Note: This story originally appeared on the gay fetish RubberZone site. It is reposted here with permission.
It was Wednesday. Matt counted to ten in frustration, anxious to pull off the hood he had worn for the previous fourteen hours, but already frustrated at the discomfort he felt from the chastity cage that his roommate had left locked onto his crotch. As soon as the hood was off Matt looked down at the cage. It was tiny, black plastic and locked in place with a small brass lock. Matt recognized it from his websurfing fantasies as a CB-2000. Matt cursed that prick of a roommate of his for buying the smallest of the CB chastity devices. Matt couldn’t decide if it was a slight to his male ego to have had the smallest size purchased for him or a testament to his willpower that his roommate believed Matt could handle having his dick constrained in the tightest space. Either way, he wasn’t too pleased – particularly because having it locked onto his crotch turned him on so damn much, forcing his dick to constantly fight the tight plastic until the pain finally drained it back to a comfortable size, leaking out a considerable stream of pre-cum each time it ran through its escape attempts.
Matt turned towards the small bathroom to get ready for work, then stopped, noticing something different on the laundry. A different shirt, similar in style and fabric with the top buttons removed, was draped on a hanger next to a different pair of slacks – same size as the snug pair he’d been wearing all week and just as thin a material, but a lighter color. No doubt about it, a pre-cum stain would be highly obvious on these tan slacks. Matt wondered what purpose was behind the change of pants.
Was his roommate trying to teach him to avoid fantasizing and getting hard while at work by making it extra embarrassing to have a pre-cum stain on his pants, or was he simply trying to humiliate Matt a little more each day? Matt settled on the latter when he was finally shaved, showered and getting dressed for work, when he realized that the outlines of the hard, black plastic chastity cage were almost visible through the tight front of the slacks. He groaned to himself, but realized he had little choice about doing anything other than suffering through the day, particularly as he had only eleven minutes to get to the refinery.
Once at work, Matt decided that the best means of avoiding anyone noticing the outlines of the chastity device would be if he stayed constantly moving, creating the appearance that he was in a hurry to get to his small trailer office. It seemed to work. He made it into the trailer without anyone stopping him to chat and fell back against the door in relief. He looked back out the window to make sure no one he had passed on the refinery grounds was talking about him. All he saw were several large, masculine men from the next shift exiting the changing facilities that were in an old building immediately behind his small trailer, each of them strutting across the grounds in their thick rubber and canvas suits while Matt stared from his trailer office in his silky slacks and shirt. The image of the workers, and the contrast with himself, made his dick swell inside the tortuous chastity device for the first time since he’d arrived at work. Matt hurried to his desk, trying to think of pictures of dead kittens to bring his erection attempt to an end while reaching for a tissue to stuff in his pants to catch any pre-cum.
The real price to be paid, however, hit Matt again as he looked up and caught sight of the open door to his small bathroom. He would be unable to jack off today. On Monday and Tuesday, Matt had masturbated in front of the cracked mirror three times each day. Today he would be doing everything possible to keep his dick from even getting hard.
Matt’s memory suddenly pulled up a recollection from a few weeks earlier. “Empty balls means less accidents and falls.” It was something he’d heard one worker saying to another as they passed him on the refinery grounds, repeating it like it was a slogan they used in the refinery. Matt remembered it because the idea had turned him on – two hot masculine studs in rubber gear talking about needing to keep their balls empty so they can concentrate at work – and because it made sense to him, too. For two days now, Matt had been worried that he’d make a mistake on somebody’s paycheck. And that was with the ability to jack off. Now, constantly horny, there was no telling how many mistakes he could make on the job. It made his chastity device seem like a violation of company policy.
