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Vote For The Winner Of The DDR Rubber Jock!!!

October 22, 2011 in Inmate: RubberAsylum, Stories, Story Contest: DDR Rubber Jock

My Fellow Inmates,

Ok…ok… so this is a lot later than intended. Yet as we build the site slowly new functionality is added, yesterday t5he polls were entered in.

Please take the time to vote for your favorite story entry. They can all be found in the stories header.

The voting shall be open until the end of the day on October 31st. Once a winner is declared, then a new contest shall begin.

Make sure you vote, as if there is only one vote then the person who received it wins by default

~Asylum

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Story Contest: “Take My Breath Away” by Sparky

September 30, 2011 in Story Contest: DDR Rubber Jock

My Fellow Inmates,

In the vein of Stories written by a member about another members here is a new one. Please enjoy, and remember that today is the deadline for the story contest. let me know if you have submitted one you dont see posted, or need to get one in still under the wire.

 

 


“Take Your Breath Away” by Sparky

 

TAKE YOUR BREATH AWAY BDSM – 32 (SODO)   

I WILL LET YOU APPRECIATE THE SIMPLEST THING IN LIFE. 

DO NOT WASTE MY TIME.
   

Location: SODO
It’s NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

I stared at the posting for a few minutes before clicking the “Reply To This Post” button.  I obediently attached a few photos that clearly showed my face and sleek panther body and sent the email on its way before I continued browsing the ads on Craigslist. The mere thought of a little breath play had piqued my feline interest, grabbed my excitement. The idea of the burning need for breath tantalized me and made the rest of the ads seem drab and boring.

Less than 5 minutes later my phone vibrated on the desk, hailing a new email. Quickly flipping over to the tab in Firefox containing my Gmail, I was excited to see the all-caps subject line. The mail itself read simply:

    1920 1ST AVE SOUTH. 1 HOUR.

My eyes darted to the bottom of the screen. 2:35pm. An hour didn’t leave much time. Running into the bathroom, I quickly got cleaned out and got ready for whatever this mysterious Sir had to offer. I pulled on a pair of jeans, a bright red jockstrap, and a t-shirt before making my way out the front door; locking it and running to catch the bus southward.

Glancing at my phone as I got off the bus I was horrified to see it was 3:40pm.  Hopefully I wouldn’t catch too much flack for being late. I broke into a run, sleek panther legs quickly striding along the last few blocks. By the time I made it to the 1900 block I was looking for I was panting a little; warmth flushing through my body from my run, the flush hidden under my black fur. The building was a large, 2-story warehouse that occupied much of the block.

I took in the building in front of me: the double doors in the front were old glass affairs that were painted over, hiding the contents of the building. Gingerly raising a paw I tried the handle. I was surprised to find it unlocked, the door easily swung outward at my light tug. Stepping inside I was greeted by what looked like a small administrative office, the back wall taken up by a set of double doors labeled “Distribution Center”, while the wall to the right was broken by a pair of doors marked as the men’s and women’s restrooms.  Other than the doors, the room contained only a perfunctory metal desk and a few chairs.

Not quite sure what to do, I pressed forward, trying the handle of the double doors in front of me. Just like the front door, it also swung open, leading to a large open industrial-looking room that dominated the interior of the building. While the outside height of the roof had given me the impression that it was a two-story building I was surprised to see the vaulted ceilings were a good 18 feet above my head. The room was almost barren, save for a strange table in the middle, some dusty old equipment and a walk-in freezer near the walls. Walking towards the table to investigate I nearly jumped out of my skin when I heard the growling voice behind me.

“You’re late.”

Spinning, I took in the source of the gruff words. 6’4 of bear towered over my own 5’11 frame. Aside from the half foot of height, the bear dwarfed my slender feline body in other dimensions too. He filled out the white undershirt he wore, and had muscular legs covered in skin-tight jeans capped by leather biking boots.

“I’m sorry sir.” I my hung head low, avoiding eye contact with the Sir. My skin flushed an embarrassed red beneath my fur; I hated it when I couldn’t make a good first impression.

“Get to the table, worm.”

I froze momentarily, unsure of how to interpret the command. Coming to my senses, I remembered the strange looking table in the center of the room and quickly slinked over to it. The table was made of thick gauge steel, with two of the legs extending upward past the surface. The legs and surface had metal O-rings welded to them with thick leather straps sewn sturdily to the rings. It was clear that the iron monstrosity was purposely built for bondage. I gently rested a paw on the smooth, worn surface.

“Pants n’ shirt off. Lay down, hands there, feet up there… NOW” The bear’s orders were barked in quick succession as meaty paws pointed in turn for my legs to be up against the supports protruding upwards, with my hands extended out to the tie points at the edges of the opposite ends of the table.

Submissively, I complied, pulling the shirt over my head before undoing my jeans. I guess my impression couldn’t have been that bad; he’s willing to continue.

“Should I take off my jock t-.”

The bear’s right arm reared back and came cracking down on my face in a fierce backhand, cutting off my final word. His hand stung, but not nearly so much as the contemptuous look he shot at me.

“Shut th’ fuck up boy. Did I tell ya to talk, on the table, NOW.” His paw balled up menacingly into a fist as he growled the last word.

I quickly scrambled up on the table, extending my arms and legs to rest them next to the leather straps. One by one the bear tightly pulled the straps around my limbs, securing me to the sturdy table, with nothing but the waistband of my jock separating my furry back from the cool metal surface.

The bear strode off into a corner of the warehouse out of my field of vision, leaving me bound to the table. He quickly returned with a large curved metal plate with square brackets on the convex side.  The plate had more leather straps attached to the rim. I craned my neck to look at it in more detail as the bear put the device on the ground and left again. This time returning returned with a large black duffle bag and a blue cooler.

Bending to open the duffel bag he took some things out. Out of the corner of my eye I could see he was holding a filthy-looking jock and a roll of duct tape.

“Open yer’ whore mouth.” The bear’s growling tone sent a shiver down my spine. So commanding, so forceful.

As soon as I cracked open my lips the bear shoved the jock in, meaty paws cramming in every last fold of fabric, prying my jaws apart to make it all fit. Instantly my nostrils were filled with musky bear groin. I had no idea how many workouts the bear had performed in this jock since it was last washed, but clearly it was quite a few. The musty smells and salty, sweaty tastes filled my senses and distracted me to the point where I was genuinely startled when a piece of duct tape was placed over my jock-stuffed mouth.

Still a little overwhelmed by the raunchy jock invading my throat, I helplessly looked on as he heaved up the metal plate and set it roughly on my chest. The plate weighed a good 20-25 pounds, and was cool to the touch, rubbing pleasantly against my nipples. The bear quickly attached and tightened the straps to prevent it from falling off to either side. Taking a breath in, I found myself constricted – I could breathe, but being forced to lift that heavy plate with my lungs demanded some of my attention.

The bear reached down; I could hear him opening up the cooler. I heard the distinctive clatter of ice chipping at ice and saw a thick slab of ice hover into my field of vision, landing roughly on the plate on my chest. A few moments later the bear heaved another one onto my chest. The fact that the blocks were not sliding around made it clear they had been frozen into molds designed for the plate. Each one of the bricks weighed a good 10 pounds, bringing the total on my chest to at least 40-50 pounds. The cool plate rapidly got colder on my chest, conducting the freeze of the ice through my thin chest hair and onto the dark skin below.

The weight crushing down on my abdomen made breathing even more of a novel experience. Exhaling was easy, letting the plate drop a few inches, and stale air escape. Inhaling though, I already felt a tiny hint of ache in my chest muscles, suddenly forced to battle more than just air pressure; my lungs were forced to move iron!

Even as the bear squirted something cold on my exposed tail hole and rudely shoved his thumb in, I found myself more focused on breathing, every labored breath reeking from that awful jock crammed into my throat. A few thrusts of thumb lubed me up before I felt it withdraw, immediately replaced by something firm pressed against my hole. With a shove he popped it forward, stretching my sphincter wide. Even with the oppressive weight of iron and ice weighing down my throat I gasped a little, feeling a sharply tapered cone stretch me, followed by a pop and sense of relief as my ass relaxed once again. One hell of a brusk way to put in a butt plug; I liked how this bear operated.

He flipped an unseen switch and the firm plug in my ass started to vibrate gently. The pleasant sensation would have brought a smile to my face in most circumstances, but between concentrating to breathe and the duct tape pressed against my lips I wasn’t going to do be doing much smiling any time soon.

I heard the bear walk away; his black leather boot falls echoing in the nearly empty warehouse. I was alone. Just me, the iron plate, the blocks of ice, and the mild buzzing of that vibrator. I focused on my breathing, feeling the weight slowly start to exert its influence on my muscles, seeming to become heavier. Even now I could tell that my muscles would soon start to cramp from the strain. I started a rhythm; inhale through the nose… Five seconds in, five seconds out. Exhale through the stale air tainted by that jock… Six breaths a minute, slow, steady, even.

In. Out. In. Out.

I started counting the breaths. Six. There went a minute. Twenty, forty breaths, sixty. Ten minutes. Had the bear really only been gone ten minutes? Not that it mattered; I quickly found my sense of timescale was shifting from minutes to breaths. Every one started feeling like a little victory. Each breath made the muscles on my ribs and belly burn a little against the ache. When my brain found cycles to spare its concentration on breathing I found myself trying to calculate just how much pressure was on me. Normally my lungs dealt with fourteen pounds per square inch of pressure. How big was my chest? Exactly how much did the iron and ice weigh?

In. Out. In. Out.

Where was the bear? I’d lost count of my breathing after a few hundred breaths. I didn’t think he’d even been gone an hour, but Jesus. I was getting a little scared. I loved breath play, but this was different, before there had always been someone there; a way to get out. As each breath demanded more of my strained muscles, I wondered, how long could I keep it up? The coldness of the icy plate was making my muscles cramp, every breath sending burning spears of pain through my abdomen. I could no longer take a full breath even if I had wanted to; each intake of air only raising the plate an inch or two; each held in a little longer than I wanted. My in and out cycle had gone from ten seconds to twelve to fifteen, no longer even or measured.

In. Out. In. Out.

What if he didn’t return? What if he was going to leave me there to die? I’d read about plates like this – they used them in medieval times as a torture device. Back then they left the plate on until the person suffocated. Fuck. I wanted a hot scene, not a body bag. I never should have responded to that damn Craigslist post.

In. Out. In. Out. In. Out.

My feline ears picked up strains of traffic outside. Could it really still be rush hour? It seemed like I’d been there for longer than that. Not that I cared – clearly nobody was going to stumble into this old warehouse and rescue me. Every torturous breath now took my full concentration. I wished I could just turn off the pain each breath sent searing through my sides. Fear rose in my throat, tasting of bile and worry. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could keep this up.

In.. Out…. In… Out…..

At first I thought I was imagining things, hearing footfalls in the distance. As they got louder I knew I wasn’t dreaming; the familiar clapping echo of the bear’s boots falling on concrete was here. He’d been gone who knows how long and I was ready to do anything he said, so long as he rescued me. I wanted to cry out, to thank him for saving me, but with that vile jock crammed in my aching jaws and my shallow breaths I couldn’t even muster a whimper.

In….. Out…….. In…… Out…………

As his head came into view I saw the bear look down at me, his gaze lit up when they met mine; the corner of his muzzle pulling up into a snarly grin. His eyes drifted down as he watched me struggle to slowly lift the plate on my chest. He gave a satisfied grunt before bending down. I could hear him open the cooler.

Thank god – he was going to take the ice off. The bear stood back up and… HOLY CRAP. He was holding another ice brick. He couldn’t fucking be serious, could he? He grinned and set the block down on the other two already on my chest. Fuck. I tried to breathe in. Adrenaline surged through my veins, giving me a burst of strength. The plate rose, but barely. I got in half a lungful of air, perhaps a little more than on previous breaths. He may as well have doused my chest in gasoline and lit a match. Every muscle burned. Every fiber of my being became focused on the choice between the immediate pain of trying to force exhausted muscles to take in air, or die for not trying.

The bear walked around to the end of the table, looking down at me. Under different circumstances I would have thrilled from the sadistic grin on his face. He was using me; he was enjoying my pain. Under these circumstances though, I was scared. Why had I responded to such a vague ad? Why hadn’t I insisted on meeting him in a public place? I had no idea how far the bear was going to take this, nor any agreed upon way to signal I wanted out.

In.. Out…. In… Out…..

The plug in my ass suddenly started buzzing with renewed vigor. I’d almost forgotten it was there until he turned it up. Now the incessant buzzing was really working my prostate, immediately causing my cock to swell in my jock. Fuck, I didn’t need this. It was hard enough pressing through the pain involved in breathing without additional distractions.

As my cock continued to swell, I found my breath becoming more irregular. Each breath was slightly more shallow than the one that came before it. Sometimes I couldn’t force even that; my chest muscles flat out refusing to comply. I could feel a vicious cycle starting, the increasing blueness of my blood robbing my core muscles of the oxygen they so badly needed.

The bear moved around to the side, fiddling with the straps holding the left side of the chest plate. I couldn’t see what he was doing, but somewhere deep in a part of my brain not dedicated to commanding my chest muscles, a glimmer of hope existed. Perhaps he had gotten his fill. Perhaps he was going to end this.

The bear didn’t end it, returning to the foot of the table. I heard him unzip his pants, and saw his arms moving like he was jacking off while he looked down at me. I couldn’t care: red hot pokers driven into my sides would have hurt less than this. Suddenly I realized I could stop fighting for my life. It wouldn’t hurt much longer if I just gave up. I can’t though. I want to live. I just want to breathe.

In… Out……… In… Out……….

The periphery of my awareness realized that a rough bear paw was massaging at my cock, tugging at it through the jock. I could barely feel it over the desperation filling my entire body with fear. As breaths became shallower and my pain descended to new levels of agony, I could feel the start of oxygen deprivation setting in. That dizzy rush, the slight tingling in my lips. I caught myself forgetting to breathe in for a few seconds, then struggling to lift the plate; raising it in a jerky, halting motion. I was losing the battle.

Something hot splattered on my taint. The bear was cumming on me – I could see his eyes locked on mine, drinking in my panic. Almost reflexively I felt my own load spurt out into the jock my cock was straining against. My hips twitched as my load slimed the jock, precious oxygen evaporating into the throes of my orgasm.

It was too much. I tried to breathe in, but I couldn’t. My core would no longer respond; my muscles pushed to their exhaustion point. The weight of the plate pressed the last bits of breath from my still torso. My paws balled into fists, flailing against the restraints, desperate to get his attention. I sensed his paws rubbing at the jock with that fucking sadistic grin. My face tingled. Everything was distant. I could feel the pressure spreading through my body, the burning of my muscles now far overshadowed by the burning in my lungs. I felt darkness taking me, creeping in from the outside of my field of vision. A few pops of white light flickered before me and everything went dark. The last thing I remember hearing was a distant crash. Something far away shattered. There was a metallic din.

***

I was alive. I was still on the table, arms and legs still bound. Experimentally I tried taking a breath. The plate was gone, but my tired muscles still ached when I pulled in air. Air, oh precious air. The pain meant nothing compared to being able to fully lift my chest, taking in a full, deep breath of fresh air.

Fresh air. The jock was gone! I opened my mouth, finding the tape gone. Tilting my head side to side I realized the bear was standing behind me, looking down at me. Off to the left I could see chunks of ice littering the floor. Looking up and catching the bear’s eyes, I wanted to thank him. Fearful of another slap if I spoke I simply looked down submissively, hoping it had been good for him.

Silently the bear released the straps holding my arms and legs. My legs swung down when they were released, immediately cramping. It wasn’t until they were both down did I realize that the butt plug was gone. I pulled my hands to my chest, feeling it still cold to the touch from that accursed plate. Now that I could lift my head more fully I could see the plate still scattered on the floor amidst chunks of the slowly melting ice.

My shackles released, the bear turned and started walking off without a word.

“Thank you, sir!” I blurted it out before I remembered I was not to talk unless spoken to.

The bear didn’t respond, continuing his slow footfalls for the door. Once he was gone I slowly put my pants on over my cum soaked jock, and pulled on my shirt. He had used me, he had abused me, and damn near killed me, yet I adored him for it. Stepping out into the evening air I realized that the master had kept his word. I now did appreciate the simplest thing in life: being alive.

