By Callum Buchanan (of blessed memory)
Note from Metal: I am re-posting this story after a reader contacted me about it. See below for more information about this author and where this story came from.
The boxer’s mouthpiece felt as if it had swollen to fill his whole mouth. It was three o’clock in the morning and he could neither spit it out nor even open his mouth. That thought was the least of his problems and once again he cursed himself for a fool, he should have read the instructions first!
He was fit, and did go into the gym to spar with a trainer on a regular basis. but he also had some kinks and one of them was to dress in the training kit and pretend that he could not take it off. That he was trapped and helpless in it. Unable even to open his front door and get help.
The dream though had now become reality and he was in a real fix. At the gym Bob his trainer had told him about some new extra safe sparing kit. The padding was better so was the fit. there were no laces or straps to cause problems in the ring and you did not even need to wrap or bandage your hands because the gloves were so well made. He had agreed that the stuff looked good and placed a telephone order for the kit from the makers, a local sports goods company he had never heard from before and bought 20oz gloves, a supersafe head guard and cup.
They had arrived by carrier yesterday and he had decided to try them on after dinner. All of them were made from a sort of rubbery leather-like material he had not seen before, the cup was more like ice hockey shorts but with no laces and he was disappointed when he pulled them on to find them loose fitting. then with the heat from his body they started to shrink on to his frame and he just managed to arrange everything before the shorts had shrunk tightly round his waist and legs with heavy padding round the kidneys and across the cup which was locked firmly in the correct location, yet allowing amazing freedom of movement with one exception.
Glancing at the instruction book he saw that to remove them he had to just peel them off like a pair of cycle shorts and they would return to the larger size as they cooled but would stay tight and firm until then.
The Head guard was more like a combined gas mask and crash helmet again made of the same material with lenses protecting the eyes and padding all around the head and face. There was a mouth and nose opening of sorts but heavy ridges of padding to protect nose, cheeks and chin. He put in his mouthpiece, an Australian double with an opening in the centre to breath through and slipped it on. The heat from his body had the same effect. The Head guard seemed to close in on him and shrank until there was a firm pressure all over his head, forcing his mouth shut against the mouth piece. He panicked a bit at that and digging his fingers under the lip at the back of his head pulled it off. After a few minutes it started to expand back to the right size. He put the head guard back on and went into the kitchen to fill a sports bottle with water. This was fun!
The last item was the gloves. He was used to 16oz sparring gloves and these 20oz oz one looked huge. As with the other gear there were no laces or Velcro, and flipping the instruction book which was inside one of them on to his bed he stuck them onto his hands.
His fingers slid into individual finger spaces inside the gloves and he realised that the thumb was joined to the rest of the hand. The gloves started to close in on his fingers gripping firmly but not uncomfortable then as he watched the gloves started to close pulling his fingers into a fist and bringing his thumbs over the top in the classic boxing position. He tried to shake one of the gloves off and found it would not move. The padded wrist were closing in on him as he gripped one of the gloves, first under his arm then between his legs, tugging for are he was worth but the gloves just settled firmly in place and in a few moments he found that not only could he not take the gloves off, but even worse, he could not move his fingers or twist his wrists even slightly. The outside door would be nearly impossible to open.
Pawing at the headguard, he suddenly realised he could no longer remove it or the cup he had put on earlier. He was trapped in a set of boxing gear which had glued itself to his head, hands and crutch. He was going nowhere!
He went back into the Bedroom and managed to open out the instructions for the gloves. There at the top of the sheet was the warning:
NOT TO BE WORN UNASSISTED – THESE GLOVE CAN NOT BE REMOVED BY THE WEARER
That had been at seven in the evening, there had been a note below the warning saying “If you have not read the warning and need help, phone anytime to and a freephone number”. He had phoned managing to tap out the number using a pen which he had picked up off the floor. There had been a recorded voice saying “leave a message and we will get to you as soon as possible. Through his mouthpiece he had mumbled his name and address and admitted that he had not read the instructions. When hanging up the call on his speaker phone he had knocked it off the table and the handset was now behind the radiator and unreachable. So even calls in were out!
