Second Skin (mm mc)
by Purplebootsgywr
Copyright © 2002
Synopsis: A young man finds that try as he might, he cannot remove the skintight rubber suit his boyfriend asked him to wear. (mc, ft, mm)
The shower felt great that morning. Bobby ran his fingers through his wet hair, letting the shampoo suds run down the back of his hands to be washed away by the warm torrent spraying down upon him. His morning "cleanup" as he called it, was usually refreshing, but today it seemed particularly invigorating. Bobby lingered a bit longer under the warm water than he usually did, soaking up the feeling. It was odd. Rather than really feel the cleansing water rush over his body, it was as if this morning he could feel only the warmth without the wetness. The sensation was wonderful, so he dismissed any questions about it. No doubt any discrepancy was due to his not yet being fully awake. Besides, he could certainly feel the water in his hair, on his face and hands. He was simply under the dreamlike influence of a soothing shower, he decided.
Bobby stepped out of the shower and reached for a towel, which he first used to dry off his sopping hair. It didn't take long, as Bobby kept his dark brown hair extremely short. The fast-drying hair soon settled into its helmet-like position atop his head. Bobby bent over to dry off his legs--and found that he could feel the towel in his hands, he could feel the pressure of the towel pressing against his legs, but he couldn't feel the towel making contact with his leg.
Bobby stopped suddenly, now completely awake, and looked at his leg. It was glistening with the water that remained on it, mostly dripping down onto the bath mat. It was also a brilliant shining black.
"What the hell?", Bobby muttered. He then rushed forward to the mirror above the sink and wiped his towel rapidly across its surface in broad strokes to clear away the fog caused by the steam.
Bobby repeated his previous exclamation, only softer. "...what the hell...?"
Bobby was dressed in a full-body, skintight black rubber suit. It gleamed here and there with the water that clung to it, but it was drying rapidly. He had evidently had it on before he stepped into the shower, and hadn't even realized it. Bobby was tall, and had the tight, slender build of a runner, mostly because he did a lot of running. The rubber suit clung tight to his body, accentuating his taut physique. The rubber sleeves came down to his wrists, the high collar rose halfway up his neck. Only his head and hands were exposed. The suit had a back zip, with a small snap that secured it in back. On his feet were two 17" tall unlined black rubber boots- contour ankles, with very snug-fitting shafts. They did a superb job highlighting his chiseled runner's claves. The suit was all in one piece, but for the boots, which were so snug that they may as well have been part of the bodysuit.
Bobby recognized the rubber suit instantly. It was a birthday gift from his boyfriend, Jeff, given to him last month. Jeff was a great guy, a hopeless romantic, a weightlifter (with a beautiful toned body that was closer in size to a gymnast's), and an astounding lover. But Jeff was not without his faults. Jeff was seriously into rubber. He had a small closetful of rubber bodysuits, jackets, waders, and God only knew what else. Jeff had gotten the bodysuit for Bobby, tailor-made especially to Bobby's measurements, in the hopes that he could entice the love of his life to join him in his particular fetish. Bob had feigned appreciation for the gift, then hid it in the back of his closet where he hoped never to lay eyes on it again.
But he was sure as hell laying eyes on it now. The last few drops of water fell from what little bangs he had and ran down his face. Bobby was astonished not only by the unexpected presence of his rubber wardrobe, but also by the first thought that came to him when he realized he was wearing it. "Damn, I look good in his thing."
Bobby quickly chased the thought away, shaking his head and wondering how the hell he came to--unconsciously--put the blasted thing on to begin with. He was never prone to sleepwalking, so it seemed unlikely he did it while acting out a dream during the night. Still, here he was, head to toe in a gleaming black suit that would have made Jeff drool at the sight of him.
"Wherever the hell this thing came from", Bobby thought, "it is coming off right now." He strode purposefully into his bedroom to strip off the bodysuit. As he moved, he was astonished at how good it felt on his body. When he first saw it on his birthday, he expected that it would be an uncomfortably confining play costume that restricted all natural movement. But as he walked to his dresser, the suit moved with him as if it were part of who he was--or at least as if it were made for him, which in fact it had been.
As Bobby opened his top dresser drawer in search of something--anything--else to put on instead of the bodysuit, he caught his reflection in the full-length mirror on his closet door. He stopped what he was doing.
Stepping over to the mirror, Bobby stood admiring himself. The rubber suit truly defined every muscle and curve. He let his slender fingers glide over his chest and torso, feeling the tingle as the rubber touched his fingertips and his skin underneath. He had never been so completely covered and at the same time felt so completely exposed, so openly sexual. He felt and saw himself sprouting an erection. His hand moved reflexively to rest upon it, gently stroking himself beneath the smooth rubber sheath.
Bobby groaned softly, "Uhhh...", relishing the feel of the soft, supple rubber beneath his palm, and the feel of it against his hard member. He had never imagined that any article of clothing, no matter what material, could feel this good. He became oddly aware of the rubber clinging to his shoulders, stretching across his back, running down his arms and legs. He slowly flexed his toes inside his rubber boots, and could feel the gentle pull of the shaft against the back of his legs. It sent a tingle through his entire body, and his stroking increased.
Bobby's head lolled to one side as his body responded to the pleasure of both his actions and the feel of the rubber suit covering him. He couldn't believe how good this felt... Then Bobby caught sight of the clock radio out of the corner of his eye. Was that the time? His pragmatism jarred him back to reality as he thought, "Shit, I've got to get going or I'm gonna be late." Reluctantly, he peeled off his rubber suit and tossed it into the closet. After a quick rub down with a washcloth to rid himself of the perspiration that had built up beneath the suit (as well as the lingering smell of new latex on his skin), Bobby got dressed for work and dashed out the door.