At least once he got home that night … shit. He wasn’t about to get an orgasm back at his house either. Matt thought back on the past few days to be sure and realized that it was true – not once had his roommate permitted Matt an orgasm in his own house. And now, his roommate was taking twenty-four hour control of Matt’s orgasms and hard-ons, control that would be established by denying either, and there was not much Matt could do about it short of asking those studly co-workers to bring in a pair of heavy wire cutters. And there was no telling how his roommate would respond to that kind of rebellion. Much to his disappointment, Matt realized that he would need to try to get used to the chastity and just hope that occasional, maybe even frequent, orgasms were still in his future.
Perhaps not surprisingly, Matt found that he was more productive at work with the cock cage strapped in place than he had been the previous two days when he had been free to fondle his cock and masturbate in his bathroom. The morning passed without incident and without so much as a visit from the mailboy. By the time the lunch truck sounded its horn, Matt was hungry for company as much as food. Still, though his stomach grumbled, he was sure that anyone hanging around the lunch truck as he bought his lunch would see the bulging device under his slacks. Matt hurried to the cracked mirror in the bathroom for a closer look, turning each way in the light to see if the lines were visible or if it was simply his paranoia getting the best of him. It was a close call. Perhaps Matt only saw the lines because he knew what was there, locked in place under the fabric. But just to be safe, Matt decided to watch out his window until the last of the workers had been through the line to purchase lunch. If he timed it right he could get to the lunch truck moments before it left but after all the other workers were gone – and any that were left would hopefully be too busy eating to even notice a wallflower like Matt.
For at least fifteen minutes Matt watched through the cheap blinds that covered the window of his trailer office, willing away the crowd of hungry workers so that he could get his one solid meal of the day. Finally, Matt convinced himself that the coast was clear. He took a deep breath for courage, a final look down at his crotch, then opened his door, exited onto the refinery grounds and hurried over to the lunch truck. Matt kept his crotch close to the side of the truck as he picked out his lunch, quickly calculating the maximum food he could purchase with the ten dollar bill left for him that morning and the few coins in change he had left over from the previous two days.
As Matt handed his ten dollar bill to the cashier and received his few coins in change, he started to believe that he might get his meal without incident, until a deep, manly voice hoarsely whispered in his ear.
“Get any piss on that shirt yet, today, kid?” There was a slight emphasis on the word “piss”.
Matt looked up. It was Hutch and he had a sly grin on his face that set Matt’s heart racing – and then Matt froze, panicked, realizing to his horror that his bladder had opened up and released a flood of piss down the front of his tan slacks. How many hundreds of times had Matt heard the recording burning its way into his mind, instructing him to release his bladder upon hearing the command “piss”? And now, the first time Matt actually heard the word in conversation and learned the effectiveness of the programming had to be here, at the refinery, at least a hundred yards from the safety of the trail.
Hutch grinned with far too great a sense of accomplishment while the cashier just stared dumbfounded. Matt turned and ran back to his trailer as fast as his feet would carry him, knowing that the chastity cage had probably become highly visible behind the thin web of wet fabric stretched across his crotch.
Matt ran in the door to his trailer and slammed it behind him, then immediately peered out the window to make sure that crowds of hot men weren’t laughing and pointing in his wake. Nope – no one seemed to have even noticed his panicked run for safety – except for Hutch and the cashier, who both seemed to be having a good laugh over the incident.
For the next forty minutes, as Matt’s lunch sat uneaten on his desk, Matt stood in his tiny bathroom, pressing toilet paper against the fabric of his pants and then waving them in the air in an effort to dry them. Matt had little choice. It wasn’t even as though he could sit at his desk in his underwear. Matt’s only other clothing was his thin, wispy shirt and his black plastic chastity cage. He had to get his pants dry as soon as possible.
Luckily for Matt, the thinness of the material that had proved so frustrating for other reasons now proved rather quick at drying. Matt pulled the slightly damp pants back up his legs, placed an old air freshener in front of an old fan in the corner, and prayed that no one would come into the trailer for the rest of the day.
