By Rubbag

“You’ve stopped talking, Jed.”

I find myself staring at the microphone on the desk in front of me. Beside it an old reel-to-reel tape recorder spins slowly. They both belong in a museum, they’ve got to be fifty years old.

“More like sixty years, Jed.”

The man who’s spoken is sitting across the desk from me.

“Do you know who I am, Jed?”

I look at him carefully. He is not yet old but somewhere more than mature. His hair is silver white, kept trim like his beard. His face is lean and handsome, and his eyes look through me. I feel that I should know him. I should know his face, that I’ve his heard voice before, but then like a mist it fades. I just shake my head.

“That’s ok, Jed, when you’re ready you’ll remember.”

I find myself smiling at him as he speaks.

“Tell, Jed, do you know where you are?”

I look down at myself. I’m sitting almost wedged into an old-fashioned low arm chair, all right angles and black leather, the sort of seat you can only slouch in, my arms trailing on the floor and my legs stretched out. I stare fascinated as the light catches my rubber body, looking at my own flesh pumped up and perfect beneath the clear liquid of my skin. And then I stare down over my abs to the perfect little dome at my crotch with my cock and balls packed inside, contained, needing to be contained, as I rub my glass smooth hand over my chastity dome, feeling hot, feeling all horny but also something faint, a memory of flesh and blood and them hanging free and.

“Look at the room, Jed, and concentrate. Do you know where you are?”

I look up at him, trying to make sense of what he is saying as I slowly move my eyes from left to right. The sloping glass windows, looking down on the space below, the office desk dark mahogany like the wall panels behind them, glass shelves in reach of his high backed chair. The table in front of me, the recorder with its slow turning reels, the intercom like from some old-fashioned film with proper toggle switches. And then on my right the bedroom. The bedroom doesn’t quite fit in.

“Well, Jed, do you know where you are?”

I slowly turn my head back to face him.

“I’m in the 1960s, what was the question?”

And then he just laughs low and quiet before he speaks again.

“That’s ok, Jed, don’t worry about it. Now tell me about what happened after Marcellus left you alone with the hood on.”

“The hood?”

“The leather hood, Jed. You were standing in a lat spread, then Marcellus left you with a leather hood over your head. That was a week ago now, Jed, what happened next?”

“They came and took it off, they cut it.”

“Who took it off, Jed?”

I look into his eyes again. I so want to remember, but it’s so hard, so hard, I know I have to remember for him, but I just, I just.

“I can’t … I can’t … please …”

“Just relax, Jed.”

“Relax.”

“Listen to my voice.”

“And relax.”

“You’re doing very, Jed.”

“Just relax and concentrate.”

“On the hood, the leather hood.”

“What happened next, Jed?”

It’s not the same hood.

“Good, very good, Jed, go on.”

There is a tapping noise.

“into the microphone.”

And then I remember.

I’m in darkness, a complete darkness, a darkness which presses down like a vice on every part of my head.

– Click –

I try and open my eyes, but they’re sealed shut. I know that some time has passed, but its not like being asleep, no slow awaking and no dreams, it’s as if my consciousness has been flicked on like a switch.

– Click –

I had a leather hood on my head, that’s the last I remember.

– Click –

And then I wake with, it smells like rubber, stuck like its glued to every part of my scalp.

– Click-

And then I’m aware again of the steel, warmer now, steadily moving over the crown of my head, click and click and a thin line of cool air open behind.

I know where I am.

I’m in the Club, beneath the floor, still where Marcellus left me, could have been hours. I can feel how stiff my body has become, straining to hold itself upright.

– Click – and -Click – as the blade moves down my forehead, between my eyes, trying to keep still,

– Click –

and then finding being still is all I can do.

– Click –

Sharp and smooth over the soft skin of my lips, and I remain frozen. Then down to my chin and neck, a little rush of air through the slit that has opened behind it. I try and move my body. I can feel every part of it, every muscle, every vein pumped to the max, forcing itself into a lat spread, holding itself into its own fucking prison. I try and concentrate, to move anything. Concentrate on the fingers spread out on my hips just to move a little just the smallest amount, knowing that I don’t have much time.

Nothing.

I try and imagine them moving, flexing, my hand coming free.

And then I’m back and there’s darkness and I’m still trapped into a lat spread like a statue. The only movement the slow regular breathing, nice and shallow, my lungs full and chest pushed out nicely on show, looking good, looking very good.

No wait, no way this anything like good.

I try and focus on breathing, the only part of me which moves seeing if I can, if I can stop it of all things, just to pause it and take a deep … Like an electric shock I can feel someone’s fingers about my neck, fingers smooth and cool in rubber, rubber like my body, like my head, only a thin strip of skin at my neck still flesh. I can feel his fingers work their way in under my hood. There is a little resistance as the rubber tries to stick to my skin, and then the pressure is gone as I feel it being peeled from me. There is a little more resistance as it goes over my head, and then it’s gone and I can feel fresh air move across my scalp.