As he started up his car, setting his travel mug of coffee in the cup holder, Bobby noticed the dashboard clock as he flipped on the radio. It was later than he thought. Somewhere in the process of losing the rubber bodysuit and cleaning himself up, he'd lost another ten minutes. He had to put his concerns of how he came to put on the rubber suit aside and think instead about putting the pedal to the floor and keeping an eye out for speed traps.
Bobby made it to work in the literal nick of time. He immediately busied himself at his computer, brushing aside the small stack of letters and departmental memos littering his wire desktop mailbox. Better to leave all the clutter until his first break, anyway. A quick glance showed him there were no blue memo sheets (indicating mandatory unscheduled meetings or high priority messages). Just the usual window-envelopes and yellow post-its. Nothing earth-shattering.
Bobby called up his reports files on screen, and began to check them over. Everything looked good. As he prepared to print a document for his supervisor, the phone rang. He rolled his chair to the opposite side of his cubicle, stretching an arm to grab the receiver before the second ring.
And there was something wrong with his arm. Bobby stopped in mid-swivel, staring down at the sleeve of white dress shirt, taken aback by the funny--though not unfamiliar-- feeling on his arm. He bent his arm slowly, feeling a tension at the elbow that sprang back as he relaxed his arm. He ignored his phone's continued ringing as he flexed his other arm and found the same sensation. What the hell--?
Bobby unbuttoned his sleeve cuff, letting the phone go to voice mail. He rolled back his sleeve a few inches to reveal what he anticipated would be his bare arm. What he saw was a skintight sleeve of shining black rubber. Bobby's mouth fell open and he whispered to himself, "You have got to be fucking kidding me..."
Dashing to the men's room, he darted into a stall and unzipped his pants as if to pee. His crotch was covered with the same smooth rubber surface. He dropped his trousers to reveal the bottom half of his rubber bodysuit. He was now uncomfortably aware of the suit covering his upper body as well. How the hell had that happened? When did he get back into the damn rubber suit? He'd made a point of taking it off and chucking it into his closet. How did it come to be on him again? As he clumsily kicked off his trousers, Bobby realized he also had on his rubber knee boots. "Christ, I sure hope nobody noticed my choice of footwear today", he thought.
Within moments, Bobby's clothes were off and he stood in the stall clad solely in his rubber bodysuit. No sooner had the shirt and slacks left him than he was struck by how wonderful, how sensual, how...right the rubber suit felt on him. Unconsciously, his hand moved to press against his crotch. He sighed deeply as his palm gently pressed against his stiffening member.
"Oh, no! Not this again!" Bobby shook off the pleasant sensations and proceeded to peel off the bodysuit once again. After a few minutes of struggling with the snug suit in the cramped quarters of the bathroom stall, Bobby got the bodysuit off and reclaimed his shirt, tie, and slacks. He suddenly realized with some embarrassment that he was not wearing any underwear, and that he would have to put back on the boots beneath his trouser legs if he didn't want to walk back to his desk barefoot. He then peered out the bathroom door, waiting for a moment of minimal hallway traffic so he could return to his desk without being spotted carrying the folded rubber bundle under his arm.
Back at his desk, Bobby looked for a discreet place to stash the rubber suit. He opted for his briefcase, as he was the only one to ever open it, and it usually remained tucked under his desk until quitting time. Opening the case, Bobby was both puzzled and relieved to find a pair of dress shoes and socks inside waiting for him. He chose not to look a gift horse in the mouth, though, and quickly yanked off his tight knee boots and slipped on the shoes and socks.
Bobby felt considerably less liable to be discovered with the proper office footwear on, but he still felt uneasy working sans underwear. He opted to busy himself with the day's tasks as a means of distraction. He was only minimally successful. His feet or the wheels of his chair kept bumping into the briefcase, and he kept thinking of what was inside--and how good it would feel to put it back on.
Bobby felt he was doing pretty well at eschewing those persistent thoughts until he was proofreading a business letter he just finished to find he'd written--
"I greatly appreciate your support in the Bromwell Proposal, and I can't wait to get back into my rubber bodysuit. In regards to your letter of the 15th--"
Bobby decided it might be a good time to get out of the office and take care of some business at the bank.
At one of the counters, Bobby scribbled onto a deposit slip and then verified the numbers he'd written there. He was calmer now, dealing with the mundane business of deposits and account balances. He felt safe within the boredom of daily business.
Bobby soon stood at the teller window, tending to his financial matters. As the teller went mechanically about entering his deposits and accessing the proper account, Bobby rocked back and forth on his heels, waiting for her to finish. His shoes felt extremely soft and comfortable, the soles like cushions beneath his feet. How very unlike his usually stiff dress shoes. He absently stuffed one hand in his pocket and heard a slight squeak. His eyes widened at the sound, and the teller looked up for a moment at the sound, but then shrugged it off and went back to stamping, filing, and whatever else she was doing.
Bobby slowly rubbed his pocketed hand against his leg. If was far too smooth to just be his skin. He then glanced down at his feet and saw the reason for his mysteriously comfortable shoes. They weren't his shoes. He was back in the rubber boots. Bobby carefully pulled down on his sleeve and saw the gleaming black rubber cuff underneath. "Oh, hell's bells", he muttered.
"Sir?", asked the teller. "There a problem?"
"Just realized I'm late for a meeting", Bobby said, quickly pushing his shirt sleeve back, pretending to have been checking his watch. After gathering his receipts, Bobby hurried out the door, and made his way back to the office, all the while fighting the repetitive thoughts pounding in his brain. "God, this feels great. I shouldn't bother taking it off. God, this feels great. I shouldn't bother taking it off. God, this feels great--"
Back at the office, Bobby made a point to use a restroom on a floor other than his own. The less he was seen racing into the bathroom that day, the better. He used a parcel box pilfered from the mail room to transport his bodysuit back to his desk. "I should just throw the damn thing away", he thought for a moment, but then felt a pang of guilt at even considering it. His boyfriend Jeff had it made especially for him, and it would break his heart to find that Bobby had simply thrown it away. Best to just ride out the rest of the day and then lock it up once he got home.
