by rubrstories
Thanks to rubrstories for this long lost chapter
Conversion Part I
Matt and I were lovers for almost 2 years, and about 18 months had passed since our breakup. I had moved on immediately, with hot little Italian sex-crazed Dan, who never tired of getting fucked but who didn’t hold my interest for more than a few weeks, and then with beach boy Zach, a pale imitation of Matt that had also been short-lived. As a confirmed top, I like to fuck pretty, gym-bodied, bottom guys. At a muscular 6 feet, 175 lbs, with swarthy, masculine looks and abundant black hair owing to mixed Greek and Spanish heritage, I have no trouble in the romance department, but Matt was a hard act to follow. He was exactly my size but the complete opposite of me in appearance. He had this wholesome, perfect blond aura about him, an incredible, almost overworked smooth muscular body, tanning-bed copper skin, the most beautiful blue eyes I’ve ever seen on a man, and a smile that could make me dissolve if I let it. On lazy weekend mornings, naked in bed, wrapped around each other under the sheets, we rubbed our cocks together until we couldn’t stand it anymore: his thick, exposed, beautiful pink erection against my dark, hairy, monster, which inevitably found its way into one of his holes. I couldn’t get enough of him: his smooth whiteness next to my coarse dark fur, his sweet sphincter squeezing my huge cock, his lips and mouth sucking on my tongue or the head of my cock, his creamy, tanned face turning red and chafed after a kissing session with me, his muscular legs hiked up on my shoulders and his toes curling when I fucked him enough to make him cum without his cock being touched. And yet, in spite of devouring him physically, I had sensed some part of him seemed beyond my reach, especially when he began spending less time with me and more and more time at the gym or on his computer. Still, with frequent amazing sex and our many other mutual interests, I thought we were perfect together, until he abruptly left, with little more than a lame explanation that he had met someone else. I had never been dumped by someone I cared about so much. We’d had no contact since, but I still thought about him all the time.
Matt was on my mind as usual the day I set up my new computer, installed AOL for the first time, and signed on. Experimenting with the settings, I found a function that located members who were online. I typed in the screen name for Matt, MATT98, with no result. Then I thought about his alternate screen name, the one I had noticed and questioned him about but that he claimed was meaningless and never used. I wasn’t sure I could remember it, but I tried. AOL told me RBRDOM was online and in a chat room called M4MDISCIPLINE. The chat room was full, but soon I figured out how to look at RBRDOM’s profile, which offered very little information:
Name: Sir
Location: CA
Description: Young, blond, musclular GWM, dominant. IM for details or see profile on RubberMales.com
My initial reaction was one of disbelief. I must have been mistaken about the screen name. Dominant? Rubber? Not my Matt! I had to find out, yet I didn’t want to IM him. I directed my browser to RubberMales.com, which turned out to be a members only, pay web site. In short order, I paid the fee by credit card, received confirmation e-mail to gain access, and assembled a rudimentary profile for myself, so that I could search other members. There was no RBRDOM, but there was a RUBRDOM. I clicked on the link for the profile.
Member: Master/Top
Location: CA
Physical stats: 6 ft, 190 lb, blond/blue, body builder
Fetishes: Rubber, leather, uniforms, extreme bondage. slaves in long-term inescapable bondage: heavy manacles, cages, chastity devices, rubber, leather, hoods, gags, plugs, catheters, straitjackets, sleepsacks, piss, completely shaved in head to toe rubber, total control, no escape, no early release.
Relationship status: intense muscular Master with partner, seeks equally intense in shape slave for training in total bondage & rubber; potential for 24/7 service to Master and partner. Serious, real slaves only. Have partner already. Want a slave.
Below the description, a picture was loading on my screen. I saw Matt’s face first, and then the rest quickly flashed into place: He wore what look like a police uniform, but it was exaggerated, body-hugging, made of rubber I guessed, complete with a cap and tight, shiny black boots encasing his muscular legs up to the knees. Whether it was the mock tight uniform or added bulk from continued weight lifting, he looked appreciably larger than when we had been together. His upper body was massive, his waist, circled by a wide belt, was still lean, and his biceps stretched the rubber sleeves. He was positioned in a wide stance, with his legs apart and arms flexed. His right hand held a leash, leading down to the collar of a bound figure at his feet. The prostrate, obviously muscular, male figure was in a bowed posture on its stomach. The figure was completely black, totally covered in either rubber or leather, and restrained in what looked like a contorted, impossible position: Its arms were held together at the elbows and wrists, bound behind its back, and its legs were bent, with ankles drawn up to its butt. The ankles were connected by a taut, black cord to a ring on its hood, so that its head was pulled back, almost into an upright position. The only visible part of its body was the tongue, protruding from a small hole in the hood and straining forward to touch one of Matt’s boots.
I felt a rush of emotions, a flood of thoughts entered my mind, and I sat frozen at my computer for an unknown time. I felt incredulous, angry, betrayed, confused, and hurt, but there was also another, unfamiliar, weird feeling welling up inside me, and it was manifested in my cock. It was rock hard and leaking so much pre-cum that a wet spot had appeared on my jeans. I fiddled impatiently with my belt and zipper, roughly pulled my pants apart, and grabbed my cock to pump it like a madman. The huge erection overfilled my fist but I barely noticed, instead concentrating on the fantasy that overwhelmed me. Staring at the images before me, I wanted to be the slave in the picture: encased, dehumanized, humiliated, fit to be in Matt’s presence only as a bondage slave, rubberized and bound at his feet to lick his boots. Feverishly working my fist, I had become oblivious to my surroundings as my cock exploded mercilessly and uncontrollably. I moaned out loud, and the spurts of semen landed on the keyboard and screen of my new computer.