All afternoon Matt struggled to get work done while fighting his dick’s attempt to swell inside the cock cage. If that bastard Hutch only knew the trouble he’d caused, Matt thought to himself. He made a point to himself to go out of his way to avoid the man in the future. Not that Matt was happy about the idea of avoiding a tall, handsome Scandinavian-type blond in hot rubber clothing, but clearly this guy spelled trouble.
And in case there was any doubt that Matt knew how to spell the word “trouble,” he found himself surrounded by it a few hours later. Just as that mid-afternoon slump arrived, and just as Matt was yawning and dreaming of soon facing a good-night’s sleep in the padded storage compartment under his bed, the door to the trailer opened and slammed shut. Matt looked up to see Hutch’s grinning face just as Hutch turned back to slip the deadbolt into the locked position.
The pit of Matt’s stomach turned. This couldn’t be good. Hutch didn’t say a word. He just strutted slowly across the small trailer until he was standing at the side of Matt’s desk, his rubber-covered crotch just a couple feet from Matt’s face. Matt swallowed, tried to remember to breathe, and looked Hutch up and down. He was wearing protective gear that the refinery specially-designed for its own workers who came into contact with sulpheric acid – rubber-coated canvas coveralls, thick rubber hip waders, a thick rubber chest and crotch protector – like something an umpire would wear at a futuristic baseball game. Thick rubber gloves were tucked into the top of the hip waders while Hutch’s protective headgear had been dropped on Matt’s desk, it’s vacant eye-pieces staring at Matt.
Without any suddenness to his movements, Hutch smoothly pulled off the chest and crotch protector then pulled down the zipper of his canvas coveralls. Matt gasped when he saw that Hutch wore smooth rubber shorts underneath. Hutch pushed down the top of the shorts and hauled out a sizeable, beautiful prick followed by a pair of hefty balls.
Matt just stared, terrified that his roommate would not like what was clearly about to happen, terrified that someone might try to enter the trailer at any moment, and most of all, terrified that he might like what was about to happen just a little too much.
Before Matt even realized the word that had been spoken he was already on his knees in front of Hutch’s tremendous hardening prick with his mouth opened as wide as he could stretch it. Then it hit Matt. This guy had used his roommate’s command. Was it coincidence? Or did he just notice the gaping maw that Matt had exposed to everyone two days earlier at the lunch truck when Hutch had dropped the same word in conversation? Hutch didn’t seem like the kind of guy who could analyze that situation and come up with this solution. Still, he had used the command and now he was starting to piss into Matt’s mouth.
Matt knew he had no choice. He had to respond to the command exactly as he would at home. He held his head in place, held his breath and avoided swallowing. Then, just as the piss threatened to overflow the sides of his mouth, Hutch stopped.
Matt closed his mouth and swallowed, barely aware that he was properly following the instruction since he was too shocked by Hutch’s use of the proper commands.
Hutch wasn’t done. The stream from his prick started again, splashing piss against the back of Matt’s mouth. Matt looked up at the face of the hunky refinery worker and saw two piercing green eyes staring back down at him over a grin that betrayed just how much Hutch was enjoying watching his piss flow into the mouth of the shaved office worker. Matt winced from the pain caused by his small penis struggling to break through the confines of his cock cage, knowing that his prick would be leaking pre-cum onto his already-piss-soaked slacks, and knowing there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.
Again they ran through the commands – three more times, in fact – before Hutch had finally drained the last of his piss from his growing cock.
As Matt swallowed on the final “flush” command, Hutch just grinned and shook his head in disbelief, then stuffed his hardening dick back into his rubber shorts, zipped up his coveralls, picked up his chest protector and helmet and strode out of the trailer as if he owned the place.
