Out of the Blue (mm celeb hypno rubber ft)
The following story is a work of fiction and it is not intended to imply anything about the true sexuality of the celebrities mentioned or any personal knowledge about their private lives.
Copyright © 2002. This story is the property of the author, O'Melissokomos. Any duplication, in whole or in part, is forbidden without the express written consent of the author.
For rustyfarmboy and rubbercody.
Sheesh, I couldn't believe I was working on a Sunday evening. The things I did for money and this wasn't the first time either. This was what I got for basically not having a life. Not that I didn't like the work, far from it. I had always dreamt about working for my idol, the great hypnotist Paul McKenna, for years, and now that I was in college, I finally had the time to do so. I made it a point to immediately apply for the temp position here when I read about the job opening in the paper a few weeks back. I figured I'd learn enough of the business to get me started once I graduated and got my degree.
Just in case you were wondering why this no-life nerd was all alone at the office sending faxes overseas, it was because my boss took off for a European tour to promote his new book, and I, being one of the assistants to his assistants, had to make sure they received some last-minute but pertinent information about their tour by the time they reached their hotel in Berlin. I could only imagine how it would be like to travel abroad and see the world, but right now I was one of the few ones left behind to keep the place running until they came back. I was about halfway done with faxing Mr. McKenna's documents when I heard someone knocking on the door.
That's strange, I thought. Who would be dropping in now? I carefully set one more page on the machine and checked if the fax pulled it in properly before answering the door.
"Yes, who is it?" I called out, pulling the door open. My heart stopped the moment I saw and recognized who was standing behind it. It was Justin, Justin Timberlake. *NSYNC's front man, the most eligible bachelor in America, Mr. J. I thought I would have fainted right there and then, but through sheer force of will, I was able to keep my composure (and dignity) intact. Once my heart started pumping blood back into my brain, I managed to squeak out a hello. "Uuh... good evening, Mr. Timberlake."
He entered the room and rushed right past me. I automatically took note of what he was wearing: faded denim jeans, a sports jersey and some old sneakers. Hmm, it appeared he was in a hurry to get here though there was a certain shabby chic to his ensemble. I was going to complete my greeting when I noticed that he was on edge, jittery.
"I need to speak with Paul. It's rather urgent," he said. "I tried calling his cell phone and I couldn't get in touch with him." He spoke out in a pained, raspy voice.
I closed the door and turned around to face him. "I'm sorry, Mr. Timberlake, but Mr. McKenna left the country this morning for a book signing tour in Europe. He ought to be still in transit over the Atlantic right now."
"Damn, I mean... Man, I can't believe he's not around. I drove all the way here and..."
I could hear the disappointment in his voice, and if I didn't know any better judging by how his eyes looked, I would have bet that he had been crying. What the heck was going on?
"When is he coming back?" he asked.
"In a few days..."
"Jesus," he blurted out. He was visibly agitated about something. He was shuffling his feet and trying to keep his hands from shaking too much.
"Is anything the matter, Mr. Timberlake?" I asked.
"Huh? Oh..." At first I thought Justin wasn't going to say anything. His face looked like he was trying his best to hold back his emotions. He took one deep breath, sat down on the couch beside the door, and for a few brief seconds, he looked at me, as in looked, before finally speaking. "I-it's... it's Britney."
He looked at me again. It was as if he was trying to gauge a reaction from me, to see if I knew what he was talking about. Like I didn't. Heck, almost everyone in the office knew about his sessions with our boss ever since his break-up with Britney Spears. We just had to keep ourselves from blabbing to the press. When he was more or less sure that I did have a clue, he felt comfortable enough to continue.
"I was doing ok at first, you know. After Paul helped me out, I was on top of the world. I really thought I was over her, I really did. But the last three days have been hell," he said. (More of babbled considering how fast he was talking). "It was the first time I saw her after we broke up. I didn't even know that she was going to show up at the premiere of Joey's movie. I guess deep down she really wanted to show her support for him, but the second I saw her being interviewed, everything just came flooding right back at me. I almost made a complete fool of myself. By the time the movie started rolling, I had to get out of there real quick before anyone suspected anything."
Huh, the papers didn't mention anything about that. Guess he did give them the slip after all. They would had had a field day if they caught him in this condition. I could see the headlines now: "Justin Still Devastated Over Britney!", "Justin Ain't Adjustin'", "Tiiimberrrr!" Anyway, I didn't want to interrupt him by making snide remarks. "Go on," I said instead.
"I keep going back to the moment she dumped me. Geez, it's burning me up inside. I haven't been able to eat properly, or even sleep. I didn't realize it would get this bad. I'm a total wreck. It's been three days."
That was it, time for me to step in and say something. "Mr. Timberlake, I'm sure Mr. McKenna will be more than happy to accommodate you when he..."
"You don't understand! I can't get her out of my head!" he cried out. "I've tried everything Paul taught me but this time just seems so much worse. It's like everywhere I go I see her. She's all I think about."
