Meanwhile… the next morning, in Queens… and Brooklyn… and across the river in Secaucus, New Jersey …
Ken’s phone chimed with a sound he was not accustomed to hearing. He pulled it out and looked at it.
It was a notification from an app he remembered installing a few weeks back. It was called “VRealWorld” – pronounced with two syllables, the first two letters slurred together like the VRs in “vroom vroom” – and it was supposed to be an online hookup tool like grindr or recon. Like grindr, it supposedly got you in touch with guys near you who shared your interests. But it had never shown Ken anything and after a few days he had forgotten it was even there, had even forgotten that the account had been created under the name “Rockit”. Seeing it now on the screen now his reaction was that it was almost too cutesy a nickname, a callout to the band he played lead guitar for as well as a thinly-disguised reference to dicks and orgasms.
Now the app was chiming for “Rockit’s” attention. The notification said “Rubberlad near you!” A… “rubberlad”? Skeptical, Ken swiped the message.
“A rubberlad has completed the VRealWorld training program and is currently active near you. If you wish to let the rubberlad find you, see you, and interact with you, read on!” There was a link to more instructions.
Ken’s reason for signing up for this free-but-so-far-bogus service was simple: lack of dates. His mother, a first-and-a-half generation Korean (born in Korea but brought to the US by her parents as a toddler), had married a man of Afro-Caribbean heritage. The result left Ken and his siblings not looking quite like anyone else around them. Ken was too black to be Asian, too Asian to be black. While Tiger Woods had been able to pull the look off elegantly, Ken found himself wearing awkwardly-placed features and awkwardly-styled hair atop an awkwardly-built body that pretty much no one found sexually appealing. The world of gay erotica treated white guys as the default, with niche markets for blacks, Asians, and Latinos. There were precious few gay men who were actively seeking out men with an ethnic heritage of multiple blended minorities. Hardly anyone ever looked at Ken and said “you, yes, now you are my type!”
Hence the apps. There had been a string of them, some successful in scoring him some sex, others not so successful. This one seemed worth a try. The fetish angle was not really his thing, but really all Ken craved was a satisfying blow job from a hot guy. Maybe this would get him one? He flicked down through the instructions.
“The rubberlad lives in a virtual world made up of a blend of the real world plus additions that only he and other participants can see: the VRealWorld. For the best experience, use a VRealWorld virtual reality headset, but you can still take part for free using only your phone.”
Jaime in Brooklyn (or “Jamzz”, as he was known to the VRealWorld app) scoffed a bit at that part… that was always how these things worked: they hook you with the free sample, which would contain nothing worthwhile, then hit you with a never-ending stream of in-app upsells. Still, as he read further, it seemed like it might be worth a shot. If he could believe what he was reading, then at the worst, he would meet up with a guy dressed in a rubber suit and may or may not get it on with him, all without committing a dime. This “rubberlad” was probably overweight and ugly as sin, there was always a catch with these things, that’s probably what it was.
Still, he could go and see for himself. All he had to do was tap the “Enter VRealWorld” button and two things would happen at the same time: he would be informed of the general location where the rubberlad was, and if he was close enough to the rubberlad, then Jaime’s precise location would be made available to the rubberlad. Jaime just needed to get himself to the rubberlad’s neighborhood, then it was a matter of waiting for the rubberlad to come to him. Jaime was too busy to read through all the details, but the app’s instructions were very clear on that much: he was to wait for the rubberlad to approach him. After that, Jaime could take charge. Jaime couldn’t make the rubberlad do anything he wasn’t willing to do, but it seemed like the guy was up for a whole lot of kinky shit. It said:
“The rubberlad is a straight man in his early 20s who more or less voluntarily agreed to be locked into a rubber suit. To win his freedom from the suit he has to provide service to VRealWorld players.”
