Love Doll (mm asfr fet)

Copyright © 2007

Part 1

Brandon tried flexing in front of the mirror without either bursting into laughter or hanging his head in shameful exasperation. It wasn't easy.

Brandon was blessed with the heart of a rubber sexpig, but cursed with the body of a champion swimmer. (Or maybe the belssing/curse was the other way around, depending on how you looked at it.) Dressed in only a black rubber jockstrap, Brandon's physique showed no signs of the unforgiving workout regimen he'd been pushing upon himself for the last month. He was as trim and defined as ever, with no body fat, but no bulk, either. He decided he needed the input of his friend Ryder. Slipping into his favorite black rubber jeans and tanktop, Brandon grabbed his lace-top steel-toed rubber boots and leather biker jacket and headed to Ryder's fetish shop.

"So what's the problem?", Ryder asked. "You look hot in what you've got on now."

"No, no", Brandon insisted. "I want to be big. I want to bulk up like a wrestler or a weightlifter, show up at one of your big play parties ready to seduce every latex muscleboy in sight."

Ryder snorted. "That's so never gonna happen."

Brandon opened his mouth, about to start his usual tirade of "Come on, you've gotta have something that can help me", but Ryan held up a hand to stop him.

"All you need is the right gear. And I happen to have just the thing."

Ryder led his friend to the back room, where Ryder's latest creation hung from a series of heavy-duty hangers. It was a latex bodysuit, perfectly sculpted to resemble the muscular body of a gym boy. Tight pecs, washboard abs, strong biceps, killer calves, magnificent ass. If not for its lack of a head and the feet that rounded off like stockings rather than toes, the rubber suit could have passed for the actual limbs and torso of a real guy. A totally hot, unbelievably ripped guy. Except for the nine-and-a-half inch dildo with the candy red mushroom head protruding from its crotch. That and one other thing.

"It's pink", Brandon said.

"Yeah", Ryder admitted. "I was going for something other than black, but most fleshtone latex looks all yellowish or orange. And who wants to go down on somebody while thinking "jaundice"? Anyway", and he slapped his scrawny pal on the back, waving a bottle of lube. "Strip down and lube up. You're trying it on."

Brandon's eyes widened. "I'll be swimming in it! Look at how huge it is. It's made for someone--"

"Just like you", Ryder interrupted. "The inside is meant to hug a--let's say a slimmer body. Think about it: would a gym bunny NEED a muscle suit?"

Brandon nodded. "Good point." Brandon stripped off his gear as Ryder took the large rubber suit down for him. "But I'm using talc", he insisted.

It was all Brandon could do to squeeze into the tight-fitting suit. "DAMN, man! This thing is so fucking tight it's smothering me!" Ryder smirked. "If you'd let me lube you up instead of using that stupid talc of yours, it might go on a lot easier, Bran."

"No, no. I got it." Brandon made a final grunting noise as he shrugged his shoulders forward and the suit settled firmly into place upon his smooth body. Brandon's mouth dropped open as he looked at himself in the shop mirror. "Fuck me."

Brandon looked incredibly hot in the suit. The sculpt of the rubber made his body look like that of a shredded gym rat, and its latex interior was so snug that it followed every movement he made to create the illusion that the foam muscles were his own. There was even a contoured pouch for his ball sac.

"So how do you like it?", Ryder prompted him.

Brandon traced his chest and abs (or the suit's, rather) with his gloved fingers. The latex over his hands was the thinnest part of the suit, so he was able to feel every contour with almost the same sensation as if the skin of his fingers had made contact. The suit felt like real muscles, real skin. "It's incredible", Brandon admitted. He looked down at the giant dildo that encased his own meager six inches and added, "Geez. I'M incredible."

Ryder put his hands on Brandon's shoulders. "And that's what everybody will think at the party this Friday." Brandon turned around to look at his friend, refusal already apparent in his eyes. Ryder waved a finger at him. "Yes. You are going. And you are going--", and he turned Brandon's face back to the mirror, "--in that."