At the desk in his cubicle, Bobby put his shoes back on and stashed his rubbersuit parcel inside his briefcase and locked that up in the bottom drawer of his filing cabinet. There was less than an hour until lunch, when he'd meet up with Jeff. He could certainly restrain himself from dwelling on the bodysuit until then.
"There a problem, Bob?"
Bobby whirled around to see Rachel, one of his coworkers. "No, no problem", Bobby said unconvincingly. "Why would there be a problem?" Then nervously, "You haven't noticed anything strange, have you?"
"Well, yeah, kinda", she said. "Like two or three times already you've gotten up to go to the bathroom and you always come back wearing different shoes. What's up with that, Bob? Something wrong with your feet?"
"Yes!", Bobby decided, latching onto the first handy excuse offered to him. "Orders from my pediatrist. Turns out I'd been playing tennis for months in the wrong kind of shoes, really messed up my feet. So he gave me these....like, special shoes to wear...to help me recover. Uh, but I feel like such a slob not wearing my good shoes at the office, so, y'know, I change back until it's too uncomfortable and like that. See? Nothing odd, really. Nothing at all."
Rachel stared at him silently for almost a minute. Then she said, "Bob, you should just do whatever the doctor told you to. Don't sweat if you look unprofessional. Nobody here's gonna hold it against you."
"Good idea!", Bobby agreed, then returned to his work with exaggerated interest in the hopes that she'd go away.
After an excruciating 45 minutes, Bobby broke for lunch. As he passed the receptionist's desk, Jeanine asked him, "Business lunch, Bob?"
He paused for a moment, wondering why she'd ask that. "Um, no. Meeting a friend, actually."
She shrugged and went back to her typing. As Bobby walked out, he looked down at his feet, and saw he was still wearing his dress shoes. At least Jeanine wasn't making a point that he was dressed too casually if he was meeting a client.
Bobby arrived at the usual place he met his boyfriend for lunch. A nice little restaurant not far from work that wasn't particularly snooty about the clientele, which made it popular with gay professionals who wanted to meet their partners for lunch. Jeff was already there waiting, as usual. He looked stunning, also as usual, in business casual wear that appeared to have been designed solely to make him look good. Jeff had a fuller head of hair than Bobby, and it was a lighter brown. He had beautiful green eyes and a face and lopsided smile that made him appear considerably younger than he was. In truth, he was a year older than Bobby.
Jeff rose slightly as Bobby approached and they greeted one another with a quick peck. "Sorry if I'm late", Bobby said. "it's been a crazy morning."
"No, I'm early", Jeff assured him. Then, with a half-smile, he said, "So tell me about this crazy morning of yours."
Bobby paused to see if there was anyone in a nearby booth who could overhear. When he was satisfied there wasn't, he leaned in closer to Jeff. "I have had the most bizarre experience today, hon."
Jeff took a sip of his water, his eyes sparkling with obvious enjoyment at his boyfriend's narrative. "Really? Are you shaken up by it? 'Cause you look great."
Bobby grinned. "Thanks, man. But seriously, this morning--"
Jeff didn't let him finish. "I like that shirt. Good choice on the tie selection, too. It suits you."
Bobby looked down at his tie, one that Jeff had seen a million times before, and wondered what he was getting at. Jeff reached across the table and laid his hand upon Bobby's arm. "In fact, I'd say the only way to improve how good you look in this outfit", and he began to play with Bobby's sleeve cuff, tracing it with his index finger, "would be if it was...rubber." Jeff sat back then, smiling, taking another sip of his water. "Wouldn't that look good on you, babe?"
Bobby's shoulders sagged. "Oh, you little bastard. What did you do?"
Jeff laughed a bit, trying to stifle it beneath one hand, but with little success.
Bobby leaned forward, his stare growing harder. "Jeff, 'fess up. What's going on here?"
"You boys ready to order?", asked a gum-chewing waitress with a big nose and a tag that identified her as "Rosie".
Giving her only a cursory glance, Bobby said gruffly, "Give us another minute." As she walked off, Bobby said again, "'Fess up, Jeff. I'm serious."
Jeff took both of Bobby's hands in his own. "Remember last night, after the movie, at your place?" Bobby nodded slowly, wondering where this was going. "Remember how I asked you to give the whole rubber thing an honest try, just you and me, alone, no scene stuff with groups or bars or anything. Just the two of us. You remember?"
"I remember me trying very patiently to explain--", Bobby started.
"Very brusquely, actually", Jeff corrected.
"VERY patiently", Bobby went on, "that I am just not into the rubber stuff like you are. I mean, I'm cool that you enjoy it an' all, but it just doesn't do anything for me."
Jeff shook his head with exaggerated angst. "And after I had that gorgeous suit made specifically for you on your last birthday. Took like an hour of coaxing for you to even try it on, and you looked so good in it, Bobby. You said it felt uncomfortable, but I could tell it felt pretty darn good, even for a self-proclaimed non-rubberist like yourself. Even still, you couldn't get out of it fast enough"
"Look, Jeff, it's not that I didn't appreciate the effort you went to--", Bobby began.
"So how did it feel this morning?"
"It's just that I don't--" And Bobby stopped short. He leaned back, eyeing Jeff carefully. "What do you mean 'this morning'?"
"Felt pretty good, didn't it? Bet you can't wait to get back into it. Bet it feels that way every time you take it off. If you can even bring yourself to take it off."
Bobby's face went red. "I do NOT want to put that thing on again! I couldn't wait to get out of the office to get AWAY from it."
"Then what's the briefcase for?" Jeff took another sip of his water, nodding toward the case at Bobby's feet.