Conversion Part II
About a week passed before, late one night, unable to sleep, I went back to the RubberMales web site to study Matt’s profile again. After the initial rush I had experienced the week before, I tried to convince myself that I wasn’t interested and didn’t care. I could have anybody I wanted. It seemed clear that I certainly hadn’t been what Matt wanted; yet, when we were lovers he gave no indication of dissatisfaction until abruptly dumping me. Despite how much Matt had been on my mind since our past relationship ended and my recent discovery of his new life, I was convinced that I didn’t need him. I had no interest in being a bottom for anyone. I didn’t like kink, and I wasn’t interested in rubber, bondage, or being anyone’s “slave,” whatever that meant. I liked being in charge of the action and wanted it to stay that way. Nevertheless, I found returning to Matt’s RubberMales profile had the same effect as the first time, if I let it. With a mind of its own, my cock stiffened and surged as I studied Matt’s picture and read the words I assumed he had written, describing what he sought: “slave in heavy manacles, cages, chastity devices, rubber, leather, hoods, gags, plugs, catheters, straitjackets, sleepsacks, piss, completely shaved in head to toe rubber, total control, no escape, no early release.” I stared at his photo: Protruding crotch and bulging muscles, exaggerated and visible through the obscenely tight latex cop uniform, Matt looked more than worthy of the worship that the bound, twisted-up “slave” at his feet was trying to bestow. I jerked off again, and then a second time. Over the next week, I found myself visiting the site every night. It provided the stimulation and relief I needed to get Matt off my mind for the few minutes it took to fall asleep after I jerked off to his image. Sitting naked and hard in front of my computer, stroking my thick, long, bloated piece of meat with my right hand, I memorized every detail of the photo, while my left hand roamed through the fur on my chest, tweaked my nipples over my well developed pecs, and pulled at my big, hairy balls. Looking alternately at the computer screen and then down at my hard cock and rigid abs under the abundant body hair, I would angle my cock up and back toward my chest as I pumped, to keep my computer clean when I spurted, and then collapse into bed without cleaning off. In the morning, feeling my chest hair matted with cum, my mind would recreate the scenario imagined the night before, in which I was the encased, tightly bound “rubber bondage slave” in the photo, squirming and struggling within the bondage at Matt’s feet in an effort to lick his boot. I became obsessed with Matt: not only the beautiful, blond, endlessly fuckable sweetheart I had known, but also the Matt I imagined he had become: uniformed, authoritative, big-muscled, more sizable than I, demanding, controlling, a Top, a Master of rubber bondage slaves.
Weeks passed uneventfully. I had sex a few times with two guys I was dating, but as they sucked my hairy giant or gasped and moaned when I plugged them with it, I thought of Matt, not them. I found my nighttime computer ritual with Matt’s image exhilarated me more than having my cock serviced by those hot, if real, guys. I confided in no one. My secret fantasy was burgeoning rather than receding, but I convinced myself it was a phase I was going through that would soon end. Over the weeks, at some point I had added RBRDOM to my buddy list, and during my cum sessions at the computer I always looked to see if MATT98 or RBRDOM was logged on. One night, when I had jerked off but sleep eluded me, I returned to my computer. I wasn’t horny again yet, but my thoughts of Matt persisted. I signed on and there he was, online as RBRDOM. I held my breath and sent an IM.
hotnhairy: Hi.
(After a delay of about a minute, he responded.)
RBRDOM: No profile? Stats?
(I felt my cock swelling as we began chatting.)
h: GWM, 28, 6 ft, 175 lbs, dark, hairy, muscular, hung, hot
R: u looking for - what?
(I hesitated. I didn’t really know the answer to that question myself.)
h: saw your profile on RubberMales.com.
R: experience?
(More hesitation on my part.)
h: beginner here
(There was a long pause. I grabbed my enlarging dick and stroked as his words finally appeared.)
R: Usually don’t waste my time with beginners. If ur serious, email pics to me - naked full body, front/back views, shaved neck to toe, plus same views in rubber, then page me again sometime, address me as Sir, & make sure u get a more respectful screen name
I was surprised by his arrogant directness. I felt disconcerted but my cock was now fully erect. Should I tell him who I was? I didn’t know how to proceed. I typed into the IM dialog box:
h: I don’t have pics like that
With a clanking default sound accompanying a text message, AOL told me RBRDOM was no longer signed on. Stroking my cock, I stared at the remnant of our chat. The instructions Matt had typed made my erection feel stiffer than I was used to, so stiff it hurt. It didn’t take long to reach a climax. I rubbed the cum into the hair on my chest, curled up in bed, and slept soundly.
I’ve always been proud of my body in its natural, hairy state. I trimmed my chest and crotch hair from time to time but had never considered shaving my body. The combo of thick, black hair and substantial muscles is a big turn on to a lot of guys, especially the pretty bottoms for which I have a predilection. In fact, when Matt and I had been lovers, I know he loved my hairy physique. It was puzzling to me that his needs had changed so much. I wondered what transformation he had gone through to turn him into a “Master” who required hairless “slaves.” I stayed away from my computer for a few days after our brief chat and devoted my energy to other activities, work, and the gym. I turned down several offers for sex. I needed a break, to clear my mind. At least that’s what I told myself. Then, suddenly, one night at the gym, my mind returned to its pondering of the new Matt. I felt inspired somehow and decided I was being a wimp about the hair issue. I finished my workout quickly, skipped the sauna and gym shower, and stopped at the drug store. At home, I stripped quickly and jumped into the tub with my purchases. Experimenting with scissors, disposable safety razors, shaving gel, depilatories, and a hand-held mirror, I set to work. My cock, semi-erect and dripping pre-cum, provided the desire I needed to keep working when I realized that the transition would take longer than a few minutes. I twisted myself around awkwardly to reach behind, fumbled and slid around in the tub, shaved areas like the tops of my toes I had never considered before, and used the hair removal cream when I had trouble shaving any part of me, including my balls and asshole - big mistake! When I was finally done, rinsing off for what seemed forever to try to stop my balls from stinging, the first thing I noticed was the dramatic change in tactile sensation. I went to the full length mirror in my bedroom and tried to suppress my shock. My denuded, bare muscles were more well defined than I imagined, and I felt completely naked to an extreme I never thought possible, totally exposed, and hypersensitive to stimulation. My nipples, balls, and asshole felt unprotected in a sexual way I never experienced before. Without the nest of crotch hair surrounding it, my cock, stiffly erect in spite of the burning sensation around my balls, looked monstrous. I grabbed it with one hand and explored my nude, hairless skin with the other. Probing my oversensitive, smooth nipples and ass crack, I felt vulnerable, defenseless, incredibly sexual and sensitized, and my cock exploded with eruptions of cum splattering the mirror.
Conversion Part III
Following my impulsive session in the tub that night, from which I emerged with my body totally shaved neck to toe, I jerked off several times, with new sexual feelings and thoughts and my image in the mirror keeping me aroused and ready to play with my cock. I couldn’t seem to satisfy myself. As a Top, I had never paid much attention to my own nipples and had never encouraged anyone else to either. I preferred to play with those of my bed partner, primarily to increase his enthusiasm for servicing my cock. Now, however, my own nipples suddenly seemed like prime territory. Their surface area felt enlarged and sensual. Their tips engorged and raised, in the mirror they looked like they were on display and begging for attention. I massaged and pinched them with one hand, until the tender, shaved skin was on fire, while my other hand responded to similar sensations at my asshole, an area that I had never wanted or permitted anyone to prod before. I pushed tentatively against the exposed, smooth, puckered hole. Roughly working inside one finger lubricated with saliva, then two, I gently fucked myself with one hand and rubbed my chest and nipples with my other while I fantasized that Matt’s hands and fingers were on and in me instead of my own. I was engulfed in a wave of mental imagery and self-stimulation, with the feel of my new skin and the excitement it transferred to my cock augmenting the visions in my mind of Matt in his new incarnation. My focus of sexual intensity seemed to have shifted. Before, everything centered around my cock. Now, the sensations at my nipples and asshole eclipsed those at my cock, which seemed at the mercy of Matt and my brand-new sex organs.