It was 3 am now and he was sweaty, thirsty and still helpless. The door bell rang. “Its Acme Sports here” a voice from the other side said “can you open the door?” Using both hands he managed to turn the latch, and with a push from outside, the door to his prison flew open. “Thanks” he tried to say but the two guys in Motor cycle kit said nothing they just gently pushed him into the flat and shut the door.
One of them shut the door and then turned to the other and said “I don¹t know Bob, you print the instructions, put warnings on the front page, do everything apart from visit personal, and what happens? You end up visiting personal in the middle of the night!”
“You’re right Bert,” his mate replied, “I thought this one would be clever enough to read the instructions first. But hell it dose not matter We have him now and can put the proposition to him anyway.”
Taking off his helmet Bob the trainer from the gym looked at his pupil in the boxing gear and said “Well well Andy! I Thought you were a clever lad and I would have to get you in the ring before I could get this gear on to you, never mind, I have a proposition to put to you ?” “Please, get me out of this gear.” Andy mumbled.
“All in good time. But first my proposition. Oh Bert would you get the man a drink “ over his shoulder to the other leather clad watcher who nodded and started looking round the flat for the kitchen. “Now Andy I clocked the fact that you have one or two kinks some time back, more or less when you walked into the Gym!” Andy started to back away from him mumbling, “No NO I¹m not like that.”
“Oh grow up Andy, who were you going to spar with? Your shadow? Now don’t worry, I am not going to rape you, or kill you, or even hurt you. well no more than I have in the ring anyway” Bob amended.
Bert came back in with the water bottle and offered it to Andy, who promptly dropped it. Bert picked it up and pushing Andy backwards in to a recliner chair tipped his head back before squirting the water into Andy’s mouth through the opening in his mouth piece. Andy swallowed the water and felt the dryness in his mouth and throat ease. Once the bottle was empty Bert let go of him and wandered out of the room. “As I said Andy. I will not harm you but I think I could give you some ‘training¹ of a type you have only dreamt about up till now. I could be wrong, but, I think you are into bondage?”
Bills last few words hit Andy like an uppercut from the wrong side and he jerked back in the recliner his eyes opening wide. “ How the hell did you find out?” he blurted, not realising the admission till it was too late. “I was sure I could hide it.”
“Oh, it was the little things like the look in your eyes the first time we put sparing gear on you. the comments about being trapped in the gloves. A hundred little tips for those who know” Bill smiled and gave him a playful pat on the head. “Well tell the truth you have had 6 hours in bondage you could not get out of, I bet in some ways you have really enjoyed it, Yes or No?” The last few words was in a much firmer tone Bill watched the indecision, Andy’s eyes were almost doing orbits round the room, then he seemed to make a decision “ Oh what the hell! It the biggest turn on I have had in years. You are right mate. I¹m excited to hell and can do fuck all about it, and now I know someone will bail me out of my stupidity I¹m not frightened any more.”
Bill smiled, just a bit, “All right then here’s my proposition to you. Its Friday night, you come with me now to my other gym, and we train you for the weekend. It will be bondage of all sorts, like you have never even thought of and you will have no say once you agree to the session as to what when and for how long we do. In fact we will push you till you fight back and then a bit more?” He paused for a few moments “ Or we can just take one of the gloves off and go on our way. Which is it to be Andy?” There was a few moments silence then Andy shrugged his shoulders and said “ No fucking?”
“No fucking No sucking and if we can manage it no jerking off for the next 48 hours pall” was the reply.
“Done” said Andy “but how are we going to get there?” As if on cue Bert wandered back in to the lounge with Andy¹s pride and joy an Aquala shoulder entry all rubber dry suit.
“Look what I Found!”
“Oh Shit!” said Andy.
Bert smiled at Bill who smiled back and said to Andy “Well? Rubber as well what a little kink you are! I know just the thing for you.” Bill swung the small haversack off his back and pulled out what looked like a neck entry wetsuit with socks attached.
… and a hair dryer.
“Ok Get into that”
He flung the suit at Andy who could not even hold it. With help from his two rescuers he climbed in to the suit which was loose and Bill plugging in the hairdryer began to carefully shrink it onto his frame. In a few minutes the suit was clinging to him like a second skin.
Bert who had been foraging round Andy’s flat came back with a pair of Motocross boots and Bills haversack filled to bursting. “You would not believe some of the things this little perv had in his play box Bill. It will be fun getting him to demonstrate their uses”
Andy looked a little bit wild round the eyes as Bill finished off the last of the clips on the boots, stood up and said “Walkies boy, its time to go and play.”
