Note: This story originally appeared on the RubberZone site. It is re-posted here with permission.
Matt instantly pushed his tongue past his lips and deep into his roommate’s asshole, probing, licking, sucking, worshipping. This wasn’t how Matt would have spent a Thursday evening just two weeks ago. But now, in twelve short – correction – twelve long days, it had become routine. Expected. His life.
Matt was lying in the middle of his living room floor. At least, he thought that was where he was. He hadn’t actually been allowed to see anything while inside his own house for five days now. But if his bearings were right, he was lying on the floor between the couch and the T.V., tightly enveloped in a snug rubber sleepsack and hood. As had become the practice, his roommate had ensured that every hole in Matt’s body was properly controlled – plugged, catheterized, covered or stuffed. His ass was firmly plugged by an electro-butt plug, his piss-hole was controlled with a catheter sunk deep into his bladder, his ears were filled with effective plugs, his eyes were covered by the rubber hood and his nostrils were filled with the hood’s rubber breathing tubes.
Only his mouth was not filled or covered at the moment, since the hood’s detachable gag had been removed, but his mouth was nevertheless being controlled in an entirely different manner.
Matt instantly pulled his tongue back into his mouth and closed his mouth. He felt his roommate’s body shift above him and strained through his limited hearing for the next command that might come his way.
Matt opened his mouth wide, stretching his lips as far as his skin would allow, just as his roommate had taught him to do. After all, his roommate shouldn’t have to endure the indignity of having his penis accidentally brush up against the rim of a urinal. Moments later, Matt felt the first stream of his roommate’s piss hit the back of his throat. As he has been instructed to do, Matt held his breath and refrained from swallowing. As the piss threatened to overflow the corners of Matt’s mouth, Matt heard the familiar but muffled instruction of “Flush” through his plugged ears. Matt closed his mouth, careful not to let any piss escape out the sides, then swallowed his roommate’s piss as quickly as he could; both because he had been instructed to swallow quickly and because he desperately needed to take in a deep breath.
As soon as the last drop of piss was down his sewer throat and resting in his recycler, Matt opened his mouth wide again, waiting for the rest of his roommate’s offering. His roommate didn’t disappoint.
Matt quickly swallowed, then spread his lips wide, waiting for more. Instead of piss, Matt felt his roommate sit back down on his face.
Matt stuck out his tongue and went to work. As he probed and prodded against his roommate’s hole, he could feel his roommate moving above him rhythmically. Matt knew from his short experience with this man that he was probably jacking off while Matt rimmed his asshole. That thought only served to drive Matt to work harder, to stick his tongue deeper and to suck his lips tight around his roommate’s puckered hole. Several minutes later he felt the hole tense up around his tongue and felt the muscle contractions of an orgasm. For a split second Matt let his tongue lay idle, forgetting that he had received no command to stop, but then he quickly went back to work, thankful that his momentary lapse of effort hadn’t been met this time with an electric shock to his privates.
The words were different, but the act was pretty much the same as the “urinal” command, with the added requirement of sticking out his tongue. Matt opened his mouth wide, stuck out his tongue and waited for his roommate to dump a condom’s load of cum into his waiting mouth. He didn’t have to wait long.
Matt swallowed the cum, taking a moment to swirl his tongue around and taste it before it went down.
Matt quickly opened his mouth in time to feel the rubber gag that formed part of his hood get pushed deep into his mouth and strapped firmly in place. The gag was a thick rubber plug with a hole in the middle – not for breathing, in this case, but for the emptying of the tube that led from the catheter in Matt’s piss hole. Matt felt movement near his crotch as his roommate released the clamp on the catheter, allowing a flow of Matt’s own piss to course its way through Matt’s piss hole, up the tube and down Matt’s throat. Matt struggled to swallow fast enough to keep up with the flow of the acrid golden liquid.
Matt felt the presence of his roommate move away from Matt’s body leaving Matt to stew in his bondage and recycling duties. Matt’s body ached from the tight, restrictive sack, but he knew better than to struggle. His roommate interpreted struggle against the bondage as rebellion against his control, and it was always quickly met with a sharp bolt of electricity through the plug in his ass and the coils around his balls. Matt’s skin itched, but he didn’t dare scratch. His shoulders ached, but he didn’t dare shift his weight.
