Hogboy

Author: rubbermorph
Title: Hogboy
Date: 19 September 2005

Tom’s heart was pounding as he turned off the main road and into the deserted side street. It was cooler down here; the narrow space between two tall buildings offered him some shade from the mid-afternoon summer sun. He glanced behind him into the main street, as if to check that nobody was following him (he knew they weren’t), and then walked past a couple of large dustbins towards the small black door. This was the place. To the left of the door was a small plaque with a single word upon it: HOGGER’S. Tom hesitated, his hand trembling, and then he took a deep breath, pushed the button and heard a buzzer echo distantly behind the door. There was a brief pause and then it clicked open. Tom stepped over the threshold and closed it behind him.

He was at the top of a narrow flight of steps. The walls were dark, the lighting subdued, especially compared to the blazing sunshine in the main road. It was a lot cooler in here than outside as well, Tom noticed, and he cautiously descended the staircase and found himself in a large room, off which several other rooms could be seen through doorways. There were racks of DVDs and magazines and shelves of books around the edges of the room, and a counter in the centre with a fit-looking assistant behind it. An older man was perusing the magazines.

This isn’t like me, thought Tom as he looked around at the shop’s interior, I’m not this kind of boy. Of course, he knew this wasn’t true. He was exactly that kind of boy, he’d just never let on to anyone else. As far as his family, friends and teachers knew, Tom was an intelligent, well-behaved, conscientious, polite, slightly reserved young man. He had friends in and out of school, but there was always something about him that seemed reluctant to give too much away about himself. They knew as much as he wanted them to know and it seemed that he was as happy on his own as in a group, thought he’d generally keep himself slightly apart from the crowd. His own perception of himself was influenced by the good impression he gave everyone else, and as far as Tom was concerned that was who he was: a good boy. Anything else that crossed his mind as he drifted off to sleep at night or as he woke first thing in the morning was something extra, something different. He knew he was into men, but he chose to keep it quiet and successfully avoided the subject. He’d face it when he felt ready, he knew. But it wasn’t just his secret homosexuality that made him different from other boys. Tom had realised many months ago that he had a strong rubber fetish, first provoked by the sight of the surfers in grey and black skinsuits he’d sat and watched on a holiday to Cornwall a couple of summers ago, and he’d spent enough hours on the internet for the fetish to develop into something that he wanted to explore further. He knew he wasn’t alone in his interests, and it didn’t take long for him to find a list of links to rubber manufacturers and retailers, which had led him to this store.

Tom had always liked the idea of this secret half of his personality manifesting itself as a complete contrast to the Tom that everybody else saw every day. In his imagination, he’d get changed in the middle of the night, always into something shiny and tight. Suited, booted and hooded, he’d sneak out and creep around on top of buildings, in alleys, behind walls and in deserted warehouses and factories, looking for other men like himself. It seemed like a pretty corny fantasy to Tom, who felt that whatever rubbermen did, it was probably less covert than this, but the fantasy often didn’t even end in a sexual coupling – just the thought of the himself in dodgy areas in a skintight rubber suit was enough to bring him off as he lay in bed at night. He knew about fetish clubs, of course, but only through glancing at websites, and entertained a half-hearted fantasy of visiting one, rubber under his normal clothes until he arrived, and then throwing his civvies in a sports bag and wandering amongst the other rubbermen; a mass of black, smooth, alien bodies pressing against each other in the dark, underground lair. The idea of losing his identity and melting into this pack of anonymous rubbermen appealed to Tom. He wasn’t a loner exactly, but he never quite felt as involved with his peers as he imagined they felt with each other. He often thought it should have troubled him more than it did, but he also appreciated that he never had to answer too many questions from his friends when he wanted to sneak off and spend some time on his own, doing something that he preferred to keep private. Like today, for instance.

The assistant behind the counter was watching him. The man at the magazine rack glanced over as well. Only now did it occur to Tom that he would probably have done better to have changed out of his sixth-form school uniform before he came to the shop. The sign on the door had said he had to be eighteen or over, which he was – well, he had been for three weeks – but he wondered if he was going to be asked for any ID, and whether he had any on him. He was 6’3” and rarely got IDed in bars, but his build was fairly slim, and despite his dark hair he wasn’t yet showing a five o’clock shadow, unlike some of the other lads in his year. He guessed that he looked a lot younger than most of the regular customers here. Tom avoided the assistant’s eye, and wandered over to the DVDs. Something was stopping him from looking at the rubber gear; somehow it seemed less embarrassing to be looking at porn.

The man at the magazine rack lingered a few minutes longer and then left without buying anything. Tom was aware that it was just him and the assistant now. He wasn’t sure if this made him feel more or less self-conscious. He crouched down to look at some of the DVDs on the bottom shelf and continued to avoid looking towards the counter, trying to ignore the butterflies in his stomach. Just stand up and walk over to the rubber gear, he told himself, Get up and walk over there, there’s no reason not –

“You alright, mate?”