While my cock fueled my metamorphosis and the ensuing frenzy of masturbation, it deserted me after it was finally depleted, and I was left with the reality of the result. When I recovered, I was not happy with what I had done, nor with my burning, irritated, exposed skin. I slept poorly, and the next day my cock seemed to have abandoned me. I wanted to undo what I had done, yet I realized there was no going back. Shaved hair grows in again, but not overnight. I had no choice except to adjust to the look, feel, and consequences of my new smooth skin and become accustomed to novel sensations produced by routine activities. Water from the shower passed over my body differently, more quickly, and didn’t adhere as much; my clothes somehow seemed looser and less clinging; my skin felt as though it had no insulation from the air temperature; and I had a sense of blushing embarrassment at the gym when I caught guys staring at my shaved form. Feeling humiliated and emasculated, I did my change of clothes quickly and showered in private at home instead of in the locker room. For a full two days after the shaving, the barrage of sexual feelings I had experienced initially seemed to elude me.
The third day afterward, late in the afternoon during the work day, I shifted my position at my desk in response to an itching sensation at my scrotum. My balls suddenly felt like sandpaper and my cock, trapped against the coarse stubble, responded to the irritation by growing a huge erection. I rubbed my left thumb over my shirt to stimulate my nipple. A spontaneous attack of horniness at work was unusual for me, but the sexy feel of my shaved body, and the knowledge I had done it, transformed it, for Matt, had suddenly taken over my mind. I left work early, with no plan in mind except an idea of looking for Matt online. When I signed on at home, neither of his screen names appeared on my buddy list. I decided to stay online and wait, but to put my time to good use. I stripped down and studied myself in the mirror. My exposed muscles still looked magnified by the lack of hair and my cock was stiff, with a huge erection now that I was naked. I resisted the urge to pump it. Instead, I flexed it and watched it bob around in the air as I settled on some poses, positioned my digital camera and selected the automatic setting, and took about 10 pictures. Next, with my semi-erect cock sagging to one side in my lap as I worked at my computer, I downloaded the pictures from my camera, selected the best shots, carefully cropped them, and obscured my face. As I stared at the pictures, my cock gave its stamp of approval by stiffening up again. It rose slowly in front of me, until it had returned to its straight-standing position, but this time it was excruciatingly hard and leaked pre-cum down its shaft. That’s when it hit me: my image in the pictures, my muscular reflection in the mirror, my new smooth look. I didn’t necessarily look less masculine, which was what I had feared. No, that wasn’t it. What I did look like was a really hot bottom, like a guy I would want the fuck the shit out of. That’s why guys were ogling me at the gym! As this idea sunk in, my computer made the AOL sound indicating that a new buddy had signed on, and I saw RBRDOM appear on my buddy list. Acting quickly, I e-mailed one of the pictures to him, a full frontal view with face obscured, and then sent an IM:
hotnhairy: Hi. chatted with you before. just sent you a pic.
About 2 or 3 minutes passed. I pinched one nipple and started to stroke my cock. Eventually, a response appeared on the screen:
RBRDOM: Don’t remember u. Tell me more
I dropped my cock and started typing.
h: we chatted once before about 2 weeks ago. I saw your profile on RubberMales.com
R: experience?
h: want to learn from you
My cock was wavering. Had he recognized my body in the picture? Questions kept forming in mind: Should I tell him who I am, that I still love him, that I’m obsessed with his conversion from sweet, willing bottom to arrogant, kinky top? Should I ask him why he didn’t confide in me, share his needs with me? Another message appeared.
R: send me a rear view
My cock sprung up again as I searched for the picture and sent it to him.
h: sent
I licked my thumb to massage my nipples as I waited. My cock was dripping again.
R: ur ass needs plugging. cock should be tied, deviced. u need a better screen name too
I started pumping my cock. Some precum on my fingers was transferred to the keyboard as I hesitated. I didn’t know how to respond.
h: Ok
R: The proper response is Yes Sir, thank You Sir. All of your missives to me must begin and end with “Sir.” Location?
My cock was ready to explode.
h: Yes Sir, thank You Sir. Located here in SF area, like you, Sir.
R: Send me more pics, with ur ass plugged, cock & balls tied up, face exposed. Any rubber gear?
h: no
R:What?
h: Sir, sorry, no Sir
R: Have to sign off for now. Send the pics.
h: will do, Sir
R: Look for me online tonight or tomorrow night.
h: where do I get rubber, Sir?
R: Rubbermales has links to buy gear online, also plenty of shops in town. Would like to see u in Xtreme’s capsule suit to start.
I responded with “yes Sir,” but he was gone. I pumped my cock, enough to get it and my hand gooey with precum, but I stopped short of making myself cum. With my cock weaving around in front of me, I browsed the RubberMales site, checked out some of the links, tried to get familiar with the jargon describing the items, and found the locations of local shops. It turned out that Xtreme was a shop not far from me and that it had a big web site. The home page said, “Xtreme offers leather restraints, metal fetters, stainless steel collars, heavy dungeon irons, steel cages, hoods, gags, collars, leather/rubber sleep sacks, straitjackets, chastity devices, uniforms, extensive latex/rubber selection, and much more to meet your fetish needs.”
I found a “capsule suit” advertisement: “CAPSULE SUIT. The complete full body coverage experience. Feel the total enclosure of being enCAPSULEd as the rubber envelops your body and the CAPSULE SUIT molds itself to your skin.”
There were several views of a man modeling the suit. The attractive-looking model was thin, and the suit looked a little big on him. It was shiny black latex and covered him totally from head to toe, with his lips being the only visible skin. A closeup view of the hood showed small, lattice-like holes at the eyes. The hood was attached to the rest of the suit, as were enclosed mitts and socks/feet. It did look molded, but certainly not to the man modeling it. I failed to see the allure of it and gasped when I noticed the price, but if it was Matt wanted, I was willing to give it a try. I knew if I jerked off I would not go through with it, so, acting quickly, I threw on minimal clothes, jeans, T shirt, and Nikes. With no underwear or socks and my hard-on barely concealed, and got myself out the door, on my way to Xtreme.