That was the part that caught the attention of Evan in Secaucus. A straight guy? Volunteering to be locked up in rubber and have to provide service to gay men to win his release? Holy fuck, that was just the thing to get Evan’s juices flowing! Aw, man the idea of having a straight guy at his mercy, agreeing to be bound and abused even though he hated it just so he could get something he wanted more? Fuckin’ HOT! That was Evan’s biggest turn-on, and it was so difficult to find a straight guy willing to submit to it. It was a shame he was stuck at his job until 5:00 making sure the servers of the import / export company he worked for didn’t crash.
Still… the servers weren’t actively crashing at the moment, so he had some time to read the instructions for what was possible in the VRealWorld…
“The rubberlad’s suit responds to a combination of words and gestures. If you are using a VRealWorld virtual reality headset yourself, you can see and hear the results of your commands. If you are using the free phone app, you will see the effects of your commands on the rubberlad, but not the virtualization. But don’t worry – all sessions are recorded, so if you upgrade later you can replay the session as often as you want from your point of view, the rubberlad’s, or a third-person observer. The available commands are:
Say ‘cuffs’ while tapping the area you want cuffed.
Say ‘rope’ while gesturing from the starting point to the ending point of where you want the rope to run.
Say ‘clamp’ while pinching your fingers over the area you want clamped.
The list went on. Evan memorized as much as he could. It sounded incredible, like magic: say the right words, move your hands the right way, and things happen. Even more was possible if you had your own set of VR equipment. Headsets and full-body suits were available for purchase.
Evan knew the wise thing to do would be to try the free version out first, but he was not a patient man. Or a poor one. The VRealWorld headset was not cheap (though it was a steal compared to the full-body rig), and his delivery requirements added even more to the price, but Evan could afford it. In short order one headset was on its way to him by courier, scheduled to arrive before 2:00 PM. That would give him plenty of time to try it out, learn how it worked, lay some groundwork, set up some pre-arranged scenarios.
He had the perfect place in mind, too: his company’s warehouse in Chelsea. It contained a vast area of floor space that tomorrow would be filled with crates from an arriving ship, but was wide open and empty tonight. Better yet, his activities could go unmonitored because as the IT guy, he was the one in charge of the video surveillance system. He decided the video feed would be “accidentally” directed to a full drive right after he left for the day, which would go undiscovered until he returned in the morning. That was easier than trying to muck around with raw video files, pasting fake time stamps on scenes recorded earlier. There would be logs showing him using his badge for entry, of course, but that was OK; it was not unusual for him to go in and tweak the cameras or patch the warehouse’s computers. And the doors only registered entries, not exits, so there would be no record of how long he stayed.
In short, the setup was perfect.
This was going to be the longest workday ever… but the instant that clock hit five, Evan “Nightmare” would be going out to play.
Tuesday morning found Colin nearing Central Park in his quest for more leathermen. They were getting harder and harder to find, a far cry from his first day in the suit three day… wait… four days ago? Colin couldn’t remember how long it had been since he first put on the suit on and there were little red dots on the map everywhere he looked.
He had slept on the subway a bit, an activity frowned on by the authorities but still popular with the city’s homeless. Two, three hours, no more, of light, unsatisfying sleep, constantly broken up by the train’s jostling motion. When a particularly violent jolt roused him enough that he could not get back to sleep, he left the train and headed upward, his mind focus one one thing: find more leathermen. He had surfaced on the Upper East Side, a neighborhood that people of Colin’s ilk seldom had reason to visit. But according to his map there was a leatherman near here, so here is where Colin needed to be.
The day was grey and overcast with a light drizzle falling. The drizzle didn’t bother Colin at all – he couldn’t feel a single drop – and the cool conditions actually felt good after days of soaking in his own sweat. He crossed 5th Avenue and found himself in a different world: trees instead of buildings, grass instead of streets, and actual sky overhead: Central Park.