Friday came and at first Ryder thought Brandon was going to stand him up. Ryder stood in the alley outside the small club The Blow-Up, which he reserved every third Friday of each month for his shop-sponsored fetish party. He looked at his watch and frowned, knowing it was high time to get things under way, but not wanting to do so without Brandon. Finally, Brandon showed up, looking furitve and nervous. And scrawny. He was dressed just as he had been when he came to Ryder's shop, carrying a large duffel in one hand.

"Bran, why aren't you suited up?", Ryder demanded.

"I-I couldn't do it. I'm gonna try to go in just as myself. Here's your muscle suit back." He handed Ryder the duffel bag, and the shop owner took his underweight pal by the shoulder and pulled him to the side door.

"Guess that decision's up to you", Ryder sighed, pushing open the club door. "Go on in."

Inside the club, milling around under the dim blue lights and pounding music, was a wall-to-wall gathering of hot, muscled fetish men. Each attendee was adorned with some outfit designed to accentuate his considerable physique. Body harnesses, skintight rubber wrestling singlets, hoods, and hip boots were just some of the items that caught Brandon's eye as he took in the scene. Large biceps, six-pack abs, powerfully-defined legs, and huge cocks bulging under tearaway codpieces gleamed in the light and shined slick with sweat and lube.

"Help me get into the suit", Brandon said quickly.

Ryder had Brandon stripped naked right there in the alley in seconds. "I didn't bring any talc", Brandon said.

"Got'cher lube right here", Ryder said with a wide smile.

Ryder yanked on thick elbow-length rubber gloves and began to coat his skinny pal totally with copious gelatinous layers of the gleaming lube. As his rubbered hands massaged Brandon's body, Brandon felt much of his anxiety leave him. Standing naked in a dirty alley, he felt more at ease than he had in ages. Concerns about gulping protein shakes and working with personal trainers faded from his mind and all he could feel was an eagerness to join the perverted rubbermen within the Blow-Up club.

"Fuck, man, this feels good", Brandon moaned.

"Kinda like liquid poppers", Ryder explained. "Your pores soak it up, you get seriously relaxed", and he saw Brandon's firece erection, "and ready for playtime." By the time Brandon was coated down with an excess of the strange lube that had his head swimming and his balls buzzing, it took some effort on Ryder's part to get his slightly-drugged friend into the rubber muscle suit. Brandon's limbs at first flopped around like wet spaghetti, but grew stiffer as Ryder pushed them into the suit's arms and legs. Ryder had some fun sliding Brandon's cock into the suit's hard-rubber sheath, feeling his pal up and teasing his ball sac. Brandon breathed heavily, inhaling ragged gasps as his arousal increased sharply with Ryder's every touch, growing in intensity with the constant hug of the padded rubber suit.

"God, so fucking horny...", Brandon wheezed as Ryder turned him over and pressed him face-first against the wall. "What--what're you doing--?"

"Final adjustment", Ryder said. Spreading Brandon's sculpted rubber cheeks, Ryder forced a butt plug tube into his friend's ass that held his hole open.

"Ohhh, man", Brandon groaned, "feels good. But kinda empty-- got something to fill that up?"

"Right inside", Ryder said, directing the rubberized muscle boy into the side door.

Brandon felt his arms and legs growing as stiff as his erection. "Ry, I'm having a little trouble moving. Is the suit on too tight?"

Ryder patted Brandon on the shoulder. "It's not the suit, it's the lube. It's doing it's job, is all." Before Brandon could ask what that meant, he felt his limbs go rigid, along with his torso.

"Wh-what's happening?", Brandon asked, fear beginning to mingle with his heightened arousal, drawing him out of his sluggish state.

"You're about to become the life of the party", Ryder told him. He then placed small protective lenses over Brandon's eyes. "Close your mouth", was all Ryder said next, as he produced a small spray can of liquid latex and quickly coated Brandon's face. Ryder plucked the small plastic lenses from Brandon's eyes and looked his friend over. The latex spray, already drying on Brandon's features, was the same pink color as his muscle suit, making him look slightly unreal. An additional spritz of a clear-coat latex spray had Brandon's high and tight haircut now looking like the false head fuzz found on classic G.I. Joe dolls.