There was his briefcase, sitting dutifully beside his feet like a loyal cocker spaniel. The case that held his rubber bodysuit. Hence Jeanine's question about a business lunch. Why else would he leave carrying a briefcase? And he didn't even realize he'd brought it. Bobby looked daggers at his lover and said forcibly through clenched teeth, "What...is...going...on?"
Jeff set down his water glass, flashing that beautiful smile. He gestured with one finger that Bobby should lean forward. Bobby did. Gently, Jeff pressed his index finger to Bobby's forehead and said one word. "Remember."
Suddenly, it was the night before. Or rather, a very vivid memory of it. The two boyfriends were there in Bobby's living room, talking. Arguing.
"Honey, please just give it a shot.", Jeff was saying. "God, you looked so fucking hot in that rubber suit. You're always on the tennis court, your body is so goddamn beautiful. I just want you to show it off for me.
"So let's get naked. I'm all for that", Bobby retorted.
Jeff massaged Bobby's shoulders. "It's not the same, babe. Being completely covered, especially with something as sensual as rubber, and yet seeming so...so exposed. It's so incredible." Bobby brushed Jeff's hands away and plopped down on the couch, arms crossed in defiance. Jeff was getting frustrated. "Bobby, it's not like I'm suggesting we drive off to some play party with a dozen strangers who want to string you up in a suspension rig and piss on your head. It'd just be you and me. Together, one night. Both of us in rubber. Head to toe. Please, baby. For me. Try it for me."
"I have tried it."
"You modeled the suit I got you for like five minutes. That's not exactly trying it--"
"Jeff, you do this all the time lately. We go out, we have a wonderful time, dinner, movie, and then we come home and you pull this shit. I'm sitting there during that movie, holding your hand, watching that hot babe hero take out the bad guys, getting all charged up. Then on the way home, all I can think about is the two of us wrapped around each other, and your dick in my mouth. But when we get home--ding! Mood change! Jeff wants to play dress-up!"
Jeff sat down on the chair across the room, exhaling loudly out his nostrils. The two sat in silence for a couple minutes, each waiting for the other to be the first to break the silence.
Then, after another minute, Jeff said, "You know, I could make you want to do it."
Bobby wrinkled his brow. "What?" He imagined the two of them in bed, him completely naked, Jeff in one of his bodysuits. That could be cool, he imagined...but still, was that what Jeff was suggesting?
"Just what I said", Jeff reiterated, sitting up straighter. "I could make you want to do it. I could make you yearn to be in rubber, buddy."
Bobby smiled, shaking his head. "No you couldn't."
"Could to."
"How?"
"I could put you under. Make you my rubber buddy. Maybe even my rubber slave. How'd you like that, huh?"
"Put me under what?"
"I could hypnotize you, bro."
"You are so full of shit. You don't know how to hypnotize anyone!"
"Do so. Was heavy into it in college. Got pretty damn good at it, too. I could put you under", and he snapped his fingers, "like that."
"Oh, please. There is a snowball's chance in hell you could hypnotize me at all, much less make me do something I didn't want to do."
Then Jeff sat on the edge of his chair. "See, that's just it, hon. I think you do want to do it. You're just scared to try it."
"Bullshit."
"Fine, then let me put you under and we'll see."
"I am not letting you hypnotize me. No way."
Jeff began to make chicken clucking noises. "Okay, alright!", Bobby said. "Here's the deal. You can TRY to hypnotize me into wanting to wear the rubber bodysuit."
"YOUR rubber bodysuit", Jeff corrected.
"Okay, my rubber bodysuit, whatever", Bobby conceded. "If it works, then you get what you want, you'll be happy and I won't know any better, right?"
"Well, that's not exactly how it works--"
"But if it DOESN'T work, you drop the whole push to get me in rubber and never bring it up again. Subject closed. Deal?"
Jeff broke into a broad smile and said softly, "Deal." Bobby held out his hand to shake on it. Jeff stood up, moving toward him. "Oh, no", he said. "Sealed with a kiss." The two young men kissed passionately for several moments. After breaking their embrace, Jeff said, "Now it's official." Bobby grinned. Then Jeff hit the dimmer switch on the lamp and said, "Kick off your shoes and lie down on the couch."
The next thing Bobby remembered, he was seeing Jeff to the door and exchanging a goodnight kiss. Which was a little difficult because Jeff wouldn't stop grinning.
Bobby leaned back in his booth at the restaurant. The recollection of the previous night's events had been instantaneous, but it took him a moment to process it. "You fucker, you really did hypnotize me."
Jeff held up an admonishing finger. "With your permission, Bobby. You were in on it, too."
Bobby suddenly felt very vulnerable and exposed. "Jesus, man, what the hell else am I gonna do? I'm not gonna suddenly have the urge to give you a lap dance right here, am I?"
Jeff laughed a bit at that. "Now why didn't that occur to me when I had you under last night?"
Bobby was feeling increasingly nervous. "God, Jeff, can you fix it? Or am I gonna spend the rest of my life discovering that I'm suddenly a rubberboy at the most inopportune moments?"
Jeff gave a casual wave of his hand. "There's a simple key phrase that can undo the whole thing."
"Then say it!"
"I can't. You have to say it."
"Even better", Bobby replied. "What do I have to say?"
"I'm not going to tell you yet."
"What?? Why not?!"
"Let's not start a fight here, hon. I need to make a business call at quarter past." Jeff gestured at a clock on the wall which indicated it was already eleven minutes after twelve.
Seething, Bobby snatched up his menu and buried his reddening face in it. "You boys ready yet?", came Rosie's voice again. Bobby kept his face inside the menu, fuming. He was furious with Jeff, and yet was caught in the predicament of having given Jeff his permission to do what he'd done. He was just as furious with himself for going along with it. And now all he could think about was getting back into the smooth, sleek, comforting, and embracing rubber bodysuit again.