He followed his map toward the leatherman’s red dot, passing a pond and a fountain made of characters from Alice In Wonderland. There were scattered joggers and walkers about, but few people sitting on benches or feeding ducks – the day was too gloomy. Colin barely noticed the lack of crowds; he had long since stopped paying attention to anyone whose identifying sign was merely white. A little further along, he came to a bike rental place, and there, standing next to a rack of bikes that no one wanted to rent on such a day, he found…
A plain old, worthless, 1-point leatherman. Colin’s heart sank… another wasted trip. He tagged the leatherman with a perfunctory swipe of his hand and re-checked his map in the vain hope there would be a new dot on it somewhere close by.
Surprisingly, there was.
He would have sworn it hadn’t been there before. Everything was so hazy now, though, running on little food and little sleep… the dot must have been there and he just hadn’t noticed. He headed toward the new dot, deeper into the park. This led him to a wilder region where no structures stood and all was nature, with unpaved trails threading their way beneath trees still dense with flame-colored leaves, muted now in the grey mist. He wandered a bit; he could see where the dot was, but the paths all curved so that whenever he thought he was nearing the right place, he found himself being taken in a different direction entirely. He had to frequently double back and retrace his steps, his frustration mounting until at last found the leatherman leaning against one of the trees.
It was a new variety, one he didn’t recall seeing before. The sign over his head identified him as “Rockit Leatherman”. Was he supposed to be an astronaut or something? If so, he didn’t look the part. He was dressed in the same sort of leather getup that the plain leathermen wore. Colin tagged the leatherman and found him to be a 3-pointer; he sank to his knees and held out his wrists.
Some of the leathermen had made him wait a while before initiating some other action, but this time the wait went on so long he started to think the “Rockit” was going to be yet another dud. But he didn’t really have anyplace else to go at the moment, and it felt so good to get off his feet for a while.
A popup flashed into view.
The leatherman wishes you to look at him.
Fine. Whatever. Colin lifted his eyes up from the leatherman’s booted feet.
Stand up. Step back.
These were oddly simple requests compared to the rest of what he had endured. He dutifully moved back, his eyes still focused on the leatherman.
The man’s jacket was taut, as were the pants, which hugged the Rockit’s muscular thighs like a second skin. His eyes were hidden by the ubiquitous mirrored sunglasses. His skin was a gleaming bronze wherever it was visible: his hands and face, of course, but also the rest of his head due to his shaved, hairless scalp. Like all the leathermen, he cut an impressive figure. The leatherman had a phone out and was staring at it, turning his body from left to right as though… preening in front of a mirror? This was very strange behavior, but Colin didn’t care… obeying “stand”, “step back”, and “look” had earned him another point, which made it the cheapest point he had earned in days.
The leatherman then took his jacket off, despite the damp, raw air. He set it aside and continued to look at his phone. Without the jacket all that was left on his torso was a complicated arrangement of leather straps and silver buckles forming a harness over his chest. Moisture from the air quickly condensed onto his muscled body, causing his taut skin to gleam wetly where the droplets beaded on it. Colin stood and waited, not thinking about anything at all.
Then the letters on the floating burgundy sign over the leatherman’s head morphed until they spelled out “Would appreciate a little tongue action”. Colin couldn’t make any sense of these words at first, but after a long minute of staring blankly, a thought percolated up into his head. The guy wants a blow job. Of course he had known it would come to this eventually. For the last few days the game had been steadily leading him toward actual gay sex, which would have appalled him a week ago but now was just one more obstacle between him and his freedom. He stumbled forward to get it over with.