Tom turned. The bloke behind the counter was looking at him with a faint smile on his face. Tom felt his face redden as he clambered to his feet. He can tell I’m not this kind of boy, he thought, and his first instinct was just to walk out of the shop and away from the whole situation, but the assistant was walking out from behind the counter and over to him. Tom hadn’t really looked closely at him so far, but now he felt he could pay closer attention without looking like he was cruising him. The man was an inch or two shorter than Tom, maybe nine or ten years older, and dressed in a tight cotton t-shirt, with camos down to just below the knee, nicely-rounded calf muscles on display, and a pair of black 10-hole DMs on his feet. Unlike Tom, he had a solid, fairly muscular build – he was naturally broader than Tom, and had shorter arms, which obviously had less trouble putting on muscle than Tom’s own lanky, adolescent frame. His stomach looked toned and fit without being completely flat, and his arse and thighs, bulging through his cut-off camos, looked beefy and powerful. Tom could feel his cock growing hard in his school trousers as he looked up at the man’s piercing blue eyes. The boys at school who held his attention tended to be sporty and pretty clean-cut, so Tom had come to think of this as his ‘type’, but this man wasn’t like that so much. The top of his head was shaved to a zero crop, with just the slightest trace of stubble starting to grow back, while his top lip, chin and the sides of his face were covered with a beard – thicker than the designer goatees some of the more developed lads at school tried to wear, but less bushy than Santa. Tom noticed clippered chest hair poking up over the collar of the t-shirt, and his swollen erection throbbed even more. He was vaguely aware that he was face to face with this bloke and still not saying anything. The assistant had obviously realised this as well.

“You alright mate?” he repeated. “Is there a particular DVD you were after?”

Tom paused. He’d already been identified as a consumer of porn, and he hadn’t been thrown out. He glanced at the assistant’s t-shirt, stretched snugly over his muscular pecs. The shirt was brown and had a cartoon drawing of a shiny black pig across the chest, with the words ‘HOG BOY’ underneath it. Tom swallowed. He liked the shirt a lot. Just come clean, he thought to himself. “I was … I was looking for some rubber,” he found himself saying in a quiet voice.

“Fetish porn?” the assistant said. He was grinning now. “There’s a whole row of it behind you, look. The stuff near the bottom’s not as much fun, but it’s cheaper.”

Tom suddenly felt a wave of panic at the prospect of leaving the shop with nothing more than a soft-core porn DVD. That wasn’t what he’d come for. He turned towards the DVDs, and then turned back to the assistant. “I wasn’t after DVDs, actually. It was clothes, you know, rubber clothes. Latex. Tight latex.” He was almost stammering now. “I just wanted to try some – get an idea of my size, I mean, you know…”

His voice tailed off. The assistant nodded, still smiling. “What’s your name, mate?” he asked.

“Tom,” muttered Tom, wondering whether he should have given a false name, and then wondering why it had crossed his mind to do so.

“Nice to meet you, Tommy boy,” said the assistant, reaching out and shaking Tom’s hand. “I’m Dan.” He grinned more broadly again. “But my friends call me Hogger.” He winked at Tom as he said this, and then laughed at Tom’s embarrassed reaction. “You’ve not been in here before, right?”

“That’s right,” said Tom. Dan’s friendliness seemed to have calmed him. “I’ve been looking at the website for a while … I’d like to get a proper rubber suit, but I’ve never worn anything like that before. I’ve no idea what size I would need to get.”

He paused. This wasn’t entirely true; Tom was very keen to try a rubber suit, but he knew there was no way he could afford even a quarter of one. Still, if he tried the suit for size he wouldn’t be obliged to buy it. He hoped Dan wouldn’t wonder how a sixth-former would be able to spare £250-odd for a rubber suit, but Dan didn’t seem to think anything of it. He led Tom through the doorway into the rubber room, and Tom inhaled deeply, savouring the scent of latex and gazing around at the racks and racks of rubber suits, vests, shorts, shirts, leggings and jocks. Dan smirked at his reaction.

“It was a full suit you wanted to try, wasn’t it Tom?” he said, placing a hand on Tom’s shoulder and gently rotating him thirty degrees so he was facing the racks of full body suits. Tom’s cock jerked at Dan’s contact. Dan was scrutinising the racks of suits, trying to decide which size would fit him best. He lifted a couple off the rack and held then up against Tom. “Obviously a large would suit you for length, but you’re a pretty slim build … a medium would be a snugger fit on the torso,” he murmured. “Unless you were planning to get something made-to-measure? That’d be your best bet, probably.”

“Maybe,” said Tom noncommittally, “but I just wanted to get an idea of the size, you know?” He worried that Dan was going to cotton-on to what he was up to, if he hadn’t already. Dan was grinning again. Tom felt like he’d been rumbled.

“Nah, that makes sense,” grinned Dan, looking Tom straight in the eye. “You go into the changing room and get your kit off, I’ll pick out a suit and close the shop up. It’s only me here today, and I don’t want to keep getting dragged away. That ok, Tommy?”