This just could not be happening! It was 3.30 in the morning and he was being hustled down the stairs from his flat, wearing the fancy boxing gear he had been trapped in for most of the night. What would the neighbours say if they saw him, more to the point what could he say back with his mouth full of gumshield?
Down the stairs and in to the street, parked outside was a huge Vincent Black Knight motorcycle with a skibob shaped sidecar fitted. “You’re in the chair,” Bill said as Bert lifted a motor cycle helmet out from the seat. Andy swung his legs over the lip of the seat, and was just about balanced on the back edge when Bill grabbed him from behind in a bear hug, and with his arms at his side he slipped into the side chair. His arms dropped into sockets on either side, his legs shot forward in to the foot well and he found that for all the use his limbs were they might as well have been cut off. He could not get any purchase to get out of the sidecar!
Bill sniggered to Bert “Looks like our Hero is stuck already and we’re not at the gym yet, what do you reckon. Should we leave him here for his neighbours to see in the morning?” Andy thrashed about in the chair but could not escape. “Naw” was Bert’s reply “lets get him somewhere we can really control him.” With that he popped the helmet over Andy’s head. For Andy it was as if he had been moved to a new dimension. As the helmet slipped over his head a silence so profound also enveloped him. All he could hear was his breathing and a far away murmur that was his hart beat. Like wise an impenetrable darkness with no glimmer of light now surrounded him. It was not possible! How had they done it? “Clever Wot?” Came a voice from nowhere and yet everywhere ” The helmet is fitted with what we call a black sound generator. All sounds inside the helmet are cancelled by an equal and opposite sound from a sort of reverse amplifier” It was Bills voice but with no other sound to compare it to Andy was shocked at the power in it.
“You are now in the most silent place you have ever been in and in the darkest. That was much easier to achieve. Sensory deprivation is another form of bondage and it can have much more effect that the tightest of ropes. Feel free to shout as loudly as you want. The amplifier can handle up to 50 watts a channel so it will silence you too!” Andy could feel vibrations through his body and the sensation of movement but with none of the accompanying sounds it was the weirdest ride he had ever taken. The sidecar had obviously been designed as part of an over all system for keeping him helpless. The thought flashed through his mind, how many other’s had been helped into it in the same way. He had agreed to play bondage games for a weekend but now he was out of his own environment. No one knew where he was going, well gone. He did not know and was in the hands of two very strong and skilful men who could do anything they wanted. Even now in the streets of the town as they drove, well er somewhere they had him helpless and controlled to a level that was both frightening and pleasurable. What if he did shout as loudly as possible for help, would it, would it make maters worse later, was there going to be a later!
Andy freaked out at that point. Thrashing about in the chair scrabbling with his feet using every ounce of strength to escape. All to no avail. He could not move his bum up even an inch. He screamed for help as loudly as his mouthpiece would allow. He knew he was screaming, he could feel the vibration in his throat, but could hear no scream in his ears. This was just not true! It could not be! Bill’s voice suddenly intruded in to his panic “I know we said you could scream as loudly as you like but there’s no need to try for a world record. The promise still stands, we will not hurt you and you will get home eventually. Who knows, we may even take one of those gloves off when we drop you back at your flat.”
“By now you will have realised we are in control? There is no point in struggling or resisting though we would be sad if you did not try at least a bit. Over the next few days you will find out just how much we can control you. Look on it as an education and a holiday! For once you are going to have no control and no say in what you do. It should be a big change for a control freak like you” The silence returned and Andy being ever the realist stopped struggling and tried to calm himself down. There were bound to be chances over the next few hours to escape or at least try.
For a short journey across town, it seemed to Andy in the silence and the darkness, to take forever. The top of the Jock box was digging in to his waist and the vibration from the bike buzzed away at his body through the very thin seat cushion. Andy felt his cock trying to rise but yet again the box stopped any progress. Try as he might Andy could neither do anything about it nor take his mind off the stirring inside the box that the slow vibrations of the journey were causing.
