constricted. He’d never worn his belt to work before. What if he had been caught?

He tried to recall if he had done anything to give himself away. He looked down at his clothes. Did they really conceal the belt?

But how could he trust his memory? Clearly his mind had been playing tricks on him all week. What’s more, he must have been sitting down on the john every time he peed, so how could this have escaped his notice? And if he hadn’t noticed that, how could he trust that he would know if he had done something to reveal the presence of his belt to his co-workers?

He started to calm down when he remembered how happy his boss had been with his performance. If Keavey had looked or acted weird, surely his boss wouldn’t have been praising his productivity. So he was probably OK at work, though he decided he would do whatever it took to find the keys and get out of the belt before he returned the next day.

He also decided not to go to the gym. Wearing the belt under slacks was one thing, but his gym clothes were another thing entirely. And the locker room! It was out of the question. And anyway, he figured, he had already worked out more that week than he usually |||

The hot shower felt good after another great workout. It was good that he had chosen the accessible stall in the gym locker room, because he was using the spray hose to carefully rinse in and around his belt.

The belt! He dropped the spray hose and nearly slipped and fell when he realized where he was. He thought, this can’t be happening!

He didn’t dare leave the shower until reviewed his actions and figured out how to flee the gym without anyone noticing. He didn’t even know how he would make it to his locker!

As he strained to recall every moment of his workout, he picked up the spray hose and proceeded to finish up a very thorough shower. Being clean and well-groomed was just part of being a responsible adult, and the current oddities of his life didn’t excuse him from that. But his main attention was scanning his memory. Had anyone said anything or looked at him funny? What had he been wearing? Some basketball-style shorts and an Under Armour compression shirt under a t-shirt. Was his belt visible up through the legs when he was on one of the benches? No, he had been wearing a jockstrap too. Had he let the t-shirt hike up enough so the waist band was visible? Did the shield bulge in an obvious way? Had he grabbed or stroked the shield since wearing the belt was so hot? Had he squirmed or sighed as his exercises caused the plug to be extra stimulating when it tweaked his prostate?

 

Shit, he was plugged?!

 

He suddenly flashed back to the night before when he noticed the plug just before he put on his headphones and went to sleep. Wait, why was he putting on headphones to go to sleep? He was distracted from that line of thought by the sound of his own quiet moan, brought on by the sensations from his dick and ass. He slapped a hand over his mouth. He was still in the gym locker room, and he was supposed to be figuring out how to escape without making a scene.

Suddenly he felt a new resolve. It didn’t matter if anyone looked at him funny as long as he conducted himself as a responsible adult. He didn’t need to spend time worrying about what other thought of him if he remained well-behaved. And if this week had taught him anything, he was good at being a well-behaved responsible adult.

This realization somehow made the hot feeling of being locked up in chastity even hotter, and a rush of pure pleasure spread through his body. The pleasure was somehow more satisfying because he maintained perfect composure as it moved through him.

As he finished rinsing off and dried himself, he had another realization which further stiffened his resolve. If he ever hoped to do long-term chastity wear, he would have to get used to the belt being with him all the time – at work, at the store, at the gym. And here he was in the very act of getting over that hump, however it had happened. He could not stay at the gym, and he could not change the fact that he was belted, so he would just deal with it.

He wrapped the towel around his waist and opened the shower stall door |||

His phone chimed. He was sitting in his car in the gym parking lot, about to drive home.

It was a Recon alert sound! Somehow it hadn’t occurred to him since his computer password troubles that he could still use his phone to access Recon or Twitter. He pulled out his phone and accessed the Recon app. It was a message from Metal:

 

Hey! Your story is super-popular! It’s getting hundreds of reads, and you really should check out the comments. Thanks again for letting me publish it!

 

Keavey thought he should be beyond surprise at this point, but this was a new twist he would never have imagined. What story??

Surely Metal was mistaken. Yes, Keavey had gaps in his memory, but how could he have forgotten writing a whole story, not to mention asking Metal to publish it? None of the gaps in his memory could have been big enough for writing a whole story.