"We ready to order yet, honey?", Rosie asked, the irritation present in her voice. "Have a nice little break?"
Bobby handed her his menu and placed his order. Looking harshly at Jeff, Bobby said, "Well? What are you having?"
Rosie departed with the menu. "He's all set, honey. Oh, and I love the shoes."
Bobby started, looking down at his feet. He had on the boots again. He slowly reached down and shook his briefcase by the handle. He could hear his shoes clunking about inside. Not again... Jeff was smiling broadly. Bobby yanked back his sleeve cuff, and sure enough, there was the bodysuit again. Back where it belonged, he thought. Quickly, he shook the thought away.
"You look really comfortable, honey", Jeff said. "You comfortable?"
"Oh, shut up and make your damn business call", Bobby sneered.
"Already did", Jeff said. "While you were freshening up."
Bobby looked at the clock. It was 12:25. Time had jumped forward while he had been looking at the menu. Or rather, while he had gotten up, gone to the bathroom, changed into the bodysuit, put his clothes back on over the top of it, and then returned to his menu without realizing it. Bobby slumped forward with resignation. "What do I have to say?"
"What do you mean?"
"To undo the curse. To let me take this thing off and leave it off."
"Bobby, it's not a curse. It was a bet. A bet I'm winning."
"So, what do I have to say to concede? What, admit I'm a closet rubberist? I can do that."
Jeff interlaced his fingers. "Nothing quite so mundane. All you have to do is give a testimonial to my greatness. As a hypnotist. As your personal Svengali."
"Forget it."
"C'mon, Bobby, you're as much a part of this as I am."
"I only agreed to it because I thought it wouldn't work!"
"All the more reason to fess up, then."
Bobby sat silent a moment. "There's gotta be something that you can just say."
"Oh, there is", Jeff agreed. "I can say something to affect this, if that's what you really want. Is that what you want?"
"I think that's kind of obvious", Bobby replied.
Jeff looked absently out the window. "It's a beautiful day today, isn't it, Bob? Not too warm, not too cool. Great day for wearing rubber, huh? 'Cause I've heard that in the next week, it could get pretty...", and he paused for effect, "...hot."
Suddenly Bobby was incredibly aroused. Incredibly. He was intimately aware of every inch of his rubber suit and it felt intoxicating. Reflexively, he inhaled sharply as his body tingled with pleasure and his penis sprang up in an erection that threatened to burst through his bodysuit and his pants.
When Rosie set down their plates, Bobby was gripping the edges of the table and breathing unevenly through his nose, his jaw clenched tight. Rosie eyed him suspiciously. "You okay, hon?"
"Allergies", Jeff explained. "Real bad this time of year. Isn't that right, Bobby?" Bobby nodded vigorously, the sudden movement causing another spark of pleasure to surge through him. He could feel the precum running out of his penis to collect against his abs. Against his will, Bobby's mouth formed a idiot's smile. Rolling her eyes, Rosie departed. Jeff set his napkin in his lap and picked up his fork. "Enjoy your lunch, Bob. And enjoy the rest of your day." Bobby was reeling with erotic sensation as Jeff slowly took his first bite of food. "Better dig in, buddy", he said. "While it's still hot."
Bobby whimpered as his body shivered with pleasure. He knew he was in for a long afternoon.
At 5:30 that evening, Bobby kicked open the door to his house, enraged and humiliated. He had come in the front door rather than the side door by the driveway, convinced he'd find Jeff already waiting for him. He wasn't disappointed.
Jeff sat on the love seat, staring into the afternoon paper, and said flatly without looking up, "Oh, you're home, honey."
"Figured you'd be here", Bobby said, sounding pissed. He dropped his briefcase and began to yank off his tie.
"I left work early", Jeff said calmly, setting down the paper. "I wanted to be here when you arrived. Figured you wouldn't mind if I let myself in."
Bobby was roughly pulling off his shirt and undoing his belt. The rubber suit was on underneath, which Jeff figured he either couldn't wait to get to or to get out of. He decided to sit and watch which it would be rather than ask aloud. So instead, he said, "So how was your day, dear?"
"Three times", Bobby sneered, throwing his trousers in a heap on the floor. "Three times this afternoon I took this thing off, and three times I suddenly found myself back in it. Around 2:45 I finally gave up and just left the damn thing on, rather than explain why I kept running to the bathroom."
"Maybe you should have said you had the flu", Jeff offered innocently.
"Well, after the pregnant gal in accounting offered me one of her packets of soda crackers to help me settle my stomach, I pretty much figured most everyone had come to the flu conclusion on their own." Bobby grabbed up his trousers and reached into one of the hip pockets. "Not to mention that on the third change of clothes, I found I'd stuck this on my chest without realizing it." He tossed the small slip of yellow paper over to Jeff.
Jeff looked at it. It was a small post-it note with the words in Bobby's own handwriting which read, "GIVE IT UP. YOU'RE JEFF'S RUBBERBOY NOW."
Jeff broke into a broad smile. "Wow. I never asked you to do anything like that. This was totally subconscious on your part, Bob."
"Wonderful", Bobby said, hands on his hips in attempted defiance--which wasn't easy, since he was dressed solely in his rubber suit and boots now. Jeff had to restrain himself from lunging across the room and smothering his boyfriend in kisses, he looked so damn sexy in that suit.
"So I'm in this board meeting around half-past three, right?", Bobby explains, pacing. Jeff nods, trying to keep a straight face. "The suit's on under my clothes, and I start getting all aroused and excited while this drone at the head of the table is going on and on about sales quotas, and it's all I can do to keep from fondling myself right there."