Huh, apparently Justin really hadn't gotten 100% over Ms. Spears even with all the hypnosis sessions he had had with Paul. And from what I could tell, things might have gotten worse for him. This was a distraught and desperate man sitting on the couch across from me and far be it for me not to help out a fellow human being in need, or at least try. (It also didn't hurt for him to be the star of the country's hottest boy band.) As an assistant to the assistant of the famous Paul McKenna, I made it my business to know about the business--and I was not just talking about the show schedules and the money here--I mean, I was talking about hypnosis.
You see, there's a reason why Paul McKenna was my idol. I had always been interested in hypnosis from way back especially after the first time I watched him perform in a show. I started reading up on it when I was in high school and even got to test it out on a couple of good friends (no hanky-panky, I assure you!) before I went off to college where so far I'd been able to hone my skills by performing in mini-shows and parties. And now that I was working at Mr. McKenna's office for the summer, who would have thought I'd already get to see, much less speak to one of Paul's most celebrated clients? Anyway, enough about me. I had an emergency situation in my hands and this looked like a job for Kevin, the Wonder Temp.
"Mr. Timberlake, please, just relax. You have nothing to worry about."
"Nothing to worry about? You just said Paul wasn't going to be around. I don't know who else to call. I can't believe I'm so worked up over this."
"See? You just said so yourself. There's no reason for you to be so worked up. Just relax, Justin."
Whoops, I wondered if I should have already gone first-name-basis on him? Oh well, too late. Just move on, Kevin my boy. Didn't look like he noticed it anyway.
"That's it, take deep, heavy breaths. Let it relax you; let it cool you down. Close your eyes, Justin, and just let the relaxation wash all over you. Feel your entire body getting heavier and heavier as you listen to my voice."
I gradually and methodically calmed him down with my tried-and-tested induction script. Fortunately, one of the things I was gunning for was the fact that Justin had been hypnotized by Mr. McKenna before and so it shouldn't be too hard for me to get him into a trance. (Or at least I hoped so.) I already got him in a pretty relaxed state of mind right now and he was at that threshold of staying awake and falling all the way into a trance.
"Justin, I'm going to count down from five to one now, and at every count, you are going to feel sleepier and sleepier and your body will get heavier and heavier. Listen to my voice and obey."
"Five. You're doing very well, Justin."
"Four. Very relaxed. Very heavy."
"Three. So deep. The only thing you can hear is my voice."
"Two. Almost there, you want to fall all the way in."
"And one. Sleep now."
Justin's head plopped down to his chest and his entire body slumped on the couch. He was breathing normally and didn't move a muscle. Fuck. I got him; I really got him. He looked like a giant blond-haired kewpie doll sitting there on the couch, a prize waiting to be won. This was unbelievable. I actually had Justin Timberlake under my spell and he didn't even know it. Oh, the things I could make him do, but as much as I would have wanted him to do a strip dance while singing "Bye, bye, bye" for me, I didn't have the heart to exploit him in his current condition. (Fortunately for him.) Besides, with Mr. McKenna being a much better hypnotist than I was, I couldn't take the chance that Paul could learn about my session with Justin especially if I had him do something inappropriate. Best to keep things simple, I thought. Who knew what the repercussions could be?
"Justin, I want to you to listen to me carefully. Say 'yes' if you understand."
"Very good. How do you feel, Justin? And please answer truthfully."
"Not too great..."
"Are you still thinking about Britney?" I asked and his face suddenly tightened up at the mention of her name. Probably not the best way to go right now, I thought.
"It's ok, Justin. It's ok. Relax. It feels good, doesn't it? You feel yourself floating in a pool of warm, refreshing water. Let yourself float away and enjoy the nice, warm, comfortable feeling. You're doing very well, Justin. Release all the tension in your body. That's it."
Ah, he was finally responding. His body sank lower into the couch and his face loosened up dramatically. I sat down beside him and brought him deeper into trance than he had ever been before.
"Justin, can you hear me?"
"Yes..." came the soft reply.
"I want you do some things for me, is that ok? Don't worry, you can trust me. You know you can."
"Good. Now, this might make you a bit uncomfortable but I want to you think about Britney but you will no longer feel threatened or ashamed. You will remain relaxed and comfortable."
Unlike his first reaction, he remained calm this time. "Yes."
"That's very good, Justin. I want to you recall this feeling you're having whenever you start thinking about Britney. Just close your eyes, take deep breaths, relax and let go of all the worries and the tension. She's just an image; she can't hurt you anymore. Can you do that?"
"I'm going to repeat what I said. Britney is just an image; you don't have to feel bad about yourself anymore. You've accepted what happened between the two of you. This feeling of calm and serenity will come back to you whenever you think about her."
There. I figured it was like asking him to stick his finger into the dike to keep his despair from bursting through but that was the best I could do until he got the real help he could get from Mr. McKenna. Nonetheless, it should be good enough for the meantime.