Besides, Matt knew that it would be bedtime shortly. Although it had become hard to keep track of time without use of his senses, Matt was pretty sure that four or five hours must have passed since he got home from work. His roommate was sure to tire soon and place Matt in his storage for the night. The change in bondage position alone would ensure some relief to a few spots that itched and ached. Better not to consider, of course, all the other spots that would be made to ache by whatever bondage his roommate chose for Matt to endure all night.
The few minutes of reprieve from constant commands allowed Matt’s mind to roam and ponder the events of the previous two weeks. How much had changed. How many fantasies had come true. How many nightmares had been made real. Matt was having trouble telling which was which anymore.
It was barely two weeks ago that Matt had logged on to his favorite Internet rubber site for a night of masturbatory inspiration. Masturbation was pretty much the only way that Matt had allowed himself to explore his passion for rubber bondage lately. He had plenty of gear … loads of expensive gear … but it all sat in boxes under his bed waiting for the day that he found someone he trusted. Someone to whom he wanted to submit. Someone to whom he needed to submit.
Besides, Matt had long ago concluded that the pursuit of sexual gratification prevented one from making other dreams and plans come true. His proof of his theory was that, at only 25, he had just become a homeowner after answering the call of a headhunter and moving across the country to start fresh in a new job. It was a fairly modest home, and in truth, the bank owned virtually all of it. But Matt was proud that he had a job, a home, a good education, and a healthy, trim body. In time, he’d find friends in his new hometown that would deserve a friend like him – friends who also had their lives together. In the meantime, there were plenty of rubber galleries online to fill the little spare time he allowed himself each night to let his fantasies run free.
And so it was, six weeks before, that Matt had allowed himself no more than twenty minutes before hitting the sack to cruise the Internet and search for new hot photos. As Matt was busy downloading some photos of a hot scene involving a gimp sack, a urinal hood and a couple tops in rubber suits, the familiar “ping” of an IM sounded on his computer. It was a rubber “Sir” from Texas with whom Matt had previously exchanged a few cursory emails before he moved a month earlier, checking in to see how Matt’s move had gone. As they chatted the “Sir” threw out a question – a question that Matt should have answered in the negative. A question that would change Matt’s life in ways his deepest fantasies could never have imagined.
“A friend is moving your way next week, his apt fell thru, needs a place to crash, promises to pay well for a couple weeks on a couch.”
In fact, it wasn’t even so much as a question as it was a statement, indeed, almost a command. But a roommate was the last thing Matt wanted right now. The house was his domain. He wasn’t just proud of it, he cherished the freedom to walk around naked, watch TV in his favorite lycra wrestling suit, or sit at the computer in a tight rubber catsuit and hood – never worried for a moment that someone else with a key to the front door might walk in on him. No, a roommate was out of the question.
“He’s a great guy, hot 2, into rubber, thought u’d be possible friends.”
Matt thanked the “Sir” for the offer, but politely turned it down, logged off and hit the sack for the night.
But the next day at work, while processing the paychecks of the hot studs who worked at the refinery where Matt had just started as the new payroll clerk, Matt couldn’t get the idea out of his head. If the guy was into rubber, maybe he wouldn’t mind if Matt occasionally wore rubber or lycra around the house. And if he really was “hot,” maybe Matt would even get off on a little exhibitionism, showing off his toned body through the tight rubber suits he loved so much.
That night, Matt logged onto the rubber site and sent an email to the “Sir,” agreeing to allow the “Sir’s” friend to stay for a few weeks in return for a few hundred bucks. Matt included his address and phone number, then logged off, wondering if he’d done the right thing. If only he could have had that moment back, he’d often wondered many days later. If only he could have his life back … if he wanted it back.
The “Sir” responded two days later with a short reply: “Good. I passed on your info.”
No name. No phone number. No arrival date. Matt wrote to the “Sir” again asking for more information, but never received any reply. After a couple days Matt assumed that nothing more would come of the idea and put it out of his head.
And so it came as some surprise that next Saturday evening, as Matt sat in front of the T.V. enjoying his third beer, a bad T.V. movie and the tightness of his favorite rubber wrestling suit, when there was a “knock” at his door. Matt swore to himself, pissed at the need to rush to his bedroom and throw on a t-shirt and shorts over his suit just so he could open the door and send some cookie-selling Girl Scout on her way.