Matt watched him go, confused, stunned, no longer noticing the pain caused by his cock’s plastic bondage. How did this guy know both commands? Matt ran through every conversation he could remember out by the lunch truck as well as their entire conversation the previous day in the trailer when Hutch had smelled piss on Matt’s shirt. He could certainly remember his reaction to the word “urinal,” but he was sure that no one, particularly Hutch, had ever used a word like “flush” in his presence. Perhaps it was simply obvious, Matt decided, that a man seeing his piss fill the mouth of a piss-bottom would know to command “flush” in order to get the bottom to swallow. That must be it, Matt reassured himself, it was simply obvious that “flush” would be the command to use to avoid a messy spill of piss onto the floor.
Still, Matt wasn’t entirely reassured. Something about the way Hutch strode into the trailer, the certainty that he had about Matt’s response to his commands, and the superiority of that evil grin, left Matt feeling that there was more to this encounter than simply a horny piss top in refinery rubber gear putting an office worker in his place. These thoughts troubled Matt for the rest of the afternoon, preventing him from accomplishing anything of substance.
That night, Matt arrived home to find a rubber hood waiting, as usual, on the laundry along with a pair of earplugs. But tonight it was a new rubber hood. The hood Matt had owned before the arrival of his roommate, the hood he had worn for nearly every moment at home since his roommate arrived, had tubes for the nostrils, a detachable blindfold and a detachable rubber plug gag with a breathing tube. The new hood was similar except for two significant differences. First, it had no eyeholes or removable blindfold. This told Matt that he wasn’t likely to be given any vision around the house anytime in the future – not that he’d been given any over the previous days. And second, the breathing tubes that extended into his nostrils and into his mouth by way of the removable plug gag, ended flush at the surface of the hood, whereas the tubes on Matt’s old hood had extended out from the surface. Matt tried to comprehend a reason why his roommate would want such a feature but came up empty.
Matt realized that once he strapped the new hood in place, he was guaranteed to see not a shred of light until removing the hood the following morning, a thought that just made Matt’s dick swell painfully in his chastity cage. Matt tried to will his swollen member to go down before pulling the hood onto his head, but then realized it was a pointless gesture. As soon as the new hood was strapped in place, he’d be writhing in pain from the efforts of his small prick to break free from the cock cage, turned on he was by the tight rubber bondage enclosing his head and senses. Matt sighed and knelt by the door, then pulled the confining rubber hood over his head, pulled down the zipper that formed it tightly to his head, and locked the zipper to the back of the collar with the attached lock.
As Matt knelt by the door to the kitchen, waiting to be welcomed home by his roommate, he wondered whether he should mention anything to his roommate about his afternoon encounter with Hutch – assuming he ever had an opportunity to say anything. Something about his encounter with Hutch had felt almost like cheating, and yet it wasn’t as though he had had much choice. He had simply responded as his roommate had taught him to respond. Matt decided to say nothing – the simpler decision given the thick rubber plug gag that pushed past his teeth and held his tongue in place.
Matt’s evening began with routine. An hour of exercise strapped to the treadmill was followed by a cold shower and a protein shake poured into his throat. And then, as he had been the night before, Matt was led down the rickety stairs into the dank cellar. But tonight, rather than a rubber straightjacket strapping Matt’s arms firmly to his chest, Matt was led to the cellar wearing only his tight rubber hood and the fist mitts he had worn for his forced workout.
Matt cautiously and blindly followed his roommate down the stairs and across the cellar floor until his roommate stopped and kicked Matt’s ankles far apart, stretching his legs and leaving his chastised genitals hanging vulnerably from his crotch. One by one, Matt’s hands were released from the rubber fist mitts, secured into what seemed to be one end of ordinary handcuffs, and then pulled up and secured to chains in the ceiling. A spreader bar was then secured to Matt’s ankles, pushing his legs even farther apart and locking them in place. The next thing Matt felt was the shock of coldness around his anus as his roommate massaged lubricant in and around Matt’s hole.
Matt pushed out his asslips to prepare for an assault, and he knew instantly from the feel that it was the same large, cock-shaped butt plug that had stretched his hole the entire night before. Matt groaned as the plug was pushed deep into his ass, stretching his colon into the shape of a giant cock, then sliding quickly in for the last inch as his ass closed around the narrow base and sucked the plug to the hilt. Matt wiggled his hips, trying to get his body to accept the plug without discomfort.