He thought about checking out the Metalbond site there in the parking lot, but he knew that going to a porn site in a public place was not responsible adult behavior. He put the phone away, started the car, and drove home.

As usual, he found that sitting at his desk was no problem. The pressure of the belt and the plug when he sat down reminded him again that he was properly locked up, and he felt a twinge of erotic pleasure. Hadn’t he intended to look for the keys as soon as he got home?

He knew the URL for the Metalbond site by heart, so it was no problem that his bookmarks were all gone. He scrolled past an entry about Men On Edge and an entry about a Mr. S product, and then there was a story called Drone Induction Chair. It sounded more like something that CrewDrone or HeveaDroid would write, because the idea of being turned into a drone held no appeal for him (but the pics were hot!). Sure enough though, there was his Recon handle at the top of the story. What the hell?

He started to read.

 

Cameron stood on Sergei’s porch, duffel bag in hand. Just the thought of what was in store made him hard as steel. It helped that Sergei had told him not to wear his chastity belt for today’s scene. And he was eager to find out more about the mysterious new toy that Sergei was so excited about.

The front door opened, and Cameron saw that Sergei was dressed for the dungeon. Standing over six feet tall, with a #1 buzz cut, Sergei looked hot in his purple and black Latex’D Volt suit. Cameron thought his own plain old back catsuit, hidden under his street clothes, looked so boring in comparison, but at least it still felt sexy as hell.

 

— OK” Keavey thought, “I’ve always thought Cameron is a hot name, and Sergei is clearly a reference to Dmitri, who does have a hot Latex’D suit. In fact, he had been wearing it when we did that hot scene four days ago. Maybe I did write this story.” He continued reading.

 

Sergei offered Cameron a drink as they headed towards the basement. Apparently they were going straight down to play, which made Cameron happy and excited. The more time in kink play the better, as far as he was concerned. And Sergei had the best play space in the city.

They had been online friends for a while when Sergei announced he was moving to Cameron’s city. Cameron had been so excited to have Sergei nearby, because they shared an interest in what Sergei called ‘technical kink’. They both loved devising their own equipment and dreaming up sci fi-like devices. But Cameron hadn’t realized just how much money Sergei made, so the first time he saw the play space Sergei was setting up the basement of his new house, Cameron had been blown away.

 

— It was hard for Keavey to deny it at this point. This sure sounded like it was about him and Dmitri. But he was still having trouble accepting that he had written it. He scrolled rapidly through it to see how long it was, and it still seemed impossible that he had had time in the last few days to write and edit so many lines.

 

“Did you bring the helmet?” Sergei asked. Rather than answer, Cameron just hefted it out of his duffle bag.

The Happy Helmet was his crowning ‘technical kink’ achievement. The name was a reference to a Ren and Stimpy episode, but there was really no comparison. It was an instrument of total sensory control for everything above the neck. It had cameras and microphones on the outside and VR goggles and headphones and microphones on the inside. There was noise cancellation circuitry and wifi and cellular communications, so it could all be controlled remotely. What you saw or heard, if anything, was up to the controller; and the controller also decided what people outside the helmet would hear from you. Your voice could be cancelled out so that no one could tell if you were talking or even shouting, and the controller could also put out sound through the external speaker, effectively putting words in your mouth. It even had a video display on the outside. The speaker plate over the mouth could be opened up and a gag bolted in as well. And of course the whole thing locked on.

Cameron had made it for Burning Man, and had had an intense experience where he had been dropped off at some random point on the playa, locked into a suit that combined with the helmet to make him look like a spaceman, and then been guided by remote control back to camp. His friend at the controls had assaulted his eyes and ears with virtual reality, augmented reality, upside down and backwards views of his surroundings, and bouts of total sensory deprivation. The screen on the outside could show the face of the controller, or a cartoon face that talked in sync with the controller, or lines of text, or computer graphics that pulsed in sync with any music that was playing nearby. He had been forced to stop and socialize with people who did not know that they were actually talking to someone sitting in a dome half a mile away. Sometimes he didn’t get to hear either side of the conversations, but judging by their body language, he was coming across as a funny, entertaining guy. Other times he could hear what his friend was saying through his helmet to total strangers, and they couldn’t see that he was flushed with embarrassment inside the helmet.