"Did-did you just paint my face?", Brandon asked. He tried to reach up and touch his face to feel for the paint, but found his arms unwilling to move. "I'm stuck", Brandon gasped. "I-I can't move!"

"Nah, it's cool", Ryder said nonchalantly. He bent Brandon's arms as easily as a dime store mannequin or an action figure. "You're posable."


Ryder ignored Brandon's concern and folded his immobilized friend's hands, one at a time, over his dildoed cock, into a tight grip. Then, with a firm yank, Ryder pulled Brandon's pink gloved hands off his encased penis, leaving his hands in an empty, though strong, grip.

"Time to party", Ryder said, scooching Brandon into the club. As soon as Ryder was spotted pushing Brandon inside, a couple musclemen ran over to him to help. One wore rubber chaps and a chest harness, the other a metallic jock, black wrist and leg manacles, and little else. The two men hefted the stiffened Brandon easily into the room as partygoers crowded around.

"Gentlemen!", Ryder announced over the boom of the music, which was then tuned down slightly so he could be heard. "Allow me to present our guest of honor! After months of prodding, I finally got him here! Please welcome Brandon the human Love Doll!"

The crowd cheered wildly and Brandon's heart pounded within his chest, his balls and cock throbbed within his suit. He spotted a large banner hung at the end of the room, reading: Guys & DOLL Night!!

"Ryder, what the fuck is going on??", Brandon pleaded.

Ryder leaned right up to Brandon's pink ear and said, "Your dream come true. You are about to get fucked by every single hot guy in the room. And who can blame them, Bran? Look at yourself. You're a livin' doll!"

Ryder went to load up on drinks as the crowd converged hungrily on Brandon. The once-scrawny rubberist swallowed hard, licked his lips, and braced himself to be the life of the party.


Part 2

The smoothly shaven and trim-bodied Brandon, who long dreamed of being a hot queer muscleboy, was literally about to be passed around the room like a party favor.

He'd allowed his friend Ryder, owner of the local fetish gear shop who reserved the local gay club Blow-Up once a month for a fetish bash, to suit Brandon up in a sculpted rubber muscle suit. An anatomically correct muscle suit. Well, correct to the point of the huge, firm dildo attached to the crotch and the rear tube to keep the wearer's ass receptively open. As soon as he'd suited up, Brandon became the guest of honor for the night's "Guys & DOLL" theme.

Brandon looked with frightened eyes at Ryder, who had a drink in each hand. "Ryder, that lube you used to squeeze me into this thing--it made my limbs so stiff I can't move! What the hell am I supposed to do??"

Ryder smiled. "Just lay back and enjoy the ride, Bran."

And what a ride it was.

As the crowd whooped and cheered at the arrival of their human sex toy, Ryder held up a hand to indicate that there was one final touch he needed to add. Many burly men clustered around, the nearest being a skinhead in a black rubber vest and 20-hole Doc Martens whose looks frightened Brandon.

Ryder gripped Brandon's face in one hand, forcing his mouth open, and spread the lubricant all around the skin of Brandon's jaw, just past his lips. Rapidly, the lube did its work on Brandon's jaw muscles, even through the pink body paint on his skin. Already looking like a human sex doll, Brandon's mouth now locked open good and wide, ready to accept whatever the hungry crowd saw fit to shove in it.

"Yduh, whuh duh uhgg?!", Brandon the Love Doll groaned.

The skinhead asked, "What'd he say?"

Ryder grinned, translating, "I think he tried to say, 'Ryder, what the fuck'. Show him, won't you?"

Brandon was internally bracing himself for the skinhead to drop his pants and jump on Brandon's frozen face, ramming his stiff member into his mouth to face fuck him with abandon. But surprisingly, the skinhead took Brandon's pink-painted head in his hands and French kissed him with tender compassion, his tongue probing deep, but with more affection than force. This little coerced experience might not be so bad, after all, Brandon thought.

As the skinhead kissed Brandon, Ryder made his way to Brandon's dick. With a careful twist of the red knob on the end of the dildo protruding from Brandon's front, more of the stiffening lube used on his mouth and body was released all over Brandon's cock. In no time at all, he was stiff as a steel rod and aroused to a ludicrous extent.