"Must've been terrible. Shame you were too proud to say something at lunch. 'Gosh, Jeff, you're the best hypnotist I've ever seen, man.' "
Bobby ignored him. "And then the sales guy starts going on about hot properties and hot markets and hot this and hot that, and all I can hear is your voice saying it and I'm just aching to cum, I can't help it!"
"Should've excused yourself to the men's room for another flu attack."
"I couldn't! The head of my department was right there! I couldn't bail! Damn meeting lasted over an hour!!" Bobby started pacing faster, his gleaming black suit reflecting the light with each turn. Jeff tried to cross his legs to hide his erection, found it was too uncomfortable, thought better of it.
"So'd you take a break after?", Jeff asked.
"Ohhh, yeah", Bobby said. "At least, I tried. I was in the bathroom for over twenty minutes, pumping away and I couldn't cum. I was ready to burst, and I couldn't get any relief! My balls are aching, man!"
"Ohhh, yeah", Jeff said absently. "Guess that'd have something to do with the fact that I gave you a posthypnotic suggestion that you couldn't cum until I gave you the trigger word to. Maybe I forgot to mention that."
"The suit comes off now!", Bobby announced, pulling down the zipper.
Jeff looked over at the clock on the wall behind him. "Sure you can't just wear it to dinner? I wanted to eat at six, it's already quarter-to."
Bobby peeled the rubber suit off, kicking the boots off haphazardly. "I am so done with this, Jeff. I'm losing the suit, and then you are undoing whatever it was you did, bet or no bet, I don't give a shit if I gave you my permission. I'm officially rescinding it!", Bobby wadded up the bodysuit in a ball and tossed it on the far end of the couch. He didn't care that he stood naked in front of Jeff. His boyfriend had seen him that way enough times. Bobby actually felt less exposed naked than in the rubber suit.
Bobby angrily snatched his trousers from off the floor. "I'm gonna lie down, and you are going to promise me that you'll put me back the way I was", Bobby ordered.
"You seem to be liking the way you are now", Jeff observed.
"What's that supposed to mean?", Bobby demanded.
Jeff leaned his head forward, indicating that Bobby should look at himself. He did, and saw that as he stood there holding his pants, he was also covered completely in rubber again. Bobby's head snapped up, his face a mask of surprise. His eyes darted to the couch, verifying that the spot where he'd thrown the bodysuit only a moment ago was now vacant. "How the hell--?"
Jeff pointed at the clock again. It was now ten minutes to six. Five minutes had elapsed, and Bobby hadn't even known it. He couldn't even go five minutes without getting back into the suit.
"You should see yourself getting suited back up, Bob", Jeff teased. "You move like an obedient little robot. Like a good soldier." He smiled that devilish smile, and licked his lips.
Bobby dropped the pants back onto the floor. "No way", he argued. "I am consciously making the choice to take this thing off and leave it off."
"No matter how good it feels?", Jeff asked, pointing at Bobby's throbbing huge erection.
"Yes, no matter how good it--" Bobby cut himself off. "I am not into rubber, Jeff. Deal with it." Bobby wadded up the suit yet again and tossed it right at Jeff, who caught it.
"If you say so, babe", Jeff said, fingering the rubber suit. "But I don't think any consciously-made decision is gonna matter a hill of beans if it's your subconscious that's in control." Jeff dropped the suit to the floor and clapped his hands twice, rapidly, as if performing a magic trick. Bobby's eyes watched the suit drop, and was astonished to see it vanish before it ever hit the floor.
"What the--? Where did it go?", Bobby asked, flabbergasted.
Jeff pointed back at his lover. "You have to ask?"
Bobby was back in the rubber suit. Jeff pointed back at the clock. It was now 5:54. Bobby sighed, "Oh, great, and I'm getting faster at this, too."
Jeff laughed loudly. "Honey, either fess up and say I'm in control of you on this, or just leave the damn thing on. Seriously, you look fucking hot, Bobby. It's all I can do not to attack you right now."
Bobby's body tensed as Jeff said the word "hot". His aroused state was worsening by the second, and he still couldn't get any relief on his own. But if he wasn't going to get any satisfaction, neither was Jeff, he decided. He made an effort to relax his shoulders, feeling the growing moisture of his sweat under the suit, dripping against his skin. It was getting him more excited. "Fine", Bobby said, undoing the zipper again. "So we'll play catch with the suit for a bit, I don't care." He peeled it off more quickly this time, the increasing slick perspiration making it easier to remove. He tossed the suit once more to Jeff.
He caught it, and threw it right back to Bobby. Bobby caught it reflexively, then started, as it seemed to vanish from his hands. Then he saw it was back on him again. It was as though Jeff had magically made the suit envelop Bobby upon contact with him. Which in a sense, he had. Bobby glanced at the clock. He'd lost only a minute and a half this time.
Jeff smiled. "Honey, I told you, you can't resist putting back on the suit, and you don't even know you're doing it until it's been done. Just admit it and let's go get some dinner already."
Bobby stared at the floor. He knew Jeff was right, dammit. And his balls were still buzzing like a beehive. Then, as he was about to give in, he said, "Okay, Jeff, you control my urge to put on my rubber suit. I'll give you that. But that's all you control. One simple conditioned action. You don't control anything else. You don't truly control me."
Jeff leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "Oh really?" Then, he said calmly, "Okay, Bob, take off the suit." Bobby hesitated. Was this a new trick? "You said I can't control you, let's see some proof. Ditch the suit. Right now, go ahead." Slowly, deliberately, Bobby unzipped the suit. This was the first time he did so with great hesitancy, and it felt somehow...wrong. He carefully pulled off the knee boots, which took some doing since the sweat was now serving to hold them in place, unlike the suit which had been lubricated by the perspiration. On contact with the air, his feet felt...he wasn't sure, abandoned or something, like they needed the boots to feel complete...and Bobby steadily slid out of the bodysuit. Was this the test? To show Bobby that he now wanted to feel the suit around him? He refused to give Jeff any indication of that and kept his expression blank.