By Sparky

For Nightcat

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Story Contest Entry: “It Begins” By Errorwolf

September 29, 2011 in Story Contest: DDR Rubber Jock

My Fellow Inmates,

 

It seem between Errorwolf and the people he is inspiring to write continuations to his stories, he is hedging his bets in this contest.

So here is a new story by Errorwolf, Please enjoy :)

 


 

“The Experience”
By ErrorWolf

-: It Begins

‘What am I doing’ I ask myself again as I exit the interstate, finally arriving at my destination: OmniCon’11 a microcon (whatever that means) held at a small hotel/indoor water park in Michigan. My worry is twofold; I’ve never been to a furmeet nor met up with any furs in real life. So I’m understandably nervous about meeting online “friends” IRL, unsure if they’ll like the real me. I’ve been invited to hang out with some of them for room parties and such, but from what I hear, that’s the calmest part of this long weekend I’ve gotten myself into. Secondly I keep coming back to the question of whether it’s the right place to be. Not the hotel mind you, as it is immediately obvious that I’m in the right place, with license plates like WLDWOLF and YIFFOX and more pawprint stickers then I’ve ever seen in my life, no, I still struggle with the basic questions of rightness. I was always a good boy, never did anything wrong, excelled in school, but after my parents found out I was gay…well, you know, it didn’t seem to matter, they couldn’t see past that. So here I am, with the only group that accepted me afterwards with open arms, or paws…but would that change when they met me?

I stretch the kinks out of my road weary muscles, having found a parking spot behind the hotel, I light a cigarette to calm my nerves. As I grab my backpack I see off in the distance a real live fursuiter, I’ve always loved the look of a good suit in pictures but am a bit apprehensive about meeting one, back when my parents took me to Disneyland many years ago I was afraid of the costumed characters, I still don’t know why, just something.

“Great, another thing to worry about” I mutter as I start toward the hotel.

Coming around the corner I see a mass of people near the front entrance, furs just arriving busily unload unbelievable amounts of stuff from cars impossibly small for the mountains of gear they haul. Off to the side there’s the smokers hangout with a few more suiters mingling about, one of which is showing off by trying to do a hand stand….and almost making it.

“Here we go” I say to myself and take the plunge. Walking over to the edge of the gaggle (what does one call a group of furs?)  I light another smoke for courage, and as an excuse for being there should I go unnoticed. Scanning the badges I don’t see any names I know, darn, so much for easy. I notice the cluster nearest me is all wearing orange collars with miscellaneous other bands and pins clipped on.

One of the furs who had been telling a joke to the small sub-group takes notice of me and gives a nod, saying “Hello there, I’m Shazam, I take it you’ve just arrived, I don’t recognize you, what’s your name?”

“Randy” I reply, “Randy Fox” I shake the offered paw firmly.

One of the other furs in the group snickers and says in an English accent “Sounds more like a description of every fox I’ve met if you ask me”

“Pay no attention to Nigel, he’s the biggest furvert here, and a fox himself” he says winking at me.

“It takes one to know one Shaz” he quips back, sticking his tongue out.

“Moving on to the more genteel sex, meet Lizzy a Dragon and her mate Bob, a whatzit”

“Charmed I’m sure” chimes Lizzy, who then smacks Bob’s phone almost playfully “Pay attention and put your toy away, I say, you come to a con and spend it online, men”

“I was just trying to get the new FurFinder feature working and the Con site updated with the schedule changes I was just sent, Hi, I’m Blitter Bob”

“Bob is the Con’s tech guy” says Nigel “in fact you’re looking at most of the Con’s Alpha’s, without us the con would bloody well crash and…”

“not even notice I’m sure, and that’s just the way I like it” interjects a newcomer “Ahoy, ErrorWolf the name and insanity is my game”

“Randy” I say, shaking his paw. “This is my first con” I notice that he also wearing an orange collar, but double the width of the other’s, and with no rings.

“Well welcome, I hope you enjoy and I’m sure you’ll see me running around. But I’m afraid we are needed in ConOps” he says looking at the others who grown theatrically.

“I knew it was too quiet” mummers Shaz “back to work I guess, nice meeting you Randy” he says smiling at me as they head inside.

Feeling slightly more confident I wander in myself, spotting the front desk behind a small sea of congoers I wait in the Check-In line. After getting my key (for a room of 1, since I wasn’t sure how things would go I figured worst case I could hide there all weekend) I push my way though the mass to the elevators and catch one just empting when I hear a familiar voice ordering an pathway so incoming furs to get though. Turning I see the same group walking towards the elevators and Nigel calls to “Hold the lift” which I do.

“…I never would have thought you could fit a whole pack of hotdogs in there. Ignorance is bliss when it comes to cons I guess” says Bob as they step in.

“Lucky he didn’t electrocute himself” says Lizzy.

“Ohhh, electro” drools Nigel

“Toaster” says Shaz in answer my quizzical look, then adds “I do love toast”

“So where are you staying on 4?” asks Nigel, noting that their floor has already been selected, with a broad wink.

“412” I answer, trying not to blush at such attention as my traitorous ears burn.

“Oh leave the kid alone Nigel, we’re hanging out in room 427” says ErrorWolf “one of the 3 con suites open for your pleasure, at least until the next ‘emergency’ pops up. Oh, I’m making pizza”

“Thanks” I manage, still unsure of what to say, but I’m saved by the bell as the doors open and we debark. “Maybe I’ll stop by after I settle in” I hedge.

“It’s a date” vamps Nigel.

“Oh come on” says Shaz who grabs his collar ring and drags him off.

Reaching the safety of my room I plop onto the bed and breathe a sigh of contented relief; maybe this won’t be so bad after all.

I awake with a start, darn it, I look out the window and it’s dark out already. Pawing through my bag I change my shirt and grab my collar, a simple red one I got online, but I thought it was cool since it had 3 rings instead of just 1, and clip my tail on.

Heading out the door I scan the pocket schedule to see what I missed, not much being Thursday, the only thing of interest to me was the dance, not that I dance mind you, but its fun to watch from what I hear.

Reaching my destination, I can feel the unce-unce-unce from outside, cracking the door and pushing though the wall of sound, light, and smoke I venture to the back corner.

The place is hopping, with projectors covering each wall and floor, lasers, and furs, lots of furs. And something else mixed in; between the glow sticks and fur suiters I saw something…odd, something that gave me a funny feeling. Carefully working my way to the front (avoiding the dance floor like a mine field) I realize there are more of…them, not sure how to describe what they were wearing as I couldn’t get a good look with the strobing lights, but I knew there was something different about their silhouettes. Before I can make it to the front the song ends and they head out the exit doors on the opposite side of the room from me.

As I work my way though the mixing crowd and hit the doors, I find myself in the cool dark of outside and catch a better look at my query, it’s a pack of furs mostly dressed in shiny rubber and leather wearing an assortment of dog masks. From just a muzzle to full hoods, truly one of the most bizarre sights I’ve ever seen…and yet.

“Arf” barks one of the dogs catching sight of me, followed by others barking at the bark.

“Evening” I manage, and since it’s too late to retreat, walk up to the group.

“Ahoy” calls one of the rubber clad guys (my eyes had adjusted enough by now and was noticing the fact that you could tell gender real easy in that getup, a fact that was not lost on my own growing member)

My curiosity overwhelms my shyness and I blurt “So what are you guys?”

“Pups” laughs one of the non masked members who holds a Doberman looking boy’s leash. “Well, they are, I’m John, a Handler to this one, he’s Pike, my good boy” he proceeds to scritch Pike behind the ear who responds by twitching his leg like a dog. Despite the surrealism of the sight, I had to laugh at the cute antics.

“It’s called pup play, where you pretend to be a pup oddly enough” chimes in another.

“We’re holding a Puparty upstairs” says the rubber pup, who had somehow managed to light a pipe with paws on, “We are heading up there after cooling down if you want to tag along.

“Sure” I shrug, not wanting to show just how interested I suddenly found myself.

We chat for a bit as I’m introduced to the other pups, one of which comes over to me on all fours for petting. Crouching down to pet the pup I get a thrill of excitement running my hand over the smooth black rubber. ‘I must try this; I want to be this’ my mind tells me, it feels like a perfect skin, so slick and warm. Shaking my head to clear these strange feelings I realize someone is still talking to me.

“…back to the party. Coming?”

As we walk around the hotel toward the entrance I get my first fully lit view of the pack, and like what I see, very much.

“Randy right?” asks the piped pup who has dropped back to talk to me. It is then I recognize the orange collar. “Enjoying the con so far?”

“What I’ve seen so far yes” I answer, looking at the group which has started barking at some furs gathered around a hooka near the doors.

“Heheh, well hopefully you’ll see more you like. See you up there” he says with a wink and stops to chat with a fur as we pass.

Continuing with the pack we head up to the 7th floor and into a room that turns out to be a suite with a deck, triple the size of my room, but filled with even more pups and gear bedecked furs. At this point I have a hard time hiding my interest in my baggy shorts, what a day to go freeballing.

As the barking and other greetings subside I slip into a corner to watch and not get trampled by the pups whom all seem to be obsessed with a squeaky toy on a fishing rod. Many of the pups I notice have tails, but unlike mine, they don’t attach to a belt…how does one sit down I wonder?

Now that I have time to consume the sights, sounds, and smells before me I get that feeling again, especially when the “pup fisher” pulls the toy up out of reach and some of the more eager pups start climbing on top of each other, making a very wiggly squeaky dogpile. Oh to be in that pile with so much contact, I’ve heard of furpiles but this takes it to a whole different level.

While I watch the bottom dog manages to shift enough to topple the pile, knocking pups every which way, one of which lands on my foot.

“Ouch” I say

“Arph” says the pup, who whimpers and nuzzles me, sinking to lean against the wall, I take the opportunity to hug the rubbery pup who “wruffs” and wags happily before turning around 3 times and curls up in front of me. What’s a boy to do but keep stroking?

“Are you a good boy?” I ask the pup.

“Arpha” he barks and waggles his butt tail.

“Who are you here with, where’s your handler?”

He whimpers and looks down.

“Aww, are you a stray? Me too I guess.” With that the pup hops up and tries licking me, but seeing as he’s in a rubber pup hood, doesn’t do much. “Down boy” I laugh “Good boy” taking a cue from what I’ve seen others do I ask, “Do you like your tummy rubbed?”

The pup “Arfs” and lays on my lap with his paws up in the air, how can one refuse such a cute pup? As I rub and coo I’m struck by how natural this feels, granted I had dogs growing up, but this is a person playing a dog…of course I’m came here to play a fox…but not dressed like this. Speaking of, it seems this pup *really* likes his tummy rubbed (which I enjoy any excuse to touch him) between the leg twitch and a very nice budge.

“Well you managed to not burn the place down while I was away I see” says a newcomer, looking I see it’s ErrorWolf again, minus hood, who is carrying a tote. “Who’s ready for the drawing? This event’s prize is a custom mask made by yours truly.” He pulls out a mask that makes my heart skip a beat, it looked like some of the other pup hoods, rubbery, but with round eyes that looked like orange sunglasses. With a longer muzzle and bigger ears then most it was in a deep red-orange color that shined in the light, I knew that I had to try for it, no matter what it took.

“It’s dressed in my fursona base color but I can make it any color you want” he was continuing “this prototype has some nice features, like blindfolding eye caps, gag insert retention which seals completely for BC use, and a long cowling on the hood so no more cold naked necks, and with a collar locked on it’s not removable if you lock the zipper head to the collar. Also, it uses a quick-tighten system so you get the ease of a zipper with the compression of lacing in less than 24 seconds”

He proceeds to pull it on, zip it down, and pulls a cord in the back. Sweeping the room with his hidden gaze modeling this way and that he says “mummf murr mem” then removes the gag and says “Who wants it?”

The pups start barking, “mine” jumps into the thong, and I find myself raising my paw with a few other non pups.

“Down boys” he says to the mass of pups that manage to knock him over, “heel, back, look a cat” regaining his feet he adds “I forgot to mention one little caveat, by accepting the mask, you agree to help me with a little experiment, something I’m working on out in the lab this weekend. The Experience will be quite a trip…if it works. So whoever’s still up for it to the middle of the room.”

About 20 pups and such fall in, I overhear a fur say that he wouldn’t trust an unknown experiment with him, but I still find myself joining the contestants, without even knowing what we have to do nor will have to do should we “win”.

“Ok, first off, some of you are not pups, well for now you will be, after all you are competing for a pup hood. So paws all around.” He produces a roll of plastic wrap, socks, and duck tape which he hands off to a pup at his side.

As the pup wraps the impromptu paws on the others, ErrorWolf comes over to me and says “Didn’t expect to see you in the running, if you like I have a pair of leather paws I can loan you.” He produces a set of padded paws with buckles and straps and a big ring on each. “These have been used on many a new pup, if you’re interested?”

I nod, still unsure of what new hell I’ve gotten myself into, but I came for an experience so why not. “Thank you” I manage “Are those bite marks?”

He laughs and says “They’ve seen a lot of love these paws. Make a fist and push hard” I do and love the feel of the soft leather enveloping my hand as he buckles it snuggly. “Now the other one. There, just one last thing” I hear a click and turning my blunted paw over realize that he has locked the strap to the paw, I am well and truly stuck now, but instead of the fear I should be feeling, I get a thrill knowing I can’t get myself out of this. Click goes the 2nd lock and my heart skips a beat or three. “Comfy?” he asks.

“Surprisingly yes” I reply, rubbing my new arm ends together, enjoying the range of feelings that losing my fingers to someone brings.

“A friend once told me; Pups don’t have thumbs, that’s rule one” stepping back and speaking to all he says “Rule two, pups don’t talk! Speak words and you’re out. Third, pups don’t think, they just are, live in the now” “Fourth, pups belong on the floor, so SIT.”

I sit, hoping I do it right, but it’s easy to figure out when there’s a whole pack to emulate. I’m impressed by how much these paws help with being on all fours.

“Five, pups obey their Alpha, and right now that’s me and mine, the judges will be marking you for many things, but disobedience is an out.”  He paces in front of the group “We’re going to see who’s an exceptionally good boy among you, and who gets sent to the cage” he points to a very large kennel in the corner with ropes dangling every which way. “Eliminated pups will wait in the kennel till we’re done, and be at the mercy of the Dog Catcher.” He flashes an evil grin.

He stops and crotches in front of the pack “Last chance to exit…Ok, let the games begin!”

Stepping into the kitchenette he says “since there are so many of you, we will run this in stations, I’ll be on the deck preparing for the most challenging portion of this gauntlet and will pull you one by one to come see me, with that, I turn you over to my right-hand pup, Spike” he nods to the pup who was pawing the new pups and mixes a drink “Oh, and for you old timers and of-age adventurous ones, the ‘liquid cocaine’ shots are in the ice bucket if any of you pups need some encouragement come and get it, just remember how high a proof they are”

A couple pups bark and move toward the bar, one of which goes to retrieve said prize when a judge (they had donned hats so we knew them) calls him “OUT! Standing” the pup suddenly realizes his mistake and whimpers sadly, Error gives a bottle to the Dog Catcher as he comes to drag the poor puppy away to have God only knows what done to him.

“Sorry about that, but that’s the way the biscuit crumbles. Anyone else want one?” he grabs the bucket and puts it on the ground. “There, now good luck opening them with paws”

I look into the bucket and see little blank energy shot bottles floating in the ice, that’s a tiny cap, but I rally gamely hoping to impress the watchers and bob for one, recovering from the shock of the extreme cold I emerge victoriously, now what. I can’t keep a grip on the wet bottle and its evil little cap, chasing it across the floor draws a few laughs from the crowd, but I don’t mind them, all I care is finding out what’s inside. Dropping the vial again I grasp it between both paws and use my teeth to twist the top off. Haha, I win! Sniffing the now opened container it smells very strongly of alcohol, and some scents I can’t quite place, not having drunk much. Lipping the bottle and grasping it like a baby bear I upend the contents into my maw, and almost cough it all over, it’s not vile, but dam.