Brandon wanted to cry out to Ryder, to beg him to stop applying the gooey stuff to his dick, making it so stiff, so hard, so horny. But Brandon wouldn't be saying much as long as the skinhead was making out with him. And Ryder did not want Brandon to lose his erection until everyone present had had a crack at him.

Another guy grabbed the skinhead by the shoulder. He was a huge muscleboy with longish hair and a boyish face. His patterned rubber shirt was nearly as loud as his voice. "Dude! Don't hog the love doll, man!" The skinhead looked as if we were about to relinquish his hold on Brandon amicably, but the muscleboy didn't wait. He yanked Brandon away, patting the skinhead on the back with one hand, and lifted Brandon high over his head as if the petrified man really was nothing more than an inflatable plaything.

"Dudes! Major party favor coming through!"

Brandon felt like a football as he was grabbed, lifted and passed from one buff fetish man to the next. Unlike the tender skinhead, the next man to whom he was handed off, a ripped surfer boy in the yellow rubber shorty, had no hesitation in ramming his meaty member into Brandon's mouth and getting off until a river of his juices sluiced down the faux love doll's throat.

Another couple, these two being harnessed leather daddies, picked up Brandon and posed him over the edge of the bar, fixing him into place like a lockable erector set. One daddy knelt atop the bar and made use of Brandon's wide open mouth as the daddy from behind filled up the Love Doll's hole. As Brandon was worked over, his pal Ryder made his way about the room, providing everyone with an assortment of heavy-duty Magnum condoms. He paused and waved a package or two at Brandon, making sure his friend saw them. Ryder wanted his shy and retiring buddy to have the time of his life, but not at the expense of same.

As the two leather daddies passed Brandon on to a group of rubbermen in gasmasks, Brandon's eyes lit upon a glorious-looking young man across the room. He was a virtual dreamboat, and the sight of him made Brandon's heart jump within it's tight and padded rubber confines. He was 6'3" if he was an inch, 27 but looking 24, thick blond hair cut short at the sides, and the smooth build of an Olympic gymnast. He had a trim waist and a broad chest, around which was wrapped a sleek rubber singlet. On his feet were 17" tall snug rubber boots with side buckles.

Brandon's jumping heart skipped a beat as the dreamboat navigated the crowded floor to reach him. A gruff, stubble-faced cigar master was busy licking Brandon's rubber body when the dreamboat approached. Brandon, posed with his legs in the air, expecting to get rammed any second, also expected the gar man to haul off and belt Mr. Dreamboat when he nudged him gently as a sign that he wanted a turn with the living love doll. The gar man turned harshly, a look of boiling aggression on his face, until he saw the dreamboat's. There was something about the smile on the blond man's face and the gleam in his green eyes that made the gruff master receptive. The man moved the cigar from one corner of his mouth to the other as his dismounted Brandon. "Pass 'im back my way when yer done", was all he said.

The dreamboat positioned himself behind Brandon, planting himself firmly on his booted feet that Brandon gauged as size 13s. Brandon braced himself to receive the beautiful man's tool when he instead gently pulled Brandon's legs back down and leaned forward to kiss him.

The man's kiss was electrifying. Not as tender as the skinhead's, oddly enough, but conveying a chemistry to the immobilized Brandon that could not be denied. Brandon's body stiffened beyond even what the lube caused, and his head went light as this dreamboat's lips and tongue danced upon and against Brandon's own. The dreamboat evidently felt not only the rush of energy between them, but also Brandon's desperate need to reciprocate, something his frozen body prohibited. So the blond heartthrob reached down and posed Brandon's rubber arms around his dreamboat's back so that at least the object of his affection could pretend to be embracing him in return. The two kissed for perhaps fifteen minutes before the other attendees at the party, impatient to partake of the guest of honor, pulled the adorable blond off.

Brandon wanted to crane his neck around and find the man whom he was now ready to accept as his soul mate. He tried to cry out for the others to give him back to the gorgeous guy in the rubber singlet, but forgot that his mouth was lodged open and could only blurt out, "Oh, oh! Gi' ee 'ack! Gi' ee ACK oo 'im!"