"At the count of three, I'm going to snap my fingers and you're going wake up feeling energized and great about yourself. You will not remember being hypnotized. I repeat, you will not remember being hypnotized. As far as you're concerned, all you had here was an enlightening and refreshing conversation with me and that was it. "
"How do you feel now, Justin?"
"F-feel... great. Feel like floating."
"Are you comfortable?"
"Yes..." he said. And he didn't just look comfortable, he looked comforted. For the first time in three days, he was at peace with himself. His face was a picture of total tranquility that almost seemed to radiate a certain kind of contentment and all I wanted was to make him enjoy it as much as possible.
I asked, "Do you want to feel more comfortable?"
"Then open your shirt, Justin. Start with the top button. It will be so easy for you to unhook it from the hole even with your eyes closed."
I watched as Justin's hands glided towards his jersey and started undoing the buttons one by one. He wasn't having a hard time at all.
I continued, "Every button you open is making you feel more relaxed and you don't want to stop until you get to the last button."
He was halfway through when I noticed a slight movement in his pants. Whoa, I thought. Was he getting off of this? The funny thing was that so was I. I shifted in my seat to relieve a bit of the pressure that was building in my pants.
"You can feel it, can't you? You feel soooo good, sooo comfortable," I said while paying attention to his burgeoning bulge. When he was done, he let his hands drop down to his lap and I was mesmerized by the smooth, hairless skin that I could see through the flaps of his shirt.
I don't know why I did it but I couldn't help it anymore. Sitting this close to Justin was too much more me too bear. He looked so quiet, peaceful and breathtakingly beautiful sleeping there with his shirt open. He was a blond angel come down from heaven and I leaned in close to his face, savored the cologne he was wearing and kissed him on the lips. My hand had a mind of its own as it slowly levitated and landed on his lap. I didn't even see it creeping up his jeans until it was almost to his package. That was when I abruptly stopped and pulled away.
Argh! I was going hate myself forever for not taking advantage and wasting this opportunity to have my way with Mr. Timberlake that very moment, but like I said, Mr. McKenna was still treating him and I didn't want to lose their trust (and my job!). Lucky for me the head on top of my shoulders was thinking more clearly than the head between my legs, but I couldn't come out of this entire episode with just nothing? I mean, that was Justin-frickin'-Timberlake sitting there ready to do my every bidding. I wondered what I could do... Hmm, that's it.
"Justin, how are you feeling now?"
"That's good. Now listen to me carefully again, Justin. When you hear me, and only me say, 'Curly Spice', you will immediately fall back asleep into this trance. If anyone else says these words, they won't have any significant meaning for you outside the ordinary. Remember, it's only when I say the words 'Curly Spice' that you will return to this deep state of hypnosis and you won't be able to tell anyone else about this. Do you understand?"
"Yes... Curly Spice."
There. That nickname ought to be outrageous enough for Mr. McKenna to overlook--I hoped. Even though I would probably never see or speak to Justin again after tonight, just *knowing* that he was still under my control would be more than enough for me. It would be something I'd keep to myself; no one else would know anything about it. Definitely way better than nothing.
"Well, we can't have you looking like this when you wake up," I said, redoing the buttons on his sports jersey. "Here we go. I'm going to start counting now, Justin. One. Your body is no longer feeling heavy. Two. Your conscious mind is beginning to regain control. And... three. You're fully awake." Snap.
Justin's eyes fluttered open and he appeared to be still very relaxed and comfortable. He looked around the room and remembered where he was. He turned to me and smiled. "Hey, I'm feeling pretty good now... er... I didn't catch your name when I came in." He stood up and reached out with his hand that I readily took and shook.
"Kevin, sir. It's Kevin, and, believe me, it was my pleasure." If you only knew how much so, I smirked to myself.
"Well, thanks Kevin. I'm sorry I had to unload my baggage on you like that. You were just so easy to talk to." He then checked his watch and said, "Listen, I've got to go. You were really a lot of help tonight. I got a lot off my chest. I don't know what I have done if you weren't around, Kevin. I'll be sure to put in a good word to Paul for you."
"Uh... ok. Thanks, Mr. Timberlake. Goodbye. It was nice meeting you."
"Likewise." I showed him to the door and he gave me a quick wave goodbye before he stepped out of the room.
Wow-oh-wow, I thought. That was fuckin' unbelievable. Not only was I able to meet and talk to Justin Timberlake, I also got to hypnotize him and help him out with his Britney-titis. Man, if I wasn't such a pansy I'd probably be doing the horizontal mambo with him right now but then I wasn't that kind of guy. God, I prayed, give me another chance, please! Oh well, at the least I got loads to fuel my fantasies for a very, very long time. In any case, I had better finish up faxing those documents or else I might end up jacking off right there and then in the office. I went back to where the fax machine was and resumed my work. I figured I had at least 30 more pages to go. Fifteen minutes passed when the phone suddenly rang. I answered it, thinking it was the hotel in Berlin where I was sending Mr. McKenna's stuff.
"Hi, is this Kevin? It's me... Justin."
Whoa. Justin was calling me? Holy mother of God. Why? "Good evening, Mr. Timberlake. Is there anything I can do for you, sir?"