Soon, Bobby stood naked, soaked with sweat, before Jeff, holding the moist bodysuit out in one hand, the rubber boots set neatly a few feet away.
"There", Bobby announced. It's off." He looked over at it to ensure that it was still in his hand, and not suddenly back on his body. Bobby looked defiantly at Jeff, and said, "What do you say to that?'
"I say you should be thankful I took pains not to mess up your carpet", Jeff said.
Bobby looked down to find he was standing on a rubber bathmat that he recognized from his tub. His body felt strangely cool and tingly. His body was damp, but not with sweat. Bobby looked at the suit in his hand to verify its location. Jeff pointed again, telling Bobby, "Other hand."
Bobby looked at his other hand to see he held his electric shaver, which was thick with suds and hair. Then he looked back at his body. He had just shaved himself. From the neck down, Bobby was as smooth as a schoolboy. He had even shaved his face again, leaving it silky smooth. Upon realizing what he'd just done, he sprang another erection. "H-h-holy shit--!", Bobby exclaimed.
Jeff reached back and tapped the clock on the wall. It was now almost 6:30. Bobby hadn't even noticed a moment's passing. "Still think I don't control you?", Jeff asked.
"Okay, lookit", Bobby started, trying to sound defiant, but realizing his voice was cracking. "I--" then he noticed he was gesturing with his hand that should have been holding his rubber suit. It was empty. He glanced at himself to find the suit was on him again, and the combination of the rubber against his newly-shaved body was intoxicating. He looked at the clock. Not quite 6:31. He really was getting faster at this.
Bobby lowered his voice to a harsh whisper. "Jeff, I'm only going to ask this once", he started.
"And Bobby, my love", Jeff interrupted, "I'm only going to say this once. You look like you really need to squirt."
Bobby's entire body tensed like a steel ramrod. The word of the day was "squirt". Bobby had just been granted his release to cum. More than eight hours of pent-up sexual frustration were just given the go-ahead to fire away. And fire they did. Bobby's hands fell open at his sides, his fingers spread outward. His arms and legs were tense posts, his back arched in ecstasy. "Uh! UHH!" He came again and again, spout after spout of gummy eruptions bursting inside his suit, jettisoning up over his chest, across his shoulders to spill down again over his back or dribble down the length of his arms and gather at the suit's skintight wrists.
"H-h-how are you doing th-this--??", Bobby tried to say between gasps.
"With a single word", Jeff said, leaning forward to rest his arms on his thighs. "Squirt."
At the sound of his trigger word, Bobby's pelvis thrust again and again, gobs of jism building around his crotch to flow down his legs and collect inside his boots. He was becoming coated in his own juices, his skin and his suit thick with cum, but the orgasms spasming through his body felt too good for him to care. Bobby stumbled back onto the couch, gripping one armrest as his whole body was racked with one orgasm after another. the feel of the slick rubber against his bare skin seemed more enticing with every second. he never wanted to stop cumming, never wanted to take this wonderful, blessed suit off.
But after another ten minutes of heavenly spasms, Bobby did stop. He tried in vain to get to his feet, his body shuddering with such intense pleasure that he had to let himself fall back onto the couch. After another moment's pause, he finally gathered himself up and stood on shaky legs. He could feel the rubber suit stuck to practically every inch of his body, his semen dripping, congealing, and caking all over his skin. He inadvertently swallowed, imagining the cream was Jeff's, and recalling the taste. With some effort, Bobby stood up straight and looked Jeff in the eye. Through ragged breaths, he said, "Okay. That's enough."
Jeff applauded his boyfriend's show of strength. "Bravo, baby!", he called. "Did that feel as great as it looked? Man, I'd say that was your reward for the day's turmoil, wouldn't you?" Bobby shivered, his body exhausted and feeling the effects of all the moisture now that he was cooling down. "Now all you have to do", Jeff explained, "is admit to my superior gifts of mind control and you can get out of that thing. Probably needs a good cleaning by now, anyway."
Bobby hunched forward, bracing his palms on his knees. "C'mon, Jeff. You made your point. Just say whatever magic words you need to and let's call it quits. I'm spent and I'm starving."
"Okay", Jeff said in a condescending tone. "Have it your way. Fine by me if you never want to be able to cum again without my permission."
"Okay, that is it", Bobby snarled, ripping off the moist, sticky, and sweaty bodysuit. "That is really it, I swear to God!"
Jeff placed a hand over his mouth, trying to stifle his laughter.
Clumsily, Bobby yanked the suit off yet again, determined that this would be the last time. He tripped here and there, since this time he tried to pull off the tight rubber pantlegs before kicking off his knee boots, but he got it all off eventually, a few of his jism drips hitting the mat beneath his feet. Then, holding it up in his fist in a gooey, rumpled wad, he announced with force, "And I am not putting this damn thing back on again! I want it off, and it stays off!" This time he threw it down the length of the hallway into his bedroom, where he heard it hit against the far wall with a wet slap. Even exhausted as he was, Bobby had a great pitching arm.
"So you're all done?", Jeff asked, smirking at his newly-shaved, stark naked, wet and shivering boyfriend.
"You're damn right!", Bobby said back with conviction.
"You think you're not gonna put on the rubber suit again, huh? You sure?"
"Look, dammit", Bobby began, pointing an accusing gloved finger at Jeff. "I meant what I sai--" Gloved? Bobby froze in place, looking at his gleaming finger. He rolled his eyes and his shoulders sagged. "Aww, shit."