I returned within 2 hours with my purchases and began experimenting with the smallest one, a leather, harness-like contraption with multiple miniature belts and buckles designed to restrain the cock and balls. It took a few tries, and after some mildly frustrating moments, I got it on and tightened up all its little straps. Initially soft with the effort, frustration, and some inadvertent pinching of skin, as I finished my cock tried to become fully erect. Straining against the leather and buckles, it looked massive. Its engorged, purple head protruded from the straps encircling the shaft, where moist, dark skin, now with a reddish glow covering enlarged blood vessels, seemed to ooze over the multiple straps. My balls, also bound, girdled, and separated by leather straps, looked large and swollen. The physical sensations were a weird mixture of discomfort and excitement. I felt like I would be able to cum spontaneously if I wanted, just by flexing my cock against the straps, and I sort of liked the way my cock and balls looked: tied, packed, huge. I tightened up some of the straps a little more, to exaggerate the size of my cock and balls even further, but was careful not to let myself cum. I got my digital camera and snapped several views of my crotch.
Knowing what my next task should be, I stared at the black rubber butt plug I had purchased. With my own ample endowment in mind as comparison, the small sizes in the shop had looked wimpy to me, so, though wary, I purchased a medium-sized plug. My prior experience with dildos and plugs was limited to watching horny bottoms push them up their butts, which looked like fun for them but had never done much for me. I liked my bottoms to be tight. Nevertheless, despite my ambivalence, because it was what Matt requested, I was determined to take it. The challenge of it appealed to me. Holding the plug poised with its tip at my ass, I posed for my camera. Next, I knew I had to be relatively clean and well lubricated. The enema was okay - sort of a neutral experience. Then I started to work the tip of the plug into my hole. In spite of the preparation, it felt cold, stiff, unyielding, and enormous. Plus, once I got used to having the tip inside me, it really hurt when I tried to advance the plug beyond the wide expansion near the base. As I exerted more and more pressure, my cock, rather than losing its erection in response to the discomfort, became painfully erect within the tight straps. Its head, protruding from the device, had turned into a giant purple mushroom. There was so much precum it looked like I had cum. I considered giving up on the medium plug and going out to get a smaller one or even just a straight dildo, or giving up on the idea all together, but rather than give in, I began assuming different positions to try to insert it further. I tried sitting on it, but my sphincter, closing up to resist the invader, was uncooperative. Eventually I discovered a position that allowed some progress. Lying on my back in bed, with my legs spread and folded up against my chest like Matt used to do to his when I wanted to fuck him as deeply as possible, I closed my eyes, reached down between my legs, and imagined that Matt was on top of me. My fantasy was confused: I was fucking Matt, but somehow his cock poked insistently at my hole. I took long, slow breaths, envisioned Matt’s legs trapped under my hairy chest will I pounded him, and steadily exerted increasing pressure. Slowly, as my hole relaxed, I could tell I was close to achieving my goal. At last, with some added extra pressure and a quick thrust, I felt the plug advance further and slide into place. Simultaneously, a sharp, intense feeling shot through the inside of my ass and groin. I had no control as the muscles in my ass gripped the plug tightly and pulsated uncomfortably around it, and pumping spasms took over my cock. Surrendering without choice, I shouted and cursed as my cock exploded in an intense, excruciating orgasm. The plug inside me and the straps binding my cock and balls seemed to sustain it forever; the cum spurted up my body, splashed my face and chest, and entered my mouth as I gasped in agony. The orgasm was reflexive, mechanical, and totally out of my control as my asshole squeezed the plug and my tightly fastened cock and balls worked against the straps to eject more cum than I had ever made before. When it finally subsided, I rolled over and curled up into a fetal position on the bed.
The first thing I noticed when I woke up was a strong but familiar odor of cum, but it was accompanied by an unfamiliar if equally strong smell. I opened my eyes and saw the shiny black surface of the capsule suit under me. I must have rolled onto it in my sleep. The rubber smell seemed overpowering. I wasn’t sure I liked it, but experiencing it in combination with the smell of cum automatically sexualized it. Plus, my cock was erect again. Inside me, in the area of my prostate, there was an aching fullness, and my asshole, clenching the plug tightly, was exquisitely tender. I unfastened the leather cock and ball harness. My cock felt sore and had deep red marks where the buckles and straps had dug into skin while I slept. Yet, it was magnificently hard. Amazingly, I was horny and excited again. I resisted the temptation to lie back in bed and stroke my cock. Instead, I looked at the clock and discovered almost 2 hours had passed since I returned from my kinky expedition. I still had time to complete my assignment. I set up my camera and posed obscenely to document that the plug was in place. I considered removing it after the photos were taken, but I knew it wouldn’t pop out easily, so, deciding to deal with it later, I left it in place. Then I grabbed the capsule suit and set to work.
The guy who helped me at Xtreme had advised me to buy a large capsule suit, but I had insisted on a medium, because I was determined not to look like the thin model posted at their website. I wanted my muscles to be visible through the rubber, and I got my wish. After struggling with the suit for about 20 minutes, at times pulling in frustration, reaching awkwardly for zippers, and holding my breath to get the hood in place, I succeeded. When I had finished, I felt like I was ready for Halloween, dressed as a superhero, a cape-less batman. Though my view of my black, shiny reflection in the mirror was only through the small pinholes at the eyes, I could tell that I should be the model pictured at the Xtreme website. The tightly stretched rubber extended over my body, totally encapsulated me just as the suit was designed to, and molded itself to my muscular form. Trying to see different views of myself, I shifted around in front of the mirror. I didn’t know quite what to make of it, but I definitely loved the way the suit exaggerated my pecs, biceps, thighs, calves, buttocks, and crotch, all of which suddenly looked like they were part of an ebony statue of some kind of super-masculine alien being. The hood gripped my head tightly, and the attached neck covering felt slightly uncomfortable and constrictive. My lips, squeezing out of the mouth-shaped opening in the hood, were the only part of my body not covered by rubber. The hood gripped my head, and I could feel the rubber expand over my chest as I inhaled. My big cock, trapped within the rubber, was nevertheless conspicuously hard. I was starting to sweat profusely. It was certainly a tight fit, but that’s what I had wanted. I couldn’t imagine spending any real time in the suit, but that wasn’t the point. Fumbling with the camera, trying to press buttons with my sweaty fingers melded together in the rubber mitts, I worked to accomplish what I had set out to do: get great pictures for Matt!