Tom’s cock was rigid. He nodded, vaguely aware that he was grinning now as well. Dan turned back into the main part of the shop and Tom watched the outline of his solid, meaty arse as he walked away. Then he walked into the changing room at the back of the shop. It was a decent size, about two metres by three, painted white, with a stool against one of the longer walls and a full-length mirror fixed to the wall opposite the doorway. Tom unfastened his school shirt and removed his shoes and socks, before letting his trousers drop. Then he glanced over at the full-length mirror. He wasn’t fond of his lanky body at all, but he’d looked worse, he thought, though he wished he could have had big, solid shoulders and pecs like Dan clearly did. He ran a hand through his hair nervously; it wasn’t really long, but there suddenly seemed to be a lot of it compared to Dan. He resolved to get it cropped when he’d left here, something he’d always felt a bit embarrassed to do because he knew his friends would comment on it, and make a big thing about his ‘new image’. He was going to leave his boxers on, and then he remembered ‘HOG BOY’ printed across Dan’s t-shirt and suddenly felt an urge to show himself off to this man. He pulled down the boxers, kicked them off and watched his hard-on spring to attention. Tom worried less about his dick than any other part of him; it was a good six inches around and eight inches long, and he’d read enough stories online to know that this was nothing to worry about. He ran his hand along the length of it a couple of times, and then he saw Dan reflected in the mirror, carrying a rubber suit.

“Good lad, Tommy boy,” said Dan brightly. He held open the suit, which had a zip open from the arse to the back of the neck, and had already been lightly dusted with talc inside. Tom hesitated, not sure how best to approach this, but Dan crouched down so the opening was low enough for Tom to step into. “Feet first, matey,” he explained. Tom stepped forward into the holes at the bottom of the legs, and his cock, now level with Dan’s head, caught him on the side of face. Tom let out a small gasp, but Dan smirked, stuck out his tongue and licked the end, now moist with precum. Tom felt his legs weaken slightly, and sank onto the stool. Dan started tugging the rubber up his calves and said, “You taste good, Tommy boy. Good lad.” He met Tom’s eye again. “Good little rubberpig.”

Tom found himself grinning again as he stood up and helped Dan tug the rubber up his legs. It felt awesome, tight against his skin, and he loved the look of himself being swallowed by shiny black latex in the mirror opposite. “Thanks Hogger,” he said. Dan winked again and pulled the suit up over Tom’s arse. Tom reached down and ran his hand across his smooth, rubber-covered legs. It’s like I’m more streamlined, more aerodynamic, he thought, Like I’m less human. With a single yank, Dan had the suit past Tom’s hips, and the feeling of the rubber pressing on his cock made Tom dizzy with pleasure. Dan lifted up the front of the top half of the suit, holding out the sleeves so Tom could push his arms in. He’d not expected it to cling so tightly to his arms, long and thin as they were, but he was surprised at how tight the suit was all the way up his body. Dan was pulling the rubber over Tom’s shoulders, struggling a little to get the tight rubber to stretch just a little bit further, but as he zipped the suit from Tom’s arse up to his neck, he felt the rubber pull itself into place and, taking a step back in surprise, Tom realised that the boy in the mirror was now covered with skintight black rubber from the neck down, with just his wrists, ankles, hands and feet showing. The suit bulged at the crotch. Dan stepped back to admire his handiwork.

“Yeah, I’m very, very happy with that,” said Dan, taking it in. “Sleeves and legs could do with another couple of inches, but that’d be easily fixed if you had one tailored. All you need to cover it here are gloves and boots. And I’ve got plenty of those.” He stepped out of the changing room for a second and returned with a pair of waders and shoulder-length industrial rubber gloves. As he helped Tom into the boots, he glanced up again. “You’ve never worn this stuff before, have you?” he asked.

“Never,” breathed Tom, still captivated by his reflection. The gloves, while not quite reaching his shoulders due to his long arms, still went past his elbow, and the waders just looked hot as hell. Dan reached out and stroked Tom’s rubber-covered backside, and then placed his hands either side of his pelvis, touching his hips through the suit. He crouched again and leaned forward, and then Tom felt something rub against his rubber arse. It was Dan’s tongue. After a couple more licks, Dan stood up and faced Tom. His grin was firmly back in place.

“Fucking nice arse you’ve got there, Tommy,” he said. “Fucking nice all over, really. You were shitting yourself when you came in here, weren’t you?” Tom nodded cautiously. Dan laughed and touched him on the shoulder again. Tom liked that. “Well, no reason to be scared, mate. Nothing wrong with being into this stuff, especially at your age. It’s horny as fuck for me to see a young lad like you in rubber. There’s not enough of you, or not enough go out and actually try it, at least. You like it in there, don’t you Tommy?” he continued, lightly brushing Tom’s upper arms and then gripping them more tightly. Tom nodded again. Dan’s grin faded slightly, but his face looked no less animated. “Don’t you, rubberpig?” he growled.

Between Dan’s voice, the pressure of the skintight latex and the sight of himself in this rubber suit, Tom’s cock had never been harder. This was like all his fantasies rolled into one; domination, rubber, transformation. Tom stood, rigid, as Dan stared him down, waiting for Dan to lean forward and kiss him. His eyelids flickered and he let them close, wanting to savour the feeling of the rough, neatly-trimmed beard against his own face, and the taste of Dan inside his mouth. As he did, he felt the pressure on his upper arms ease as Dan turned and walked from the room. Tom paused, waiting for him to return, maybe with a hood or a gasmask, but after a couple of minutes he heard Dan’s voice from the main part of the shop. “You having trouble getting out of it, Tom?” he called out.