But when Matt opened the door his eyes did not fall on a box of cookies, but something much more appetizing. A man stood at the door, dressed in ass-hugging faded jeans, a tight but well-worn t-shirt and a faded baseball cap that beautifully framed the man’s solid cheekbones, deep blue eyes and thick five o’clock shadow. He was just the sort of guy Matt would definitely describe as “hot.” Taller than Matt, bigger than Matt, hotter than Matt.
“You must be Matt. I’m your new roommate.”
He grinned and walked in the door without waiting for an invitation, dropping his kit bag by the door and looking around the room at the décor.
“Hmm. I s’pose it’ll be okay for a few weeks. Hey, anymore where that came from?”
Matt could see the man gesture at the open beer on the table. Matt hesitated, pissed at the way this guy just invited himself in, insulted the decor and now expected a beer. But then the man grinned. It was a beautiful grin. A knowing grin. Matt knew the guy was reading him, understanding him, and something about that quickly erased Matt’s momentary anger, replacing it with a stirring in his crotch.
“Uh, yeah, sure. Hang on. Have a seat.”
The guy was already sitting himself down in Matt’s favorite spot in front of the T.V. waiting for Matt to bring him his beer. Matt grabbed the beer from the fridge, trying to remind himself it was just for a few weeks and telling himself the company would be good for him, along with the few hundred bucks in rent.
When Matt returned to the living room the hunky stranger had Matt’s beer in his hand and held it out to Matt. As they traded bottles, Matt should have paused to wonder why this stranger had been holding Matt’s beer, but Matt had never been the suspicious type – a trait that had always made him just a little too open to manipulation by others.
The new roommate grinned and clinked his bottle with Matt’s.
“Here’s to the smartest decision you ever made.”
Matt hesitated before taking a sip of his beer. This guy sure was arrogant. Who would ever think that letting someone crash in the guest room could be the smartest decision they had ever made? But that thought was quickly jettisoned by the odd, almost mocking look on the roommate’s face.
“Jeez, you sip beer like a girl.”
The guy grinned to let Matt know that he was just teasing. But Matt had never been good with teasing. He’d show this arrogant prick that he wasn’t some beer-sipping girl. He tilted the bottle back and guzzled back every drop, finishing with a rather weak attempt at a manly belch. The guy just grinned.
“Looks like you need another.”
Matt nodded and headed back to the kitchen for his fourth beer of the evening. By the time he returned to the living room he was feeling a little dizzy and quickly promised himself that he wouldn’t let any girly insults convince him to down this beer too quickly. The roommate was back on the couch, boots on the coffee table, beer half gone.
Matt sat in the chair across from the couch, not sure where to begin with the stranger. As he hesitated, it hit him that he still didn’t even know the guy’s name. He was about to ask when the roommate cut him off with a question about how long Matt had owned the house. A question about his job soon followed, then questions about his family, his friends, his interests. Matt found himself answering freely, completely, truthfully. Hell, no one had really shown this kind of interest in Matt’s life in a long time. It was a rush to find such a hot guy asking to know more about Matt.
As Matt went on and on about his life, he sank back in the chair feeling more relaxed than he had felt in years, more open to whatever lay before him, more willing to share whatever was asked of him. He was sure it was just the four beers he’d had. It never crossed his mind that some chemical could have been dropped in his beer and now be churning through his system, breaking down his defenses, making him anxious to answer every question put to him. Matt barely even noticed when a question about his job responsibilities was followed by a question asking his social security number and then another asking the code for his bank card and his computer passwords. It just seemed to Matt like more proof that this handsome stranger had taken a liking to Matt and wanted to know everything he could about Matt’s life. Matt wasn’t about to deny him that pleasure, and answered every question as completely and truthfully as he could.
Looking back, Matt remembered little of that evening. He remembered the roommate’s arrival, drinking beers together and chatting. And then he vaguely remembered the roommate grinning and asking Matt about his fetish for rubber and his fetish for bondage. So eager was Matt to answer every question that, as soon as his new roommate asked about his rubber fetish, Matt stood up on wobbly feet to pull down his shorts and clumsily pull of his t-shirt so the handsome stranger could see the rubber wrestling suit Matt was wearing underneath. His new roommate just grinned.