Then a heavy rumbling sound told Matt that the laser machine was being rolled back across the cellar floor. Matt groaned, realizing that he had another painful session of hair removal ahead of him. A high-pitched whir told Matt that the machine was warming up just as his roommate’s hand began to spread cooling gel across Matt’s back.
Matt tried to relax and ignore the pain, but for the next hour he couldn’t help himself, constantly moaning into the gag and trying to pull away from the painful shocks that spread across his back, then across his chest, and finally up each arm to his fingertips, as his roommate slowly and methodically wiped away the hair follicles on Matt’s upper body.
The thought of losing the hair on his entire upper body, permanently, sent Matt into his usual turmoil. It was yet another sign that he had reached a point of no turning back, and even though he’d already passed a dozen moments that seemed to be the moment of no turning back, each one had brought on a momentary anxiety attack. Yet while his mind ran through his deepest fears, his cock attempted to ram through the plastic chastity cage, swelling more and more with each pass of the laser wand, telling Matt that, whatever his fears might think, his subconscious continued to approve of everything his roommate was doing to transform his life.
The cool sensation of his roommate’s hands spreading gel across Matt’s back and chest eased his fears somewhat and told him that the laser treatment was over for the night. His roommate’s hands massaged the gel into Matt’s skin in a way that felt more to Matt like affection than anything his roommate had done in the previous four days. Matt sighed into the gag as his roommate’s hands moved lower and lower down his body, soon massaging the gel into Matt’s ass crack and then grabbing at the butt plug lodged deep in his anus, moving it around, thrusting it in and out, twisting it in half circles, and then finally pulling it slowly out of his ass. Matt groaned at the emptiness he felt inside and sank down, letting his wrists take the weight of his body.
Matt pushed out his asslips once more, expecting another assault from the butt plug, but instead he felt the warm, softer tip of his roommate’s large hard penis pushing into his ass, filling the hole that had been left by the butt plug.
As his roommate rammed his hard prick all the way in, Matt had a realization – the butt plug was the same size and shape as his roommate’s prick – identical. The time he had spent getting used to the invasion of the butt plug had been the perfect warm-up for the fuck that Matt now received. His butt had been stretched and relaxed, able now to take the large member that thrust in and out of his butt without the pain it would have otherwise felt.
But while Matt’s ass was able to bear the invasion of his roommate’s hard cock without feeling pain, his own little prick was another story. This was only the second time that Matt had felt his roommate’s hard prick up his chute, and this time it was without the initial trauma that Matt had felt from his roommate’s first day of domination. And coming as it was immediately after Matt had felt the strong, warm hands of his roommate massaging cool gel into his reddened skin, something about the assault on his asshole felt special. Matt wanted to let his dick how his appreciation, but it wasn’t to be.
But as Matt’s roommate kept up a steady rhythm for what seemed to Matt to last far more than a half hour, the pain in his chastened dick became almost numb as the feeling in his ass went from a lack of noticeable pain to strong, deep sexual pleasure. The combination of feelings had the effect of turning Matt’s ass into the center of his sexual pleasure. His dick became an afterthought, a meaningless knob of flesh that would have gotten in the way if it hadn’t been strapped down appropriately. Waves of pleasure that Matt usually associated with eruptions of cum from his penis were now sweeping across his colon and spreading up his body, sending constant and increasing signals of pleasure to Matt’s brain.
The pleasure was so intense that, as Matt felt his roommate’s cum shoot past his sphincter and out of his roommate’s dick, deep into his ass, he wasn’t even sure if his own feelings of pleasure had resulted in his own release of cum. He wasn’t even sure he cared.