My eyes take a few moments to adjust to the light. One of the Club’s Nurses is standing in front of me, his slim body encased in feminised white rubber, complete with breasts and hips and his cock folded down under his legs almost smoothed flat, the suit he’s sealed into. And then I look again at his breasts, they’re perfect, they look real, they look as if they’re real under there, but I feel nothing. I look at them and they’re just shapes. I used to fuck women. I used to enjoy fucking women even when I was with Josh they would still do something for me, but now nothing, they’re just empty shapes, memories with no meaning. The Nurse is standing beside a chrome trolley. I can see the hood there next to the steel scissors. The hood is cut open and turned inside out. There should be black rubber there, but I can only see a tangled mass of thick blonde hair. Only then do I realise why I can feel the cool air on the room on every part of my scalp on my face and somehow I know that even my eyebrows have gone.

“But that’s not quite what happened, is it, Jed?”

I look up at him, confused, trying to understand what he said.

“Go on, Jed. I know you’re trying very hard. Tell me about Marcellus. Tell me about why your body feels so full now.”

“Marcellus?”

“Yes, Marcellus, after the hood.”

“Well that didn’t hurt, did it, Jed?” Marcellus right by my side whispering as his hands glide over the smooth skin of my more than shaven head with every single follicle removed.

But that’s not right after the hood I …

“It’s Ok Jed, don’t worry about it. Just go on with what you can remember.”

He gives me one last pat on the head before he walks around into view. It’s only then that I realise that I can still move my eyes. I can see in his hand, the remote pointing towards me.

“I think you’ve held that pose for long enough, boy.”

There is a click, and I feel my muscles relax. It feels strange, after standing still for so long, it feels somehow wrong to be moving. I look down at my body, almost not trusting myself to move as my hands gently rub life back into my wrists. And then the shock as I find myself enjoying my new look. My body sealed in clear rubber like a skin of plastic somehow looking as if it’s, as if it’s always been there, that it should be there, that I should be like this. Even my cock and balls are crushed in pain and pleasure into their little plastic chastity cup, looking as if they’ve always belonged there.

“I can see that beginning to come round to our way of thinking, Jed.”

I look up. Marcellus is standing next to the Nurse handing it his shirt, which he’s just removed. But all I can see is his chest, toned and hard, black hair and sweat. My breath, my pulse quicken as my eyes follow his hands down to where they rest, framing his crotch, his bulge hidden by the black leather of his trousers.

“Kneel down, Jed. On all fours.”

I sink to my knees and watch him slowly walk towards me until all I can see is leather. Somewhere there is a clank of metal, something moving nearer, above me. I can feel the tingle at my neck is gone, but I don’t try and speak. I have nothing say, all I want is him as he kneels down before me, filling my face with the fresh smell of crisp new leather. I close my eyes and drink in the smell of him beyond the leather, the musk of his man sweat filling my senses.

“Open your mouth, Jed.”

I open for him, arching up, lifting my ass into the air, feeling his hands on my face, feeling hands on my ass, as if somehow he could take me from both ends. I feel my mouth open wide, but it’s metal that enters, my mouth cold and full of metal.

My eyes snap open.

“You’ve been very obliging, Jed, but I think we’ll give you some help.”

A familiar tingle runs through my body, locking it into position before I can even think of moving. He’s still there, kneeling before me, busy working the plug into my mouth, tubes and pipes seem to run up from it to somewhere above. And then I feel the tip of something cold at my ass, someone else, someone working me open with their fingers, their fingers inside me. And then I feel the metal again a little pressure, then ahhh as it begins to slide into me, opening me up and filling me. Just like my mouth is filled and still it pushes in down into my throat beyond the point of choking, stretching my throat open, open like my ass and still it goes in and then it stops, leaving me stuffed and plugged.

There is a hiss and a strange sensation, not unpleasant, like a suction at my ass. Then there is a bang from somewhere above me, and I see the coiled plastic pipe leading down to my mouth jump and twitch. A single spurt of liquid cold and wet fills my throat but not a liquid, it feels too viscous for that, like some kind of gel, cold and numbing. The thump above me becomes stronger and more regular. Straining my eyes upwards I can see the coiled pipe pulse in time with the noise of the compressor. Another pulse of liquid in my throat, and then another and another, until the rhythm picks up and it becomes a continuous stream filling me. Waves of pleasure come from my ass as something there begins to vibrate in time with the suction, which deepens, louder, stronger. I can feel myself filled and something else, the gel is cold at first but that vanishes and then a slow numbness spreading through me, almost lost in the pleasure of my ass.

“Nurse 1 and Nurse 2, massage our young friend.”