"Yeah, you can drop the 'sir'-crap, Kevin, though I appreciate it. Call me Justin, please."
"Uhh... ok--Justin." I giggled nervously. This was too good to be true.
"Anyway, I'm calling because I kind of forgot when you told me Paul would be coming back from his tour."
I replied, "If I'm not mistaken, it's this Saturday." Justin didn't immediately respond, and when he did, he muttered something under his breath that I couldn't catch. "Beg your pardon?" I asked.
"No, it's nothing... No, wait." He paused and sighed. "Look, I just remembered that there's an event this Friday where I'm almost sure I'm going to see Britney again, and unless I want to give the tabloids something the talk about, I can't not be there, you know what I mean? In fact, my agent would kill me if I don't show up, but then he doesn't know about the past three days. This thing is only five days away and I don't think I'll be able to hold out that long without talking to Paul. It's not as if I could have him talk me through it all while he's overseas."
Hmm, he's right. I hadn't thought about that. Even my little post-hypnotic command may not stand up to this kind of abuse and there was too much at stake.
After considering his options, I said, "I guess the simplest solution is *not* to think about it, or her, for that matter."
"Easier said than done," he said.
"Not really. Not for someone like you. Get busy. It's the best way to get your mind off of her. Do something you've never done before. Get crazy like the Stooges."
"You know, Moe, Larry and Curly? Spice up your life a bit, Justin."
He replied, "Yes."
"You need to forget about Britney. You're a big, strong man, Justin. You don't need any woman to define who you are. You're your own man. In fact, you're a man's man."
"A man's man. Yes."
"Forget the old Justin; this is the new you. You make your own decisions. You control your own life. Do you get what I'm saying?"
"Yes," he said.
"If you ask me, I think you're going to be all right now. Just think about and remember everything I said. Well, I hope I'm not keeping you from anything. I'm sure you have other things to do."
"Yes," he said again.
"Ok, then. You can come talk to me anytime. It was good talking to you again Justin. Goodbye."
With that I put down the phone on the receiver and let out a long breath. Did that sound too overeager? Was I too pushy? I hoped not. I didn't want to come across like some fanboy. He sounded really bored at the end. Huh, who were you kidding, Kevin? Like that celebrity really cared about what you thought. Yeah, right. Well, it was fun while it lasted. The best thing to do now was to forget about it, bury myself with work, and move on with my life--which wasn't much to begin with.
The next few days were rather uneventful. Aside from following up on a few urgent requests from the touring group abroad, the skeleton crew at Mr. McKenna's office had a lot of time on our hands. Inquiries for show appearances weren't pouring in as they normally would due to the announcement we posted on our website regarding Paul's European tour. When we weren't sitting on our asses twiddling our thumbs, we basically took the time to get to knew each other better. I got to meet a couple of interesting people (fellow sophomores from college) in the office but no one I could confide with. I hadn't told anyone about my meeting with Justin Timberlake although I was dying to let them know. They would then be asking too many questions and I didn't want that. I much preferred the way things were--simple, quiet and no surprises--and I got my wish, until Friday came around.
I was walking home from the park where I usually spent my Friday evenings jogging after work. I was planning to have a quiet night alone with myself since the two roommates with whom I shared the rent of the apartment with had left earlier that morning for a weekend trip. I entered our porch, got out the key, inserted it and was about to open the door when I heard this very loud motorcycle coming in from behind me. I turned around to see who it was. It was a young man wearing a dark outfit and a red helmet. He planted the kickstand, shut off his machine and pulled off his helmet. He turned his head towards my general direction and my heart stopped yet again when I recognized whom the driver was.
Oh my God. Was that Justin getting down from that Harley across the street and walking towards my house? What was he doing here and what the heck was he wearing? He had a black leather jacket on as well as black leather pants and boots. As far as I could tell, underneath his jacket was a plain white wife-beater. The kicker was the pair of Raybans he had on. When he came close enough, I noted that his wardrobe wasn't the only thing that was different about him. His face was rough and full of stubble; I could tell he hadn't shaven for days. What was with the new look, I wondered.
"Hiya Kevin," he greeted.
"Hi Justin. Uh..." I was at a loss for words. "Umm... what brings you here? How'd you know where I lived?"
He replied matter-of-factly, "I wanted to talk to you and called up your office. When you weren't there, I asked them for your home number and address."
What the heck, I thought, but all I could say was, "Do... do you want to come in?"
"Thanks, don't mind if I do." He strutted his way into my apartment and placed his helmet on the kitchen counter. He pulled off his Raybans and gave the room a quick scan. "So," he began, "this is your place, huh?"
"Not bad. Could be a bit bigger, I think." He then noticed a couple of what looked like wetsuits hanging over one of the chairs behind the counter. "You have a roommate Kevin? You don't look the type to be leaving your stuff lying around, if you know what I mean."
"Two roommates, actually. Dusty and Colby."