Several minutes later, after his roommate had come down from the release of the hard fucking, Matt felt the large rubber butt plug shoved back into his ass, perfectly filling his ass to the size and shape to which he had quickly become accustomed. Matt was then released from his now-painful, spread-eagle bondage and led up the stairs to his former bedroom.
Matt’s roommate guided Matt’s feet into the bottom of Matt’s familiar rubber sleepsack, then slipped Matt’s arms into the internal sleeves and pulled up the tight zipper, enveloping Matt securely inside the rubber tube. With his head already encased in tight rubber, his eyes securely blinded behind the hood, his ears plugged, tubes inserted into his nostrils, and the thick rubber plug gag still stuffed into his mouth, Matt appeared to be a solid, smooth rubber mummy with only three holes, flush to the surface of the hood, allowing entry of air for survival of the human form bound inside.
The leather sleepsack followed, zipped up, laced tightly, and strapped from feet to shoulders, making any escape, let alone struggle, nearly impossible. Only the release of the 3-way zips allowed Matt’s roommate to extract the small plastic-caged genitals as proof that a flesh-bearing entity was encased inside. Matt groaned helplessly into the gag as he felt his roommate wash his dick through the plastic cage then snake a catheter into his penis. The previous two nights Matt had been allowed to sleep with an external catheter in place, giving him the slightest bit of control over his body by allowing him to decide when to piss – and when to flood his own mouth with the contents of his bladder. But tonight, that bastard roommate was returning Matt to a traditional catheter, ensuring a constant trickling of piss into Matt’s mouth all night.
Once the catheter was firmly in place, Matt’s roommate pushed Matt’s caged genitals back under the layers of rubber and leather and zipped them in place, then inserted the drainage tube of the catheter into the breathing hole of Matt’s gag. Finally, Matt’s roommate dragged Matt’s bound form a few feet across the floor and strapped the leather and rubber mummy into place on the low, padded platform that would soon be slid underneath Matt’s former bed, sealing Matt for the night in a tight, confining storage container only inches below his roommate’s comfortably-sleeping body.
The final touch was the placement, as had become standard, of the headphones over Matt’s head. Moments later, the original recording of commands was barely audible through the hood and earplugs. Matt wanted to protest, wanted to tell his roommate that there was no need for another night of programming – that the mere mention of the word “piss” in conversation had reduced him to the level of a pants-pissing infant – but he had no way to communicate such a thought, and no choice but to spend another night suspended halfway between sleep and consciousness, chanting in his mind along with the familiar commands of his roommate.
Matt then felt a minor moment of motion as the low platform was slid in place under the bed, locking against the foot of the bed with a hard thud. Then, nothing but the faint commands of his roommate echoing in the back of his mind.
Nothing, that is, until a sound made Matt freeze in his immobility. His stomach turned in a moment of panic and he struggled for a moment against his bonds. The commands coming through his headphones were identical to those he had heard every night since the arrival of his roommate. The instructions for how to respond to each command were also exactly the same. But as the instructions moved into their second round of repetition, it was no longer the voice of Matt’s roommate. It was Hutch. And then, on the third round, another voice that Matt thought he recognized as a tall, burly Italian who always applied for advances on his paychecks. And so on it went. Voice after voice. Muscular, masculine refinery workers commanding Matt on the proper response to commands like “Cum Dump,” “Pucker” and “Urinal.” Matt began to wonder about his own sanity. Was he really hearing the voices of the hot, muscular rubber-clad refinery workers, or was his mind playing tricks on him? The recording was so faint, so barely audible through the hood and the earplugs, that Matt was sure he was imagining the whole thing.
And just as he convinced himself that it was only his imagination, the voice of his roommate returned, delivering the commands as he had so many thousands of times in the past. Matt relaxed in his bondage, certain of his conclusion and amazed at the power of his subconscious fantasies.
And then, like before, it was followed by the voice of Hutch.
To be continued tomorrow …
All parts of this story originally appeared on the RubberZone site. It is re-posted here with permission.