Squirm

Author: Trillimar
Title: Squirm
Date: 27 May 2006

Squirm by Trillimar (kmhs73@yahoo.com)

This is my first story, so please bear with me. If you have any questions or comments please feel free to get in touch. This story may be reproduced but please continue to give me credit. Thank you.

SQUIRM

Dreams and fantasies—these can be expressed in words but are rarely realized. For some, dreams are those desires never even spoken, with the fantasies that are lodged into our hearts, burning—to be free and to be lived.

Well months ago, I gave my dreams words. I gave my fantasies life. I began to chat in chat-rooms. I met friends who liked to hear my stories, both tops and bottoms responded. These were dreams that have been gestating for years. I wanted to be dominated by men—rock hard real men.

My first experiments involved pulling out all my camping gear and going into the basement. All that rope gave my young cock a hardness that I relished. I would crawl into my sleeping bag and slowly wind the rope around my ankles and then move further up my body. Eventually I would pull the ropes tight with my teeth. I would imagine being controlled by some stud who stumbled upon my campsite. I would then roll over and hump the floor until I came. I always just wished that there was someone to tie that final knot, someone to prevent me from rolling over, someone to share this, someone to control me. I would cry out when I came, more from frustration than orgasm.

Experiments became more and more complicated. The first addition that I added was to gag myself with my underwear. This was followed quickly by belts and ties reinforcing my restraints (although always allowing enough wiggle room to get out by myself). Next the t-shirts were added by wrapping them around my head to cut off my sight.

As a young guy, I was really active and eventually took up surfing, but it wasn’t for riding the waves, but for the wetsuits. I would crawl into a wetsuit or two before I would start my ritual of sleeping bag, ropes, belts, gagging. I needed the scene to be prolonged. I wanted someone to keep me in it forever, but I had to always let myself out. So I began to make it even more difficult. This was accomplished by handcuffs. The keys would be hidden someplace accessible but difficult to get to. The keys would be hidden under heavy chairs which I would have to nudge over with my head and body.

The longest I kept myself like that was almost three hours. I had been wearing two tight wetsuits, and my legs were bound together with three or four neckties. I would settle into that sleeping bag and start roping it up to about my waist. I would make sure everything was close by and gag and blindfold myself. I would wear a belt around my waist loose enough to allow one arm to be put through the belt. I would finish zipping up the sleeping bag, and tighten the ropes already arranged around my body. After leaving the ropes just loose enough that I could slip my arms back down behind my back and handcuff my hands, one inside and one outside the belt.

After all that work I was already sweaty and horny. The feeling of isolation was immense. Mobility was restricted. I wished, I wished, I wished to be like that forever. I eventually managed to roll over and struggled to get off, which was difficult since I had those two wetsuits and a sleeping bag to buck through. After I cum, I always wanted out. I wished someone would make me stay put and in bondage, but part of me wanted out too. It took a lot of effort to even get out of the bag. This time though I had been truly devious. The keys were in the toe of the bag. I had to slowly unzip that bag with my nose. A long hour of squirming, sweating and grunting, eventually got the zipper down, but the zipper didn’t go all the way down. So I would have to squirm around and try to shake the keys out the final few inches. Once again, when my fingers touched those keys, I would feel such a relief, but yet disappointed that it couldn’t last just a little longer.

All of this was my secret though. It was what I did alone, without anyone knowing, but now I was sharing it online. During my personal play sessions, I nurtured my imagination and my desires fed my fantasies. Much of this was fed by my desire to have something up my ass to give me the one thing I couldn’t and wouldn’t give myself. Even when I knew where to buy the toys that I would truly enjoy, I controlled myself saving myself for my man. Even though I had never met him, I desired him—I desired for him to take control of every hole. My mouth, my ears, my nose, my cock, and my ass would all be controlled by my man. Rubber and leather entered my fantasies as well. And although I was attracted to the men who were thickly pierced and inked, I was the preppy guy, friendly, athletic and sweet. I wanted the man to master me to pick my piercings and inkings.

Frustration and loneliness eventually took their toll. I was sick of vanilla. Fuck it. It was time to find what I needed, after 15 years of vanilla it was time for me to be the man I was. This is what led to my present situation.

My dreams have finally come true. I finally got what I wanted. I had met my master after looking on line for too long. The local bars were vanilla, and it seemed the only option. I shared my experiences. I shared my desires with many. I even took some up on their offers, and got my spanking and got my hogtie. But none of it was right. I was scripting it all. I was in control.