Thanks to rubrstories for this long lost chapter
Conversion Part I
Matt and I were lovers for almost 2 years, and about 18 months had passed since our breakup. I had moved on immediately, with hot little Italian sex-crazed Dan, who never tired of getting fucked but who didn’t hold my interest for more than a few weeks, and then with beach boy Zach, a pale imitation of Matt that had also been short-lived. As a confirmed top, I like to fuck pretty, gym-bodied, bottom guys. At a muscular 6 feet, 175 lbs, with swarthy, masculine looks and abundant black hair owing to mixed Greek and Spanish heritage, I have no trouble in the romance department, but Matt was a hard act to follow. He was exactly my size but the complete opposite of me in appearance. He had this wholesome, perfect blond aura about him, an incredible, almost overworked smooth muscular body, tanning-bed copper skin, the most beautiful blue eyes I’ve ever seen on a man, and a smile that could make me dissolve if I let it. On lazy weekend mornings, naked in bed, wrapped around each other under the sheets, we rubbed our cocks together until we couldn’t stand it anymore: his thick, exposed, beautiful pink erection against my dark, hairy, monster, which inevitably found its way into one of his holes. I couldn’t get enough of him: his smooth whiteness next to my coarse dark fur, his sweet sphincter squeezing my huge cock, his lips and mouth sucking on my tongue or the head of my cock, his creamy, tanned face turning red and chafed after a kissing session with me, his muscular legs hiked up on my shoulders and his toes curling when I fucked him enough to make him cum without his cock being touched. And yet, in spite of devouring him physically, I had sensed some part of him seemed beyond my reach, especially when he began spending less time with me and more and more time at the gym or on his computer. Still, with frequent amazing sex and our many other mutual interests, I thought we were perfect together, until he abruptly left, with little more than a lame explanation that he had met someone else. I had never been dumped by someone I cared about so much. We’d had no contact since, but I still thought about him all the time.
Matt was on my mind as usual the day I set up my new computer, installed AOL for the first time, and signed on. Experimenting with the settings, I found a function that located members who were online. I typed in the screen name for Matt, MATT98, with no result. Then I thought about his alternate screen name, the one I had noticed and questioned him about but that he claimed was meaningless and never used. I wasn’t sure I could remember it, but I tried. AOL told me RBRDOM was online and in a chat room called M4MDISCIPLINE. The chat room was full, but soon I figured out how to look at RBRDOM’s profile, which offered very little information:
Name: Sir
Location: CA
Description: Young, blond, musclular GWM, dominant. IM for details or see profile on RubberMales.com
My initial reaction was one of disbelief. I must have been mistaken about the screen name. Dominant? Rubber? Not my Matt! I had to find out, yet I didn’t want to IM him. I directed my browser to RubberMales.com, which turned out to be a members only, pay web site. In short order, I paid the fee by credit card, received confirmation e-mail to gain access, and assembled a rudimentary profile for myself, so that I could search other members. There was no RBRDOM, but there was a RUBRDOM. I clicked on the link for the profile.
Member: Master/Top
Location: CA
Physical stats: 6 ft, 190 lb, blond/blue, body builder
Fetishes: Rubber, leather, uniforms, extreme bondage. slaves in long-term inescapable bondage: heavy manacles, cages, chastity devices, rubber, leather, hoods, gags, plugs, catheters, straitjackets, sleepsacks, piss, completely shaved in head to toe rubber, total control, no escape, no early release.
Relationship status: intense muscular Master with partner, seeks equally intense in shape slave for training in total bondage & rubber; potential for 24/7 service to Master and partner. Serious, real slaves only. Have partner already. Want a slave.
Below the description, a picture was loading on my screen. I saw Matt’s face first, and then the rest quickly flashed into place: He wore what look like a police uniform, but it was exaggerated, body-hugging, made of rubber I guessed, complete with a cap and tight, shiny black boots encasing his muscular legs up to the knees. Whether it was the mock tight uniform or added bulk from continued weight lifting, he looked appreciably larger than when we had been together. His upper body was massive, his waist, circled by a wide belt, was still lean, and his biceps stretched the rubber sleeves. He was positioned in a wide stance, with his legs apart and arms flexed. His right hand held a leash, leading down to the collar of a bound figure at his feet. The prostrate, obviously muscular, male figure was in a bowed posture on its stomach. The figure was completely black, totally covered in either rubber or leather, and restrained in what looked like a contorted, impossible position: Its arms were held together at the elbows and wrists, bound behind its back, and its legs were bent, with ankles drawn up to its butt. The ankles were connected by a taut, black cord to a ring on its hood, so that its head was pulled back, almost into an upright position. The only visible part of its body was the tongue, protruding from a small hole in the hood and straining forward to touch one of Matt’s boots.
I felt a rush of emotions, a flood of thoughts entered my mind, and I sat frozen at my computer for an unknown time. I felt incredulous, angry, betrayed, confused, and hurt, but there was also another, unfamiliar, weird feeling welling up inside me, and it was manifested in my cock. It was rock hard and leaking so much pre-cum that a wet spot had appeared on my jeans. I fiddled impatiently with my belt and zipper, roughly pulled my pants apart, and grabbed my cock to pump it like a madman. The huge erection overfilled my fist but I barely noticed, instead concentrating on the fantasy that overwhelmed me. Staring at the images before me, I wanted to be the slave in the picture: encased, dehumanized, humiliated, fit to be in Matt’s presence only as a bondage slave, rubberized and bound at his feet to lick his boots. Feverishly working my fist, I had become oblivious to my surroundings as my cock exploded mercilessly and uncontrollably. I moaned out loud, and the spurts of semen landed on the keyboard and screen of my new computer.