Proudly I carry my now empty container back to the group, I realize that I would be waging my tail if I could, maybe this won’t be so hard to play after all. Error has disappeared and only one other pup has managed to get his open. Sliding up to my pup from earlier I drop my bottle and bark at him, pawing at his bottle playfully to offer my teeth to help. Together we manage to open it, he arfs appreciatively and soon all the struggling pups catch on as we’re called back to the middle of the room.

“Arpha pups, now the fun begins” he produces a set of leashes “half of you will stay here and participate in the obedience games, commands, fetch, and such, the other half with me” he clips the leads to my side of the pack and leads us to the other side of the room, handing off all but one. “Here we will test your endurance, after all, you must be a fit pup to endure The Experience” he chuckles.

“First we have some obstacles” he leads the pup over to a couch “Puppies are not normally allowed on the furniture but in this case you have to, UP” he orders the pup, patting the seat, who hops onto the cushion, wagging happily “Good boy, remember, you must climb up and down on all 4s. Now front paws on the back UP” he walks around behind the couch and taps the back. The pup sits up waits expectantly. “Just like that, good, now the hard part, down, I know you’re not cats” which causes a few growls “but you must jump over the couch” which causes some whimpering “Don’t worry, there’s mats to land on. OVER” And the unlucky pup hesitates for just a moment and fall-slides out of sight. “Very good boy, next!”

As my turn draws near I get slightly nervous, I don’t jump off of swings when I have feet to land on and never did the high dive, let alone like this, but again, I’m already here, and I’d hate to be out over such a small thing. So when he takes my lead I try to move calmly and correctly, gaining the seat and looking over the back I shake my slightly intoxicated head and go for it when I hear the command.

It wasn’t a 10 point landing, but the mats are very soft, and I find I actually enjoyed it, plus the praise for doing good never hurts. Padding back to the line I once again feel proud of myself, ‘over a stupid little nothing like that’, my mind asks? Yes, I am a pup now and anything that pleases my handler pleases me, no matter how trivial! Shutting out my worries I just sit and watch, not even me can stop me from enjoying myself.

“OK, now that you all know the course, each of you will run it 7 times, and quickly” Unclipping a pup he gives the commands and away he goes, around and around. “Good boy, not bad time either. Next!”

Again it comes to me and this time I go for it, waiting only long enough for the next command, till he says “Stop, good boy, I know pups can’t count, you’re done and in record setting time too. Next!” Panting I return to the line, almost bursting with satisfaction, yes, I like this very much.

After a couple more obstacle type challenges, including crawling through a tube that was just a bit too small, he calls an end to the course. By this point we’re all sweaty and panting, I can only imagine what it must be like to be incased in rubber right now. We lost 3 more pups to the Dog Catcher. One of the judges gives us each some water and we’re unleashed and told to go play for a bit.

Crawling back to the middle of the floor I plop over and heave a contented sigh, I never would have dreamed that this would make me happy, just being, happy. I look up as the pup from earlier wanders over and nuzzles against me, reaching a paw (I don’t even notice them anymore) out I bat at him. He rolls onto his back and cuddles into me, again, what’s a pup to do but snuggle in and throw a paw over him. He murrs and we nuzzle a bit, drawing an aww from a watcher or two as the other pups all wander over and pile in.

All too soon rest time ends and we’re called over for our turn at the obedience games, but before it starts ErrorWolf walks in and says he needs a pup outside.

“You’re next” he says clipping his leash to me. Now the couch was one thing, but there I knew what was happening…this however. Walking outside he motions to a dog bed and sits in a chair.

“Alrighty then, Randy right” I nod “Since you’re outside you don’t have to stay pup, I have some questions and an exam for you, so you can speak now. If you want we can take the paws off too.”

I look at my sheathed hands and unbelievably shake my head no. “Ok, good, so you’re not the type to want out too quickly.” He jots something down on his tablet. “First, given the nature of The Experience, any health issues I should know about that could prevent you from doing anything? Fears? Worries?” I confirm no again. “Really, you’re fine with going into this unknown, blind?”

“I don’t know” I finally manage, remembering to talk is harder then you’d think. “I haven’t known what I’ve been doing so far, but am glad I tried it, so I guess I’m a little scared but meh.” I shrug, what else can I say, if it’s anything like this has been I’d do anything for it, but I don’t want to get my hopes up either.

“Good honest answer. Do you like video games?”

“A few, I’m not much of a gamer” I answer, wondering what that had to do with anything.

“K, I have your scores so far here and you’ve done impressively well, especially for your first time pupping. And I see you were one of the first to open your bottle, that’s important, but not as important as how you helped others. I like what I see, good boy” He leans forward and pats me on the head, somehow it wasn’t demeaning like when I was a kid, but felt nice.

“So, one last thing, the exam. On all 4s please” I assume the position and he runs his hands over me, starting at my head. “All good pups get a quick physical, nothing invasive…unless you want it to be.”

I whimper but say “I’m open to most anything I guess.”

He chuckles again and says “I knew I liked you, roll over let me check the other side.” As I do he quickly grabs my arms and legs and binds them together with a strap! I try to ask about this unexpected treatment but first he moves over me and clamps his latex covered hand over my mouth and nose, cutting off my air. Leaning close he whispers in my ear “Quiet bitch, now you’re mine, so helpless and stuck, what are you going to do about it eh? Nothing that’s what, like a good subby pup, I control all of you, even if you get to breathe. Is that a problem?” For some reason which I have not to this day figured out, I shook my head no…here I am being bound and suffocated by a stranger and I’m ok with it??? I guess I just trust too easy or my yiffyness got the better of me. “Very good, now before you pass out, next test.”

He removes his hand and gives my nipples a quick squeeze, (now this is one of the few parts of this situation that wasn’t new, having an older brother who loved to purple nerple me to win a fight) I manage to stay quiet and just squirm a bit under him.

“Hehe, good pain tolerance, that’s important, let’s check the bone yard” with that he gropes me none to gently “I see you like rough treatment, or at least part of you does, also good, if you win you’ll Experience a new definition of violation, even though I will not touch you like this again”

As I lay there shaking slightly as he undoes the strap and rolls me on my side he informs me “You passed the hardest test with flying colors my pup, congrads, I hope you win, I think you’ll enjoy it.” He lights a smoke and offers me a drag, still shaking from the adrenalin rush I take it and it helps calm my nerves. “Good boy” he sooths, and cuddles up behind me on the bed, draping an arm over me he adds “Very good boy, you didn’t flinch, yes you will do quite well.”

Needless to say, I’m awash with conflicting feelings right about now, how could he do that and then act so, so, I don’t know! One of the worst parts was I really did like it, but why? How? What was wrong with me?  But he didn’t seem to care, quite the opposite he seemed to appreciate it. And now as we lay there spooning with him squeezing my paw it just felt right. I didn’t mind, he understood me better than I did, so I let it go, enjoyed the moment and snuggled into him a little closer.

Again he chuckles “That was quick, you are excellent working material. Tell me, what’s your favorite fantasy? This isn’t on the test but helps me understand you a bit more.”

Do I dare tell this wolf anything that may come back to haunt me? He’s already scared me once with something I didn’t even know I wanted. Throwing caution to the wind I reply “Hard to say, ever since I found furry I’ve been obsessed with transformation stories, you know, turning into an anthro or quad of your fursona. I don’t know why but I guess that would have to be it. To really be a fox.”

“That explains your keen interest and aptitude for pup play, since it’s transforming your headspace and roll playing as best we can. And still even a k9”

“I guess that makes sense, I do like this pup stuff”

“Good. Well if you’re feeling ready you can go back inside, but remember the pup rules in there, no talking…hence no warning others, though most don’t get quite your treatment, unless I know them already” He rolled over and climbed back into the chair.”I just wanted to make sure you were really ok after that rather intense exam”

“I’m fine, just surprised” I start padding toward the door.

“Well it won’t be the last, and to quote the cliché ‘Was it good for you?’” He said winking.

I had to laugh, still not sure what to make of this furson, “You were too quick” I quipped back.

“That’s what she said, I’ll make sure to make it last much longer next time, after all, how else do you find limits” he grinned, not a comforting smile, somewhere between a hungry wolf and a sly fox…either way it did not bode well for me.

After returning to my line I was surprised to see so few left, I might just have a chance, but was that a good thing? I mean if just the test was that strange, what was in store?

I performed well in the obedience games, though I was only half there, my mind kept replaying the event outside. I’ve never felt that way before, nor been so helpless. Did I want to be there again, to submit and be fully controlled? At his mercy, his bitch? And the unknown violation…without touching? I just didn’t know, but I did know, I did want that. So darn it I’d keep trying.

As I’d note other pups come back inside I watched for any odd behavior to indicate if they had an experience like mine but could read nothing so strong from them. Maybe that was normal here? Again a tingle of fear touched my stomach, ‘I should run while I still can’, what was I so afraid of…what exactly, we still had no idea.

We were all set loose to relax again, by now there were only 8 pups left from the 20 that started. I made it through the 3 trials, I finally relax, not even realizing I had been tense. Hopping on that evil couch I lay on my side and half watch the goings on, the owned pups were all being taken care of by their handlers, my stray friend comes over and plops down in front of the couch so I dangle a paw to pet him, happy to see he made it too.

The outside door opens and in troops the judges who call the contestants to the floor and ask the watchers to gather on one side of the room, turning us to face them. ErrorWolf orders the Dog Catcher to “Release the hounds” and the lost pups file out to join the watchers.

“You all did well, some missed the mark and didn’t make the end, but only one of you wins the prize” he says as he paces behind us “I’d like to thank everyone who helped put this on” he nods to the judges “and give a bark to all who showed up and especially those that gave it a go” the pups all started barking and howling so I joined in “I love having my own con, no one to complain about my noisy roomparties.”

“So without further ado, we have reached a consensus on the pup we feel would best wear the hood” he nods to Spike who hands him the hood “and survive The Experience with minimal damage…” he stops pacing behind the pup just to the left of me, darn, so close, for something I didn’t know existed only hours ago I was crushed to lose it. “The new pup, Randy!” he kneels behind me and pops the hood on my head…I don’t know what to think, I won! I never win anything. Then my mind catches up with this new thing that’s happening, the hood seats it’s self to my face like a glove, I hear a muffled zipper and whizzing as it gets tighter and tighter, I can feel it touching me from everywhere, squeezing yet not hurting, I almost spunk right then and there from the overload and euphoria. It was dark but not hard to see, quiet but not deafing, wait, the gag was installed again, not that I could speak anyway.

As I tuned back in to the room around me, getting used to seeing though tinted eyes, I noticed the applause and pups bouncing around me and Error now in front of me, speaking…into his watch? ~There we go, congrads~ his voice rings out in my ears ~Yes, you have earphones built in, one of the minor surprises in store for you.~ He grins that stupid not-helpful smile ~Enjoy your new toy, pup, as you’re my new toy fox.~

With that he stands and wanders into the crowd chatting, and I’m hit with a tidal wave of pups all barking at me. ‘So this is what it’s like to be on the bottom of a pup pile.’ I muse, ‘I like it.’ Not wanting to be crushed I rally and slide out before pouncing my pup friend and it begins again. I love pups, I never want to leave this group.

Laughing at the turbulent puphill, the judges gather once again. “So, are we sure about this? Can he handle it?” Asks Spike,

“He’ll do fine” Answers Error, “He’s the most moldable pup since you, I think he’ll enjoy it if he survives”

“Bloody well looks and acts the part” chimes in Nigel, “I’d take that home”

“You’d yiff a cactus if you could. Besides, he’s under my control now, or will be soon enough” remarks ErrorWolf, “I’m going to take a walk to make sure all is set for the night beyond our room, make sure things go well and watch our boy” he says to Spike who nods.

Words fail to describe the rest of that night, pups don’t use words I was told so I guess that’s fitting. I forgot I was wearing the hood, just like the paws before, they were a part of who I was when I am a pup, on the floor chasing a ball (it seems that the muzzle opens and closes even with a gag, so I was good at fetch) cooling off in the quiet pup pile (which didn’t always stay quiet when someone got humpy) or enjoying the drinks handlers kept offering me (there was a bite valve in the gag attached to a tube near my fake front teeth, so I could drink out of a bowl) so by the time most of the others had left I was feeling no pain, not that there was any to feel, the worst part of the night was when pups would leave, I was hooked, I never wanted this to end.

“All right pups, I know I never end these things, hence why Puparties often see dawn.” ErrorWolf announced “But I’m going to sleep on the balcony, things to do tomorrow, those of you who are strays or dropped off are welcome to stay here in our kennel tonight or the whole weekend.” He walked outside carrying a couple more dog beds and blankets. ~Randy, come!~ I yipped at the voice in my head, I had forgotten about that feature.

Wandering out onto the balcony Error had just finished spreading the bed out and was dropping to all 4s as Spike came out and dropped down next to him, looking at me. “Come here boy” he said, “since you’re alone this con and since I’ll need you in the morning you can sleep with us if you wish, I don’t bite TOO hard and Spike’s had his shots.” He proceeded to put the rubber pup hood he was wearing at the dance back on as his pup did the same. Two pups decked out in head to toe rubber wanting to share a bed??? You bet I’m game. But I can still only “Arf” affirmatively.

“One note though, only gear is allowed to be worn in bed, so you have to lose the cloth”

This gives me pause, of all things, am I going to let modesty hold me back now? Screw it, I step up to them for undressing (as I’m still pawed).

“See, I told you he was a keeper” says Error as he works my shoes and socks off.

“So I see” says Spike, then he discovers my lack of under garments. “Quite nice indeed, I like the quick access. And not bad peripherals”

Standing there like so much meat before hungry dogs I still can’t prevent my interest from showing, and growing.

“Oh look, he can do tricks, sit up”

“All right, leave the poor boy alone before he shows you spiting, time for sleep” ErrorWolf lays on the beds and pats the space in front of him, “You get the middle like any good fox”

I settle into my place, gasping slightly as my bare body comes in full contact with all that rubber.

“Oh sure, I get to be poked in the back all night” complains Spike as he settles into the spoon, causing me even more feelings.

“You know you like it bitch” ErrorWolf says with a yawn, and drapes an arm over us, “Good night pups, sleep well”

As I drift off Error whispers in my ear “Remember, tomorrow you’re mine.” Needless to say, I didn’t fall asleep any too quick.

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Story Contest Entry: A Session With ErrorWolf (A reply to Errorwolf’s Entry)

September 29, 2011 in Story Contest: DDR Rubber Jock

My fellow inmates,

I shall say that nothing shall surprise me now. to have one story begat another,

So here is a followup to an earlier story in the contest:

 


“A Session With Errorwolf”

 

The cigar pack is in place as agreed, this is a promising start. Despite weeks of exchanged messages, the cynical core, honed through the years by delusional fantasists, was steeled for the possibility of another wild goose chase. Slipping the key from the carton, the cigars are pocketed, some reward if the session fails.
The hotel lobby is tacky, greasy chairs lining a shabbily claustrophobic space dominated by a highly varnished counter. The porter, the only visible staff member, does not even raise his eyes from the TV set before him.
Crossing to the stairs, it takes just a few minutes to reach the third floor, room 307 is about a third of the way along the corridor on the right. On entering, the pup is immediately visible on one of the iron framed beds
.
First mistake, pups are not allowed on the furniture without permission.

At the sound of someone entering, the boy is immediately attentive, although obviously disorientated, looking around to discern the source of the noise. Quietly, Master closes the door behind him. Crossing the room, he stands between the beds and takes in the scene, the pup, nervously quivering on one bed, the equipment laid out on the other, anticipatory electricity flitting between the two. The Master pauses and takes a few minutes to soak this in, allowing the charged atmosphere to enter his being, luxuriating in the warm glow, before reaching out a hand and fondling the pups head.

In reaction, and lulled by the placatory gesture, the pup raises his head expectantly, only to be firmly grasped by the collar and pulled to the threadbare rug between the beds. Surprised and whimpering slightly, the pup rolls onto his back submissively, but is firmly ordered to heel. Obediently, though slightly reluctantly, it obeys. Now for the first time it receives genuine praise from the Master and starts to relax. Reaching over to the spare bed, the Master retrieves the tail & works it gently against the latex covered butt, before opening the zip and exposing the furry cheeks.