The following night, he had traded places and done the same thing to his friend.

 

— Keavey’s resistance collapsed. He remembered that week at Burning Man very well, and there was no longer any doubt this story was about him. And the story was definitely about his time with Dmitri just a few days ago, because that was the only time they had used the helmet for a kink scene.

 

Sergei took the helmet and told Cameron to strip down to his catsuit and boots and sit in The Chair. Cameron was thrilled. He thought The Chair was Sergei’s greatest piece of bondage equipment. It was built from 80/20 brand aluminum components, with telescoping and swiveling struts that made it possible to fit just about any guy perfectly in just about any position imaginable. It had good pads and rests to make it very comfortable for long-term use, and nylon straps everywhere. Even though the thighs were well supported, there was no middle part to the seat, so the ass was completely exposed, and there were mounting brackets below for various ways to take advantage of that fact. The brackets also could secure equipment at the crotch.

The headrest had padded straps to immobilize the head, and various booms could be swiveled in front of the head to affect the eyes, nose, mouth, or face in general. All of that was folded away behind the headrest that night, to make room for Cameron’s Happy Helmet. Nothing was hooked up to any of the lower brackets, so Cameron had no clue which instruments of pleasure or torture Sergei intended to apply once Cameron was strapped in. And he didn’t see anything that he hadn’t seen before, so he was left tantalized.

“What’s the new toy you’ve been keeping me on edge about all week?” he asked, but Sergei just smiled mysteriously and gestured to the chair.

He didn’t have to tell Cameron again. Cameron climbed into the seat, and Sergei set about adjusting the lengths of the thigh and calf rests, so his booted feet were planted on the footrests. The seat was swiveled and locked all the way open, for maximum vulnerability. Straps were applied at ankles, calves and thighs. The backrest was adjusted so that the head restraint was at the right height, and the armrests were raised up to the level of Cameron’s forearms. A five-point harness from a race car was applied to his chest and shoulders, but with the crotch strap removed, which was hardly surprising given that Sergei obviously wanted access to Cameron’s groin area.

Sergei interrupted securing him to the chair to ask, “Do you still have that white noise app on your phone?”

“Good idea,” Cameron answered and he pointed at his pants draped over a chair. Sergei got his phone out of his pocket and brought it to him so he could unlock it and show Sergei where the white noise app was. Sergei then added the phone to the array of devices to one side with wires leading over to various points on The Chair.

Sergei strapped down Cameron’s forearms and biceps, and then he was truly trapped. Happily, he struggled against his bonds, verifying that he was going nowhere. But Sergei wasn’t done. He unlatched the parts of the armrests under the hands and set them aside. Then he got his fingerboard attachments off of a shelf and snapped them onto the armrests.

“Yesss!” said Cameron, and Sergei grinned as he spread Cameron’s fingers between the many stops, and then flipped all the little brackets into place one by one, completely immobilizing his hands. The fingerboards were totally unnecessary for preventing escape, but they did cause Cameron to start leaking in his catsuit.

Then came the helmet, which hinged open from the top. Sergei seated the earbuds in Cameron’s ear canals and lowered the VR goggles over his eyes, making sure everything was in the right position. Then he swung the faceplate down, and the latches on each side of the neck engaged with a click.

Because Sergei had not yet selected which attachment to use, Cameron’s mouth and chin were still exposed. They had a system check to do.

One moment Cameron could hear the muffled sounds of his captor moving about the room; the next moment he heard nothing. His went from a pitch black to a flicker of very dark grey.