“Show me what else you have, Matt.”
For the first time in awhile, it wasn’t a question that came out of the new roommate’s mouth, but an instruction. A command. Matt grinned a sloppy grin and pointed to the hallway leading to the bedroom. His first step was a little hesitant, but then the roommate stood up and grabbed Matt’s arm to steady him. Matt looked up into the roommate’s eyes, turned on by the contact, turned on by the strong support – no, the control that the roommate’s hands were now exerting on Matt. The roommate’s eyes stared back at Matt, not with coldness, but a firmness that made Matt’s crotch swell under the tight rubber of his wrestling suit.
The roommate guided Matt down the hall to the bedroom and helped Matt pull the plastic boxes from under Matt’s bed. The first thing Matt pulled from one of the boxes was a rubber sleepsack – Matt’s favorite piece. He dutifully explained its purpose and the things Matt loved about it most – the way it seemed to vacuum-pack his body into a tight, worm-like form devoid of human features, devoid of any control or movement other than helpless squirming across the floor. Matt continued to explain everything he loved about the sack as the roommate peeled Matt’s wrestling suit from Matt’s body and then grabbed Matt’s hard cock in his hand and grinned.
“You know what they say – a hard cock never lies.”
Matt looked down at his hard cock and wondered what truth it was trying to tell him right now as his roommate took the rubber sleepsack and guided Matt’s feet into the tight, confining space. Matt shivered as he watched the man pull the sack up his legs, realizing that he might finally get the chance to be packed inside it with his arms down the restraining sleeves for longer than the ten minutes he’d tried it on at the store.
The roommate guided Matt’s arms into the internal sleeves, then pulled the sack over Matt’s shoulders, pulled the seams together and eased the zipper up to Matt’s neck. The roommate lowered Matt’s mummified form back onto the mattress of Matt’s bed, then turned back to the storage boxes, rummaging through the gear while asking Matt more questions about his rubber interests, his experience and his fantasies. Matt was unable to stop himself, pouring out fantasies that he never imagined he’d speak out loud. He was busy explaining one of his favorite storage fantasies – where two men constructed a plastic, rubber and steel “case” for Matt’s body, much like a case for a musical instrument, and then stored Matt inside it for long periods of time – when the roommate settled on a rubber hood. The hood was another of Matt’s favorite pieces and something he often wore while jerking off in front of the computer. It fit his head like a glove, had tubes that went up his nostrils, and had a detachable blindfold and a detachable rubber plug gag with a tube in the middle.
Matt was busy talking about his fantasy, about the part where the lid of the case would be closed on his body and locked in place, when the roommate pulled the hood over his head and stuffed the heavy gag in Matt’s mouth, cutting off the rest of Matt’s story. Matt’s dick swelled at the feeling of the gag being stuffed in his mouth, the deprivation of sight, and the tightness of the hood, yet he couldn’t get rid of the strange compulsion to keep talking and spill every detail of his fantasies to this hot stranger.
The roommate guided Matt’s bound body to the center of the bed then unzipped the sack from Matt’s belly button to his feet and pulled Matt’s legs from the sack. Matt moaned into the gag in anticipation as his roommate lifted Matt’s legs and held them in the air, exposing Matt’s butt to the air. The moan was followed by a gasp of breath through the gag as Matt felt cold lube against his butt, and then a slight squeal as his roommate pushed a medium-sized butt plug into Matt’s lonely asshole. Once the plug had been sucked deep inside to the base by Matt’s sphincter, the roommate lowered Matt’s legs back into the sack and zipped it back up, sealing Matt inside the tight rubber with all of his holes except his piss hole now plugged, tubed, covered or stuffed in some manner. Matt squirmed inside the sack, relishing the tightness and humping his small but hard dick against the slick rubber. A tiny voice of reason in the back of his mind struggled to be heard, admonishing Matt for letting a perfect stranger seal him up in a rubber sleepsack before they’d established any level of trust. But the drug still coursing through Matt’s system banished such thoughts from his mind before they could settle in.