Moving to the muzzle, Master unzips the mouth and pulls out the sock that packs it. He adds more drops from the brown bottle, replaces in position, and refastens, before returning to the task in hand. As the muffled breathing slows, the tail plug is swiftly, & efficiently inserted, and again the zips close around it which engenders an enthusiastic wagging.  

The pups cock, hard on arrival, but hanging limply after the shocked commencement, now also starts to wag and stiffen, rapidly more so as it feels the Master’s gloved hand lifting, caressing, gauging its potential. A leather covered finger slips behind the balls, freeing them further, until the canine effect is improved. Satisfied, Master again praises the pup, slipping the choke chain collar over its head and walking it around the room on a short leash, head held high, as in a show ring.

Leading the pup to the second bed, covered in the latex sheet, he encourages it to climb up and roll over, limbs in the air. After a little stimulation to the pups cock and balls, the Master deftly binds them, keeping the disgorged and sensitive organs vulnerable. Starting from the raised back legs, the rubber sleep sack slides down the body, raising the buttocks, then leaning the torso forward to complete the task. When all is in place and fastened, bands of the clingwrap are bound around, passing under the bed and pinning the pup in place, shoulders, chest, thighs, shins. Beneath the thin rubber carapace, the trapped genitalia strain visibly, as if seeking to escape the coming fate. Gently, lovingly, the gloved hand massages them through the thin covering, the pups body tenses against the bindings, squirming, moaning softly as the palpation grows stronger.

Once again the pup feels the muzzle opened, and again the familiar aroma fills the pups nose, his body loosens, his head floats and it is a while before he slowly becomes aware of the insistent pulsing that now regularly surges from his penis base to the tip. As he concentrates on it, it seems to build, stronger, longer, becoming exquisite, yet unbearable. His supple body writhes in its restraints, the waves of power pushing him to an inevitable conclusion, his puppy balls no longer able to contain their molten cargo flood warmth into the rubber casing.

Later, collared, hooded & caged the pup lies still as the smell of cigar smoke fills the room. He knows his training is not over yet

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Story Contest Entry: The Price of My Assumption By: Ekaterina

September 29, 2011 in Story Contest: DDR Rubber Jock

My fellow inmates,

As we draw near to the close of the story contest here on 9/30, I shall sort through all your emails and make sure that all have been posted (I have been busy, what can I say)

Here is the next entry in the contest:

 

 


 

The Price of My Assumption

By: Ekaterina

 

His head was thrown back; spine arched; every muscle in his face and neck was rigid.  A black and white photograph of that moment would have clearly shown the pressure he was exerting to shove the young man off of him, how his hands weren’t gripping, but were pressing against the fragile shoulders now crumpled in his lap.  There wasn’t any photograph, then, or in the second afterward where the sound of the closing door coincided with his shout.  “This isn’t what it looks like, oh goddess, I swear.”  The second snapshot would have shown pure, unadulterated naked fear, painted on his face like sharp pain.  His eyes were thrown open, whites shining, hands at his sides, palms up in an unconscious gesture of surrender. 

I was on them both in a second and without warning.  His friend had never been the specimen of health, too scrawny, too unsure of himself for my tastes.  He played the circuit, flitting from con to con, from man to man, a few women thrown in there, when he could latch on to one.  My right hand clamped down on his neck.  He scrambled up stumbling backwards.  He landed with a thump on his butt, still far too shocked to speak.  “You.” I pointed at the man I had dedicated my life to loving, to teaching, to training, “You are a disappointment.”  He trembled there on the couch, shaking his head in denial.  “I have given you everything you’ve wanted.  I’ve denied you nothing.  I’ve expanded all your boundaries.  I have purchased every toy you could want.  I’ve played every game.  I’ve taken you to every club.  Every convention.  I’ve …” I couldn’t think.  The blood rushing to my head was making me nauseated.  “This is.  You are.”  I stopped.  Whirled.  “Where do you think you’re going?”  I hurled the question towards the front door, where his friend was attempting to make a quiet exit.  “You want him, don’t you?”  I ask, without waiting for his response, “You can have him.  Come back here.”  My voice had taken on that gunmetal quality, smooth and dangerous.  Just then I think it was possible they were hoping I was just going to shoot them both and get it over with. 

His head dropped low to his chest as he slinked back over to the living room.  He had a subtly feline air about his movements; it wasn’t a grace so much as a deliberateness of inefficiency.  The cracking sound of the flat of my hand across his face echoed for a moment like a gunshot in a canyon.  The effect was that neither of them moved, neither one even breathed.   White then red pain resolved itself on his face, each detail of my fingers writ in exquisite detail on his porcelain skin.  The silence filled the small room as full to bursting as I could take; an order was the first thing to cross my lips, before even I took a breath.  “Go to the closet in the master bedroom.  I’m sure you know the way.  On the floor is a large black duffel bag.  Bring it here.” 

“Ma’am…” he started to say.

“Shut up and do as your told.” I commanded.  He hesitated a second, his thin fingers exploring the raised welt my hand had left on his cheek.  He nodded then and left the room in long quick strides.   My attention swung back to the look of defeat on the face I adored.  He looked up at me from the couch, swallowing in fear every few moments.  When his mouth opened to speak, I cut him off, “As if I cared what your explanation was.”  His eyes never left mine growing wetter as the tears welled in them.  That wasn’t like him, to cry when I was angry.  A single tear slipped past the wall of self-respect he was attempting to erect; his chin didn’t even waver.  He nodded, his attention glued to the flush of anger still highlighting my face and throat.  It made me shiver, that look, the hunger in it.  He wanted from me at that moment what he had wanted in me the very day we met so long ago.  He wanted to be seen and to be understood.  The look cried out, begging me then and now to pry open his life and his desires and expand him to create with his body my every vision of ecstasy.  How could anyone walk away from such honest appeal in a man’s face?  I never understood why others passed him up, put him aside; but I knew he was destined to be mine.  I would give to him my love, my life, I would cloak him in my protection, I would bring him up in an environment of learning, I would laugh with him, I would adore him, I would press his limits, I would test his loyalties, I would I make this man my own. 

The scuff of bare feet on the carpet wrenched me back from nostalgia.  With a thud the black duffel bag settled on the floor where it was dropped from a milky white hand.  The arm attached to said hand trembled from the effort.  I admit it the bag was heavy.  I knelt and unzipped the toy bag, the tiny rush I always felt when I unzipped the bag was present even now in spite of my anger.  The scent of leather and rubber emanated from the bag, growing sharper as I shifted the toys and equipment about searching for the two pieces I knew I wanted.  My fingers found their target while my eyes found the other piece.  When I pulled out the rubber body bag he gasped; it was involuntary.  I could tell by the way he tried to swallow the sound and the strangled way it crawled out of his throat in direct disregard for his desire to remain silent.  This was the punishment bag. 

In the years we’d been together we’d never done more than halfheartedly play with it.  I had always preferred to see his face, his expressions.  To be unable to see his mute appeal; his fear; his awe and desire written on his face was as much a punishment to me as to him.  “Undress.” I bit out at him and turned away, knowing he would comply.  “For you, I have this.” I neatly slipped the short fat black dildo gag into his mouth while it gaped open in shock.  It was only about two and a half inches long, but at an inch and three quarters it was a nice snug fit in his mealy little mouth.  With his lips stretched over the bulk of the gag I bent his head towards mine and latched the buckle in place.  Instinctively he reached to remove it and equally as instinctively, I slapped his hand away.  “You wanted a mouth full, that’s why you had your head in his lap, isn’t it?” I asked, rhetorically of course, who expects a man with a gag in his mouth to answer.  “Undress.”  I added.  He shook his head, some measure of ego left to him.  “No?”  I questioned.  His head rocked back and forth, slowly, but the meaning was there.  “Your body betrays you.” I state, gesturing to his groin, where his shorts pressed out, tenting awkwardly.  Turning back to the couch I found an aroused naked willing man, the man I loved.  The corners of my mouth flung upward, the smile washing across my angry visage.  “Gods but you are beautiful.”  I told him.  It was true.  He was average for anyone else’s purposes.  He was an average height, an average weight, he wasn’t young and wasn’t old.  He was mine.  He was obedient to my every whim.  He was the finest sex toy money could have bought.  Dimly as if from memory I heard him say, “It is my deepest honor and privilege to be with you, in whatever capacity you will have me.”  I looked at his face, the earnestness lined there.  I let my gaze trail down along the angles and curves of his now naked form.  My eyes lingered on his legs, on the muscles laying just beneath the skin in a calm, ready wakefulness.  I was unduly fond of his legs.  Between his legs, craning out from the tangle of dark hair, the uncut evidence of his submission to my will reached towards me.  He was hard, even in face of his punishment, in the face of his humiliation, of that of his friend, the likelihood of the end of their relationship and so far as he knew the end of ours.  He was erect because he been trained to be hard whenever he undressed, it was a small detail, but seeing him still in my thrall made my heart leap.  I would enjoy this terrible lesson.  I inclined my head toward the bag.  Voice thick with unrealized desires I told him “You’ll need the talc.”  He nodded and knelt to find it.  “While you’re down there, pick out something for your friend.”  I instructed, he shivered, nodded and complied. 

I was not surprised to find he’d picked out one of his least favorite garments.  It’d been received as a gag gift at some event.  We’d kept it, neither one of us sure just why.  It was a neon pink collar, studded with fake jewels.  It looked like it belonged on someone’s Chihuahua, only it was too big for such a little dog.  It would fit nicely on his friend, he was right.  It was such an emasculating choice that I knew he’d done it to shame his friend.  It wasn’t going to be enough to balance the scales, but he was trying.  When I buckled the collar on, I advised him, “Bitch.  From this point forward, you’ll answer to bitch.” 

At my feet, the love of my life was waiting, holding up a wad of vibrant pink plastic.  I laughed dark and husky.  His intention to humiliate his friend of so many years was completely evident now.  He held up a vinyl miniskirt.  The bitch had stripped off his clothing while his humiliation was being rummaged for.  With his lean hands crossed over his groin, the gag in his mouth, the collar on his neck he looked like nothing more than a vampire bondage mannequin.  “Step into this skirt, bitch.” I instructed, holding it out to him.  It didn’t shock me in the slightest when he unzipped it, and stepped into it, as if he wore a skirt every day.  He had to take a moment to adjust himself before he was able to settle the skirt across his bony hips and zip it.  “Done this before, I see.”  I stated in cold mocking tone.  With the bitch costumed I turned to the man on the floor, the man kneeling, dripping pre-cum all over my carpet. 

“Stand up.”  I told him.  He leapt to his feet, the talc in hand.  “Let’s give the bitch some more of what he came here for, shall we?” I ask without expecting an answer.  My man understood so well my every thought, my every desire; he handed the talc to his friend. 

“Put this on me.” he said in a tone hushed with embarrassment.

I waited, watching the white of powder and white of the bitch’s hands float over my love’s body.  I watched the horror flow across his chest and arms as he grew stiffer under the ministrations of his now gagged and outfitted friend. 

“Ready now?” I asked as he stepped back; cock throbbing painfully.  He nodded, letting out a soft whine of air.  I had unzipped the bag fully.  It lay open like a rubber casket in the shape of a man.  He lay down, slowly, feeling the rubber catch and then slide on his powdered skin.  He wriggled, shifting positions and nodded. 

“You, please.”  He whimpered, “Please, you zip it, please, if it’s the last thing you do for me. “ 

I couldn’t deny myself the pleasure of feeling the rubber seal up tight against his body, of pushing and shoving his limbs tightly against his body to make the zipper creep another foot along his form.  I sat for a moment, crouched over his rubber-encased form, looking into his eyes before I checked the alignment of the breathing tube and zipped away my love.  Leaning over the body bag, I clamped my lips over the breathing tube.  It was the sweetest breath of air I had sucked into my own lungs in years, that first breath I took from him.  He squirmed under me, the hardness of his cock stretching the rubber of his punishment bag.  I breathed in slowly, counting to five.  I let the tube fall from lips and lost myself in feeling his form, so totally trapped, so completely encased.  The unmistakable sound of vinyl creaking drew my attention.

The bitch stood, legs apart, skirt hiked up, cock in hand.  He wasn’t stroking it, he was yanking on it, as if he tore it off somehow he’d be free from this room.  I watched his inelegance for a moment before instructing him to kneel across my love’s body, resting against his thighs.  “You can finish there, on him like that.”  He grunted and moaned, whining protests that couldn’t be understood past the cock shoved in his little mouth.  “Hurry up, bitch.  I know you want him.  He’s yours now.”  I taunted.  My words were directed at the little slut riding on the thighs of my rubber body bag of a lover, but the bag reacted too.  It whimpered out pleas that never passed the rubber tubing allotted for breathing.  They sputtered out like moans and gasps, his cock still straining the restraint of the punishment bag. 

It was less than a minute that it took the bitch, straddled like that skirt hitched up to lose himself and spray his seed in long arching ribbons across the black rubber of my lover.  I nodded.  “Get out.  Now.”  He scrambled up, cock still twitching and reached for his backpack.  “You’d better pull your skirt down before you leave.”  I counseled him with a cold contempt.  I knew he’d leave dressed just like that, he’d hope there wouldn’t be anyone in the hall.  He’d unbuckle the gag, tuck it away in his backpack, and pull on a shirt.  He’d go home like that, collar on, vibrant pink miniskirt snug against his ass.  It wasn’t such a long ride home.  Maybe he’d stop in the Castro on the way home, maybe he’d find someone else to play with there.  He wasn’t my concern any longer. 

I deliberately ran the flat of my hand across the bulge in the bag, my rubber lover nearly screamed.  It came out in sputtering gulp.  “Careful, you wouldn’t want to run out of air, would you?” I asked, taunting. Leaning over, I took the tubing into my mouth, curling up against his bag.  I held my lips tightly against the tubing, giving and taking little breaths of air while I continued to rub him through the rubber.  Letting the tubing go from my mouth I said with a faint smile “You know; I know you were resisting him.  I know you didn’t want him.”  The sharp intake of breath through the tubing made a high-pitched whine.  “Oh yes,” I said, rubbing him faster, “I knew you would say no to him, you’re so terribly loyal.”  The breath from the tubing came in fits and spurts now.  “Happy birthday, my love.” I said in the moment before I reclaimed the tubing, holding it fiercely with my lip and teeth, I pinched down on it, I could feel him pulling on the other end of the tubing, sucking on it, getting nothing back.  He whimpered then and spasmed as I knew he would.  He relaxed against me in his afterglow, whimpering softly as I unclenched my teeth from the tubing.

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Story Contest Entry: Jet Fighter Pilot Revenge

September 17, 2011 in Stories, Story Contest: DDR Rubber Jock

My Fellow inmates,

 

Here is the next story in the pile of entries I am trying to get posted before the end of month deadline. Please enjoy. 

 

 


Jet Fighter Pilot
- Revenge

Waking Up

 

Mark has a real head ache. He is drinking coffee
in a fast food and, trying to remember what happened the night before. They
went in town for his anniversary. The evening was going fine. Then, black out.
He doesn’t remember anything until he woke up, in his jeep, still with his air
force pilot uniform. He managed to get in the fast food and ordered a dark
coffee. It has been an hour since he woke up, he has a urge to pee. He goes to
the bath room and realizes that his cock is enclosed into a chastity device. He
is pissed off. He knows who did this to him and just wants to get a pay back.
Even with the encumbrance of the chastity device, he manages to pee. He is back
to his table and finishes his coffee – thinking, thinking.

 

Leather shop

 

Mark is still wearing his pilot uniform when he
enters the leather shop. He was too angry and didn’t take time to change
clothes. The clerk’s eyes widen in expectation. He couldn’t believe that a real
jet pilot is in his leather shop. The clerk is so impressed and doesn’t know
how to act. Mark doesn’t know either. He tries to stay as natural as possible
but he couldn’t hide his embarrassment.

The clerk is looking at him:

  • “Good afternoon sir! How
         may I help you?”

Mark doesn’t know what to answer, unable to
figure out how he landed in the leather shop.

Clerk:

  • “Don’t be shy! You’ re
         not the first one to enter in a leather shop.”