“Can you hear me?” Sergei’s voice came from the earbuds.

“Yes.”

Text appeared in front of Cameron’s eyes. It was blurry at first, but the system did the focus adjustment thing that it did, and then the words were sharp. They said “CAN YOU READ THIS?” and he said ‘yes’ again.

He twitched when hands grabbed the helmet and pushed his head back against the rest. He felt and heard Sergei doing something to the helmet, and then his head was immobilized.

His happy moan was interrupted by something invading his mouth. He recognized it as the gag attachment of his helmet, so he opened wide and let it in. It clicked a couple of times and got bigger, holding his jaw in that position.

He felt a hand at his crotch, then cool air as the zipper was opened. He cock sprang free and pointed straight up. There were some jolts and clunks as Sergei added equipment to the chair’s configuration. Cameron was sure he could tell what they were just by the vibrations he felt in the chair frame. He was ready when the well-lubed dildo pressed against his hole; ready when the rubber sleeve of a jacking tube engulfed his dick; ready when something was strapped around his balls; ready when small things were stuck to his inner thighs and his glutes. But if he recognized everything being added, then when was the new toy coming?

At last it was time to fire up the symphony of stimulation that made the chair so awesome. The business end of the fucking machine that had been resting against his hole slowly and gently forced it way in, and he forced himself to relax and let it in. The suction pulses started on the jacking sleeve, and he was immediately able to tell that it was the Serious Kit Milker, not the Venus 2000. This was already super horny.

Then there was a flicker from the VR goggles, and he had to squint as they brightened. He was seeing a picture of a guy in a chair much like this one, dressed much like he was. He recognized the pic from back when Tumblr was still a thing. Even though it wasn’t new material, it was a hot photo that pushed his buttons.

A low hissing started up in his ears as Sergei fired up the white noise. Cameron thought he could hear some muttering underneath the white noise. Apparently Sergei had found his subliminal app as well. An insidious idea popped into his head: what if Sergei had switched the subliminal message track from the one he had made (about wanting to be in chastity and not being able to get off while in chastity)? He dismissed the idea. He seriously doubted Sergei had had enough time to get a different file loaded onto his phone and into the app.

The picture changed, and it was of a swimmer by a pool, wearing one of those racing skinsuits, and packing a serious bulge. The electro Sergei had attached to Cameron fired up, sending pulses in the stimulating and not painful range through his cock and balls. He squirmed happily.

A few times per minute, the pictures changed. Some were of BDSM and other kink; some were of hot models; and some were of guys in sports or military gear. The erotic stimulation continued. Of course some pics were more appealing to Cameron and some less so, but on the whole he thought it was a great collection; just the sort he had pulled together for that program he had written for his friend Bryce… though his program did so much more than just run a slide show like this!

Eventually he was presented with a real dud of an image: a couple of celebrities he wasn’t in to standing together on a golf course. He decided to take a rest from the visual feast and closed his eyes.

Intense pain seared through his body, and he screamed around the gag. Every muscle in is body spasmed as he tried to get away from the pain emanating from the band on his balls, and from within the milker tube, and even from the end of the dildo in his ass.

When he opened his eyes, the pain abated. Now the pic in his goggles was the face of dom top in a Muir cap, who seemed to be looking right at him with a strong look of disapproval.

Cameron tried to speak clearly and forcefully around that gag, “Too high!”. With his head trapped in the helmet, he could only hope Sergei was turning the peak electro stimulation down.

Cameron’s eyes rolled as if to find Sergei beyond the pictures before his face, and the stimulation signals he was receiving got all weird. The electro changed to a pattern that was more spiky and not erotic, and the fucking machine stopped entirely. As Cameron’s eyes returned to the center of the image before him, things returned to the pleasant pattern he had been enjoying.

The picture changed again. Now it was a naked guy locked in a NeoSteel Arch chastity belt. His eyes naturally zeroed in on the belt at the guy’s crotch. The electro pattern on his junk changed subtly, and it felt even more pleasurable than before. The dildo working his ass switched to a slower deeper stroke. Did it change angle slightly as well? Cameron was in kink heaven.