Brandon feared he would not see the cute dreamboat again. But he did get to see everyone else in the room. Two cute guys in ball caps and rubber jock straps who appeared to be about college age sat on either side of Brandon and used his posed hands to jack themselves off. A rubberman clad in a heavysuit stood Brandon up and took him from behind while a trim, small leather boy bent himself over and used Brandon's erect, red-topped cock as a handy dildo. So it went all night. Horny, muscular men all using every orifice of the helpless Brandon just as they would an actual inanimate sex doll, everyone present using the formerly inexperienced, underweight rubberman to get themselves off.

What no one knew, and Brandon certainly had not expected, was that he was getting off, too. The lube, the rubber suit, the stiff, frozen prison of his own body, to say nothing of the erotic nature of this entire bizarre situation, allowed Brandon to reach climax time and time again throughout his Guys & DOLL adventure.

At one point in the evening, the dreamboat returned. He sat down upon Brandon's rubber love doll cock, still pointing skyward. And as the man of Brandon's dreams sat with his back to the human love doll, rising up and down on Brandon's encased shaft, he leaned backward and kissed Brandon passionately through it all. The beautiful man with the perfect body, the clinging singlet and the smiling face took only ten minutes to get off, spraying the floor before him and part of Brandon's legs with his seed. After a final tug or two on his own member to ejaculate all that remained, the dreamboat gave Brandon a final kiss, whispered a soft "Thank-you", and was gone. He dismounted and left room for still others to fall upon Brandon. Brandon didn't know if he'd cum again for the rest of the night, but he knew it didn't matter. He'd shot four times while his dream lover rode atop him.

The rest of the night was as hot as it was humiliating. Brandon provided everything from blowjobs to handjobs to a stiff dildo to a welcoming crack. At around 3:45am, one rather drunk fellow even took the frozen Brandon out for a spin on the dance floor. By 5:30, the flashing lights were being faded out and the music had been turned off. Ryder was settling up with the deejay and the bartender as Brandon, discarded like the toy he represented, lay on his back on the club's floor, cast adrift amongst the many empty drink cups and beer bottles, scattered pieces of glitter and torn condom packages. The sound of fading footsteps, slamming doors, and distant car engines echoed in Brandon's ears along with the steady ringing left by the pounding techno music. And there was one other thing to be heard. A voice speaking to Ryder, asking for one more moment alone with the living love doll, and asking for a reminder of his name. It was a voice Brandon last heard whispering a thank-you to him.

The young-looking guy who Brandon now thought of only as his dreamboat was the last lingering attendee. He came over and straddled Brandon's exhausted, prostrate rubber body and spoke softly to the human love doll. "You were so fucking hot tonight, Brandon. I usually go for slimmer guys, so call me after you lose the suit and we'll go again, one on one." With that, the dreamboat slapped a yellow sticky note with his phone number onto Brandon's rubber-painted forehead. He gave the love doll one more deep kiss and then he was gone.

Ryder hit the lights, illuminating the formerly darkened room in bright fluorescents as a cleaning crew set to work on the mess left from the festivities. Ryder sauntered over to Brandon, who still lay in the middle of the dance floor where the partygoers had left him. His limbs were still stiff, his legs spread eagled and his right and left arm at different angles, fingers still curved to grip meaty cocks that were long gone. Cum was splashed and streaked all over his rubbered body, some of it in his hair, plenty more either dribbling down onto the floor or hardening into a tacky film at odd spots.

Ryder could see Brandon beginning to regain some control over himself, as he slowly shrugged his shoulders and began to move his mouth. The host braced himself for his guest of honor's impending outrage.

"Just...", Brandon forced out, "Just tell thing."

"What's that?", Ryder asked, anticipating the question. How could you do this to me? How demented are you? Do you have a good lawyer?

"Can you have this suit and that lube ready for your next fetish party?"

Brandon's head fell backwards to thump upon the wet and sticky floor. His glazed eyes staring blankly at the ceiling, Brandon felt his jaw relax as the effect of the tension-forcing lotion left his lips. Now free of its hold, Brandon's mouth formed a wide smile. It'd be hours before he'd be able to change that expression, too.

If you enjoyed this story, please write the author and let him know so he'll write more, at [email protected]