Mark takes a deep breath and explains, to the
clerk, that he is seeking for revenge on someone. He has been manipulated and
he wants a pay back. The clerk listens politely; he is wise enough to let him
continue his story without asking any questions. It is important to know his
customer as much as possible.

Clerk:

  • “No problem, I will help
         you as much as possible with your revenge.”

The clerk has a look too interested to Mark. He
is to turn around when the clerk approaches him and grabs his crotch. Mark
jumps.

Clerk:

    • “I see that you are
            already in the mood!”

Mark wants to deny – that it is not his
choice… The clerk passes Mark and locks the leather shop door.

Clerk:

  • “We will be better to
         work!”

The clerk easily guest Mark’s size.

Clerk:

  • “Please, follow me, we
         will see what will suits you best for a revenge. “

Mark follows the clerk, still groggy to
understand that something is wrong in all this. He is nervous, he doesn’t know
at all what to expect. Usually, he has so much control of himself. He lost that
control and it makes him to freak all. But he doesn’t have choice. It is for
his revenge. They stop in front of the leather section of the store.

Clerk:

  • “We should find
         something interesting here.”

The clerk browses the leather gear to find
something that would best fit Mark. But he doesn’t find anything interesting
for someone of Mark’s stature. On the other hands, Mark is not sure about what
to think about all this. Something is telling him this is wrong! But, he knows
he doesn’t have anything to fear from the clerk. With his strength, he is of
any match if the clerk tries anything on him. If he doesn’t like what is going
on, it would be always time time to back out!

Clerk:

  • “Just wait for a moment,
         I think I have what you are looking for! I will be back in a minute.”

The clerk is not gone that he is back with a
pile of leather. He puts the pile on a table and takes a first piece of
leather. It is some leather pants with many D rings all along the legs. He
approaches Mark to gauge rapidly if the size is correct. To the clerk relieve,
it was a good size. Mark doesn’t understand… The clerk grabs the leather coat
and checks briefly on Mark’s body. He is right. It will be the perfect fit.

Clerk:

  • “You are lucky. I have
         just finished to fix it. One of my good customer brought it for repair and
         he won’t be back for a couple of weeks. He will not mind if I borrow it
         for a good cause!”
  • “What do you think to
         try it?

Mark is not sure… The clerk continues.

  • “Don’t worry. After all,
         isn’t it the reason you came here? For revenge? It will be the best way to
         show you how it can be used. You will be in better position to take your
         revenge.”

Mark grunted. He doesn’t like that! He
hesitates, but the clerk is so convincing! His desire for revenge was too
strong for him to refuse the “invitation” to try it on. Seeing Mark
embarrassment, the clerk adds:

  • If you prefer you can go
         in the room at the back to change.

Mark follows the clerk at the back.

Clerk:

  • “I feel you tensed. Just
         relax! Everything will be fine!”

Mark enters in the change room with the leather
suit in his hands. He doesn’t really trust the clerk and makes sure the room is
correctly locked while he is changing clothes.

Clerk:

  • “You will be more
         comfortable without your uniform and underwear.”

It takes a couples of seconds before Mark
assimilates the information. He removes all his uniform and carefully folds it
on the bench. Mark takes the pants, it is curious, D rings are all along the
pants’ legs and stops at the knees. Mark begins to push his legs in them. The
clerk is regularly talking to Mark, to make sure he doesn’t have enough time to
think about the actual situation. Mark gets up and is about to don his leather
coat when the clerk gives him the boots and adds:

  • “It would be easier to
         put the boots before the leather coat. It will be also more comfortable to
         lace tightly the pants up to the knees before donning the boots.”

For Mark, it is strange that the boots have the
same D rings as the rest of the suit. This worries Mark. A bell is tickling
behind Mark’s mind and the clerk talking is enervating him. He has to think! He
wants to clerk to shut up; to tell him to shut up; but he must stay in control
– he couldn’t show that, he, a fighter pilot, lost his temper – his control.
Mark sit again to lace the pants and dons the boots. With these boots, it will
be more difficult to run away. They are too rigid and would prevent him to walk
easily. It is like wearing ski boots. He gets up.

Clerk:

  • “The gloves need to be
         don before the coat.”

Mark complies and slips his arms in the leather
coat. As he easily pull the coat on his shoulders, his hands emerge from the
leather sleeves. He finds, too late, that the sleeves extremity had straps that
prevent the gloves to be removed. This is too much for Mark. He knows that all
this is wrong. He tries to pull out the sleeves but with the leather gloves and
the tight leather coat sleeves, he is unable to remove it. Mark is nervous, he
doesn’t like that it at all. Gas is flowing in the changing cabin. He didn’t
pay attention before but he realize, too late, that the cabin interior was
“capitonned” – not an usual thing for a changing room. He tries to reach the
door but it is locked from the outside. He is coughing. His legs are abandoning
him. Seconds later, he is on the ground – unable to move. He could see the door
opening before he passed out.

The clerk knows he has to act fast. His fighter
pilot would not stay unconscious for long. Mark is pull out of the cabin It is
more difficult that the clerk was expected. Mark is heavier than estimated. The
clerk is holding a gas mask in his hands. He take ears cups and push them in
Mark’s ears. Next, he opens the hood and push the gas mask on Mark’s face
making sure to push the integrated gag into Mark’s mouth and pull the straps
behind Mark’s head. The clerk checks that the mask is comfortable before
covering Mark’s head with an open face leather hood, stucking the hood skirt under
the leather coat and laces the leather coat. The hood would not be removable
unless the leather coat was unlocked and opened.

The clerk is struggling to bring the unconscious
fighter pilot to the back room. He is able to attach him at the hoist to pull
him up to a wooden frame and chained to it: the shoulders (left and right), the
waist, the 2 wrists and the feet. Just in time, Mark is recovering his senses.
He thinks that he is wakening after a black out in his plane and tries to take
back control of the place but he is unable to move his arms and grab the flight
stick. He almost gag; something has invaded his mouth – up to his throat. He
begins to struggle. The clerk has started to lace the leather suit tightly.

Clerk:

  • “I heard jet pilots like
         it tight. Don’t you?”

Mark wants to say no – to scream “NO!” Still
groggy, he is horrified to hear himself agreeing with the clerk. It takes a
little bit more time to regain all his sense. Now, that he is fully awake, all
his senses in alert, he struggles to free himself. But it is too late. Mark
feels the leather pants tightening on his body. The clerk checks and makes sure
the boots are tight and locked. Like a straight jacket, straps are passed
between the legs and attached in his back. He will not be able to pull the coat
over his shoulders. The clerk continues to lace the sleeves and the coat. Laced
tight as he is, Mark has difficulties to move, to bend the knees and the elbows
is almost impossible, the same at the waist.

Clerk:

  • “Don’t worry, it is not
         finished. You will miss the best part!”

But Mark, insists to no available. The clerk
starts to weave the spider web between the wooden frame and Mark leather suit:
the arms, the torso, the waist, and the legs and boots. Mark tries to move, but
it is more difficult with each rings attached. The clerk checks his work. Mark
tries to talk but only unintelligible sound gets out from the gagged mouth. He
is losing his temper; he struggles as much as he could but he is too well
attached.

Clerk:

  • “Don’t worry, as promise,
         I will help you with your revenge but, for now, I need to be paid!”

Mark grunts. He disapproves the payment but he
doesn’t have choice at all.

Clerk:

  • “You are very lucky. You
         arrived just on time. There is actually a show this weekend. You will be
         my main attraction. I’m sure you will make jealousy in the crowd.”
  • “Don’t worry, no one
         will recognize you!”

And, without waiting for Mark answer, continues:

  • Wait a moment! I’m
         coming back.”

The clerk lefts for a brief moment and is back
with Mark’s uniform. Mark grunts. He doesn’t like to see the clerk playing with
his uniform. He struggles…

  • “What about I play your
         role in this “mise en scène”?

The clerk begins to remove his own clothes. Mark
tries to say that it is not part of the plan. The clerk begins to don Mark’s
uniform. Mark is angry, really “pissed off”. This is not part of the agreement
– at least, not in Mark’s plan. Mark knows that he would get his revenge on the
clerk too. The clerk checks the uniform is fitting him properly. He begin to
rub himself in Mark’s uniform. Mark struggles heavily.

  • “This will add
         credibility to our show!”

He lefts Mark alone for the night. On Friday
morning, the clerk comes back, still wearing Mark’s uniform, to see how Mark is
doing.

Clerk:

  • “I assume that you want
         to pee? Don’t worry, I will take care of it.”

Mark grunts again. He doesn’t like the way it is
going. The clerk opens the leather pants and free Mark’s cock. He has a key to
remove the chastity device. Mark cock is free but he still has to pee. The clerk
inserts his cock into a catheter – connected to bag. The leather pants are
closed again.

 

Show

 

The moving team arrives. The clerk gives his
instructions as to what needs to be packed for the show. He asks to pay a close
attention to the leather suit. It needs to arrive in the show room in good
shape. It is a last minute attraction and we have just finished to assemble it
late yesterday night.

Mark gives a last effort to struggle and give a
message to the moving guys. The clerk responds:

  • “Don’t bother about the
         guy inside the leather suit. It’s only a game.”

Mark struggles more to show his disagreement.
The guys doesn’t bother about him as if they are used to this kind of
arrangement. They takes the wooden frame and bring him in the moving truck. Soon,
they are gone for the show.

The clerk arrives in the show room. He is still
wearing Mark’s uniform. He took the precautions to hide Marks’ name on his
uniform – to keep his anonymous. Mark is already installed on his “stale”. The
show is opening in less than 4 hours. Mark wants to tell him that it is enough
but the clerk responds:

  • “Sorry lieutenant, but
         it is too late to change idea. You should have thought about it before.”
  • “The show is only two
         days. You will just have time to have an overview of what you can expect
         for your revenge!”
  • “Don’t worry, all good
         care will be taken.”

On this, the clerk goes back to his show
preparation. He has not finished to set up the booth. The remaining hours past
like minutes to Mike and visitors begin to stop by his booth. The visitors
approach to touch him and Mark struggles each time some one is touching him. At
11h00, the crowd around Mark is growing. More and more visitors are assembling
around Mark. He knows something is happening but he has no way to know what is
coming. He is very anxious.

The clerk approaches with some apparel. Mark
doesn’t like it at all. He doesn’t notice the access to his tit until the clerk
unsnaps them. His tits are now accessible and the clerk begins to massage them.
Mark grunts. The gas mask is connected to some gas bottle and soon, Mark fells
the gas invading the mask, and soon his lungs and body. As the clerk is
continuing his massage, to his horror, Mark begins to moan, to like it. His
breathing pace is accelerating.

The clerk stops. He has something more for Mark.
He grabs two small tubes and fixes them to Mark’s tits and pumps enough to keep
them on place. Next the manual pump is replace by a tube connected to some box.
But it is not all. The clerk bends on his knees and unzips Mark’s leather suit
at the crotch. Mark doesn’t like like it and is putting too much effort in
struggling. This couldn’t last and 20 minutes after, he is exhausted. The clerk
removes the chastity device and encloses his cock in a tube that is connected to
the same box. The pumps is activated. The tits and the cock are pumped and Mark
starts to moan. He can’t stop it.

At the end of the day, Mark is exhausted,
panting. All the afternoon, the pump was running and he was alternating between
explosion of CUM and cock massage. Mark’s couldn’t give any more. He was
sweating a lot. The crowd is slowly leaving the place. To Mark’s relieve, the
pump is finally put off. Mark just wants to be freed to get his revenge on the
clerk. But the clerk has something else in mind. He brings a laptop computer in
front of Mark, still attached on the frame. He puts a DVD and powers on the
laptop. Mark is afraid of what would be in-scripted in the DVD. First, there is
an empty room, the size of a changing room in a clothes store. This particular
one reminds him something. Someone enters. He is able to find some energy to
struggle as he realizes it was him. He sees himself removing his uniform. There
is no doubt that he is doing it freely. To his horror, he sees himself
inserting his legs into the leather suit and begins to pull it up. He is
trapped. This DVD should never to be shown. But it doesn’t finish there. Next,
the camera moves on where Mark is attached. He sees the clerk donning his own
uniform; checking that all is fine and completes with a military salute. Mark
is angry.

Clerk:

  • “As you can see, I bough
         an insurance. If ever, something happens to me, a copy of the DVD will be
         distributed on the internet and send to your commanding officers. I’m
         pretty sure they would appreciate the show.”
  • “But, don’t worry. I
         will still respect my part of the agreement. There is another show, in Las
         Vegas, in 2 months – this one last 2 weeks. If you are able to bring me
         your friend, the week before. I will make sure he will spend a good 2 weeks
         with us.”
  • “Do you agree?”

Mark doesn’t have choice. He grunts a yes. He
just wants the humiliation to finish. He knows there is another days or torture
and he can’t see how he will find the strength to pass through it. It was
almost worst than his training as a fighter pilot.

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Story Contest Entry: “Project 001: The One” by Uíllián O’Geará

September 16, 2011 in Story Contest: DDR Rubber Jock

My Fellow Inmates,

The Story Contest’s Deadline is 9/30/11, So Make sure that you get your stories in before then. We did have one disqualified from the contest for being previously posted upon another site, so also be careful that you are following the rules of the contest, which can be found as the first post in the story contest thread.

So here is the next story, “Project 001: The One” by Uíllián O’Geará

Please enjoy

 


Project “001”: The One.

Chapter One, A Forced Escape.

“Lies, its all secrets and lies they will…urge” An inmate dressed for his cell, is rolled down a hallway, blindfolded and only relies on his ears to perk and pick up the screams. Only some screams were auditable, this he heard as he was rolled in on his cart, fully bonded to the cart behind him, hearing an evil cynical giggle from the crazed man.5 Years Ago.

The scientist Herbert G Moon had allowed his subject in testing out. He had created the first real life anthropomorphic animal. With the name Moon, Dr. Moon had of course brought his subject to be a wolf. A werewolf in fact, giving the man a choice of whether or not he would want to be an animal, or human, it was his choice alone.

Dr. Moon investigated his reaction, finding subject “001” to be stranger than he had expected. It was almost as if he was never given the choice. The man he had enveloped wanted to be a wolf. It was bizarre, but only raised brows in public. Where he would forcible growl and snarl at Dr. Moon until his leash was connected. Somewhat he was like a massive human guard dog for the Doctor.

The subjected started to deny his own human reality; he went on walks amongst the night. The Doctor retired at a good age of 70, he was sick needed to take a break. But in his old age, time had taken a toll on his memory. He jolted upright, drove to his lap and in his despair, the doctor found the blue liquid completely cleaned the doctor passed their and then falling to the floor the label saying.

“The One Gene”.  When the subject had craved the liquid he returned to the lab, but he found nothing here. No-one, the wolf hurried to his feet becoming human, his sake for the answer. Outside a sign said “FOR SALE”. His eyes went red with torment and anger, being naked now felt better to be a wolf. And lurked into the shadows for the night moon was crescent shaped, on the floor of the lab a small note “The One Solution”

The wolf during the night contemplated over his thoughts, he was lucky to be alive, but he never knew how a forced escape had saved his life.

*****

3 years later.

The wolf had grown cold more likely due to the fact his chemical wore off, he sat in a box in the middle of the cold city streets, ashamed of his body. He had no reason to love it, he was half fur covered most the time and his bones and muscles would in their own mind pop or snap into one form leaving him whimpering in pain. The man was lucky however to find clothes. But Homeless and stuck he found all this quite much.

In the middle of his transformation, a strange man, hairy and bulky and as he felt the embrace around him, he swore it was like a bear.

He would be taken in by the man, to find Herbert G Moon had died, but not in vein. The wolf-man pondered at what lay on the wall. The man he had just met was strangely secretive like him. Lead a very sheltered life.

You see Herbert was not only trying to perfect a perfect werewolf, he wanted a perfect gay ‘bear’ man, he had tested all but one more time after one left the lab. He told the bear he meet the truth *Revealing his half furred lower body, including his member, and little bits around the nipples too.

 The bear licked his lips and revealed his extremely hairy slightly pudgy form to the wolf the two animals within them burned to feel one another’s fur pressing against them. The hands of humans rubbing their sensitive animal members, as they dripped and drooled pre from them in a lust the two animals within them forced the two naked human-animals to begin making out.