His eyes drifted up to the guys perfect abs, his smooth chest, his strong jaw and handsome face. The stimulation pattern was still changing, apparently, bringing Cameron down from the erotic peak he had been in a moment before.

Cameron was developing a suspicion. This was reminding him of the program he had written for Bryce a few months ago. But that was impossible!

There was a simple way to find out. Cameron closed his eyes again. Two seconds later he had his answer as agony flared through his body again. Sergei had definitely not toned it down! He opened his eyes wide and waited for the pain to subside.

This couldn’t be happening! Sergei didn’t even know Bryce, and he had taken measures to prevent the program from being duplicated!

Cameron moaned in fear, then tried to get Sergei’s attention. This kind of scene was not his thing!

The picture changed to another dom top in full leathers, this time visible from Muir cap to spit-shined boots. When Cameron’s eyes moved upwards towards the man’s face, the electro started ramping up painfully. Cameron looked quickly downward and the sensations turned pleasurable again. A couple of flicks of his eyes showed that the dividing line was at the top’s belt, and clearly Cameron was to keep his eyes down.

Next pic: a smooth twink on a padded bench with a fucking machine working his ass. When Cameron’s eyes rested on the dildo penetrating the boy’s hole, his own dildo and the electro switched back to the pattern he found most horny.

 

Cameron couldn’t help but recall where this torment came from:

When he thought of a great kink invention, he almost always figured out in short order that it was yet another sci-fi notion. His ideas usually involved some technology that was just around the corner; or that existed but was only available in the labs or machine shops of giant corporations. One of his favorite quotes was by William Gibson: “The future is already here; it’s just not evenly distributed.”

But this time some quick searching on the web showed that his idea was do-able. In fact, it was so do-able that even he could do it.

Too bad it wasn’t really his scene. Still, it would be an awesome gag gift for his friend Bryce, and some parts of it he could use to make a better porn slideshow player and image tagging app. Plus it would be as good a project as any for practicing his Python and JSON coding skills.

It all started with that scene in A Clockwork Orange. You know, the hot scene. Cameron loved the idea of forcing the eyes open so someone couldn’t stop watching something. The problem was that those lid locks were dangerous! In fact the actor Malcolm McDowell had had his cornea damaged while shooting that scene.

But then Cameron found the solution while reading an erotic sci-fi story online. In this story, the victim is forced to watch by getting a painful zap if he closed his eyes. An elegant solution!

Then he learned that eye-tracking wasn’t sci-fi. The technology was already used for research in marketing and psychology.  

So he did some digging on the web and found out that a free software module was available for doing eye-tracking; and that some maker had posted a tutorial on how to turn a cheap webcam and some goggles into eye-tracking hardware. This was within his skill range and budget!

Of course it turned out it was only barely within his skill range, and it took much longer than he thought. But he thought of some other wicked ideas along the way, and by the time he was done, he realized he could make his friend Bryce very happy indeed.

He and Bryce loved strict immobilizing bondage, and total coverage in rubber, so they always tried to play when they got together at IML or MAL or MIR. But Bryce took it further than Cameron with fantasies of being turned into a rubber drone. When he was covered head to toe in rubber, with an S-10 gas mask covering his face and noise-cancelling phones covering his ears, then strapped securely to a chair or a bench, Bryce fantasized that he was being re-programmed into a human robot with no identity or independent will.

As much as Cameron loved sci-fi and all the same gear as Bryce, he didn’t find this fantasy at all interesting.

In fact, his joy at fighting against his confinement and realizing it was inescapable depended on having the personality and will to struggle.

So they had a great time strapping each other down, but they had different stories running through their minds.

Still, Cameron had enough imagination to see how his ‘eye bondage’ invention could be extended to enhance Bryce’s fantasy. He made it his goal to finish the project in time for IML, so he could surprise Bryce with it at their next bondage session.