He went over and picked one up to examine it more closely. My heart stopped when I realized he wasn't holding up a wetsuit. I was going to need to see a doctor about my heart condition after all this was done.
"This theirs?" he asked.
"Y-yeah," I stammered. Shit, they left their rubber suits out again! Oh my God, those jerks. When were those two assholes going to learn I wasn't going to give in to their weird fetish no matter how hard they tried to convince me to try it out just once?
"Do they dive?" he asked.
"Uh-huh," I lied. I wasn't about to let Mr. Timberlake start seeing me sweat. What else was I going to say? My roommates were two of the city's most famous rubber freaks? Heck, no way.
"Uhm, no, not this weekend. I've got the house to myself."
"Cool." He then placed the suit back where he found it, took off his leather jacket and tossed it over the kitchen counter where his helmet was but not before he slipped out a cigar from the jacket's pocket and started savoring its sweet scent by running its length beneath his nose. What the? When did he start smoking? It was a cigar, no less!
He placed one end of the stogie between his teeth and lit the other end with a silver Zippo lighter that magically appeared in his hand. After a couple of whiffs, he got the tobacco-tube going and took one long, deep drag before slowly expelling the smoke from his pursed lips. He paraded his way to the sofa and sat down. I stood there by the door, watching in awe. The smoke quickly spread throughout the small living room and tickled my nostrils with its tantalizing aroma.
Whatever happened to the clean-cut Justin Timberlake I lusted after all these years? Who was this cigar-smoking leather-wearing hunk with me in this room? Was I dreaming all of this?
Justin then spoke out, "So, what does it take to get a drink around here?"
Oh fuck. "S-sorry," I said, locking the door shut and rushing to the fridge. "What would you like?"
"You've got a Bud?"
"Uh... sorry. We don't drink beer."
"Figures," he replied.
"How about a Coke?" I offered, showing him the red can.
"Nah, water's fine," he replied before taking another deep intake of smoke into his lungs. Geez, I couldn't imagine what could have happened to him since I last talked to him. I grabbed a bottle of Evian before closing the refigerator door. I reentered the living room, handed him the bottle and took the chair directly opposite the sofa. I had to get to the bottom of this.
"Can I... can I ask what you're doing here?"
"You said I could come talk to you anytime. Is there a problem with that?"
"Uh... no, though you could have called."
"Nah, I thought about that. This is more personal."
Personal? I was stunned but I didn't show it. Let's try something else, I thought. "Uh, Justin. I remember you mentioning that you had this thing on Friday night so don't you have to be somewhere like a recording or movie premiere tonight? And does anyone know you're here? How about your agent?"
"Fuck that. I told them I needed a night off. Hey listen, I didn't come here to get the third degree. If you don't want me here..." he said, motioning to stand up from the sofa.
I raised my hands to stop him. "No, no. Stay. I'm sorry. You can stay."
"That's good. Because I don't wanna leave." He took his seat again, placed his athletic arms on the top edge of the sofa and plopped his boot-laden feet down on the table in front of him. "Fuck, this is great not having anybody around for once. You know what I'm talking about, Kevin?" he said, blowing out another puff of smoke.
"I guess so..."
"No, really. You don't know what it's like to have people telling you what to do all day long. What to wear, what to say, what to whatever! It's fucking demeaning. I mean, what the fuck, it's MY life, right? You told me that."
"And I should be able to do whatever I want, right?"
"No buts, Kevin. Life's too damn short. Hell, for all I know I'm already yesterday's news and my agents and so-called friends are too shit-fuck-scared to tell me. That's what I like about you, Kevin."
"Yeah, man. You tell me like it is. Ever since I met you, you've never given me any bullshit whatsoever, and I really appreciate that, man. I really do. You won't believe the amount of crap I have to swim through everyday. That's why I had to get outta there. I was drowning in crap."
"What are you doing all the way there, Kevin? Is the smoke bothering you?"
"You sure? I can put it out if you want me to."
"No, you go on right ahead. I don't mind it at all."
"Thanks man. Cigarettes are cool, I suppose, but I haven't found anything that came close to a good full-bodied stogie." Justin took in a few more puffs before asking me where the john was.
"Over there," I pointed to a door on the far end of the room. "It's by the stairwell."
He placed the cigar on the ashtray he found on the table and headed directly for the washroom. Man, this was getting out of hand, I thought. Who was that masked man? I was trying to come up with reasons that could explain Mr. Timberlake's strange behavior when I heard him speak out from behind the door.
"Hey Kevin, you ought to get a plumber to fix your faucet. My shirt's fuckin' soaked."
Shit, shit, shit. I forgot about the sink. I shot out of my seat and immediately went into panic mode. "I'm so sorry. I can get you a t-shirt upstairs and, and..." My mouth went dry when Justin opened the door and stepped out of the bathroom--he was topless. My god, has he been working out? He never looked better. His arms were enough of a turn-on but seeing him half-naked from the waist up was a wonder to behold. I mean I had seen him without a shirt before but that was when he was younger. At 21 and with his nicely shaped adult muscles, Justin was finally turning into a MAN.