Tom’s heart sank. Nothing else was going to happen, clearly, and why should it? “Yeah, I’m ok,” he called back. “Just give me a minute.” Feeling stupid and bitterly disappointed, he stepped out of the waders and tugged off the gloves, before reaching behind him to pull the zip down, and rushed to extract himself from the rubber. As he struggled to get the suit over his ankles, he thought again about how fantastic the suit had looked and felt, and what he’d give to be taking it home with him. He turned over the price tag attached to the zip, and his initial fears were confirmed: the suit retailed at £299. It’s worth it, Tom thought, But I’m never going to have that kind of money for something like this. He noticed something else, however. He’d assumed there’d be a security tag fastened onto the suit, probably in the same place as the price tag, but closer examination of the suit showed that there wasn’t one anywhere. Tom paused. An idea had crossed his mind that seemed so unlike him he wondered whether he’d triggered something just by putting the suit on. He picked up his school shirt and started to button it up.


***


Dan was behind the counter when Tom walked back into the main part of the shop, carrying the suit.

“Thanks,” Tom said as he handed it over to him, “that was really helpful, cheers.” Dan took the suit and started to run a cloth over the inside, where the talc had mixed with Tom’s sweat.

“It’s not a problem, Tommy boy,” he said. “Go home and have a think about what kind of suit you’re after, and I can take some proper measurements next time you’re in. It’s usually 20% extra for a personal fitting, but I’m happy to sell it to you for the same price as something off the rack.”

Tom hesitated. He could go now and relive about this memory later, but he didn’t just want to wank over the thought of rubber any more, he wanted it against his skin again. He looked up at Dan and smiled nervously. “Actually… I was wondering,” he began. “I was wondering whether it’d be worth me trying anything else as well. Not another suit, I mean, maybe some shorts or something like that. Just to… just to see,” he finished lamely.

Dan was frowning. Tom was a little taken aback by this. He’d thought he might be pushing his luck a bit, but then Dan, without taking his eyes off Tom, moved from behind the counter and gestured towards the rubber room. “The shorts are opposite the suits, take a couple of pairs and see what you think fits best,” he said. “There’s talc in the changing room.” He walked back behind the counter and started straightening the stack of magazines on the top as Tom wandered back into the rubber room, again feeling excited. He’d hoped this would happen. He flicked through the rack and found the shorts he liked – mid length in the thigh, cut nice and tight in lighter thickness rubber than the suit, and with a cock-to-arse zip. He unhooked a pair labelled ‘small’, then a medium, and then, glancing up at Dan, who seemed preoccupied in the other room, another medium-sized pair. Like the suits, they had no security tags attached to them. Tom headed into the changing room and quickly started to undress.

Five minutes later, with a dusting of talc on the inside of one of the medium-sized pairs of shorts, Tom admired himself in the mirror. They weren’t as much fun as wearing the full rubber suit, of course – they weren’t nearly as much fun as wearing the full suit – but he was still very happy with the way these shorts looked and felt. The fact that they stopped halfway down his long thighs somehow gave the impression that his legs were meatier than they were, and when he turned around and glanced over his shoulder, his arse looked firm and round. The bulge at the front was the most impressive of all; his cock stood out over the top of his thigh. Tom gave it a squeeze and then carefully pulled his boxers up over the top of the shorts, and then quickly pulled up his school trousers. He took some time fastening his shirt, reasoning that, as far as Dan was concerned, he was trying on a couple of pairs. When enough time had passed that he thought he’d be convinced, Tom walked out of the changing room again, through the doorway to the counter, and placed the two unworn pairs of shorts in front of Dan. Dan looked up.

“They’re not a bad fit,” said Tom, “but I think I’ll wait for the suit. Thanks, though.”

Dan picked up the shorts and looked at them, and then at Tom. “You going to try anything else?” he asked, wiping them on the inside with the same cloth he’d used on the suit. Tom realised that they were very clean considering he was supposed to have just been wearing them, but Dan didn’t seem to have noticed.

“No, I’d better be heading off now,” said Tom. He was keen to get out here, to jump on a bus and retreat to the privacy of his bedroom, where he could fondle himself through the shorts all night. “I didn’t realise how late it was. Thanks, uh, Hogger.” He moved towards the door, and started up the staircase. He knew it looked like a very rapid exit, but once he was out of here he’d be free, and he wasn’t sure he’d be coming back any time soon, even to browse. He climbed the stairs, out of Dan’s sight.

Tom reached the entrance at the top and pulled the door handle. It didn’t budge. He tried again, and nothing happened. His normal paranoia went into overdrive. He knows, thought Tom, But how can he? The shorts aren’t tagged, there’s no camera in the changing room, and there were none in the shop, and there’s no way he could have seen me take the three pairs. Besides, this place is packed full of rubber, he’ll never even notice they’re missing. Tom breathed again, and made his way back down the staircase, smiling apologetically.

“The door seems to be stuck,” he explained. “Did you unlock it earlier after you’d helped me into the suit?”

Dan wasn’t smiling any more. “Yeah, I unlocked it,” he said, “but then I locked it again because I don’t want you to leave the shop with those rubber shorts that you’re nicking from me.”