With this the men grew out of them animals inside coming into control the werewolf skin became sensitive to the touch of the bear the bear teasing and testing the werewolves sweaty body as his fingertips walked along his thick fur. The bear smiled and sucked the wolves sheath, what had he become?

*****

The animal inside let his member withdraw from its sheath for the bears long hot lustful tongue as he felt a surge grow towards the bear the bear spoke.

“You’re Safe Here”

The werewolf grinned and smiled and came to the bear and felt the paw of werewolf emerge as they made out once more, and the flow of saliva from one to another’s mouths caused the two to become more attracted to one another’s touch.
As the storm outside settled down the bear said;

“I can’t believe those mean human’s just left such a big handsome werewolf sit outside naked and not let him in”
The werewolf smiled and asked the bear a tough question.

“How are you here?”

“Well the Doctor always wondered that you had left I found him gone. I put the place up for sale and buried his body out in the graveyard. But i had a forced escape from the authorities we aren’t legal for the streets so I bought this house the one hidden in the valley, the neighbours never bother me. I go out hooded at all times; I won’t be doing another forced escape for a while”

The wolf man was cautious the humans he had seen had accepted it, but the bear’s story made him shiver to his core for now it seemed these humans had sought revenge for Dr. Moon’s disciple creations.

Whoever they were, the thing that frightened the norm was the projects had a choice to be either the human self fitting in with the norm, or their animal self. Which to the wolf seemed to do best in the bedroom and behind closed doors, where no norm could see it happen?
It was seen the norm were sensitive, but also mad and full of anger for these science experiments’ that now terrorised there existence. But they had nothing.

Chapter 2, This Sensitive Touch.

The bear and wolf lived another 2 happy years, until a disaster occurred. The town had been mauled and looted, building were emptied and the owners beaten.

On his grocery trip to the market, he saw a wanted sign on the police wall.

** WANTED BEAR AND WOLF**

And a picture of him and his wolf friend below the scribbled letters of Bear and Wolf, he shook and a policeman, asked.
“Do you know these foes, they are the cause of this, and a huge reward is for offer.”

The hooded man shook his head, and went on his way the police officer looked quietly but prolong at him do so but the bear, did not dare react, he only gulped, and grasped his bags before buying the food and other things in the only remaining shop.
But suddenly he felt a strange feeling this he had not felt before, an urge, a calling. He ran home, leaving the bags behind and came to the house and broke open the door.

No-one’s home, not like the wolf to get up and go, without telling the bear, but his suspicions where closed with a note on the table, it was semi-stained in blood.

“The game’s up freak, we have your wolf friend here, if you ever want to see him again, you’ll hand yourself into the police, or end up here. You’ve been warned, you have 5 days, or else”

The bear shivered and began to wonder what creeps had taken his beloved friend away, but as he pondered the police came to the door. The letter was trying to get him to confess as soon as possible. He turned to human form braved his smile and answered the door, with that he was soon been pinned to the wall as they searched his home in clues for evidence. The bear slipped the note into his underwear and gulped as they searched frantically for any evidence.

** Day 1**

The wolf dressed in tight rubber, his muzzle masked and his member being forced erect is rolled down a hallway, blindfolded and only relies on his ears to perk and pick up the screams. Only some screams were auditable, this he heard as he was rolled in on his cart, fully bonded to the cart behind him, hearing an evil cynical giggle from the crazed man.

He felt the cart stop and then from its upright stance suddenly folded downward to being horizontal. The wolves blindfold was removed but his gag not as, he was tied enough to wiggle and look down at his member, but not enough power to move his hands, these felt like lead bricks at the moment. But he felt the warmth of a humans hand clasp his sensitive shaft but not to stroke it. He felt a slight pinch, repeating down the vein in his wolf member.

He’d clench every so often the other male in the room smacking his balls to make his member stay erected, as the two applied the pinching pain to his balls, not giving up for a moment he heard one say.

“We’re going to make the wolf moan like a puppy”

The wolf looked down at his member, there pinching his dick was clothes begs all of which had been tightly clipped to his erection as the two males smiled and opened his mouth, the inserted a ring gag into his mouth forcible making the wolf suck the two men’s dicks as they rubbed their hands on his rubber making him moan as he felt himself being edged by the males as he huffed and puffed as his balls grew bigger and harder than before and even more sensitive.

The two men had their way one sticking fingers in his tail hole, edging him the other frantically fucking his muzzled mouth and making him squeak and murr in pleasure pain and he teamed up feeling the males have their way at him being bonded to the now table like bed he had been conjoined to felt like a part of the wolf as he was teased to till he heard the clock strike 12. The two men left their new found prey toy, in his layout to rest for future fun the two had planned edging him to such a sensitive touch.

**Day 2**

The wolf had heard so many, laughs and screams during the night, he hardly got any sleep, his cock hard-on had died down but nothing felt more sensitive to him right now. His member needing the bear’s elegant paw sliding over it, treating it well serving his needs as a wolf but also being able to service the bear for his own tensions. The bear was a sensitive touched by the wolves hot stick saliva as it dripped and drooled off his eager hard sensitive member. The wolf knew how to treat the bear like any man desired. To the point of pure lust for the other males touch.

The bear was no nearer to finding the only person like him. No closer to finding the truth. In hiding from the government and the mad men it wasn’t as easy to disguise him now. People were out hungry for his capture. They hunted him like wild furious beasts. Deemed on blood lust for the bear to be behind bars, for him to be off their conscience, it drove him slightly mad that these once quite folk were savages under the skin!

But he was advancing only at the cover of the moon and forests, he hid with great precision during the morning hours, an instinct in his blood, his multiple gene structure had a natural talent to stay away from the hunter’s sights and be almost invisible to the humans. Its how he felt now, invisible, but not invincible as he had before all this havoc had begun. He feared for the wolf, only knowing the government would have him somewhere being tormented for answers being held against his will for the bear’s location. How could he know? He said in his head. The bear grew anger from fear, that anger grew to hate, that hate turned the bear into his animalistic form.

And as the bear became more enraged the more he debited the humans that chased his wolf away his other. His only understanding was, “That which is holding a gun is no man at all, what about a good old’ fashioned brawl?” the bear grew weary the moon doth poked its pale head from the horizon forth the bear remember his wolves erections these nights where just such a sensitive touch, he’d blow a load in moments. Several times or more-so!

Chapter 3, The Darker Days Of Yore’.

Yore’ the Greek Titan for Passion and Lust, an idol some say, but Yore’ he had so many problems. Palace’ wanted to be a Titan, for he was brother of Ophidians’ Titan of Day. Ophidians’ did neigh not pardon his brother palace to be worthy of the title Titan. He had not proved himself in the Greek History Zeus banished Yore’ to walk the moors when he defeated the Titan’s for their Kingdom on Olympus. Zeus neigh spoke of Yore’ but he coined the phrase used to this day;
“It’s only when its dark do I hear the score, for this is the darker days of Yore’”

**Day 3**

In the waking of the sun, came news of the bear’s disappearance, the wolf grew weary his member was left for a whole day without service. It was pulsating and harder than ever even his struggles could not realise the bonds of his paws from there rubber cells in which the men who came in only tortured him with sleek sensitive touching of the tip. They’d purposely even lick the tip just to drive the wolves’ lust through the roof of his entrapped, encased rubber confinements.

The wolf felt the bonds grow tighter on each visit, and his form begged a lot of visits from these men who had his form locked to the bed below him as he moaned feeling his member drip, drool pre, making him giggle, his member so sensitive to the touch of these men he grew to like being bound and forced to cum. But this was a step of torture, he felt abandoned, he felt alone, and most of all. He felt vulnerable for the first time to the sensitiveness of his member as it stayed hard in the dense room air that lurked and loomed all around him.

These men grew very much in love with the wolf almost begging to be touched by them they felt it in his rubber sealed fur as he tensed and woofed for attention. His muzzled maw made it hard to woof, but it was still most likely a very audible sound. As he was just left in the room with pads of electric current, making his muscles tense edging his member, not giving in on his lust to cum, not yet. These men wanted that bear too, and they knew the wolf was the perfect bait. All the bear knew was whoever had his wolf, had taken his only friend. His only one!

*****

**Day 4**

The bear grew nauseous of his surroundings, he was cold, and it had been raining all throughout the morning. His fur was wet damp and cold, but his wolf was still a major priority, the great wonder, is, the bear felt like this was his darkest days of Yore’, but he was stumbling and in need of assistance. He needed something to eat. The forest had many a treat to offer, but he felt sick, the berries were stale, the water was stagnant, and his belly grumbled loudly, needing a meat, needing real food.
The darkest day of Yore’ had only begun. He was spotted and formidable shot, in the knee, with that last burst of energy, he felt like being an animal, was a crime. To these people the darker the man becomes the more he is Yore’.

But these people had become wild, the very thing they despised they were like vicious animals in their own sick little way. He felt more human to them, he spoke in soliloquy

“Danger, I fight for it to come, but I will find my wolf, I will”

He dragged his knee to the waters of the lake and bathed it for a while with that his darkest day was nearing its end the sun high in the sky the afternoon approaches from the north as the sun hits its peak in the sky. This darkest day of Yore’ had taken the bear too his edge, he cared no more for the human’s.

To him nothing was more evil than a human with a gun!

To him these villains are the worst hero’s to walk the earth.

“What walks on two feet bad, which walks on four are the chosen ones”

“This through what lies beyond my window yonder. It is all gone for hero’s which carry weapons on their backs need not feet to walk with, but need a back that can’t bare that burden. It’s what lies beyond my window yonder. It is all in which windows perceive reality. The eyes are what lie beyond my window yonder!”

 

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Contest Entry: “A Pup’s Fantasy” by ErrorWolf

August 17, 2011 in Story Contest: DDR Rubber Jock

My Fellow Inmates,

 

 

Here is the next entry in to the story contest:

____________________________________________________________________________

A Pup’s Fantasy
by ErrorWolf

[1] Prep


Before your arrival I start by taking all my clothes off leaving just my furry body standing alone in a cheap motel room, nipples erect in the cool air, as a more southerly part also grows erect at the mere thought of what I hope is going to finally happen.

The instruction had been simple yet strange, rent a room, put a key in a pack of cigars and leave them just to the left of the front door of the library, pick up the plastic wrap that would be there, then return to the room to prepare.

Fondling myself lightly, I unzip my gear bag and start laying stuff out. On top is the popup kennel I have never used, granted it is soft sided with zippered door so it can’t be too secure, but if I were mitted and locked even its zipper would defeat me… that brought me to the next item, my leather pup hood with blindfold, yes, locked in the cage like a good little pup, can’t even use my teeth to open it, hands blunted to paws, struggle as much as you want, only Master can let you out now… I realize, almost too late, that while envisioning this scenario I had continued stroking myself, nearly to the point of no return, wouldn’t do to rob Master of his spunk now would it.

Continuing to unpack, with both hands now, I pull out my rubber shorty suit with full access zipper, my wresting boots, real dog paw mitts that happen to fit my fists, socks for padding, the collection of collars and cuffs which I set on the night stand along with the ring of locks and keys.

Next out was my favorite piece of gear, a full, heavy gage, lace up, dip-molded latex hood with only a mouth hole. It was so great because once you tightened it up it applied a wonderful level of compression while blocking out all light and muffling sound, the closest I had ever come to the longed-for sensory deprivation experience. Oh to be isolated from my world, with my Master as the only tie to reality, to be so totally his that I can’t even perceive anything else but his touch.

Finally I remove my pup tail plug and a double egg vibrator, not sure what Master will want to do with my tail I will just leave them out for him. From a side compartment I remove some lube, condoms, and a brown glass bottle. From the other side I take out a latex bed sheet which I use to cover the other bed, and a clear rubber sleep sac with 3 zip heads which goes on top of the sheet, just a subtle hint of what I’d like done.

Leaving the bag still half full of gear, I grab a bottle of lube and start slicking up my torso, concentrating on my arms and legs I linger just a bit on my still hard rod, stoking it in anticipation of Master’s care. Picking up the suit, I wipe lube all over the inside, testing the smooth, slippery material on my dick by wrapping it with the arm hole and slowly rubbing, to verify that it was lubed enough of course.

Passing the test, I stick one leg in, then the other, pulling the suit up to my waist. I gasp slightly as the cold latex contacts my more sensitive parts, but, as it always does, the rubber goes from cold to warm, feeling as though it were my second skin. Touching the smooth shiny black surface feels warm, like a perfect hairless layer that is as much a part of me as my very own flesh, seeming alien yet comfortable, bizarre yet right, as if it actually were alive, covering me in its warm, firm embrace.

Pulling the top of the suit over my shoulders I fish the zippers from the back, leaving two of the heads at my crotch, and zipping up the rest of the way to my neck. I twist and move as the suit finds its place on my body, settling in to complete the transformation, making me momentarily long for a full suit, until I rub the crotch and forget everything again, only able to think of the feeling of the rubber under my hand and the slick insides causing a whole range of sensations on my very eager cock.

Before I get myself into trouble again, I open the zipper to let my cock out and grab one of the little leashes, installing it at the base behind my balls, I yipe as the clip catches a little flesh, but it didn’t break the skin so it’s fine. Sitting on the bed I put the boots on, lacing them up firmly and wrapping the velcro covers. I clip two more collars onto my ankles and lock two choker chains over the boots to make sure they aren’t going anywhere, plus the boots keep the chains from hurting my ankles if they are used for tie-down points.

Reaching into the bag I grab the knee pads and put them on. Almost done, what am I forgetting? I move the mitts, socks, plastic wrap, wrist collars, brown bottle, and duck tape to the other bed with the hoods. I dig in the bag and pull out a bottle of liquor, pouring a good size amount into a hotel cup I down it and cough as I accidentally inhale the strong fumes.

Putting the bottle and cup on the night stand, I kneel on the rubber sheet facing the door and don the rubber mask, lacing it up tight I’m taken to that wonderful place of rubber bliss, as I rub by chest, latex is all I can feel, touching me from all corners.

Pressing on, lest I get distracted again, I slide the leather hood over the rubber one. Buckling the built-in collar on, realizing I forgot the lock for the hood, I feel my way to the stand and grab a medium lock and snap it into place with a click that is very loud and final in the hoods. I also reach down to the floor to find my clothes and pick up a sock, wetting it from the brown bottle, I stuff it into the pup hood’s muzzle so it will stand out correctly, and zip it closed.

As my head spins in the utter darkness from the aromas that now taint my every breath, I drift off to a very happy place for a moment, dreaming of what’s to cum, wishing I could stay in this state all the time I was a pup, wishing I could always stay a pup, just wanting to please my Master and lay at his feet. To be told I am his “Good Boy”.

Turning back around toward the direction I think the door was in, I feel around for a sock and pull it on, placing my knuckles in the heel and rolling the toe end into my palm for padding and spacing. Finally I clumsily wrap my sock-paw with plastic wrap, put a band of duct tape at the wrist to make sure it won’t go anywhere, and slip the rubber bottomed dog mitts over the whole mess securing it with a collar. I then wonder if I should have laid out a choker chain to lock onto the wrists too, but there was no way I could have handled putting it together one handed and one pawed. If Master wants to add it he can when he gets here, then he get to set the locks too.

Having done all the preparations I can by myself, I get comfortable on all fours, only humping the sheet below me a little, still facing what I hope is the door, to await my Masters arrival like a good pup.

_________________________________________________________________________

With That, Visiting Time Is Over.

What Ever You Do Don’t Scream Too Loud As Others Are Trying To Sleep.

~Rubberasylum

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Contest Story Entry: “Our First Meeting” by Slashpup (Puppy, Bondage)

August 14, 2011 in Story Contest: DDR Rubber Jock

My Fellow Inmates,

 

 

Here is our sencond entry in to the Asylum Contest for the devil dog rubber Jock. This is a first person perspective on going to play with a Sir…

Its “Our First Meeting” by Slashpup

***************************************************************

I meet you at the Airport; you have had a long flight to Nashville from Miami. You wore camouflage shorts with a sexy jock, white crew socks and your smelliest skater sneakers, and a tight black shirt showing your muscles. As we walk to its truck you grab the back of my collar and remind me that I walk a step behind you and to the right, where I belong. As we get to the truck I open your door first then go to the drivers’ side and we start on our way to the house.

