Be Careful What Fantasies You Tell Episode 5

Author: rubbery
Title: Be Careful What Fantasies You Tell [Episode 5]
Date: 27 January 2017

Episode 5 – A Right Charlie
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In the morning you wake up in a room you’ve not seen before. Shiny white walls and ceiling – and then you realise you’re enveloped in black rubber – the sheets, the pillows, the duvet cover – and you. You’ve been sweating and are sliding around in the catsuit. There’s no zip at the front so you feel round the back to unzip yourself. Nope. No zip. It feels great, but it’s very sweaty. You were probably drugged so that you were completely dead to the world while the suit was put on you. You then feel the hood, tight, but comfortable.

“Oh, good morning tatpup”, says someone you’ve not seen before. A beautiful well-built twink, naked except for a steel collar and steel ankle cuffs – and steel boxers with a chastity device protruding out of them. More coffee. “You’re gonna see some changes today that you had never thought about – I promise. But first you’re going to need to shower.” Suddenly you are hit by a torrent of, thankfully, warm water as he aims the hose at you. The water bounces off you and the bed and rubber sheets onto the floor and you see a plughole in the floor where the runaway water drains. Steeltwink approaches you and mounts onto the top of the ball, locks his arms behind your hood and loses his tongue down your throat. Literally. After a couple of minutes of the most amazing osculation, as he pulls out of your mouth you can that his tongue has somehow been stretched – or maybe it’s been surgically enlarged – to an unfeasible length. You see him lick his forehead. Suddenly your stiffy gets much harder with the thought of living with that in your mouth.

You can start to feel your massive infused balls as you try to walk sluggishly towards the door when Steeltwink stops you, pulls back a flap in your suit and presses the hose into your suit. The powerful jet quickly pushes warm water, litre by litre, second by second, into your rubber. The suit instantly begins to bulge like the Michelin man, making it difficult to walk with all that weight. Before soon you have a tonne of liquid swirling around you in every direction. Steeltwink turns the hose off and pours some sort of yellow powder through the flap before closing it and sealing the water inside you. The seal is quite watertight around your neck, but again, still comfortable. You waddle at a snail’s pace while Steeltwink just laughs at you. Within 20 seconds you click what is happening, The water is becoming thicker like wallpaper paste – or maybe, as it thickens quickly – like treacle. You have been transformed into a helpless blob, with your dick and huge balls held in place somewhere in the goo.

“Ha! You look really funny – I love it! It’ll go with your new ears perfectly!”

Oh shit – more surgery – fucking Spock ears.

He watches you shuffle squeezing through the door – the suit’s not hardening like cement, you are relieved to feel. But you are in a massive, almost spherical, rubber ball with two hands and two feet sticking out. You want to eat, but there’s no way you can feed yourself. Steeltwink knows what you’re thinking and tells you, “I’m going to enjoy feeding you breakfast this morning. Sticky egg, messy muesli, Golden Syrup on toast…”

In the kitchen – fortunately spacious enough to contain you – you just stop, exhausted. You’re your own comfy chair. Steeltwink removes your hood and starts to feed you your morning meal. But he’s not very good at it. The runny egg ends up all over your face and chin, the soggy muesli misses your mouth more than makes it and eventually he just pours it over your head. He gives you a really good cup of tea which at least he seems to be more accurate with. And finally he spreads enormous amounts of treacly Golden Syrup over some toast and starts to feed it to you. You haven’t had Golden Syrup since – what – when you were a kid, maybe five or six years old, and you love the sweet taste which brings back childhood memories. Happy memories. But not memories of the tin being poured over your head to coagulate with the soggy muesli.

You see him through bleary, sticky eyes take a pair of scissors and cut two holes in the rubber hood. He puts the hood back on your head, over the glutinous mess which sticks to your face, acting like a mushy lube. Your ears stick out through the newly cut out holes. You guess that that’s what you’ll be wearing when your ears get modded.

Pearce comes into the kitchen, wheeling a trolley of surgical equipment. “Don’t worry”, he smiles, “you really won’t feel a thing.”

“Is that diuretic from the yogurt and the laxative in the Golden Syrup taking effect yet?” grins Steeltwink.

Yes it is, you realise, as your piss mixes with the gel in the front of your suit, and you shit black gold into it at the back. You are being controlled and humiliated for the pleasure of these two gorgeous men, And you get a perverted delight at the degradation, your cock hardening in again, this time into the slush and piss inside your latex bubble.

“Here, swallow this”, says Pearce. “It’ll make you feel fucking wonderful.” More than I feel at the moment? you wonder. Pretty quickly, whatever you knocked back starts its effects – and Pearce was right. You soon can’t wait to be made more of a freak with those pointy ears. It turns you on so much you cum into the gloop in sheer ecstasy.

“Some anaesthetic for your lovely old ears.” ‘Old’ grabs your attention. You hardly feel the needle go in, but enough to give you pleasure that you are submitting to this vision in front of you. Whose ears are getting pointier as you look at his green shiny, scaly skin. And his three dimensional dancing face tatts. Hallucinogen. Had to be.

For the hour or so that this twisted surgeon works on you, you are in an exquisite fantasy world. But it’s not an hour. When eventually you start to land back on earth it’s dark outside – you’ve been tripping all day. You have grown to like the feel of the rubber ball and wonder whether that’s going to be your spongey shell for quite a while, maybe forever. No it can’t be. They wouldn’t do that – they’re damned sure to want to get to the rest of my body to mutilate it.

“OK, Big Ears!” says Pearce. “Take a look at your new lugs!”

In the mirror you baulk – no pointy ears. But you can definitely see them – as large as life. Slightly larger than life, in fact. They stick out 90 degrees to your head and you look like Alfred E. Neumann. What, me worry?

“At last – something to grab hold of when the need arises.”

“I hope you like them, plugpup!” he chortles.

The rubber hood is now firmly congealed onto your head and face, with your enormous sticky-outy ears making you look very princely.

Oh, for fuck’s sake. What am I being turned into?