Panic gripped Tom. It suddenly dawned on him exactly what he was doing. He was a completely responsible, sensible boy, and yet here he was, shoplifting. That’s what it is, said the voice in his head, and these shorts are worth at least £60. Dan’s eyes were fixed on Tom’s face. Tom felt sick.

“Are you going to call the police?” he mumbled. He didn’t know what would happen, he just didn’t do this kind of thing, it was so out of character until today. He’d thought he was smart enough to pull it off, that he almost deserved to pull it off because it was so important that he could wear rubber whenever he wanted, and he’d felt slightly rejected when Dan had left him to his own devices in the changing room. Could he blame Dan, he wondered? His mind was working overtime, trying to think of excuses for himself and the man in front of him as much as for the police. The worst thing was the look of disappointment on Dan’s face. He couldn’t bear that.

“No,” said Dan, “I’m not going to call the police.”

Tom breathed out. Dan’s expression hadn’t changed at all. “What are you going to do, then?” he asked, wondering if he was just going to be sent on his way with a warning.

Dan stepped out from behind the counter. “Follow me, Tom,” he said, and marched into the rubber room. It never even occurred to Tom not to obey him. They passed the racks of suits and shorts and the changing room, and Dan stopped at a narrow metal door marked ‘STAFF ONLY’. He unlocked it, pushed it open and gestured that Tom go in first. It was unlit, and even darker than the rest of the shop, but Tom shuffled forwards and Dan followed him, closing the door behind him with a loud click.

Tom looked around. The room wasn’t unlike the changing room, except without an overhead light, and with a cold metallic floor instead of the solid concrete of the rest of the shop. Tom had the impression that there was another floor underneath this one. He looked at Dan, who was smiling again, and he felt a huge surge of relief. Dan reached forward and placed a hand on the back of Tom’s head, pulling his face closer. He smelt fantastic to Tom; a mixture of sweat, latex, a faint trace of smoke and something indefinable that make Tom’s cock stand to attention again. Once more, he waited for a kiss, but Dan pulled back. Tom was relieved to see that he was still grinning.

“Get your kit off, Tommy boy,” whispered Dan. Tom didn’t need telling twice. He fumbled at the top of his school trousers, where the flies were stuck. Dan reached across and ripped Tom’s school shirt open, pulling it off him and throwing it on the floor. Slightly shocked, Tom paused, and Dan reached down and ripped off the trousers as well. Tom was left in his shoes and socks, with his boxers over the top of the rubber shorts. Dan squatted and tugged off the shoes and socks, and then stood up and pulled the boxers. Tom was gazing at the way the muscles in his upper arms moved as he did this, and was unsurprised when the boxers also tore, leaving Tom in nothing but the stolen rubber shorts. Dan reached into the pocket of his camos and pulled out a penknife. In an instant, he’d sliced up the side of the shorts on Tom’s right, then his left, meeting no resistance whatsoever as he sliced through the rubber. Butt naked, Tom faced him, wondering what was coming next. He hoped Dan would strip off now as well.

“I was just wondering,” said Dan, looking at the floor despite facing Tom, “whether you’d be up for trying another suit before you go. Not pretending that you’re going to buy it, I mean,” he continued, “but just for the hell of it, you know. You’d like it.”

“Well, yeah…” stuttered Tom. This sounded good. He wants to play with me, thought Tom, and as well as the excitement, he couldn’t help feeling a little flattered. Dan was beefy and fit and masculine and seemed so self-assured that Tom wanted to do whatever he was told. Dan nodded again and went out through the metal door they’d entered by, returning thirty seconds later with another fullsuit. This one, Tom noticed, seemed to have gloves, feet and a hood or gasmask attached. As Dan help it open, he realised that it also looked shinier and slicker than the other suit.

“No talc in this one,” explained Dan. “There’s no need. I lubed it up instead. You’ll like it. Much better for a rubberpig like you. Gets nice and slimy in there.”

As Tom stepped into the suit, he saw what Dan meant. His feet slid into the suit’s feet with absolutely no difficulty at all. The lube was a little cold, but as they pulled it up over his legs and past his pelvis, he was impressed by how easy it was to adjust it so there wasn’t a crease to be seen. As it was pulled up over his body he enjoyed the slimy sensation he had from being sealed inside it, especially around his cock. He squeezed the bulge and felt it slide around under the tight rubber. Awesome, he thought. He pushed his arms down the sleeves, which Dan held open until his fingers were tight in the rubber gloves to let the air out, and then breathed deeply as, again, the shoulders were pulled together and the zip up the back was closed. This time, however, there was further for the zip to go; the gas mask hood hung down under Tom’s chin. He looked up at Tom.

“You ready to go the whole hog, rubberpig?” grinned Dan. Tom nodded eagerly, and Dan yanked the gasmask over his face, zipping up the back of the hood and sealing him in rubber from head to toe. Fucking hell!, thought Tom, It’s what I always wanted. He was going to say the same to Dan, but found that when he tried to speak it came out muffled and distorted through the gasmask, so he just relaxed and enjoyed the feeling of rubber pressed tight against every inch of his young body.