We enter the house and you say hello to Chris and we go to the living room where you take a seat on the couch, Chris sits in the chair and I take a seat on the floor at your feet where I belong, looking at your sneakers and white socks longing to touch, sniff, feel, and taste it. We talk for a little bit Chris knows full well why you are here and it is all about you and I. Filling the need for me to be a boy/pup. But you have plans for him as well but neither of us knows that for now.

You take me to the play room and have me strip naked so that all I’m wearing is the evil cb6000 that you have locked on me yet again. You put on the leather suspension restraints and hook me to the cross so that I can not get away from your prying hands. You inspect my body touching and feeling anything and everything you want to touch and feel. Slapping my ass from time to time reminding me how fucked I am now that you are here and completely at your mercy. You take rope and secure me to the cross using the rope cleats, now I’m unable to move anything but my head. You take off one of your socks that you have been wearing for a week and stuff it in my mouth and tape it in place. You securely attach a hood and make sure it is locked on and finally the blindfold puts me in total darkness. As my salvia makes your sock wetter the taste gets worse as time goes on. You turn off the light shut the door turn the heat on and leave me to wait until you are ready to deal with me.

You go back to the living room ask Chris if he minds that you pour yourself a drink from the bar. You get one for him and for yourself and head out back to smoke a cigar. While out there you and he talk about your plans for me during your week stay with us letting him know you have plans for him as well but strictly just for play as he needs it too. Clearing up any possible misunderstandings and rules seeing to it there will be no jealousy and no problems with you using me.

When you return you see my body glistening in sweat from the heat. You leave me hooded, blindfolded and gagged but take me down off the cross have me climb into the giant pup bed on the floor. You have me lay on my back and shove the butt plug tail in and proceed to put the humbler on me so that you can be sure I can’t stand. As I join you both in the living room I get to cool down from the intense heat you had turned on, laying at your feet as you watch TV drink your drinks and converse. You strap your sneaker to my face, covering the nose holes of the hood, forcing it to smell you. You tell me to stay where I am and you take Chris to the bedroom and tie him down spread eagle on the bed naked and work him over getting him hot and horny. You blindfold him with a bandana and gag him with your other sock and strap your other sneaker to his face. You come get me and remove the sneaker, blindfold, hood and gag and have me crawl on all fours to the bedroom were Chris is tied horny and waiting for attention. You help me onto the bed and force me to suck him off but tell me not to let him cum until you allow. As I’m on the bed sucking him off you remove the plug and grab a dildo and start fucking me with it. Knowing I can’t touch myself, I focus’s on Chris and you fucking my hole as I service my husband. You tell me to get him off and as you fuck me harder and harder with the dildo I suck more and more. Chris moaning into your sock gag, he’s getting closer and closer to shooting his load. I feel his body tensing up; seeing from the corner of my eye his toes curling slightly. He gets quiet; I switch to jerking him off by hand wanting to see the orgasm. With all the might of his body he releases his load in an eruption of orgasmic lust and the overflowing fountain of cum spraying over his head landing on the pillow and wall. The most intense orgasm ever seen by man has just taken place, at my hand.

As Chris calms down from his orgasm you take me to the sling re-gag me with that now wet nasty sock of yours, my cock straining in the confines of the cock cage, testing the plastics hardness and durability. Securing me to the sling, throw on a condom and fuck me hard and rough, telling me I am nothing but a toy and play thing for you while you’re here. Slapping my ass, pulling my hair, talking dirty to me until you are close to cumming, you pull out remove the condom and shoot onto a dirty sock of mine that has been worn for a few days. You remove the saliva soaked sock gag and stick the new sock with your fresh cum on it in my mouth and secure it with even more tape forcing it to taste your wonderful man juice. You tell me, I’m not allowed to swallow it and must savor the taste as my reward for servitude. I swirl it around my mouth as best I can with the sock in there and delighting in the joy I get from being allowed to taste you. You untie me, and allow me to swallow the semen, leaving the gag in, you have me get dressed and we all leave for dinner not letting me get off and keeping me locked, straining and totally frustrated for you.

Part 2:

We arrive at the restaurant and you remove the gag from my mouth before exiting the car. At dinner Chris orders and then you order for both yourself and me without asking me what I wish to have. You order my drink, water, and for my meal a salt and pepper steak. You look to me and tell me that there are rules for eating at a restaurant. You are the last to start eating and you will never order for yourself or even voice what you want. Pups don’t decide what they eat, they eat what is put in front of them. As the food is delivered I remember the rules, I’m the last to start eating as you take your sweet time to start eating yourself Sir. Talking with Chris who has already started, you delay, knowing I can’t eat until you have taken a bite. As we finish the bill comes to the table. I stay behind to pay the bill as you two head out, I hurry to sign the check and rush out to catch up not to keep you waiting. On our way home Chris drives with you in the passenger seat. I stays quiet the whole way home trying to maintain composure being as I’m the only one to not have gotten off yet, and with you here I no longer hold the key to gain even the slightest bit of relief from the cock cage.

We get home and you and Chris head to the living room to relax. Having a big meal you are both a bit tired and need to relax a bit before anything else starts. Meanwhile I head to the bedroom to change into my uniform, nothing but the jock strap holding back the cb600 socks and sneakers. I meet you both in the living room sitting at your feet. I remove your sneakers and inhale deeply as I get the nod of approval to do so from you. I remove your socks and again get the nod of approval and sniff it deeply. I take the sock and willingly place it in my mouth no tape needed. I start massaging your feet paying attention to every last part of the foot making it feel as good as I knows how. I use a little baby oil to help the friction decrease a little bit and intensify the sensation of the hands running over your foot. You and Chris continue to converse as if I’m not even there. Invisible to you both I’m just another object in the room. With you and Chris both fully digested you’re ready again the festivities start for the evening.

You take me to the play room again and put me on my knees and place the pup tail in my hole filling it good! You tape the gag in place due to the nature of the next event. You put me on the cross face out this time, put the nipple clamps on and use 2 small pieces of duct tape to secure them to my chest knowing how painful it will be to remove it. You then add cloths pins to my arms, chest, sides, and legs. The pain reaches intolerable and I start to scream into the gag and you remove the last 2 pegs from each area to make it slightly more tolerable. You let me marinate with the pain and turn to Chris who has been helping you torture me, and ask him if he wants to be tied down again. He said yes and you take him to the bedroom and once again tie him down spread eagle and you leave me in a darkened room with my thoughts and pain. As you return to the bedroom and play with Chris you continually edge him. Letting him recuperate from the edging, you come back to me flicking the cloths pins making me scream in pain. You tell me that when you are done edging Chris you might come back and release it from the cross. I moan into the gag in disbelief that I may be there for an hour like that!

You return to tease and edge Chris to no end and meanwhile my level of pain is increasing exponentially. I am starting to moan louder and louder until you come in to see me. You slap me lightly but hard enough to get the point across. You tell me to keep quiet or it’ll be longer! So I quiet down and as you leave you shut the door tightly. As you go back to the bedroom across the hall you close the bedroom door as well. The sound barriers will make the next part more delightful for you. Your attention is completely on Chris now, telling him the next time I make a noise they can hear you will let him cum, not telling him that you told me moments before to not make another sound, A mind fuck, to the best degree. Chris begins to moan in pleasure and frustration, as you tease him and starts begging for release knowing that he won’t find any help until I make noise again. He starts yelling my name and you gag him with a sock and tape so he can’t ask me to make noise. Meanwhile my pain continuing to increase has me wanting to not only make noise but to scream in agony. Knowing better this time, I choose to remain silent if you come back to the playroom mad at me it may not be a light slap to the face; it might be a punch to the gut or chest and not a light one. I hear moans from Chris feeling his pain though my ears knowing the frustrating hell he’s going through being teased over and over again with no release. At the risk of being beaten, I can’t stand to hear my husband moan and groan anymore, I had to get your attention to give him a break. I start moaning into my gag as loud as I can.

You think you hear me but aren’t sure and Chris is moaning as well making it harder to hear me anyway. As the pain reaches intolerable levels, I screams in pain and you both hear me clearly and you honor your word and bring Chris to orgasm. As he explodes for the second time in the night, you are in no rush to release me and you come in turn the light on offending my eyes and to get the full effect you look me in the eye kiss me lightly and remove every cloths pin in reverse order in rapid succession until you have nothing but the clamps left. I’m literally screaming hanging by restrained hands on the cross from the extremely painful torture that removing the cloths pins caused. You peal the tape back SLOWLY, screaming into the gag as it rips hairs and the clamps themselves from my nipples as the tape is finally removed you are kind enough to give it a hit of poppers and quickly, press your fingers into its nipples intensifying the pain and I again screams into the gag, preying the neighbors can’t hear it and call the cops.

You allow simmer down while still attached to the cross hanging as a bag of bones with no energy left to keep myself up on my feet. I hang from the suspension cuffs overwhelmed by the pain I have just been though. You leave to untie Chris and clean him and yourself up. As you and he are in the bathroom Chris starts the shower to clean up for the night as bedtime is rapidly approaching. You come in to see me withered from the intense pain of the past hour. You look at me dead in the eye and tell me how proud you are of it enduring the pain as well as it did. That single comment gave me an extra surge of energy and springs my cock to attention. You notice this and remove my aching cock from the confines of the plastic cell. You rub my cock, it feels so good as it is touched for the first time in weeks. You bring me to the edge of orgasm in seconds. Having no stimulation and no relief it takes hardly anything to bring me close to orgasm. You stop immediately not letting me have the pending orgasm so close to finally getting to blow its load…. I beg you to let it cum, begging you telling you that it would do absolutely anything to get to cum. knowing I mean it you look me in the eyes again and ask me if it truly feels that I deserve it. I tell you yes and that I really would do anything to get to cum and you matter-of-factly say you’ll do anything I want anyway pup. And while that is true you know I have been good and that I so desperately need the release.

You begin stroking it again. I throw its head back in pleasure begging the whole time for you to let me cum. You laugh evilly and tell me, I have 30 seconds to cum and you grip slightly harder and pick up the pace and as I reach orgasm you lighten your grip and slow down and as it reaches the 30 second mark I explode all over. The release of weeks of chastity results in an orgasm covering your hand my chest the cross and the floor below. You gather up as much of the cum as you can in a glass and quickly remove my gag feeding it to me, again tell me to savor the taste and not swallow until you tell me to. As it lingers in my mouth my cock twitches from finally getting the release it so desperately needed. You tell me to swallow and I drink it all down not letting a drop fall from my lips. You release me from the cross, and guide me to the shower, joining you. Knowing how proud you are of me I muster up the last bit of energy I have and wash you tenderly exploring your sexy body in every inch every crevasse I can find. We finish washing and when out I dry you off and you go to the bedroom to get ready for bed. You call me to the playroom and reattach the cb6000 and my leather collar and I moan in displeasure and hang my head. You lift my chin and look me in the eye and talk softly, you need this control don’t you? I respond in a whisper yes Sir I do. You lock it in place and guide me to the bedroom where Chris has laid out my sleeping bag and a soft mat for my bed.

You attach the tie down to its collar put the leather ankle restraints on my hind paws and clip them together fasten my pup mitts on my wrist locking them in place, and as you to lay in bed, I crawl into my sleeping bag, leashed to the foot of the bed, we all fall asleep.
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This is the second entry and we already have a third in line as well that shall be posted soon. Remember the deadline is 9/30/11 for your stories to be concidered for the prize. I shall update the story contest tab to include both of these today

With That, Visiting Time Is Over.

What Ever You Do Don’t Scream Too Loud As Others Are Trying To Sleep.

~Rubberasylum

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Story Contest Entry: Dinner Out by Sparky (Rubber, Puppy)

August 11, 2011 in Story Contest: DDR Rubber Jock

>My Fellow Inmates,

 

Here is the first Entry in the Asylum Story Contest. Its Called “Dinner Out” and is a rubber puppy story by Sparky