The biggest challenge was to write a whole separate program just to go through a huge set of photos and mark each with invisible eye-tracking zones for reward or punishment. It was easy to translate reward/punish commands into settings for his Erostek 312 electro-stim unit.

It had occurred to him that some might think this kind of invention could be used abusively; but then he thought, so can a flogger, or even a hairbrush. Still he decided he’d compile the app and make it only work with a security dongle attached to the computer running it. That way, Bryce would have the only copy to play his drone games with his friends, but it wouldn’t spread into the wilds of the ‘net and give him any liability grief.

So how was this invention here, with Sergei, and being used on him?

 

More urgently, how did he get Sergei to turn it off? This was so not his scene!

The pictures continued. Each picture had its own zones of reward or punishment, and his eyes had to race around to find the good spots and avoid the bad spots. He couldn’t close his eyes for longer than a blink; he couldn’t look away from the images, or he would be severely punished.

He fought all the harder against his bonds, this time for real. He had to get his hands free and rip the helmet off his head! He had to get the gag out and tell Sergei to stop! He had to get the straps and pads off his body to prevent the pain from returning!

His sense of time was shot, but it seemed like it had been hours. He had seen hundreds of pictures and been forced to learn a pattern of acceptable and unacceptable attention. Crotches, asses, feet, secure restraints, steel chastity belts were all stimulating. Faces, symbols of authority, crops, whips, paddles were becoming more and more terrifying. And throughout it all was the sick knowledge that this was his own doing.

 

But then the routine changed. The next picture, the face of another extremely masculine top in a Muir cap, was overlaid with a word:

 

SILENCE

 

As Cameron was mulling what he was supposed to do with this image, he felt pressure from outside the helmet. With some clicks, the gag attachment disconnected and was pulled from his mouth.

 

With relief, Cameron flexed his jaw and swallowed a couple of times. Then he said, “Thanks Sergei, we need to pause a minute to AAARRRRRGGGGH!”

Cameron’s voice had become a squeal of pain.

“Turn it off! Turn it off! Turn it off!” he screamed, but as he did the pain intensified.

The word SILENCE grew to fill his vision. With force of will he choked off his screams but was still panting loudly. Apparently this was enough, because the pain signals stopped.

A new image appeared, and more text:

 

READY FOR INPUT

 

Cameron examined the hot rubber-clad guy whose face was hidden behind a GSR mask with a blackened visor, trying to find the reward spot before he got zapped again, but there wasn’t one.

An underline started to slowly crawl from left to right under the letters. A warning tone was rising in pitch in his earbuds at the same time. When the line reached the last letter, Cameron received a sharp painful jolt from all the gear on his junk and in his ass. He yelped, and the started screaming again as he was hit with the full blast again, and it didn’t stop until he managed to suppress his tortured voice.

The underline reappeared under the letter ‘R’.

Desperately, Cameron said, “I mean it Sergei I’m seriously not into yaaaarrgghhh!”

He knew enough to choke off his yell at this point, but by then the underline had reached the letter ’T’, and he was zapped again.

So when the underline started again, he read the words out loud, “Ready for input,” and had to acknowledge the relief he felt when there was no pain.

The picture changed to a close up of an SGE 150 NBC gas mask with a mirrored lens, in which he could see the reflection of the drone holding the camera.

But the same line was still on the screen:

 

READY FOR INPUT

 

And the underline was crawling. Impatiently, Cameron said, “Ready for input, you fucker!” for which of course he was punished.

This line did not go away as he repeated it and the image changed.

Cameron was bewildered. He hadn’t written anything like this into his eye-tracking program! He didn’t know how to code for voice recognition, or even if there was open-source software for it. Had Sergei gotten it from where he worked? Was Cameron reciting lines to Siri or Alexa??? Sergei’s voice through the earbuds interrupted his reverie: “We liked your contribution so much that we thought you should try our enhancement.”