The leatherman reacted with surprise as Colin dropped to his knees and reached out his hands to work the Rockit’s dick out of his tight pants. The Rocket yanked Colin back up onto his feet and looked around. Colin had no idea what he might be looking for, but was content to just stand there until further instructions came. The leatherman pulled him off the path, ducking through trees and brush until they were out of sight of the path they had left and any others. It was here that the Rockit undid his fly himself, which was good because Colin’s hands didn’t seem to be working well enough to manipulate buttons and zippers. A semi-hard cock flopped out. Colin dropped to his knees again (ah, bliss for his feet!) and opened his mouth to take it in. One more imaginary humiliation to endure in his pursuit of escape from this madhouse world…
The dick hardened up quickly in his mouth. Having had no experience on the giving end of this experience, he had very little idea what to do. It seemed straightforward enough… move mouth back and forth. Create suction with tongue and lips. Take a break every so often to breathe because his nose wasn’t quite letting in enough air. Repeat. Colin didn’t really keep track of how long it took. He tried to ignore the buzzing, tingling sensation that enveloped his own dick while he provided this service, knowing with the tiny part of his brain that still cared about such things that it was all part of the suit’s conditioning program while the much larger animal part just said “MMMMM… GOOD!”. Fuck, if only the damn suit would let him come, just once! But no, it just held him at a point midway, too far from orgasm to even hope of getting to it but desperate to do so all the same.
Colin kept on plugging away at the virtual leatherman’s virtual dick. After a while, his mouth started getting a little achey, but he kept on working, his thoughts a muddled grey haze like the chilly air around him, idly watching the numbers of his score periodically tick up without actually paying attention to what they were. It was only as he felt the thing tensing up in his mouth, growing even larger and firmer, that a somewhat clear thought broke through the murk that his mind had become and crystallized in his awareness: the suit did not cover his mouth.
The cock in his mouth was real.
It was at that moment that an eruption of salty fluid shot out of the leatherman’s dick and into his mouth. He tried to pull away, but the Rockit’s hands were on the back of his head and forced him to stay where he was. Three more shots came; Colin tried his best to keep the gunk as far forward as possible, away from his throat, but that just meant it got smeared all over the part of his tongue where the most taste buds were. Gagging and choking, he fought to get air into his throat while keeping the repugnant liquid out with only partial success. It went on for what felt like hours, the leatherman’s cock surging and pulsing against his tongue and palate. At last the Rockit released his grip on Colin’s head and Colin fell back onto his heels, leaning sideways to spit the remnants of the wad out onto the ground. He caught a glimpse of his score dropping ten points, down from 577 to 567. What the hell? For spitting?
Well, if there was a 10-point penalty for not swallowing, it was worth it. He was still up a hundr… wait, ninety-t…, no a hun…
Fuck it. His score was up. A lot.
Ken tucked his spent dick back into his pants. The rubberlad had finished spitting and was just sitting there on his heels, not doing anything. Ken stared at him a bit, both directly and by viewing him through the phone’s screen.
Damn. He was going to have to get one of those VR headsets and replay this experience. He had no idea where he was going to get the money from, but he absolutely had to have one. Watching the experience through the phone’s tiny screen was like catching a glimpse of a whole world through a tiny peephole in a wall. He needed more.
It had taken him a while to get the hang of the app. The communication thing was the hardest part – the app’s instructions said that the suit filtered out his voice so the rubberlad couldn’t hear him speaking. He had to talk or type into his phone, where the app would translate his words into some format the rubberlad could understand. It took a while to say anything, so he didn’t try to talk much. The rubberlad’s own mouth was not blocked, so presumably he could speak if he wanted to. But during their whole interaction he hadn’t said a thing.
The app provided three views of his interaction with the rubberlad: his own (only if he was holding up the phone), the rubberlad’s, and a simulated bird’s eye view.
His own view was just like looking through the phone’s camera, except that according to the app, it could show “enhanced reality”. He hadn’t figured out how to do anything with that yet… it had been a total surprise that he had found the rubberlad at all… or rather, that the rubberlad had found him, had walked right up to him and patted him right on the crotch! That was just surreal. No one ever hit on him, ever, and this guy had just strolled up and dick-grazed him.
The second view was what the rubberlad saw. With his entire head encased in solid rubber, the view must be generated by cameras in the hood of the suit. This was the view that had so captured Ken’s attention. Because in the eyes of the rubberlad, Ken was… gorgeous.