Bobby looked down at himself and saw he was fully dressed again. But he was at least partly right in his previous declaration. He wasn't standing there dressed in just the bodysuit. He was clad in heavy-duty ebony rubber chest waders with lug-soled boots. Tightly strapped beneath it was a thick denim-style black rubber jacket. There were thick rubber gloves on his hands. Around his neck was a sturdy rubber dog collar, complete with bone-shaped tag that actually had "BOBBY" engraved on it. As Bobby dropped his arms limp to his sides in surrender, he could feel that once again, underneath his cumbersome new ensemble, he once again had on the rubber bodysuit, goo and all.
Bobby looked at the clock behind Jeff. Another ten minutes had passed. He then aimed a level gaze at Jeff. "You asshole."
Jeff burst into gales of laughter and almost rolled off the edge of the love seat.
After a few minutes of intense cackling, Jeff steadied himself and looked at the encapsulated Bobby. "Soooo...anything you want to say to me?"
"Beside the fact that you're a dick?"
"Y'know, you look even better layered in rubber, hon. You look hot like that, Bobby. You feelin' hot?"
Bobby felt his groin ache and he sprouted an erection. His resolve started to melt and he felt incredibly aroused, a soothing warmth spreading up his chest and over his shoulders, relaxing him. He did his best to shake it off. "SO do not go there, Jeff! I mean it!"
"Then say it, for God's sake", chided Jeff.
"Okay, okay. You win. You've convinced me.", Bobby said, not meeting his gaze.
"Say the wooorrrds", Jeff prodded.
Bobby stood there, arms crossed in defiance--which wasn't that easy, since the rubber jacket squeaked like crazy when he crossed his arms. Bobby's mouth was a tight line. "You know what I meant", he said.
But that wasn't good enough for Jeff. "Squirt-squirt", he said.
Bobby's balls buzzed and he felt his crotch burn with an impending ejaculation. "Okay! Alright! I give, Jesus! Just don't--not again, alright?!"
"Then say i--", Jeff began.
"Jeff, you are the best damn hypnotist in the fucking world, man!", Bobby practically shouted. "You have mind-controlling powers that baffle the senses and defy description! You can make me do anything, anytime, anywhere! You could have been controlling me this entire past year and I'd never have known it! You are the master, man! Hell, you're MY master! I'm nothing but a hypnotic slave before your power--I'm a puppet, a helpless toy for you to control! And I am so, goddamn, fucking impressed by you! REALLY!"
Jeff sat there with his jaw hanging open. That outburst had exceeded expectations. He'd even go so far as to say it was worth the trouble of planting all the hypnotic commands and suggestions. Bobby let out a deep sigh. "That good enough?"
"That was perfect", Jeff observed. "Wow."
"Can I take off the fucking rubber gear now, man?"
"Knock yourself out", Jeff said, with a wave of his hand.
Slowly, carefully, Bobby peeled off his rubber outfit. He kept looking back at the clock to see if the hands made any sudden jumps forward in time. They didn't. As Bob pulled everything off, Jeff went into the bedroom and grabbed some clothes for Bobby to wear. After cleaning himself up, Bobby pulled on his sweater, zipped up his khakis, and stepped into a pair of loafers. He nodded toward the heap of rubber gear strewn on the carpet. "What do you wanna do with all this stuff?"
"Better put it back in your own closet. Never know when you might need it again."
Bobby opened his mouth to protest , but thought better of it. As he scooped up the gear and moved toward the closet, Jeff said, "Any chance I could get you to repeat that testimonial on tape?"
Bobby stared at him levelly. "Don't push it."
Dinner with Jeff that night was surprisingly quiet and uneventful. Bobby's rubber suit stayed off, and when they got home from the restaurant, Jeff even cleaned it up for him.
That night, despite Bobby's earlier anger at Jeff's mind game tricks, the two boys had magnificent sex. Bobby even voiced his thoughts about one of them being nude and the other being in the rubber suit. But ironically enough, it was Bobby who donned his freshly-cleaned suit and Jeff who went unclothed. They spent the night pleasuring each other into the wee hours of the morning. And there was plenty of proof that Bobby didn't require anyone's permission to fire when ready.
The following day, Bobby met Jeff again for lunch. Bobby's morning had been highly productive and exceptionally normal. The two greeted each other with a kiss. "How was your morning, dear?", Jeff asked with overemphasized cheerfulness.
"Wonderfully dull", said Bobby. "It's nice to be back on my routine."
"You're never gonna question my abilities again, I hope", Jeff remarked.
"You demonstrated quite a few impressive abilities in bed last night", Bobby grinned.
"You know what I mean. Howzabout I suggest something for later tonight? It would involve you, me--you on your knees, me standing, you inhaling deeply, then swallowing--"
Bobby shook his head. "It's so much more fun when we just wind up that way. I don't want to plan it." He tossed down his napkin and excused himself to the men's room, instructing Jeff to order for him.
Shortly, Bobby was back at their table, preparing to take his seat. Before he could sit down, Jeff held up his hand. "You sure about tonight?"
"Hon, it's just so much better when it just happens. Don't try to push--" Bobby sat down and felt a stiff protrusion up his behind. He tried to adjust himself and only made whatever it was go deeper. Every move he made gently fucked him in the rear. Bobby tried to sit up straight and felt two formidable rubber straps running across his shoulders, holding him tight.
Jeff smiled wide.
Bobby slowly ran his fingers across his chest and torso and could feel beneath his clothing a strong rubber harness with an attached buttplug dildo firmly planted in his ass. Bobby looked at Jeff. "How long was I in the john?"
"Around fifteen minutes. Maybe a little less." Jeff leaned forward across the table. "All you need to do to uncork that thing is tell me that giving me a blowjob is one of the greatest experiences in your life--and that you can't wait to do it again tonight."
Bobby leaned back in his seat, feeling the stiff harness straps on top of him and the firm dildo inside him. In spite of himself, he couldn't help grinning at his predicament.
"Just make sure you shower first", he said.
If you enjoyed this story, please write the author and let him know so he'll write more, at [email protected]
END