Now Dan was on the floor again. Tom wondered what he was doing, but it was hard to look straight downwards with the snout of the gasmask sticking out from his face. The sound was slightly muffled by the sides of the hood, but he heard a metallic clang, and then he was shocked as Dan got to his feet, gave Tom a hefty shove and forced him to step backwards where, seconds earlier, there had been a solid metal floor. Tom realised Dan had opened a concealed trapdoor as he fell backwards through it into even more darkness.

To his relief, he landed on something soft. Still slightly winded, he tried to sit up, but with some difficulty; whatever it was he’d landed on was slippery to touch, and there didn’t seem to be enough friction between this object and Tom’s rubber fingers for him to get upright. Suddenly, he dislodged it, and he felt himself fall backwards through more of these things, all soft and shiny and smooth but fairly weighty. He stopped tumbling and realised he was on his back, looking up at a small square of light about fifteen or twenty feet above him, which was obviously the trapdoor through which he’d fallen. Dan was standing at the edge. He’d taken off his clothes, revealing (from what Tom could see at a distance and through a gasmask) chunky, hairy legs; a powerful upper body with clippered chest and shoulder hair and, to Tom’s vague disappointment, a pair of rubber shorts stretched tightly over his crotch. It was only when Dan suddenly dive-bombed through the trapdoor towards Tom that he realised the rubber was brown, not black.

Dan landed somewhere to Tom’s right, sending several of the inflatable objects tumbling over towards him. Tom felt half-buried now; they weren’t easy to move, and his rubber palms slid across the floor beneath him as much as they had on these objects. Tom now recognised them as inner tubes from tyres; he’d seen a few of them in various rubber galleries during his hours of research online. He wondered why they were here and, more importantly, why he was. Then he saw Dan on the edge of his field of vision, scrambling over the inner tubes and then standing over him. From this angle Tom felt even more subservient; also, he couldn’t help getting hard at the sight of Dan’s thick cock standing out under the brown rubber. Dan looked down at the boy in the gasmask trapped beneath him, hocked up a mouthful of spit and let it drip onto Tom’s mask. Tom’s cock swelled harder than ever. This is going to be great, he thought to himself.

Dan called down to him. “You enjoying yourself, rubberpig?” Tom squirmed underneath him. He was enjoying himself a lot. “You thirsty, pig?” asked Dan, and reached down towards Tom’s masked face with something in his hands, but it was too close for Tom to be able to see it properly. He felt Dan fumble with the snout of his mask for a few seconds, and then he stood upright again. Tom saw he’d screwed a long rubber tube to the end of the snout, and watched as Dan held the other end of the tube near the bulge at the front of his shorts. After a couple of seconds the front of the shorts bulged even more, and Dan pulled them down slightly, unleashing a torrent of piss onto Tom’s masked face and into the end of the tube. He coughed and spluttered as the hot, metallic-tasting piss sloshed through the tube across his face, up his nostrils and into his mouth. His eyes stung, but he couldn’t rub them. He took a few gulps and most of the piss inside the mask filled his mouth and trickled down his throat. He coughed again. He felt dirty and uncomfortable. His cock didn’t seem to mind, though.

Dan was grinning. Tom wondered if he was going to get another mouthful of piss, but then he realised that Dan had moved forward slightly, giving Tom a better view of his tightly-rubbered arse than his crotch. There was something weird about the way the brown rubber shorts hugged his arse, though. He’s got a tail, thought Tom, trying to focus on whatever it was that was sticking out between Dan’s arse cheeks, or maybe it’s a butt-plug? Then he realised that Dan was fastening his end of the tube to whatever it was, and he realised with a start the tube screwed into the back of the shorts, and that they were pretty much airtight and watertight. Tom gulped. He had a pretty good idea of what was probably going to come sliding down that tube into his mouth in a minute, and he didn’t want it. However much he’d fantasised about a situation like this, he knew this was too much for him. He struggled and struggled and whined as Dan looked down on him with contempt.

“Call yourself a fucking rubberpig, Tom?” he snarled. “You got yourself into this, you can just fucking live with it. You think you know what’s coming next, don’t you? Stupid little fucker. You still don’t feel guilty about trying to rob from me, do you? You feel bad that you got caught, but you don’t feel guilty, and you seem to think I’m gonna treat you for it?” Tom tried to shake his head, tried to show that he was sorry, but it was near-impossible to communicate anything inside this rubber suit and mask, trapped under a pile of inner tubes, with his eyes stinging, his visor fogging up and drops of piss still obscuring some of his vision. Dan went on: “You wanted to be a rubberpig when it felt safe and I was all friendly, didn’t you? And the second it turns a bit nasty you want out. You’re a little chicken shit, Tom, and I’d let you go now if I thought it’d do you any good, but I know that you came here because deep down inside, no matter how much you think you’re not that kind of boy” – Tom’s eyes widened – “I know that deep inside you there’s a rubberpig desperate to be unleashed, and he’s worth ten of the little thieving fucker who thought he could rip me off this afternoon. You had this coming, pigboy. This is what happens to lads who don’t take it seriously and piss me off.” And then he paused and took a deep breath and, with a heavy rumble, Tom’s mask started to fill with the unmistakable scent of male fart. Dan was farting into Tom’s gasmask and it seemed as though he could do this forever; his face was screwed up, his body taut, and his knees slightly bent. Tom coughed and waited for the air to clear, but it didn’t, and he began to panic and choke. He remembered the horny scent of Dan when they’d been really close and realised that this was the extra ingredient, and he’d obviously not minded it so much earlier. He closed his eyes, tried to relax his body and, against his will, he inhaled.