Instead of the Yankees jacket, the rubberlad saw one made of sleek black leather. And underneath it was not a scruffy T-shirt but an imposing harness. His jeans had become tight black leather; his frizzy, unruly hair was gone entirely, and damn if he didn’t look hot with a shaved scalp! And he had abs! And biceps! And pecs! The transformation was incredible. He was still clearly himself, but in the rubberlad’s view his features were handsome, his body was fit, and his demeanor was confident and assured, and the frizzy hair that had irritated him all his life was just flat-out gone. In this VRealWorld he saw the Ken that he could be, if only, if only…
And the third view, from an imaginary camera placed somewhere above, was why Ken wanted the VR headset. He had basically just starred in his own porn video and wanted to watch it again and again until he wore out the rewind button. Then, maybe, venture back into the VRealWorld to make a new video.
“Thanks, man,” he said to the still-kneeling rubberlad, who didn’t respond. He leaned in and said more loudly “Hey, thanks, man.” Still no response. Then he remembered, right: you could only talk to the rubberlad through the app.
Oh well. Ken put his jacket back on, called out “later”, and went off through the park. He was going to walk into the first barbershop or hair salon he came across and have them shear every strand of hair off the top of his head. Then maybe see about hitting a gym…
The leatherman ambled off without a word. It looked for a moment like he had wanted to say something, leaning down toward Colin briefly, but he never actually spoke. Instead, he straightened up, put on his jacket and left. Colin climbed wearily to his feet and stumbled off in another direction.
His course took him deeper into the park, angling toward the West Side. He passed and tagged two more plain leathermen, one point each, not worth stopping for the petting games that were all they would offer. He needed the high-value ones. His score stood at 569.
There. A red dot, moving. The 1-pointers just stood there, not walking around much. If this guy was moving, he was probably worth more. He quickened his pace and caught up with the leatherman. The guy actually seemed startled when Colin tagged him, revealing him to be “Jamzz Leatherman”, a 3-pointer. His appearance was very much like the plain leathermen; there was nothing distinctive that set him apart. Colin knelt and held his wrists out.
Nothing happened for a long while. Colin’s heart began to sink, but he stayed put for two reasons: the leatherman might eventually cough up some points for him, and it felt so good to get off his feet.
He felt a shove on his shoulder. The leatherman had pushed him, rocking him backward a bit. But his display revealed no instructions, no options to select from, and he knew better than to speak. Colin merely knelt and continued to wait.
In vain, as it turned out. With an angry set to his body, the Jamzz leatherman turned away and stalked off toward the street. There would be no points for Colin from this encounter.
He couldn’t take any more. He lurched to his feet and stumbled off to find a place where he could take a nap, just a quick bit of rest…
Waste of time. Just like Jaime knew it would be. He had come all the way into Manhattan, not even sure if this rubberlad would find him but figuring at worst he’d enjoy a walk in the park. Once there, he hit “Enter VRealWorld”, then shoved the phone back in his pocket.
Then nothing happened. Well, nothing except a constant spit of cold rain, which made walking in the park a pretty goddamn miserable experience. He had waited two hours, then given up on any chance of finding the rubberlad and was walking out to the subway, when suddenly, the guy chose that moment to show up. He had come up behind Jaime, walking fast, passed him, then turned, blocking Jaime’s path. When Jaime had stopped, the guy had reached out and touched Jaime right on the crotch. WTF?
Jaime was about to start shouting when the rubberlad knelt down and held out his hands. That was somewhat mollifying – it was hard to stay pissed at a guy who was kneeling at your feet.
But that was all he did.
Jaime had tried talking to him, but the guy just pretended he couldn’t hear him. He snapped his fingers in front of the hooded face – nothing. This was it? How the hell was he supposed to get it on with a guy if the dude was deaf? Or a moron? The rage came back and he started shouting at the kneeling figure, who still did not respond at all. Even a shove to the shoulder didn’t rouse him, he just stayed there kneeling. With a stream of expletives, Jaime left. He didn’t have time for this. All the way back to Crown Heights he sulked about falling for this total waste of an app.