We? Who was we? There had just been Bryce!

Eventually he figured out that timing mattered, like a game of Dance Dance Revolution or Guitar Hero. If he said the line promptly when the underline reached the last letter, he was given a pattern of stimulation to his prostate and balls that actually felt good.

“Ready for input… ready for input… ready for input…”

When he fell into the right cadence, speaking at exactly the right speed, the pleasure signals stayed on and would build up slowly. But if he broke the rhythm, he was back to square one. Even that was better than the punishment, of course.

Still, it was intensely frustrating. He could talk; in fact he couldn’t stop talking, but he couldn’t say what he needed to say to convince Sergei to shut it down. And he knew he was helping to reinforce his own programming against his will, or would be, if he believed in mind-control.

And it was so boring! The same stupid line, over and over. After the 100^th repetition, he wasn’t prepared when the line changed.

 

THIS UNIT IS KV-1

 

“Ready for AAAAAGGGGGHHH!”

It was the first punishment in a while, and he wasn’t on guard for it anymore.

“Goddammit Sergei, turn it offffff!” he forced out through clenched teeth, but he didn’t even know if Sergei was still in the room. Of course he couldn’t hear anything besides the murmuring voice over the white noise, and he hadn’t felt any human contact since his gag was removed. For all he knew, Sergei was upstairs watching a movie.

 

THIS UNIT IS KV-1

 

“This unit is KV-1!” he said. What else could he do?

 

THIS UNIT IS KV-1

 

He fell back into the rhythm that produced pleasurable sensations, and he got better at speaking at just the right speed for more and more repetitions, but somehow he never reached a point where he could come.

 

THIS UNIT EXISTS TO SERVE

 

“Here we go,” thought Cameron, “now they really start to lay on the drone stuff with a trowel,” but as he did, he was saying aloud, in an even steady voice, “This unit exists to serve.”

With his own voice in his ears, he was thinking this would be a lot more fun if he actually believed you could program someone’s mind against their will, which he was sure you could not. Occasionally he would wonder: what if you could? What would it be like to be programmed? Would he still be him, but unable to disobey orders? Or would he just be a robot, with no thoughts of his own?

At some point during this round of extremely frustrating repetition, he noticed that there was a change in the images. As they had been ever since the voice program had started, they were pictures of drones either being programmed or tending to drones being programmed; but now a sort of texture was evident in all of the frames.

“This unit exists to serve.” Each time he said the words, the texture seemed to grow more prominent.

Eventually he could tell that the texture was more text; filling the screen behind the line he had to repeat, and still blended into the hot pics of rubber drones performing their functions.

He could tell there were a lot of brackets among the characters, but he could never quite make out what any of it said. It looked like software code.

This was also something he had not designed into the program for Bryce. Though it seemed appropriate to the ambiance of the scene, he also thought it was a bit cheesy, so he rolled his eyes, and was duly punished. My bad, he thought.

There were times when he would become very aware of his body and feel surprise that he could have lost track of it for a while. He was still held completely immobile, with his legs spread wide, his booted feet strapped firmly to the two footrests. His head was imprisoned in the helmet of his own making, and because it was attached to The Chair, he couldn’t move it at all. And even if he could have moved his head, the relentless hot images and droning words would remain before his eyes, and the hissing and murmuring would continue in his ears. Meanwhile, his hands were laid flat on smooth surfaces, every finger spread out and pinned down. Straps crossed his limbs and torso everywhere, keeping him firmly in place.

And he was being endlessly stimulated by the machine thrusting into his ass and tube oh so slowly moving on his cock, while varied degrees of electricity moved between his ass and his dick.

With all this going on, of course he was still feeling very horny; but he kept thinking it would have been even more so without this drone BS going on.

Sometimes, while thinking about how you can’t really make someone do what they don’t want with hypnosis or mind control, he’d entertain a devilish thought: what if some little part of him did want it? Would that be enough for the mind control to overcome his conscious wishes? He knew he didn’t want to be a drone, but did he not want it enough?