About a week passed before, late one night, unable to sleep, I went back to the RubberMales web site to study Matt’s profile again. After the initial rush I had experienced the week before, I tried to convince myself that I wasn’t interested and didn’t care. I could have anybody I wanted. It seemed clear that I certainly hadn’t been what Matt wanted; yet, when we were lovers he gave no indication of dissatisfaction until abruptly dumping me. Despite how much Matt had been on my mind since our past relationship ended and my recent discovery of his new life, I was convinced that I didn’t need him. I had no interest in being a bottom for anyone. I didn’t like kink, and I wasn’t interested in rubber, bondage, or being anyone’s “slave,” whatever that meant. I liked being in charge of the action and wanted it to stay that way. Nevertheless, I found returning to Matt’s RubberMales profile had the same effect as the first time, if I let it. With a mind of its own, my cock stiffened and surged as I studied Matt’s picture and read the words I assumed he had written, describing what he sought: “slave in heavy manacles, cages, chastity devices, rubber, leather, hoods, gags, plugs, catheters, straitjackets, sleepsacks, piss, completely shaved in head to toe rubber, total control, no escape, no early release.” I stared at his photo: Protruding crotch and bulging muscles, exaggerated and visible through the obscenely tight latex cop uniform, Matt looked more than worthy of the worship that the bound, twisted-up “slave” at his feet was trying to bestow. I jerked off again, and then a second time. Over the next week, I found myself visiting the site every night. It provided the stimulation and relief I needed to get Matt off my mind for the few minutes it took to fall asleep after I jerked off to his image. Sitting naked and hard in front of my computer, stroking my thick, long, bloated piece of meat with my right hand, I memorized every detail of the photo, while my left hand roamed through the fur on my chest, tweaked my nipples over my well developed pecs, and pulled at my big, hairy balls. Looking alternately at the computer screen and then down at my hard cock and rigid abs under the abundant body hair, I would angle my cock up and back toward my chest as I pumped, to keep my computer clean when I spurted, and then collapse into bed without cleaning off. In the morning, feeling my chest hair matted with cum, my mind would recreate the scenario imagined the night before, in which I was the encased, tightly bound “rubber bondage slave” in the photo, squirming and struggling within the bondage at Matt’s feet in an effort to lick his boot. I became obsessed with Matt: not only the beautiful, blond, endlessly fuckable sweetheart I had known, but also the Matt I imagined he had become: uniformed, authoritative, big-muscled, more sizable than I, demanding, controlling, a Top, a Master of rubber bondage slaves.
Weeks passed uneventfully. I had sex a few times with two guys I was dating, but as they sucked my hairy giant or gasped and moaned when I plugged them with it, I thought of Matt, not them. I found my nighttime computer ritual with Matt’s image exhilarated me more than having my cock serviced by those hot, if real, guys. I confided in no one. My secret fantasy was burgeoning rather than receding, but I convinced myself it was a phase I was going through that would soon end. Over the weeks, at some point I had added RBRDOM to my buddy list, and during my cum sessions at the computer I always looked to see if MATT98 or RBRDOM was logged on. One night, when I had jerked off but sleep eluded me, I returned to my computer. I wasn’t horny again yet, but my thoughts of Matt persisted. I signed on and there he was, online as RBRDOM. I held my breath and sent an IM.
hotnhairy: Hi.
(After a delay of about a minute, he responded.)
RBRDOM: No profile? Stats?
(I felt my cock swelling as we began chatting.)
h: GWM, 28, 6 ft, 175 lbs, dark, hairy, muscular, hung, hot
R: u looking for - what?
(I hesitated. I didn’t really know the answer to that question myself.)
h: saw your profile on RubberMales.com.
R: experience?
(More hesitation on my part.)
h: beginner here
(There was a long pause. I grabbed my enlarging dick and stroked as his words finally appeared.)
R: Usually don’t waste my time with beginners. If ur serious, email pics to me - naked full body, front/back views, shaved neck to toe, plus same views in rubber, then page me again sometime, address me as Sir, & make sure u get a more respectful screen name
I was surprised by his arrogant directness. I felt disconcerted but my cock was now fully erect. Should I tell him who I was? I didn’t know how to proceed. I typed into the IM dialog box:
h: I don’t have pics like that
With a clanking default sound accompanying a text message, AOL told me RBRDOM was no longer signed on. Stroking my cock, I stared at the remnant of our chat. The instructions Matt had typed made my erection feel stiffer than I was used to, so stiff it hurt. It didn’t take long to reach a climax. I rubbed the cum into the hair on my chest, curled up in bed, and slept soundly.
I’ve always been proud of my body in its natural, hairy state. I trimmed my chest and crotch hair from time to time but had never considered shaving my body. The combo of thick, black hair and substantial muscles is a big turn on to a lot of guys, especially the pretty bottoms for which I have a predilection. In fact, when Matt and I had been lovers, I know he loved my hairy physique. It was puzzling to me that his needs had changed so much. I wondered what transformation he had gone through to turn him into a “Master” who required hairless “slaves.” I stayed away from my computer for a few days after our brief chat and devoted my energy to other activities, work, and the gym. I turned down several offers for sex. I needed a break, to clear my mind. At least that’s what I told myself. Then, suddenly, one night at the gym, my mind returned to its pondering of the new Matt. I felt inspired somehow and decided I was being a wimp about the hair issue. I finished my workout quickly, skipped the sauna and gym shower, and stopped at the drug store. At home, I stripped quickly and jumped into the tub with my purchases. Experimenting with scissors, disposable safety razors, shaving gel, depilatories, and a hand-held mirror, I set to work. My cock, semi-erect and dripping pre-cum, provided the desire I needed to keep working when I realized that the transition would take longer than a few minutes. I twisted myself around awkwardly to reach behind, fumbled and slid around in the tub, shaved areas like the tops of my toes I had never considered before, and used the hair removal cream when I had trouble shaving any part of me, including my balls and asshole - big mistake! When I was finally done, rinsing off for what seemed forever to try to stop my balls from stinging, the first thing I noticed was the dramatic change in tactile sensation. I went to the full length mirror in my bedroom and tried to suppress my shock. My denuded, bare muscles were more well defined than I imagined, and I felt completely naked to an extreme I never thought possible, totally exposed, and hypersensitive to stimulation. My nipples, balls, and asshole felt unprotected in a sexual way I never experienced before. Without the nest of crotch hair surrounding it, my cock, stiffly erect in spite of the burning sensation around my balls, looked monstrous. I grabbed it with one hand and explored my nude, hairless skin with the other. Probing my oversensitive, smooth nipples and ass crack, I felt vulnerable, defenseless, incredibly sexual and sensitized, and my cock exploded with eruptions of cum splattering the mirror.
Following my impulsive session in the tub that night, from which I emerged with my body totally shaved neck to toe, I jerked off several times, with new sexual feelings and thoughts and my image in the mirror keeping me aroused and ready to play with my cock. I couldn’t seem to satisfy myself. As a Top, I had never paid much attention to my own nipples and had never encouraged anyone else to either. I preferred to play with those of my bed partner, primarily to increase his enthusiasm for servicing my cock. Now, however, my own nipples suddenly seemed like prime territory. Their surface area felt enlarged and sensual. Their tips engorged and raised, in the mirror they looked like they were on display and begging for attention. I massaged and pinched them with one hand, until the tender, shaved skin was on fire, while my other hand responded to similar sensations at my asshole, an area that I had never wanted or permitted anyone to prod before. I pushed tentatively against the exposed, smooth, puckered hole. Roughly working inside one finger lubricated with saliva, then two, I gently fucked myself with one hand and rubbed my chest and nipples with my other while I fantasized that Matt’s hands and fingers were on and in me instead of my own. I was engulfed in a wave of mental imagery and self-stimulation, with the feel of my new skin and the excitement it transferred to my cock augmenting the visions in my mind of Matt in his new incarnation. My focus of sexual intensity seemed to have shifted. Before, everything centered around my cock. Now, the sensations at my nipples and asshole eclipsed those at my cock, which seemed at the mercy of Matt and my brand-new sex organs.