I can feel their hands on either side of my body, massaging me, working the gel down with their hands, down through, helping the suction do its work.

“Can you feel their hands, their hands on you, Jed, working the gel into you?”

This feels so good, feeling myself fill up.

“They have learnt to obey, Jed, both of them med students.”

“Will and Matt.”

So full and still.

“Fresh out of their internship. Will told us to go fuck ourselves, no way was he going to be a nurse.”

Needing more.

“But HE is very persuasive, as Will and then Matt found, waking up feminised with their own cocks sealed up their ass.”

So much more.

“And now they’re both happy, happy to be nurses.”

To be filled by it.

“And Matt an intern with Will, both keen mountain bikers, both roommates. I can still remember the expression on his face when he saw Will’s transformation. He thought it was so funny until he looked down at his own breasts.”

“That’s not quite right, Jed, the reason why Will and Matt where feminised as you call it, feminised and their holes sealed was simply to stop the members playing with our medical staff.”

Filled to the top.

And then it stops.

“Only a few moments for it to set. Nurse 1, Nurse 2, remove the implants and then return to storage mode.”

Almost in a haze, I feel the dildos being removed from my mouth and ass. Dimly I’m aware of the equipment above being moved away on its tracks, the noise of metal faint and then nothing. I can feel the stuff, what ever it is, setting inside me, not solid, more like some kind of rubber.

“It will only take a few more minutes, Jed, for the Bio-gel to set.”

“Stand up, Jed.”

I somehow get to my feet. I must have been released, and something else has changed, as if everything is a little more distant, fainter somehow.

“You can feel your metabolism beginning to slow, Jed, you’ll soon get used to it. And now I need your arms behind your back.”

I see him press the remote. There is a now familiar tingle in my arms and they fold themselves behind my back before locking themselves into position there.

“I need you to come with me now, Jed, there is someone who wants to meet you.”

“The arms where?”

“Leave the arms for now, Jed. Tell me what happened next.”

“I … I …”

“Go on, Jed.”

“I tried to escape.”

“Yes, you did. Tell me about it.”

The club is only half lit, and I can see the opening Marcellus is leading me towards. More stairs and on either side metal platforms, each with a black Unit standing there, upright, arms straight by their sides unmoving like statues, like shiny rubber manikins, their bodies as perfect as their faces are blank.

“I appreciate the description, Jed, but just tell me what happened. You were in the Club walking behind Marcellus and then?”

He turned as he heard me, but it was already too late as I shoulder charge him under the ribs, straight into his diaphragm. CRACK and he slams into the ground. I follow using his body to roll over and then up again in one movement, all with my arms still trapped behind me. I hear the remote clatter to the ground. I hear him gasp as he struggles to take each broken breath. And then I see it not ten feet away, the remote on the glass, white and plastic and so close as I stare at it, feeling the fear and the hope somehow muted like I’m distant from myself. Somehow I struggle to my feet and make my way to it, but I’ve got more time than I thought. I can hear Marcellus still gasping behind me. My arms useless, I have to balance on one leg as I line up my other foot to press a button, but which one? There is a large one at the bottom, CANCEL. I raise my foot and then I hesitate, unwilling to press down, it’s almost like I’m frozen again but not by the suit this time. This time it’s my own desires which are at war, SHIT I can feel myself, some part of me wanting to be UNIT SIX, needing to be UNIT SIX, imagining my hands at my side standing as UNIT SIX. I try and think and remember, remember … Josh, I remember Josh. I don’t hear the WHINE this time. I see it as a WHITE LIGHT burning through me as I hit the floor and I realise that you can’t touch the remotes.

“This remote?”

He has walked round from behind the desk to stand behind me. In one hand he has one of the remotes. I watch helpless as he brings the white plastic down towards my pecs. I try and sink deeper into the chair and then feel myself tense up as it makes contact with my rubber body. Marcellus is crouching over me. I look at the remote in his hand and then at his injured face, a cut lip, blood slowly dripping to the floor as he watches me with an expression I can’t read. I feel myself tensing up, expecting the worse, knowing that I should be punished, wanting him to punish me. He will soon tell me that the remotes cannot be touched, that they have a proximity detector and that no one in a body suit can touch one.

“There is no proximity detector, Jed. The remote is just a remote.”

He takes the remote from my chest and points it up to where the large mirror hangs above his desk.

“Shall we see what really happened?”