Just when his voice was getting hoarse, the program switched back to his eye-tracking routine. He got a zap while he was figuring out what was going on, but he sank quickly enough into the old routine of finding the good spots and avoiding the bad spots. And he found this time that he was much better at it, because as soon as he saw the figure of a dom top, his eyes snapped down to the boots; and as soon as he saw someone naked or in chastity, his eyes were drawn to the crotch or the ass. After a few dozen such pictures, it was time to say his lines again.

 

IMPROVEMENT IS A PRIMARY DIRECTIVE

 

“Improvement is a primary directive… improvement is a primary directive…”

 

Cameron thought this didn’t seem like a very good hypnotic suggestion if they wanted to take over his mind. Wasn’t it all supposed to be about how he is mindless obedient slave or how he is going deeper and deeper? He didn’t feel like he was going deeper, and “improvement” seemed rather open-ended. There were certainly some things about himself that he wished he could improve. Wouldn’t it be great if the mind control could make sure he ate better and worked out more, or maybe kept him focused at work so he could get a promotion? If he knew that was what they were doing, then he’d be tempted to give in, but he doubted that was what they had in mind; and anyway being a better employee did not seem very interesting while he was being bombarded with horny stimulation. More likely they going to try to make him better at talking like a robot

 

“Improvement is a primary directive.”

 

… Or cocksucking or boot-worshipping; something like that, judging by the training pictures…

 

“Improvement is a primary directive.”

 

The little voice in his head that argued about everything asked what he had against being better at sucking dick. Of course he had nothing against that, but he certainly didn’t want to be forced to polish boots or any slave stuff like that. He got to choose what he liked and didn’t like.

But wouldn’t he like it just fine after his conversion? This thought scared him. It didn’t make him want to accept mind control, but it made him more afraid he wouldn’t be able to hold out, to preserve his sense of self. He was pretty sure that even if he let hypnosis change what he liked, he’d still have a sense of self. So what did he hold on to? How did he know he wasn’t already changed?

 

As time went on, the number of repetitions varied, for which he found he was grateful. It forced him to stay on his toes and made the whole thing less boring, and it made it easier not to dwell on fears about his brain, and instead focus on the erotic pleasure coursing through his groin. After all, this really was a super-hot experience.

He grew eager to recite his next lines, but absolutely could not let any impatience throw off his cadence.

Eventually his thoughts settled and he focused on just watching and speaking and feeling the waves of pleasure that were taking over his whole body. He hardly even thought about what each line said. It was much less stressful to just be in the moment and concentrate on its performance. No more wondering when Sergei would finally turn the damn thing off, or how it would get back at him, or if it believed that someone could actually be programmed like this. It would just deliver its lines perfectly to get the maximum reward and avoid correction.

 

It was so much more peaceful this way.

 

 

Ken Keavey finished reading the story, both hands rubbing the steel shield over his crotch. It was definitely a hot story, and it definitely started out based on the scene he had had with Dmitri just a few days ago. But then it wandered off into a flight of pure erotic fantasy. There was no way Dmitri could have gotten ahold of his program, and his program definitely didn’t make people recite lines (“Why didn’t I think of that?” Keavey thought). And anyway, mind control didn’t really work. It had to be just a hot story, right?

Metal had texted that he should check out the comments, so he scrolled down a little further. Apparently several guys agreed that the story was very hot and it pushed all their rubber-coated buttons.

 

One of the reader comments looked strange. He recognized it as a JSON-formatted message; what made it strange was to see it posted in a comment for a kink story. Then he saw that it was from Blake himself, and he got the joke: Blake wanted to make the comment look like drone messaging. Cute.

He thought that the part of the message that was a long jumble of letters and numbers gave it a particular degree of realism, especially since it verified the message was meant just for him, and that the message content checked out as valid.

 

Unit KV-1 gasped.

The end

Metal would like to thank the author, GratDelay, for this story!