Suddenly the vibration and the feelings of movement stopped. Andy could feel nothing, see nothing, hear nothing. He had no idea how long he sat there in darkness and silence. He was starting to think he had been abandoned somewhere when he felt hands on his shoulders and he was pulled out of the side car and arms forced behind his back, his hands were jerked up and he felt a collar going round his neck. Then the helmet was removed. He was standing inside a fairly large garage with no windows and two doors at the back. His rescuers were now both in sweats and boxing boots. “The door on the left leads to heaven!” Bill said, giving him a push in the general direction. The door was heavy and had padding on the inside of it and a set of steps led down into the basement of the wherever he was.
The basement was large brightly lit and had a full boxing gym at one end bags weights ring benches. The whole room was padded with wrestling mats on floor and wall but there were other bits of kit that Andy did not recognise and could not guess the use of.
“Well Andy! Its time for you to spar a bit and then get some rest, you are going to have a long weekend here,” Bill said. Undoing the collar he gave Andy a push towards the bags at the end of the gym “You had better loosen up a bit”. Bert was stripping off his sweats. Andy saw that he was already wearing a box identical to his and there were gloves and headguard laid out. Bert put in his mouthpiece and put the rest of the gear on. “Great the way you don’t have to lace up or tape down any of the kit” Bill said with a snigger. “Now I have two boxers neither of whom can take their gear off. Tell you what Andy, if you can beat Bert on points I’ll let you out, if not there is an extra forfeit for you while you are resting.
It was not much of an offer and Andy knew it. Bert was his regular coach and Andy very seldom managed to land even a tap on him. Elusive was not the word. Fifteen minutes later and Andy was hot, sweaty, frustrated and completely outpointed. “Ah well guess you lost Andy, now for the extra forfeit. First we will get you comfortable then” with an evil grin much less comfortable.” First taking Bert’s gloves off the two coaches then proceeded to take Andy to the toilet and for the first time in 6 hrs the box was peeled off his torso and nature allowed to take its course. “Now for the forfeit” said Bert and produced a new box thicker padding was all that Andy could see as his neck was grabbed in an sleeper hold by Bill “Easy or hard it going on boxer boy! I would make it easy if I were you” and out manoeuvred Andy had no choice but to let Bert guide first one and then the other leg into this new piece of kit. It looked more or less the same but he felt Bert feeding his cock in to a tube facing down the way before the shorts started to compress round his legs and the whole lot shrank down snuggling tightly round his legs groin and waist.
“A new level of control that not even you would have fallen for Andy” said Bert “Not only is cock and balls separated but there are all sorts of interesting little add on to this one, Bluetooth control technology is wonderful.” And as he named the vibrators and Electro shock controls built into the box he gave each one a short burst
Andy found that there was EMS units making his whole body twitch at the waist and on the buttocks taking total control of his stomach and leg muscles, vibrators under his balls in the crack of his arse and at the end of his cock so gentle and yet a thousand times worse than when he had been in the bike side car and his cock was betraying him expanding but held down and suddenly in a space far too small to go where it wanted. Then when he thought it could get no worse gentle tingling shocks where the vibrators had been moments before and for the first time in his life Andy realised what it was to really have someone else in control!
“Bed Time!” Said Bert Leading Andy to a corner of the gym with a hammock and a heavy sleeping bag ready and waiting for his rest.
Note from Metalbond about this story:
A reader named NeedControling recently contacted me that the story above is by Callum Buchanan (of blessed memory), and it was shared by the incomparable Jim Stewart, longtime master of Fetters, (and also of blessed memory), who shared it via his site, Houdini Connections, among other places.
For quite some time after his death Jim’s site was maintained online by friends, but it finally went away a year or so ago. Thankfully, for those of us who know it used to be there, the Web Archive comes to the rescue. Callum’s unfinished and unmodified final draft, which matches the above, is also available via the Web Archive on Jim’s site, by clicking here.
As a side note, I think I may eventually create my own archive of Houdini Connections, both to preserve it should the Web Archive’s servers ever fail, and also to modernize and better organize Jim’s random stream-of-thought mayhem from the late 90s / early 2000s. Jim Stewart’s stories are a gift to us all, his introspection and analyses a resource for our world that is fading away.
Lots more about Callum Buchanan here.
Metal would like to thank NeedControling for the information above, and I encourage him to proceed with his idea of organizing and re-posting Jim Stewart’s vast archives.