Colin slept on a park bench for a while, then was on his way again through the mist. He tagged two more leathermen, a plain one and a 2-point Grizzle. He earned a few points off the Grizzle by letting him bind his hands and legs, but the guy wasn’t interested in much and soon ended the encounter.
Colin’s belly ached from lack of food – his money had run out a while ago… yesterday?… and he hadn’t eaten since then. He wasn’t quite desperate enough to go diving in the trash for perfectly-intact food tossed out by young kids, but on a day like this there wasn’t likely to be much of that. He tried to fill up on water from fountains whenever he passed one, which helped, but only a little.
He left the park and found himself walking down 9th, his score at 585. Somehow the day had vanished… he could have sworn it was still early afternoon, but the light was getting dim so evening must be falling. It didn’t matter. He just kept putting one foot in front of the other. There were no leathermen to be found, so Colin just kept walking.
And then suddenly, one appeared.
The red dot winked into existence on his display right on top of where he was standing. He looked around, disoriented, and after a moment spotted the man climbing out of a cab right across the street from him. He stared – he was at the middle of a block, and the traffic was too heavy to get across to do the tag. He glanced left, then right, and decided the crosswalk to the left was closer. Colin just hoped the leatherman didn’t vanish before he could get to him.
But there seemed to be no danger of that – the leatherman followed Colin on his side of the street. When the light changed, he waited for Colin to cross the street to come to him. As Colin neared, he tried to get a look at the guy to see if it was a type he recognized, but his vision was strangely distorted. If he looked straight at the leatherman, all he saw was a blur, but if he diverted his eyes to the side, he could see hints of clear focus in his peripheral vision, which of course tempted his eyes back to center again on the face, which immediately blurred into haze.
He reached the far side of the street and did the tag. A 5-pointer! The suit identified it as a “Nightmare Leatherman”. He knelt and the now-familiar dialog window quickly appeared:
The leatherman wishes to control your suit. Permit this?
Colin blinked yes and was soon rewarded with a tap on his outstretched wrists. He looked up to see shiny silver cuffs holding his hands together. As before, when he tried to pull them apart, he found he couldn’t.
The leatherman wishes you to stand.
Colin did, watching his score inch up another digit as he rose. He risked a glance at the Nightmare’s face, but it was still a blur. Close up, he could see that it was moving, as if dark shapes were swimming beneath the surface of the man’s skin… if he had skin. It was very creepy and Colin quickly looked away.
The leatherman reached down and tapped Colin’s crotch. Colin looked down to watch and was surprised to see a glowing rope appear. The rope stretched out like taffy as the Nightmare pulled his hand away, shining with an electric purple gleam. He lowered his cuffed hands to touch it, but as they came close sparks flew from the shining strand and lit into his fingers. He quickly lifted them away.
When the rope was about four feet long, it stopped growing. Now when the Nightmare pulled on it, Colin felt it on his groin. The impossible electric rope was wrapped around the base of his genitals… the leatherman literally had him by the balls. He tugged and Colin lurched forward, forced to follow wherever the leatherman chose to lead him.
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WARNING: The next chapter of this story contains extreme elements that some readers might find objectionable. Continue reading at your own risk!!!
Metal would like to thank the author, POW, for sharing this story with Metalbond Prison Library readers.
Disclaimer: This story is a purely fictional account. Any relationship to any real person living or dead is coincidental. The narrative contains non-consensual male-on-male sex and torture. It is intended for mature readers who wish to view such material, and for whom it is legal to do so. The author in no way condones or promotes such acts in real life.
Copyright © 2016 by POW. For spam prevention, an animal name has been added to the author’s e-mail address. Remove the animal name to get the actual address: POWauthor zebra at yahoo dot com. This story may be freely copied and distributed so long as it is copied in its entirety, unchanged, including the author credit information and disclaimer. Other POW stories are available at https://powauthor.blogspot.com. The author welcomes feedback.