While my cock fueled my metamorphosis and the ensuing frenzy of masturbation, it deserted me after it was finally depleted, and I was left with the reality of the result. When I recovered, I was not happy with what I had done, nor with my burning, irritated, exposed skin. I slept poorly, and the next day my cock seemed to have abandoned me. I wanted to undo what I had done, yet I realized there was no going back. Shaved hair grows in again, but not overnight. I had no choice except to adjust to the look, feel, and consequences of my new smooth skin and become accustomed to novel sensations produced by routine activities. Water from the shower passed over my body differently, more quickly, and didn’t adhere as much; my clothes somehow seemed looser and less clinging; my skin felt as though it had no insulation from the air temperature; and I had a sense of blushing embarrassment at the gym when I caught guys staring at my shaved form. Feeling humiliated and emasculated, I did my change of clothes quickly and showered in private at home instead of in the locker room. For a full two days after the shaving, the barrage of sexual feelings I had experienced initially seemed to elude me.
The third day afterward, late in the afternoon during the work day, I shifted my position at my desk in response to an itching sensation at my scrotum. My balls suddenly felt like sandpaper and my cock, trapped against the coarse stubble, responded to the irritation by growing a huge erection. I rubbed my left thumb over my shirt to stimulate my nipple. A spontaneous attack of horniness at work was unusual for me, but the sexy feel of my shaved body, and the knowledge I had done it, transformed it, for Matt, had suddenly taken over my mind. I left work early, with no plan in mind except an idea of looking for Matt online. When I signed on at home, neither of his screen names appeared on my buddy list. I decided to stay online and wait, but to put my time to good use. I stripped down and studied myself in the mirror. My exposed muscles still looked magnified by the lack of hair and my cock was stiff, with a huge erection now that I was naked. I resisted the urge to pump it. Instead, I flexed it and watched it bob around in the air as I settled on some poses, positioned my digital camera and selected the automatic setting, and took about 10 pictures. Next, with my semi-erect cock sagging to one side in my lap as I worked at my computer, I downloaded the pictures from my camera, selected the best shots, carefully cropped them, and obscured my face. As I stared at the pictures, my cock gave its stamp of approval by stiffening up again. It rose slowly in front of me, until it had returned to its straight-standing position, but this time it was excruciatingly hard and leaked pre-cum down its shaft. That’s when it hit me: my image in the pictures, my muscular reflection in the mirror, my new smooth look. I didn’t necessarily look less masculine, which was what I had feared. No, that wasn’t it. What I did look like was a really hot bottom, like a guy I would want the fuck the shit out of. That’s why guys were ogling me at the gym! As this idea sunk in, my computer made the AOL sound indicating that a new buddy had signed on, and I saw RBRDOM appear on my buddy list. Acting quickly, I e-mailed one of the pictures to him, a full frontal view with face obscured, and then sent an IM:
hotnhairy: Hi. chatted with you before. just sent you a pic.
About 2 or 3 minutes passed. I pinched one nipple and started to stroke my cock. Eventually, a response appeared on the screen:
RBRDOM: Don’t remember u. Tell me more
I dropped my cock and started typing.
h: we chatted once before about 2 weeks ago. I saw your profile on RubberMales.com
R: experience?
h: want to learn from you
My cock was wavering. Had he recognized my body in the picture? Questions kept forming in mind: Should I tell him who I am, that I still love him, that I’m obsessed with his conversion from sweet, willing bottom to arrogant, kinky top? Should I ask him why he didn’t confide in me, share his needs with me? Another message appeared.
R: send me a rear view
My cock sprung up again as I searched for the picture and sent it to him.
h: sent
I licked my thumb to massage my nipples as I waited. My cock was dripping again.
R: ur ass needs plugging. cock should be tied, deviced. u need a better screen name too
I started pumping my cock. Some precum on my fingers was transferred to the keyboard as I hesitated. I didn’t know how to respond.
h: Ok
R: The proper response is Yes Sir, thank You Sir. All of your missives to me must begin and end with “Sir.” Location?
My cock was ready to explode.
h: Yes Sir, thank You Sir. Located here in SF area, like you, Sir.
R: Send me more pics, with ur ass plugged, cock & balls tied up, face exposed. Any rubber gear?
h: no
R:What?
h: Sir, sorry, no Sir
R: Have to sign off for now. Send the pics.
h: will do, Sir
R: Look for me online tonight or tomorrow night.
h: where do I get rubber, Sir?
R: Rubbermales has links to buy gear online, also plenty of shops in town. Would like to see u in Xtreme’s capsule suit to start.
I responded with “yes Sir,” but he was gone. I pumped my cock, enough to get it and my hand gooey with precum, but I stopped short of making myself cum. With my cock weaving around in front of me, I browsed the RubberMales site, checked out some of the links, tried to get familiar with the jargon describing the items, and found the locations of local shops. It turned out that Xtreme was a shop not far from me and that it had a big web site. The home page said, “Xtreme offers leather restraints, metal fetters, stainless steel collars, heavy dungeon irons, steel cages, hoods, gags, collars, leather/rubber sleep sacks, straitjackets, chastity devices, uniforms, extensive latex/rubber selection, and much more to meet your fetish needs.”
I found a “capsule suit” advertisement: “CAPSULE SUIT. The complete full body coverage experience. Feel the total enclosure of being enCAPSULEd as the rubber envelops your body and the CAPSULE SUIT molds itself to your skin.”
There were several views of a man modeling the suit. The attractive-looking model was thin, and the suit looked a little big on him. It was shiny black latex and covered him totally from head to toe, with his lips being the only visible skin. A closeup view of the hood showed small, lattice-like holes at the eyes. The hood was attached to the rest of the suit, as were enclosed mitts and socks/feet. It did look molded, but certainly not to the man modeling it. I failed to see the allure of it and gasped when I noticed the price, but if it was Matt wanted, I was willing to give it a try. I knew if I jerked off I would not go through with it, so, acting quickly, I threw on minimal clothes, jeans, T shirt, and Nikes. With no underwear or socks and my hard-on barely concealed, and got myself out the door, on my way to Xtreme.