"Fuggedaboutit," he simpered. "Good thing I was wearing these pants else I'd be out of them too."
I couldn't help it. My cock just jumped when an image of Justin in boxer briefs flashed through my mind for a split-second. I quickly tried to mask my arousal by adjusting my rapidly inflating prick in my pants. I had thought I was able to shift positions fast enough when he remarked, "Then again, maybe it wasn't such a good thing."
"You like what you see, Kevin?" he said looking directly at the growing bulge in my pants.
"Wha-?" I replied and I couldn't help but stare at his own bulge forming in his leather pants.
"I asked if you like what you see."
"Umm... yes... very much so."
"Well, I do too. Like what I'm seeing, that is." Justin was giving me a lusty look with his blue eyes. There was a slight sneer to one corner of his mouth as he was smiling. There was a tangible tension in the air as he approached me and I could feel his hungry eyes eating into my skin. Shit, no way. Was he fucking with me? This couldn't be happening.
He was inching in closer and closer. I could literally feel the heat emanating from his body. Before I knew it, he was right in front of me and I was caught in his sexual aura, unable to move. "J-justin?"
"Shut the fuck up, will you?" He pressed his body against mine, wrapped his arms behind my back, and then kissed me.
I froze. I didn't know what to do. I never had a boyfriend in my life. But Justin knew what he was doing. Without even saying a word, he slowly maneuvered and guided me. I felt so weak and afraid but, at the same time, I never felt safer as I did in his strong arms of his. My cheeks relaxed, my lips loosened and my tongue unwound. Soon enough I was able summon the courage and confidence to reciprocate and add in little fervor of my own. Once he sensed that I wasn't as submissive as before, he intensified his kissing to the point where we were running our arms around each other and felt the sparks fly from our electric embrace. Gradually, the pace declined and we stopped to catch our breath.
"Hmmm... was that your first kiss?" he asked.
"Y-yes," I gasped, remembering the time I stole a kiss from his lips last Sunday in the office while he was hypnotized. But that didn't count, I thought. That wasn't real; this was.
"You were great," he grinned and he gave me a slight peck on the lips. He then turned his head towards the general direction of the kitchen counter and asked, "Those black shiny things I saw when I came in, those really aren't wetsuits, are they?"
I decided there wasn't any use in covering up anymore. "N-no. They're full-body rubber suits."
"I thought so," he said. "How tall are your friends?"
"Why?" I asked.
"Because I want to find out if I can fit in 'em. I never tried those on before. So, what do you think?"
He wanted to try them on? "I guess you're about the same height. Almost the same build except that one of them's thinner than you are."
"And the other one?"
"I'm a bit smaller than him, but..."
"But what? It's not as if they're going to know about it, right? Now, help me with my boots, will you?" He sat down on one of the chairs in the living room and started removing his left boot. I knelt down in front of him as I helped him out with his other boot. While he was unfastening his belt and pant buttons, I was taking off his socks for him. He got up again and peeled off his leather pants. All he had left were his navy blue boxer briefs with a very noticeable tent in front. It was exactly as I had imagined it. Nice, very nice.
I began to undress myself as I watched him go and pick out one of the rubber suits hanging over the chair behind the kitchen counter. He examined it thoroughly, running his fingers over the material and testing the zipper at the back. He peeked inside and he appeared to be concerned about something.
"I don't think I'm supposed to be wearing these when I'm inside this thing," he said, pointing to his boxers, and in one fell swoop, he chucked it off his body. I was startled to say the least; I didn't realize he'd be so forward about it. My jaw just dropped as I beheld Justin Timberlake in the flesh, all 6'1" and 170 lbs. of it (if the latest stats could be believed). I'd always considered Justin to be naturally thin but all those years being in the public spotlight probably gave him enough reason to get into shape. And the bulge in his pants a while ago wasn't an optical illusion; he was huge and hard.
He turned to me and shook his head in amusement. I wondered why until I looked down and discovered that I hadn't fully removed my briefs, thanks to my getting distracted by his sudden flair for nudity. Sheepishly, I let my underwear just drop to the floor. He was about to step into the suit when I told him to wait. I suddenly remembered something my roommates usually did before donning their rubber attire and I went to the upstairs bathroom to retrieve the container of talcum powder Dusty and Colby used.
"Here, put this on," I said, showing him the talcum power. "It will make it easier for us later on when we have to take the suits off."
He nodded his head in agreement and suggested, "It'll be faster if we help each other out, you know. Scratch my back, I'll scratch yours." He winked.
"Good idea. Let's start with you," I said, applying some powder on him. Spreading the talc on his back was such an erotic experience for me. I made sure everything from his neck down to his ass (the best part!) was sufficiently covered by a light dusting of powder.
While he was finishing up his arms and legs, I started rubbing the power all over my chest. I was about to work on my groin when he interrupted me. "No, let me. Don't move," he beamed.