Enjoy

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Apollo sat nervously in the back seat of the car, absentmindedly stroking his moulded puppy paws against the smooth black latex rubber suit hugging his body, each movement of rubber against rubber eliciting a quiet squeak. Master and his mate were in the front seat arguing about some banal detail their jobs while Master piloted the aging luxury car to the restaurant. Their conversation was all boring computer stuff, none of it making much sense to Apollo. Not that he really care about it anyway; the pup’s mind was preoccupied with the events of the last 6 hours and the evening to come.
It felt like his entire life had changed when he landed in Seattle that morning. After collecting his bags he met Master in the arrivals section of the airport and had been whisked northward to a 1970′s rambler just south of downtown. Master had been very sociable and nice on the trip to his house chatting and asking how Apollo was doing, seeming like an old friend. Once they arrived at Master’s house though though, everything changed. Upon walking in the door the Master was greeted enthusiastically by a tan 70lb pit bull. Master bent to greet the dog, scratching its back before straightening to turn to Apollo.
“Get in there, strip and get your suit on.” The Master’s words were spoken gruffly as he gestured to the door immediately to the right of the entryway before continuing, “I expect you ready in five minutes.” Master strode off to the other end of the house without looking back.
5 minutes?! That was crazy. Apollo opened the door and stepped into the room, the pit bull pushing inside the moment Apollo’s hand opened the door. The room was clearly purpose designed for the dog. Two large kennels were lined up along the back wall, with a four gleaming metal dog bowls neatly arranged beside them. Two of the bowls were filled with water, the others completely empty. Putting down his suitcases, Apollo dived into the hard backed one that had his gear. Pulling out the stretchy rubber suit he dug, looking for his talc. Where was the Talc? Oh no! Quickly checking in the other case he confirmed that he had left it at home. Pawing through the two cupboards in the room revealed dog food, various medicines, brushes, and other dog paraphernalia, but no talc, or even anything close to it.
“Damnit!” The boy quickly started kicking off his shoes and pulling off his clothes. Once naked he flopped down on the floor and started wriggling into the legs of the mass of rubber. There were traces of talc in the suit from when he had last used the suit, but not nearly enough to make getting into it an easy task, much less possible in a five minute time frame. On his back, Apollo struggled to get his legs wedged into the tight material. The pit bull started nosing at the rubber, then sniffing and licking his face making matters even worse.
Apollo looked up, startled as the door to the mud room slammed open. Master strode in, his jeans and t-shirt exchanged for black leather pants, a tight white undershirt, and a pair of riding boots. He was carrying a black duffel bag, which he calmly set down on a short table near to the door before looking down at the struggling boy. Apollo tried to read Master’s eyes and flat facial expression, but was unable to tell if he was disappointed, angry, or even amused by his failure to meet the imposed 5-minute deadline.
“Sky, crate.” The firm tone resulted in an immediate response from the pit bull. The dog quickly and directly walked to the leftmost of the two crates and turned around in it to lay down, watching Master and the new pup. Master knelt and without a word gripped at the rubberized suit, expert hands efficiently tugging it up section by section, helping the pup finish putting it on. Feet quickly popped out the ankles of the suit, joined in short order by hands emerging out of the wrist holes. Once the suit was formed to his body and zipped up Master stood, moving over to the duffel bag. Unzipping it, the man opened it and looked inside before turning back to the boy. Apollo fidgeted slightly, rubber squeaking softly with every movement.
“Apollo, are you ready for this? Really ready?” Master’s tone was even. Master’s eyes locked with the boy’s, bright blue orbs piercing into Apollo’s own blue eyes. Apollo took a deep breath. This was it. This was what he’d thought about for so many years. This was his chance to really be a master’s puppy.
“Yes, sir!” Apollo’s response erupted from his mouth cheerfully. Prancing around on all fours in his gear at home was fun, but Apollo had always wanted an audience, wanted a master, wanted to show someone how good of a pup he could be.
“Once I put this collar on your neck you are a dog until I remove it. I know I sent you a list of my rules before you accepted my invitation, but seeing how new you are, I will repeat them /one/ last time.” Master’s words came smoothly, tone even other than a slightly menacing emphasis on the number. “Dogs do not talk; dogs bark, although not excessively. Dogs will remain firmly planted on the ground by all 4 legs. Dogs will obey all commands immediately and without hesitation. Do you understand?”
Apollo nodded, thrilling a little at hearing these restrictions voiced by the master. He had read the email before he left again and again, practically memorizing the instructions within.
The Master reached into the black bag and withdrew a square wooden box. Creaking it open by the hinge it revealed a thick rubber collar nestled in the velvet interior. The collar had two black anodized rings embedded in it, about 30 degrees apart. The back of the collar had two embedded halves of a clasp with metal rings which looked designed to accept a small padlock. After showing off the collar the master put it and the box back on the table before pulling out several objects. First he pulled out a pair of paw-gloves, moulded from matte-black rubber, each with an adjustable wrist and more loops for padlocks. Next came two shiny rubberized boots. The boots looked like normal galoshes at the base, but the material continued tightly up the shins, capped with embedded knee-pads formed into foot paws. Master handed the boots to Apollo and gestured down at his feet.
Sitting down to put on the boots Apollo realized why Master had asked for such detailed measurements of various parts of his body. Clearly the boots fit perfectly, foot paws fitting neatly over his knees. Rocking forward onto his knees he was pleased to see how the paw pads cushioned his knees, a comfortable improvement from his countless hours of prancing around on all 4′s on carpet and hardwoods back at home when Mom and Dad were not around.
Master knelt before him, and wordlessly put the paws on his hands, first the left, then the right. The paws forced his human fingers to ball up into a fist, the tightly formed rubber distributing weight around his whole hands. Once they were snugly fit, master pulled the straps on the wrists tight, then stood to fish around in the bag some more. He withdrew three padlocks, each of which he popped open from a key fished from the pocket of the jeans. After replacing the key the master picked up the collar and turned back to Apollo.
“The last word you will say until I decide we are done is your safe word. Repeat it now for me, then I will collar you. Remember, all you have to do is say it again to end it all immediately, but if you do it’s over. We don’t begin again, and you go home right away.” Master held out the collar, waiting for a response before wrapping it around the slender boy’s neck.
“Here goes nothing,” thought Apollo as lifted his chin before proudly saying “Free-dive.”
Master’s hands moved forwards, pulling the collar up against Apollo’s neck. His fingers deftly closed the clasp, letting the rubber settle around the pup’s neck. The rubber was tight against his neck, but not so tight as to be uncomfortable or restrict breathing. Master turned, grabbing all three padlocks to place them on the collar and two paws before pointing at the ground.
“Apollo, sit.”
The pup immediately crouched down onto his haunches. Obeying the command sent a thrill through his spine. When the Master’s lips crept up into a smile at his prompt response the pup beamed. This was happening. This was real!
“Sky, come.” Master pointed next to Apollo, and the pit bull obediently fell in line with his more-human counterpart, automatically sitting. Master reached down to pat both dogs before him, scratching at their ears momentarily before turning and walking out of the room, calling “Sky, Apollo, heel” behind him.
Sky immediately bounded forward, following a step behind Master. Apollo froze momentarily, not used to such nonchalant orders, before taking his cue from the tan pit bull and crawling forward, trying to catch up on his hands and knees. Walking was awkward at first for Apollo. When he had practiced at home he had always walked on the palms of his hands, but the gloves forced him onto his fists. With the tight support the gloves offered his wrists he could immediately see that this would put much less strain on his wrists in the long term, although at the expense of having to re-learn to walk. The boots on the other hand were perfectly natural. The hardwood floors he was trundling down felt soft against the cushioned knee pads.
Master lead the duo out the back door into a large yard with impeccably manicured grass. The lawn was fenced in by a tall wooden fence providing privacy on the warm summer day. After verbally releasing them he spent a short while playing with both dogs, tossing a few balls for them, and playing tug-of-war with the pit bull. Apollo’s still-awkward prancing made it impossible for him to beat Sky to the thrown balls, and he had little interest in playing with the filthy rope toy. A wave of relief crossed over him when Master walked back inside and returned with a fresh, new rope toy. Master dangled it in Apollo’s face temptingly.
The new rubber pup reflexively raised a hand to grab at the rope. Immediately he realized how futile that would be, with his hands bound tightly into fists, thumb encased tightly to the fist. Apollo put the paw back down, opting to grab at the rope awkwardly with his mouth. The dog made it look so easy, yet Apollo found himself struggling to get a good grip with his mouth. As Master played with both dogs Apollo slowly got used to the paws, becoming more agile on them, dragging at his feet less as he romped.
Abruptly Master went into training mode, barking orders at both dogs, giving gentle corrections to both. While Sky’s training revolved mostly around rehashes of basic obedience and seemed mostly a show for the new pup in the pack, Apollo was receiving pointers on walking and instructions to straighten his back while standing.
The patio door opened and a thin, tall man with a long beard walked out and kissed Master, who dropped the rope to embrace him. The tall man looked down at Apollo disapprovingly. Master had warned that his mate wasn’t into puppy play, and the glare the pup was receiving from him made it clear that he thought Apollo looked ridiculous. The boy’s ears burnt red, gripped by the sudden realization that he DID look ridiculous. Refusing to be deterred the pup grabbed the rope with his teeth before crawling forward with the toy. Nudging it into the Master’s mates leg. Nuzzling him with the toy edged his look of disapproval into an outright sneer. Apollo lowered his back, flattening to the ground; the pup felt completely unsure of how to react.
As the mate stepped back inside shaking his head, Apollo’s head hung low. He was startled by Master’s hand rubbing the back of his neck.
“Good boy, ignore him. You are here for _my_ pleasure, not his.” Master’s tone was even, his enunciation of the word ‘my’ growling yet precise, implying a sense of ownership.
Apollo nuzzled into the master’s hand, flushing from the praise. The master and two pups played and trained for a short while before he sent both dogs to the kennels. Master disappeared for half an hour or so, returning dressed in a sharp gray suit with a light blue shirt. He carried a leather pup hood with a laced back.
“Apollo, Sit.” The Master pointed at the ground in front of him. Apollo eagerly crawled out of the crate and scrambled over to hunch down on all fours in front of Master. The man bent down to show the pup the hood. The hood was designed to cover most of the pup’s head, completely enclosing him other than two holes for his eyes. The muzzle was slightly shorter than most hoods Apollo had seen online, and was split into an upper and lower half. The insides of the muzzle were soft plastic, with slight indentations at the tip of the muzzle, giving an impression of teeth. After giving the pup a chance to inspect the hood, he gently lifted it onto his head, then walked around behind Apollo to tighten the laces and tie them behind the pup’s head snugly. Returning to Apollo’s front, Master looked down, checking to make sure his eye’s and mouth were properly aligned.
“Are you comfortable?”
“Yes!”
The master’s hand darted down, snagging the side of Apollo’s neck sharply. While the blow didn’t really hurt, it certainly startled the pup.
“Remember the rules, boy. Dog’s don’t talk. Next time you disobey it’s going to hurt. Now are you comfortable?”
“Rrrruf!” Apollo nodded vigorously.
“Go take a look in the mirror, pup.” Master gestured to the living room. Apollo pranced off, enjoying the feeling of the hood closed tightly about his head. Much like his rubber body suit, the hood was like a second skin, the short muzzle visible at the bottom of his field of motion. Seeing the floor length mirror by the door, presumably for the master to check his attire before leaving the house, he crawled over, shaking his head this way and that to see how it looked. Opening his mouth Apollo was surprised to see the bottom jaw move with his mouth. Experimentally he opened and closed his mouth, looking at the muzzle from different angles in the mirror, getting a feel for how it moved. He quickly discovered he had to exaggerate the movements of his jaw to fully articulate the muzzle on his face.
“Apollo, sit.”
The pup had been so engrossed in his experimentation that he hadn’t heard Master come into the living room behind him. Master’s words startled him, making him almost fall over as he turned to the voice. Scrabbling over he quickly assumed a sitting position before the master. Master was holding a plate, holding something Apollo couldn’t see from his position. He bent down, putting the plate in front of the pup, revealing several 1-inch cubes of bread soaked in water.
“Apollo, I want you to eat these, one at a time. Don’t make a mess.”
The pup looked down at the plate in front of him. Carefully planning out his moves, not wanting to displease Master. He bent down, trying to gauge distance between the tip of the muzzle and the plate before gingerly opening his mouth wide to envelop one of the cubes before closing his mouth slightly to trap it, then tilting back his head and re-opening his mouth to roll the cube from the muzzle into his human mouth. The move almost worked, but he got the angle wrong and the bread rolled out the side, just missing his mouth, and landing wetly on the carpet. Master looked down with disapproval as Apollo dove for the cube, picking it up and actually getting it in his mouth this time. He chewed twice, swallowing the soggy bread before beaming up at the master.
“Gooood boy Apollo. You figured that one out fast. Now get the other two.” Master pointed back down at the plate. The rubberized puppy eagerly and deftly picked up one, then the other, swallowing them almost without chewing. Looking up he saw the master beaming back, his hands on his hips, chest puffed out proudly. One of his hands reached down to pat the pup as he called “Honey, time for dinner.” He turned to the pup and finished, “time for a show. Don’t disappoint me.”
They had been in the car for 15 minutes now, traffic heavy on a Friday night. Apollo wasn’t really sure what to expect from the evening. Heck, Apollo wasn’t sure what to expect from anything this weekend.
The car pulled up to the stately restaurant on Lake Union, coming to a stop in front of the door. The smartly dressed valet opened the front passenger door first, letting Master’s mate step out before opening Apollo’s door. Apollo caught a stare from the valet, and realized how much he must stick out in a fancy joint like this. Clambering out, he got down on all fours and waited for Master to come around and click his leash back onto the collar. Looking up he caught an embarrassed look from Master’s mate, before the mate looked away, clearly mortified to be involved in the whole event. The trio marched forward through the glass doors, Apollo struggling to keep up with the brisk pace of the humans striding comfortably on two legs..
The Maître De greeted the trio warmly until her eyes dropped to see Apollo on all fours, rubberized skin gleaming in the dim, tasteful lighting. Her eyes narrowed, posture stiffening. Master reached forward to shake her hand. She looked down at her hand after he broke the grip and seemed momentarily surprised, before a look of resignation flashed across her eyes. Face quickly resuming her bright smile, she asked about a reservation, which Master confirmed. Taking one last quick look at what Master had left in her hand she made a subtle gesture and a server appeared before them.
“Table 14, in the back”.
The server looked at Apollo uncomfortably before grabbing a few menus and leading the trio back through the restaurant to a table in the corner. As they passed through tables set with crisp white linens, silence fell around them. Apollo looked around, catching glares from diners dressed in expensive clothing. Their looks pierced through his rubber like needles. Lowering his head he followed Master, glad that the puppy hood was hiding not only his identity, but his fiery red ears, burning with embarrassment.
The table was in a corner, boxed in by massive windows looking out on Lake Union. Apollo couldn’t see the lake from his vantage point on all fours, but could see the sky, slowly fading to a brilliant orange from the setting sun. Looking around he caught more stares. Although Apollo’s shame was immense and growing, he could tell that he wasn’t the only one who was uncomfortable. Every one of the high-class diners was clearly crawling in their skin at the sight of a rubber puppy invading their fine dining experience. The nerve!
Unable to get comfortable with so many eyes staring at his humiliating state, Apollo opted to crouch down by Master, trying to take up as little space as he could manage. Masters hand briefly reached down to stroke at his puppy hood before picking up his menu to peruse it. No sooner had he put it down then a waiter dressed in a sharp black uniform materialized to take their order, glaring down at the cowering puppy, worried that Apollo’s mere presence would mean less tips from his other tables. Master gestured for his mate to order first before he placed the order for himself and for Apollo.
“Two of your 16oz Fliet Mignon medium rare. One Oscar style, one dry. I’ll have a glass of the 2005 Beringer Private Reserve Cabernet Sauvignon, and a bowl of water for the pup.”
Looking up, Apollo could see the waiter bristle at the last bit, but he quickly regained composure and strode off purposefully. The pup was impressed by how quickly the wine and bowl appeared. When the bowl was set in front of him he wondered how much of it was for show – while the hood was clearly designed to allow him to eat, drinking while in the hood didn’t seem possible, nor had Master provided any training on how to drink while wearing it. The rubber pup opted to not try to drink, and settled on maintaining his crouch, resting his head against Master’s thigh, feeling the leather hood slide smoothly against the cloth pant leg of his suit.
His eyes wandering, Apollo was pleased to see that most of the fellow diners had resumed their meals, conversations re-starting. He still caught haughty glances from time to time, but his initial embarrassment was slowly fading, being replaced with a sense of pride. Apollo _was_ a puppy. Apollo was finally living his dream of so many years. He really hoped he was pleasing Master.
Master and his mate’s conversation continued. The pair talked about some of their social circles before the conversation once again trended to boring business topics. Apollo didn’t care, the pup wasn’t there to talk, he was there to be a good boy, privileged to have been brought along. He passed the time by looking around, taking in the details of the restaurant. Still lit by the sunset, he could make out a good 15 tables from this vantage point, each dressed in identical linens, neatly arranged with the tablecloth centered perfectly on each one. The chairs surrounding each table were made of stately hardwood. A short oil lamp adorned each table, and as the sun was setting Apollo could see one of the bus boys making his way around the dining room lighting each one.
The steaks arrived at the table, the waiter maneuvering around the puppy taking up much of the narrow channel between tables. The waiter seemed unsure of what to do with Apollo’s steak, but quickly put it on the table next to Master when he snapped and pointed next to the plate in front of him. After being invited to cut into their steaks to check that they were properly cooked the waiter vanished. Apollo watched the master cut into his own steak, biting into the neatly sliced piece dripping with Bearnaise. A satisfied smile crept across his face before he turned to the pup.
“Apollo, Sit. Stay.”
Obediently the pup sat up, getting down on his haunches. He watched as Master deliberately sliced into the 2nd steak, neatly cutting it into bite-sized pieces and arranging them on the plate before bending down to put the plate on the floor in front of Apollo.
“Apollo, OK”
Released from his wait, Apollo looked down at the steak oozing juicy blood onto the plate in front of him. It smelled delicious, making the pup’s mouth water. He looked around, realizing that again, all eyes were on him. Everyone in the restaurant seemed  fixated on his next move. Apollo’s ears again burnt red. He was uncomfortable. Everyone was uncomfortable. Looking up he saw Master looking down at him, smiling. Master gave an encouraging pat on his head.
“Go ahead boy, you have earned a treat.”
Those words were all the invitation Apollo needed. If this made master happy it was enough for him. The pup he bent down, carefully clasping at one of the slices of meat with the puppy muzzle, then tilting his head back to let it roll into his mouth. The steak was perfectly cooked and seasoned, practically falling apart in his mouth as he chewed, each bite making the muzzle crack open and closed. Each bite echoed in his head, the restaurant devoid of other noise. All eyes were on the rubberized boy chewing his steak on all fours. Conversation had stopped. Drinking had stopped. This must be what Master meant when he’d mentioned that he liked putting on a show.
Getting into it, Apollo swallowed, and bent to maneuver another bite into his mouth. Wagging his butt like a tail he chewed with gusto, enjoying the salty meat. He was a lucky dog; not just any pup got steak, much less such a fine hunk of meat like this. He almost felt a little bad for Sky being left at home, deprived of this amazing meal.
The salty steak was making Apollo thirsty. The pup really wished that there was a way he could drink from the bowl of water sitting next to the plate of steak. Hopefully Master would remove the hood when they got home so he could lap up some water in the pup room.
Once the meal was finished, Master handed the waiter a credit card, and sat swirling the last dregs of his glass of wine. He was practically beaming with pride every time his gaze met with Apollo’s. As they left the dining room, Apollo himself beamed with pride. The stares from other guests fueling pride rather than shame. He had pleased his master. He had done well.
The stately green Audi was pulled around by the Valet and Apollo clambered into the back seat. Master got behind the wheel, cooing at the pup, praising him for such good behavior, and promising that he would receive a reward when they got home. The rubber pup beamed, content. He had become the puppy he had always wanted to be, and a damn good one at that.

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Thats the first story, Hopefully a lot more to come soon, remember, now that the gloves have been thrown down, Sparky qualifies for the prize.

I look forward to seeing those others who step up to the plate :)

With That, Visiting Time Is Over.

What Ever You Do Don’t Scream Too Loud As Others Are Trying To Sleep.

~Rubberasylum