I returned within 2 hours with my purchases and began experimenting with the smallest one, a leather, harness-like contraption with multiple miniature belts and buckles designed to restrain the cock and balls. It took a few tries, and after some mildly frustrating moments, I got it on and tightened up all its little straps. Initially soft with the effort, frustration, and some inadvertent pinching of skin, as I finished my cock tried to become fully erect. Straining against the leather and buckles, it looked massive. Its engorged, purple head protruded from the straps encircling the shaft, where moist, dark skin, now with a reddish glow covering enlarged blood vessels, seemed to ooze over the multiple straps. My balls, also bound, girdled, and separated by leather straps, looked large and swollen. The physical sensations were a weird mixture of discomfort and excitement. I felt like I would be able to cum spontaneously if I wanted, just by flexing my cock against the straps, and I sort of liked the way my cock and balls looked: tied, packed, huge. I tightened up some of the straps a little more, to exaggerate the size of my cock and balls even further, but was careful not to let myself cum. I got my digital camera and snapped several views of my crotch.
Knowing what my next task should be, I stared at the black rubber butt plug I had purchased. With my own ample endowment in mind as comparison, the small sizes in the shop had looked wimpy to me, so, though wary, I purchased a medium-sized plug. My prior experience with dildos and plugs was limited to watching horny bottoms push them up their butts, which looked like fun for them but had never done much for me. I liked my bottoms to be tight. Nevertheless, despite my ambivalence, because it was what Matt requested, I was determined to take it. The challenge of it appealed to me. Holding the plug poised with its tip at my ass, I posed for my camera. Next, I knew I had to be relatively clean and well lubricated. The enema was okay - sort of a neutral experience. Then I started to work the tip of the plug into my hole. In spite of the preparation, it felt cold, stiff, unyielding, and enormous. Plus, once I got used to having the tip inside me, it really hurt when I tried to advance the plug beyond the wide expansion near the base. As I exerted more and more pressure, my cock, rather than losing its erection in response to the discomfort, became painfully erect within the tight straps. Its head, protruding from the device, had turned into a giant purple mushroom. There was so much precum it looked like I had cum. I considered giving up on the medium plug and going out to get a smaller one or even just a straight dildo, or giving up on the idea all together, but rather than give in, I began assuming different positions to try to insert it further. I tried sitting on it, but my sphincter, closing up to resist the invader, was uncooperative. Eventually I discovered a position that allowed some progress. Lying on my back in bed, with my legs spread and folded up against my chest like Matt used to do to his when I wanted to fuck him as deeply as possible, I closed my eyes, reached down between my legs, and imagined that Matt was on top of me. My fantasy was confused: I was fucking Matt, but somehow his cock poked insistently at my hole. I took long, slow breaths, envisioned Matt’s legs trapped under my hairy chest will I pounded him, and steadily exerted increasing pressure. Slowly, as my hole relaxed, I could tell I was close to achieving my goal. At last, with some added extra pressure and a quick thrust, I felt the plug advance further and slide into place. Simultaneously, a sharp, intense feeling shot through the inside of my ass and groin. I had no control as the muscles in my ass gripped the plug tightly and pulsated uncomfortably around it, and pumping spasms took over my cock. Surrendering without choice, I shouted and cursed as my cock exploded in an intense, excruciating orgasm. The plug inside me and the straps binding my cock and balls seemed to sustain it forever; the cum spurted up my body, splashed my face and chest, and entered my mouth as I gasped in agony. The orgasm was reflexive, mechanical, and totally out of my control as my asshole squeezed the plug and my tightly fastened cock and balls worked against the straps to eject more cum than I had ever made before. When it finally subsided, I rolled over and curled up into a fetal position on the bed.
The first thing I noticed when I woke up was a strong but familiar odor of cum, but it was accompanied by an unfamiliar if equally strong smell. I opened my eyes and saw the shiny black surface of the capsule suit under me. I must have rolled onto it in my sleep. The rubber smell seemed overpowering. I wasn’t sure I liked it, but experiencing it in combination with the smell of cum automatically sexualized it. Plus, my cock was erect again. Inside me, in the area of my prostate, there was an aching fullness, and my asshole, clenching the plug tightly, was exquisitely tender. I unfastened the leather cock and ball harness. My cock felt sore and had deep red marks where the buckles and straps had dug into skin while I slept. Yet, it was magnificently hard. Amazingly, I was horny and excited again. I resisted the temptation to lie back in bed and stroke my cock. Instead, I looked at the clock and discovered almost 2 hours had passed since I returned from my kinky expedition. I still had time to complete my assignment. I set up my camera and posed obscenely to document that the plug was in place. I considered removing it after the photos were taken, but I knew it wouldn’t pop out easily, so, deciding to deal with it later, I left it in place. Then I grabbed the capsule suit and set to work.
The guy who helped me at Xtreme had advised me to buy a large capsule suit, but I had insisted on a medium, because I was determined not to look like the thin model posted at their website. I wanted my muscles to be visible through the rubber, and I got my wish. After struggling with the suit for about 20 minutes, at times pulling in frustration, reaching awkwardly for zippers, and holding my breath to get the hood in place, I succeeded. When I had finished, I felt like I was ready for Halloween, dressed as a superhero, a cape-less batman. Though my view of my black, shiny reflection in the mirror was only through the small pinholes at the eyes, I could tell that I should be the model pictured at the Xtreme website. The tightly stretched rubber extended over my body, totally encapsulated me just as the suit was designed to, and molded itself to my muscular form. Trying to see different views of myself, I shifted around in front of the mirror. I didn’t know quite what to make of it, but I definitely loved the way the suit exaggerated my pecs, biceps, thighs, calves, buttocks, and crotch, all of which suddenly looked like they were part of an ebony statue of some kind of super-masculine alien being. The hood gripped my head tightly, and the attached neck covering felt slightly uncomfortable and constrictive. My lips, squeezing out of the mouth-shaped opening in the hood, were the only part of my body not covered by rubber. The hood gripped my head, and I could feel the rubber expand over my chest as I inhaled. My big cock, trapped within the rubber, was nevertheless conspicuously hard. I was starting to sweat profusely. It was certainly a tight fit, but that’s what I had wanted. I couldn’t imagine spending any real time in the suit, but that wasn’t the point. Fumbling with the camera, trying to press buttons with my sweaty fingers melded together in the rubber mitts, I worked to accomplish what I had set out to do: get great pictures for Matt!