The mirror vanishes as the screen flicks into life. I’m looking down at the main floor of the club, but it’s not easy to see as the only light comes up through the glass floor from the basement beneath. I can see Marcellus walk across the floor towards the camera, and behind him only a few paces I see myself. But it’s not how I remember, my arms are relaxed by my side, as I step in perfect time behind him, my body looking as if it’s caught in smooth crystal in the light from below, and my face its hard to see, but there is something different. But then it’s almost like I pause, my posture changes and then slow and clumsy I charge forward, almost falling before I reach him. Marcellus simply steps to one side and I continue and over balance and go down on all fours. He stands beside me, waiting patiently for me, but I don’t get up straight away. I’m still kneeling with my palms spread out and my face sinking slowly lower and lower, fascinated by something, something I can see in the glass, something which I remember. It looks as if he says something to me, and I quietly stand up, put my arms at my side and stand quietly at his side. He turns and looks up straight into the camera.

“I told you this one would have more fight than the others.”

Then he walks off screen, and I follow him.

“You see, Jed, no one was hurt.”

I can feel both his hands on my shoulder.

“No arms forced behind your back.”

Feel his hands faint through my rubber surface.

“Not even a single hair from your head.”

Working my shoulders.

“Not a single hair out of place.”

Making me relax.

“Shall we see what was reflected in the floor, Jed?”

His hands stop.

“What we can see in the mirror.”

The screen vanishes and only the mirror remains. The mirror is tilted down slightly, allowing me to see all of myself. I am still in the chair, it looks square and black, scarcely large enough for me, my body looks packed into it, a mountain of muscle and not enough room, my shoulders, my biceps, my arms, erupt over the edges in an avalanche of muscle. But more than muscle, every fibre is ripped and then polished to shine, transparent through my rubber body suit, no more than that my new skin, my new rubber skin. He is still behind me, standing with his hands on my shoulders. I watch myself slowly place a hand against my face. The skin looks perfect, but it feels stiff and slick beneath the rubber of my hand, like plastic, like it’s made of plastic, plastic like my hair is plastic. And then I look up into my own eyes, my own eyes are gone, no pupil, no iris, no blue, no white, each just a disc of blank silver, blank and without a soul.

“Tell me, what is your designation?”

There is a hiss in my ear, and then I feel myself relax again, watching my mouth move as I speak.

“This unit is designated UNIT SIX.”

“Very good, Jed, you’re being very good.”

He walks around from behind and returns to his seat behind the desk.

“Now, Jed, you were following Marcellus. Tell me what happened next.”

He took me up to the next level, to this one. There’s like a balcony, which runs around the outside of the wall and then just space down to the floor below. But there are things on the outside wall, curtains, old cloth curtains and there are things behind them, people behind them. My arms were behind my back. I couldn’t move them, and I had to follow. But he stopped, he made me stop by one of the curtains, he pulled it back and let me see, he made me see what was inside. He told me about the journalist, the one who asked too many questions, the one who was too close, too clever. Too clever until you caught.

“Jed, I’d like you to meet James. James was quite a successful college reporter last year, very inquisitive and very clever. We promised him he’d have all his answers, and now he has them.”

Marcellus has stopped at the next alcove, the curtain of which he is holding back, letting me see inside. There is a bed covered in black rubber sheeting and pillows inside. There is a figure on the bed. First I think it’s some kind of sex doll in red latex. Its head is bald, ears smoothed flat against its skull, its mouth forced wide open in a receptive O, cock erect and legs folded back under its own arms, just waiting to be fucked. All made out of some translucent skin-toned rubber, like the silicon dolls you see advertised. But then I see his eyes, his eyes are fucking alive, man.

“Jed.”

“Jed.”

“Relax, Jed.”

“Look at me.”

“That’s your imagination, Jed.”

“Look at the small screens behind me.”

I look behind him on the bottom shelf, a line of small monitors, really old green-on-black screens, some kind of status display. Above them in little grooved channels name plaques, hand printed in black letter. Unit 1, Unit 2, Unit 3, Unit 4 and Unit 5 blink in standby mode. The next monitor is blank, and the channel above empty, then three more — Nurse 1, Nurse 2 and Driver 1 and at the end of a line a final blank screen.

“Do you think it’s easy to make young men disappear, without trace, without risk?”

I listen to his voice.

“You’re one in a million, Jed. We don’t just abduct people on a whim.”

Realising how important I am.

“There are no curtains, no rubber dolls and the balcony is just a balcony, it’s your imagination which is wrong.”

Yes I am wrong. My imagination is wrong.

“Look up at the screen again, Jed, look at what is there, what is really there.”

My imagination is wrong, and I know only what he tells me is true.

“That’s a good boy.”

I can see the balcony, and it is empty. There is nothing on it, nothing at all. It only leads to the doors of this office. The doors open for me, and I step inside into his office. I have to fight the temptation to look over my shoulder at myself.

I then I hear HIS voice on the speaker.

“You may leave us now, Marcellus.”

And I am alone with him. The screen above is still talking.

“Come in, Jed. I have been looking forward to this. My name is …”

And I look at him across the desk. His lips are still, but my voice overlaps with his.

“I remember you. I remember. Your name is Augustus.”

 

To be continued …