He knelt down on one knee in front of me and he poured a good measure of powder in his hand with which he then cupped over my cock and balls and rubbed the white stuff in. I was already half-hard to begin with and by the time he finished with my legs and feet I was rock hard. He stood up and walked on behind me to start working on my back. Man, I was trembling, so much so that he had to tell me to stand still. I didn't know what I enjoyed more, me doing his back or him returning the favor.
After we were done covering up some spots we missed on each other, we chose whose suit to wear and dove in legs first. It wasn't easy at first but it wasn't something too difficult to get the hang of. We managed to get our limbs and torso all the way in and then there was only one thing to do.
"Zip me up," Justin said. I pulled the zipper all the way from his lower back up to his neck. "There we go. Now, your turn." I turned around to give him access to my zipper and that was it--we were rubber boys. We tested our mobility and found that the suits afforded a generous range of motion considering how tightly they were squeezing against our skins. (Well, certain sections were a bit looser than others.) Justin tried walking around the room and I could see the longer he stayed in the suit, the more he liked it.
"Fuckin-A, this feels great. It's a perfect fit." He went to the table, picked up the cigar he left on the ashtray, and ingested another dose of nicotine. The sight of this unshaven pop star huffing and puffing in a rubber suit was getting me stoked. With the stogie hanging loosely from his mouth, Justin flexed his body inside the skin-tight suit that conformed to his every contour. Out of fun, he did a series of muscular poses starting from a double bicep to a lat spread. Sure he wasn't Mr. Olympia but he still looked fucking hot especially with that cigar burning away in his mouth. Not to be punny about it, he was smokin'!
Justin laughed as he watched his penis slowly pump its way back up to a full erection. "Oh yeah, I could get used to this, no doubt about it. Man, take a look at my cock. It fucking loves it down there."
His wasn't the only one; my prick was relishing the newfound sensations tremendously as well. Oh man, I thought, what a rush! Was this what I'd been missing out on? No wonder my roommates loved this shit. The slightest contact with the rubber had amplified my sexual urges tenfold and my hard-on stuck out like a steel rod pointing straight up to my navel. My entire body from the neck down was encased in a tepid, tight, comfortable cocoon. I was a totally different creature. I was a sleek, velvet panther on the prowl; I was an electric eel just waiting to discharge my load. I wasn't Kevin, the Wonder Temp anymore. I was Kevin, the Rubber Stud.
With a hiss, I sprung at him like a snake with all its uncoiled fury and side-winded him to the floor but he wasn't at all rattled. Instead, he smiled zestfully, spat out his venomous cigar and swallowed the tongue that was trying to slither its way into his mouth. With our slick second-skins, our tensile shapes slipped and slid over each other as we zealously kissed and swapped saliva. We squirmed and scrambled for control, and even though he was stronger than I was, I ultimately subdued him and struck him down with a strength I didn't know I had. As I sat on top of him with my knees to his sides, he just laid there stretched out on the floor waiting, his underbelly exposed. The struggle was over and I moved in for the kill.
He willingly surrendered himself to me, and through his rubber suit, I started to massage the muscles in his shoulders, his arms and his chest. Despite the extra layer of rubber covering his body, my fingers easily found the sweet spots.
"Maaaaan," he moaned, closing his eyes. "This is so fucking awesome." In response, I redoubled my efforts and sent him shuddering in delight. Through it all, both hadn't lost our hard-ons and the sexual heat we were generating threatened to microwave our bodies gladwrapped in rubber.
"Let's switch," he whispered breathlessly and I let him get on top of me. I assumed he'd begin with my shoulders (Turnabout was fair play, right?) but I was surprised when he began massaging a different muscle--my love muscle. He had his work cut out for him as even the lightest pressure on my cock made me jump and, damn him, I could see how much pleasure he was deriving from that fact. I didn't know how long I was lying down there at his tender mercies or how many times he brought me to the edge and back but I knew one thing--I couldn't hold for much longer.
Then Justin did something unexpected. He placed his hands on each side of chest and used them to prop up his upper body. Using his legs to steady himself, he guided his pelvis over my groin and slowly lowered it down until it touched with mine. I gasped. Holy shit, what the fuck was he doing? The next thing I knew was that we were grinding our cocks together through our suits. It was fuckin' unbelievable! I basically went insane from the raw and animalistic sensations. It was there yet it wasn't. It was smooth yet intense.
"Fuuuuuuuuucck!!" I groaned. "Jeeeezus fucking christ!!"
"Ooooooooh... Kevin... I'm so fucking close..." he spat out. "P-please, man. Don't cum yet."
"Shit, I can't wait, Justin... I can't... My balls are about to explode."
"I'm almost there... cum with me, Kevin... don't you... leave me..."
I grit my teeth and tried my best to hold it in by imagining other things like cold showers or ice cubes but all my sexually-charged brain could think of was me as the Little Dutch Boy who didn't put his finger into the dike. It was fascinating to watch the events unfolding in my mind--the water trickling out, cracks beginning to appear around the hole and slowly getting bigger and bigger as more and more water sprayed out of the ever-growing hole that let even more of the water through. Oh crap, I thought, there was no way in hell I could hold it back now.