It didn’t taste as bad as he’d expected. It tasted bad – it tasted really bad – but Tom found that he didn’t object to it as much as he’d anticipated. In some ways, the rank, suffocating, sulphurous smell made him feel good, like he was already so dirty that it didn’t matter if he breathed this as well, and there was a weird sense of freedom that kicked in when he start thinking like that. The stench wasn’t as strong as shit, but as it filled the mask and his mouth he felt almost light-headed. It reminded him of the one time he’d used poppers during one of the hundreds of solo wanks he’d had … that feeling of handing over control, living on instinct rather than reason. His senses seemed to be coming alive while his conscious mind gradually closed down … it didn’t matter what he was going to do next or where he was going to do afterwards because right now he could feel skintight rubber stretched against every part of his skin as he rolled around in the slime, and he could smell and taste the raw scent of that hairy, beefy, horny fucker up there being piped right into his mask, up his nose and down his throat. He writhed on the floor in pleasure, finding he was able to move more freely now that his body was less concerned with doing so. His skin tingled and the rubber tingled, and then it almost felt like his skin and the rubber were tingling together, but he wasn’t really thinking too much about this because he was so happy to be tasting Hogger, so happy to be Hogger’s rubberpig and to do what he was told.

Tom lay there, swimming in the sensations, stretching out his arms and legs and running his fingers over the inner tubes, enjoying the way they slid over the rubber. The tips of his fingers tingled too, and he curled his hands into fists and then it was less of a tingling feeling, more like the rubber was so tight that he couldn’t open his fist again. He came to his senses slightly, twisting his neck to have a look at his right hand, which, try as he might, he couldn’t get open. Then there was another gust from Dan’s arse that temporarily calmed him, but as it wore off he looked over at his hand in panic. It didn’t feel so much like a hand anymore. It felt like it was caught in someone else’s hand – no, like it was in a vice – and as it struck the floor he was jolted into reality by the noise it made, like a stiletto heel on a metal surface. Dan struggled. His left hand felt like his right now, and his feet were starting to ache, but suddenly all his main concern was his arse which, having been pressed against the floor as he lay on his back, suddenly seemed to be inflating to twice its usual size, pushing his pelvis up off the floor.

Tom was sweating like a pig inside the suit, the sweat mixing with the lube making it twice as difficult to control his movements, but somehow he managed to kick out and twist his body so that he rolled over onto his front. The snout of his gasmask and the tube attached to it made it impossible for him to lower his head too much, so he pressed the side of his mask against the metal floor and tried to turn his head enough to see what was happening to his arse. He couldn’t believe his eyes. The smooth, black rubber arse that had looked so firm and tight earlier was still firm, but the backs of his thighs and his buttocks were growing huger and huger, rounder and rounder, wider and wider. He tried to shout out, to protest, but the mask still seemed to muffle his voice. But it wasn’t just the mask – it wasn’t just that words couldn’t be heard, he couldn’t get them out in the first place. He tried again and all he could hear was a high-pitched squeal from his throat. Tom reached out with his arms to try to push himself upright again, and watched in horror as he watched them seem to grow thicker but shorter, only half the length they’d been before, and his hands now turned into some kind of hoof … what the fuck? It was hard, it was cloven, it looked like … and that was when he realised. He didn’t have hands and feet any more.

He had trotters.

This is insane, Tom’s mind screamed as he recoiled from his stumpy little arms and kicked out with his legs, but his legs had shrunk even more than his arms and now seemed to match them in length. The tingling feeling that he’d felt all over persisted, but it seemed rougher, more forceful, like he was being pushed around and kneaded like dough. The heavy feeling in his arse had spread right up his back and across into his stomach and chest, and he could even feel it pushing up the front of his neck. Just as his arse had lifted him when he was lying on his back, now his stomach and chest jacked him up as he lay on his front, and he realised the only way to support himself was to arrange his arms and legs underneath him and lift himself up properly. As he did so he was aware of the rubber pulling even tighter over the increased bulk of his torso, and for a second he thought how good it felt, but then there was that weird sensation again, almost as if the rubber against his skin was his skin, tight and stretchy and shiny and expanding. As the back of his neck ballooned, he felt the tightness tug at his chest; as his stomach bloated it pulled at the rubber skin covering his lower back. He looked down at his arms and wondered how come the arms of the suit weren’t flapping all over the place; on the contrary, the rubber covering his arms – My front legs? he wondered in fear – was as tight and smooth and unwrinkled as ever. He tried to turn his head to see his legs more clearly. It wasn’t easy with all the meat in his back and neck, but he caught a glimpse, and saw the same at the back as at the front: two smooth, black, shiny, short, stumpy limbs with a reversed joint halfway down and hard, shiny black trotters at the end.