Matt felt the mattress sag as the roommate returned, then felt pressure against his ears as the roommate set a pair of headphones onto Matt’s rubber-clad head. Moments later, Matt felt the roommate pulling at the D-rings on each side of the sleepsack, strapping Matt securely to the bed with a long piece of rope. The roommate worked his way down the sleepsack, pulling the rope tight, depriving Matt of any ability to squirm in his rubber cocoon and then tied off the rope at the foot of the bed.
The roommate must have stood back and admired his handy work, for Matt felt nothing more for several minutes. And with the headphones on his head, he couldn’t even hear the footsteps of his roommate to tell him if the handsome stranger was still in the room. Then Matt heard a slight crackle. A slight fuzz. He realized it was coming from the headphones and seconds later he heard his roommate’s voice through the thick rubber hood.
“When you hear the command “open” you open your mouth as wide as you can and hold it open. When you hear the command “close” you close your mouth. When you hear the command “rim” you open your mouth, stick out your tongue, and worship the asshole planted on your mouth like your life depends upon it. When you hear the command “urinal” you open your mouth as wide as it goes, tilt your head back and hold your breath. When you hear the command “flush” you close your mouth, swallow, then open your mouth and resume the “urinal” pose. When you hear the command “suck” you suck whatever is put into your mouth. When you hear the command “piss,” if you aren’t already catheterized, you empty your bladder wherever you are. When you hear the command “pucker” you push out your ass and squeeze your ass lips outward to prepare for a fucking. When you hear the command “cum dump” you open your mouth and tilt your head back and wait for a load of cum to be dumped into your mouth. It may be mine, it may be yours, it may be an entire football team’s. When you hear the command “swallow” you close your mouth and swallow. When you hear the command “eat” you eat whatever is placed into your mouth or on any dish in front of you. And when you hear the command “drink” you suck on whatever tube or straw is stuck in your mouth and swallow every drop.”
There was a pause of ten seconds or so and then it repeated.
Matt’s stomach tensed and turned. Even with the effects of the drug still in his system, it was clear to him now that he’d gotten himself into far more than he was prepared to handle. This wasn’t just some guy who was kind of into rubber, who might help Matt get some use out of his extensive stash of gear. This was someone who was into some heavy shit. These commands may have made Matt’s dick swell even harder than it already was, but they sent his mind into a tailspin.
The commands repeated a third time. Then a fourth. And as they repeated a fifth time, Matt realized he wasn’t just receiving instructions, he was receiving programming. And it made his dick swell even more.
His roommate must have noticed the swelling around Matt’s crotch, for it was then that Matt felt the zips that allowed for access to his crotch be pulled open. The roommate pulled out Matt’s penis and balls and then pulled the zips up tight against Matt’s genitals. As the instructions repeated for a sixth time, Matt felt the roommate wash Matt’s genitals, but he didn’t figure out the reason until he felt something probing at his piss hole. The roommate was catheterizing him. Matt’s head spun even more as the instructions poured into his head while the catheter snaked into his bladder. The pressure as the balloon inflated was intense until Matt’s bladder suddenly emptied out the four beers he’d already had that evening, bringing the first sense of relief that Matt had felt in a few hours.
The mattress sagged once more as Matt felt the weight of his roommate on the bed beside him. He felt his roommate’s hands on the hood around Matt’s gagged mouth, then suddenly tasted a wet sweetness on his tongue. The roommate was dripping something through the hole in the plug gag and into Matt’s mouth, leaving Matt no choice but to swallow. Colors suddenly flashed in front of Matt’s eyes – not outside the blindfold, but inside his eyes. The sounds in his ears seemed to get louder, more demanding, and the sensation of the tight rubber bondage suddenly seemed twice as tight and twice as erotic. Matt felt the weight of his new roommate pull back from the mattress, and then nothing — nothing to let him know if his roommate was still in the room. Nothing to let him know that he’d be all right. Nothing to let him know what lay in store for him except the waves of pleasure running over his body as the drugs took effect, and the sound of the instructions – correction, the programming – pounding their way into his subconscious. Slowly Matt drifted from consciousness as the colors behind his eyelids faded to black.
To be continued tomorrow …
This story originally appeared on the RubberZone site. It is reposted here with permission.