Then a voice called out to me blaring, "Keeeeeevvvviiiin.... aaaaaaah... aaah.. I'm commmiiiiiing!!!!!"
Oh. Thank. God!!! My imaginary dike cracked wide open and the waters broke through. Fuck Holland, I thought, screaming at top of my lungs.
Wave after wave of cum flooded into our suits as the overheated semen that spewed out of our cocks almost scalded our skins. We shook, we shuddered and we shouted. We felt our spunk spread and ooze all over our bodies. Justin's arms finally gave way and he just collapsed on top of me. Our simultaneous release had taken every last bit strength we had left and we just laid there reveling in our orgasmic bliss.
Some time later, Justin and I were sitting on the sofa and watching television. We were both still wearing the suits. He had his feet up on the table while he was enjoying another cigar. I had my head on his shoulder, my hand on his chest, and my legs tucked underneath me. This was nice.
When the show we were watching went into commercial, Justin ruffled my hair playfully and said, "I was just thinking about what you said to me on the phone last week; it really stuck to me. I don't need that bitch at all, or any woman for that matter."
Yikes, where did that come from?
"And I was getting tired of my 'old' image. It was about time I started acting my age. This is the new-and-improved Justin."
Umm.. ooookay. "Justin, what are you talking about?" I asked.
"Don't you remember? It was the time for me to get busy and crazy. You said that when you hypnotized me over the phone."
Waitaminute... what did he say? What the hell was he talking about? I sat up straight and became very concerned. The last time I hypnotized him was in Mr. McKenna's office. I hadn't put him back in a trance since then.
I raised my objection, "Justin, I didn't hypnotize you over the phone."
He gave me a knowing grin. "Sure you did. We talked last Sunday, right? I called you on my cell and I don't know what happened exactly but one minute I was taking to you, the next minute I woke up with a dead cell phone in my hand. The battery was drained dry and when I checked the last person I called after recharging, it was you. There was no way I could have dozed off on the phone like that if you hadn't hypnotized me. I kinda put two and two together; I'm not as dumb as I look, you know." He then assured me, "Don't worry, I won't tell Paul about it."
I insisted, "But I swear that time I didn't..." My voice trailed off when I tried to recall the things I said during my phone conversation with Mr. Timberlake. I knew I didn't use any of my induction techniques and I was certain I couldn't have used the trigger...
Oh my God. Curly spice. The trigger phrase. That was it.
Christ almighty, how could I have been so careless? I didn't mean to; it was an accident. I was talking about the Stooges and him spicing up his life and... shit! I *did* hypnotize him again and I wasn't able to make him forget about it, and worse, snap him out of it properly that time. I was goddamn lucky he didn't lapse into a coma, but that explained it. He didn't just listen to everything I said; he internalized it into his subconscious. Without my guidance, Justin had interpreted and flew off with my pep talk in his own extremely literal way until it had become a part of him from the inside out. That's why he'd been acting so weird tonight.
"Justin, I'm so..."
He cut me off, "Hey, it doesn't matter if you did or if you didn't. What does matter was you were right. I haven't felt this great about myself in years and you had everything to do with it, babe. It's like what you said, I'm a man's man, and guess whose man I am now." He was smiling wickedly and I just fell in love with his mischievous grin. He reached forward, pulled my head to his and pushed his tongue into my mouth. For ten glorious minutes we just sat there kissing and relishing in the rubber that touched our bodies ever so sensuously.
When we stopped, he wrapped his arm around me, and with the other free hand, he started stroking my face lightly while gazing into my eyes. "You like that?" he asked.
"Hmmmm..." I hummed contentedly. Inside I was more of "Oh God, yes!!!"
He then said, "What do you think we get ourselves and these suits cleaned up and take them out for a spin tonight? Do you think your friends will mind? We can always have these custom-made, I think. These frickin' things are so goddamn hot! And we still have enough time to crash that party where I'm supposed to be now."
"Wha-? Oh, them? Nah, I wouldn't worry about it. They won't be back until Monday." Naughty Kevin, I thought. Boy, Dusty and Colby were just going to freak out when they found out about this. Considering Justin's new brazen, devil-may-care attitude, I didn't think I was going to be able to keep this from anyone now. So much for the simple quiet life.
"That's great. Care to join me in the shower? I'm going to need help getting out of this thing and you wouldn't want me to slip and crack my head, would you?" he teased. He stood up from the sofa and practically pulled me up with one arm. He then got behind me and pushed me towards the stairs. "Lead the way, lover boy."
As we went upstairs, I couldn't help but be overwhelmed with everything that just had happened. It was still fuckin' unbelievable. Who would have guessed that I'd be with someone, much less anyone, and that someone turned out to be this gorgeous man behind me. Was it really only five days ago when Justin walked into my life and now I was walking out with him to a new life? Stranger things had happened, no doubt, but it was so totally amazing how this kind of thing just came out of the blue.