Tom’s stomach heaved and he took another deep breath, suddenly aware that the scent of Dan’s arse was fading from his nostrils. Despite everything that had happened, this felt like too much, and he yelled out in protest, producing no sound other than a deep, angry grunt. He grunted again and was suddenly painfully aware of a stabbing pain in his mouth. Something was pushing through his mouth, trying to force it open, but he couldn’t open it as easily as before; the gasmask was keeping his mouth closed. He squealed in pain, and then felt cooler, fresher air on his face as Dan reached down and lifted the gasmask and threw it to one side. It took a few seconds before it registered with Tom that the mask had been part of the suit, and he wondered how it had detached so easily, and why it had been so much tighter just before it had been removed. His head was swimming and the pain in his mouth was growing worse and worse. Then there was a click and the room was filled with light, which was immediately blocked out by something dark falling over Tom’s eyes. Dan reached down and brushed whatever it was from his face, and suddenly Tom realised that he was staring into a mirrored wall, reflecting a huge room full of stacks of inner tubes, slimy floors, a beefy young man with a beard and a pair of brown rubber shorts, and a large black shiny pig at his feet with its ears flopping over its eyes.

It’s a pig, thought Tom, It’s Dan’s pig. He lifted his chin, and the pig copied. He lowered his backside to the floor, and the pig did the same. He watched as Dan scratched the pig behind the ears and realised that he was automatically pushing his head up into Dan’s palm. The pain in his mouth had faded, but he pretty sure that must have been caused by the short little tusks that were now poking out under his snout. The shape of his snout was the same as the gasmask. No wonder it felt so tight, he thought. His skin was so shiny. As Dan gently stroked his head and back, Tom remembered the shiny black pig on his HOG BOY t-shirt. That same pig was staring back out of the mirror at him now. He sat and stared at the reflection for a couple of minutes more. He just didn’t have a clue what to do. Then Dan spoke.

“Like I said. Rubberpig,” he murmured. He looked extremely pleased with himself. “Better pig than boy. Better handsome Hog than thieving Tom, I reckon.” He ran his palm down Tom’s rubber back and slapped him hard on the buttock. Tom squealed and shuffled forwards. He looked around the room in a sudden panic. He couldn’t see a way out. He turned around on the spot twice more. Dan was watching him. He looked delighted.

“No way out for you, Hog. Don’t worry about it, mate, you’ll get to like it down here,” he grinned. “I won’t forget you.” Then, without a backward glance, he moved over to the wall and pushed his booted toes into a foothold. Tom saw that they went all the way up to the trapdoor, like a climbing wall. Dan’s powerful body clambered up with ease, Tom watching wistfully as the meaty arse in brown rubber went up, the tube entry nestling under his butthole. A few seconds passed, and then Dan leapt back down again into the pile of inner tubes. He was carrying something. As he watched him scramble out of the tubes, Tom saw his tie hanging from the bundle and realised Dan was carrying his clothes.

“Better get rid of these. Don’t want Tom coming back for them, do we Hog?” said Dan. He walked over to the far side of the room where hot air was drifting in through a long, low air vent. Dan tugged it away from the wall and Tom briefly saw a red glow behind it before the clothes were carelessly shoved in and the grid replaced. Dan kicked out at another long metal panel, which tipped forward, revealing a long trough full of something that smelt of rotten vegetables. Tom trotted over to it. At first he wasn’t sure if this was another part of the waste disposal or the furnace, and then it struck him that this was what he was expected to eat.

“I think you get it, Hog. You eat from the trough. You might be a rubberpig but you’re still a pig, pigs eat swill, that’s swill, you eat it.” He crossed the room and lifted another small grid from the metal floor, leaving a hole about eight inches in diameter. “You shit in here, or else you let it pile up around you, and I don’t reckon you want that. There’s enough tubes in here to keep you comfortable. I’ll come down and see you when I get bored. Once the trapdoor’s closed there shouldn’t be too much fresh air down here, so you’ll be happy enough. And I know you’ll want more of this,” he grinned, squeezing his stomach and trumpeting out one last fart. Tom tried to catch the scent but it was already gone, as Dan climbed up out of the room once again. He looked down through the trapdoor and gave Tom another wink and a little salute. “See you, Hog!” he grinned, and then the trapdoor was closed and Tom was left alone in near-darkness.


***


He didn’t know how much time had passed, but Hog’s eyes had grown more used to the darkness. The furnace kept the room nice and warm, and as he watched himself in the mirror he noticed features of his firm rubber body that he’d missed before; a short, curly tail, and his hefty cock and balls which seemed to have kept their human shape and size, but were now made of the same shiny black latex as the rest of him. He’d expected Dan to come back, but enough time had passed now that he couldn’t ignore his rumbling stomach, and reluctantly he trotted over to the trough and began to gulp down the pigswill. The rancid taste of the rotting vegetables was still repellent to him, but there was no other food available, and he realised that he’d have to get used to it. Hog thought how horny Tom had got at the idea of being a rubberpig, and wondered what he would have done if he’d known how literally the fantasy would be realised. He paused, remembering the sixth-former’s clean-cut appearance, his smart uniform and his inexperience. One mistake, he thought, That’s all it took to get me here, one mistake. He grunted sadly to himself and then sniffed, fancying that he could still smell Dan’s fart lingering in the air. His fat cock pushed out between his back legs as he pushed his snout back into the trough, feasting on his pigswill and pushing his big, smooth, round rubber arse up behind him.