But then I found HIM. HE was perfect. HE said the right things. HE knew my soul. The only problem was that HE was in Europe. I had to teach HIM what the word ‘storage’ meant and what it meant to me, ‘To be stored in a box or closet and to have all my holes controlled by him and possibly done remotely.’ HE said HE was experienced and believed that it might not be possible, but we agreed that would be our long term goal. We talked about how I would need to be trained and how HE would respect yet stretch my limits. HE assured me that HE was strict yet caring and I felt both from HIM. We talked about liquid diets and catheters. We chatted about plugs and electro-stimulation. We talked about tattoos and piercings. We discussed leather and rubber.

I had no bills, and was temporary jobless. I began to think that a trip to Europe might do me good. I was becoming permanently hard, just seeing HIS name on an instant message would get me hard. I tried to masturbate, but that was becoming useless to me. I couldn’t cum anymore. I needed it to be real. HE kept asking me if I was real, if I was ready, if I had thought it through. I had, but my imagination could only take me so far. I would only know if I was ready if I tried. So when I was ready I made some arrangement for storing my things and went off on my innocent trip to Europe. I purposely brought very little. I didn’t bring anything from my old life, not even any of my gear. It was time to be reborn. I wore only a pair of jeans, a plain white t-shirt and a pair of sneakers. And I only carried my passport and tickets. I was naked as you could be and still be in public. When I would get off the plane, I would be picked up and taken to my new life. How little did I realize that my dreams and desires would come true.

Here I am standing, months later. Today is a cleaning day. My ankles are chained to the floor below. I have a thick and heavy cockring on keeping my dick hard and oozing. From the ring extend two short bars at the 2 and 10 o’clock positions. These bars end in steel restrains which hold my wrists—my hands are now just inches from my cock but cannot touch it. Had I really wanted this? A thick and heavy ball weight encircled my ball sack and is attached to a bungee cord connected to the floor between my legs.

The rings that HE had put into my nipples were connected to a bungee that led to the ceiling. With careful balance, I could find the ideal median that would not pull anything too tight. But HIS fun was not over. My ass was filled with a massive dildo. It had thick veins and it completely filled me. It was attached to a pole that kept it firmly placed in my ass. There was a bar attached to my waist that led parallel to the pole that held the dildo and was connected to some levers. If I squatted down low enough, which would force me to lunge the plug more fully into my ass and stretch my nipples, I would switch a toggle that would activate the shower heads above me with would then shoot hot water and steam own on me. Not enough to burn but enough to make it feel like it was burning. The only way to switch off the hot water was to squat high enough relieving my stretched balls and emptying my ass, but at the expense of almost pulling my balls off, and then the icy water would begin to rain down on me. I would have to turn on the hot and cold water about 1000 times each. I was showered like this about once a week although when I first arrived, the bungee cords were not as tight or the plug as thick, long and veiny, and maybe only fifty or a hundred times. Things blend and blur so much together now after so much training. I just know that HE wanted me to be clean, and this is how I shower. HE likes it when I exercise as well and everything has to be under HIS control or the control of HIS machines.

I begged HIM to control me completely and now HE has. When I first arrived, HE had me burn everything—my clothes, my return ticket and my passport. HE had picked me up at the airport and although friends and family knew I had gone to Europe, they did not expect me back for two months and I was purposely vague about my details. I had though I wanted this. I want this. HE was true to HIS word and took it easy, expanding and stretching my limits. But since I never left the house and since something was always bound they were being stretched very quickly. I might only be chained by the neck in the dungeon but I always had no say on what was happening.

After about two weeks we had our first outing. I was really excited. Although we had some intense sessions, I was still under the illusion that I could still back out someway. HE had placed a plug up my ass, and then dressed me in a rubber suit and then followed by leather racing leathers and boots. The snugness made me feel so secure. I then had my ears plugged and mouth gagged and then had a heavy hood placed over my head completely blinding me as well. A crash helmet completed the illusion of a biker and I was lead to his bike. HE helped me onto the bike and HE took me for a ride. We rode for hours and I was in heaven. From all the turns, we could be anywhere. Actually I originally thought we had returned to HIS place. HE led me inside and I then realized we were someplace else. HE helped me to sit in a chair and went away. I assume HE was having a conversation in a language that I did not understand, but it wasn’t long before I sensed some movement around me. One set of hands held my shoulders firmly in the chair, while the other started to fumble with the zippers of the two suits around my cock. I wasn’t about to complain, plus I wasn’t able to complain when I felt strong hands fish out my cock. It was held gingerly, while it seemed the two people were having a conversation. Then I felt PAIN—a pain that screamed through my cock straight to my brain and hen back again. They had just pierced me. HE had just decided to have me pierced. I said I had wanted to be forcibly pierced and marked, but I was not prepared for this. I so wanted to see my pierced cock, but I was only allowed to feel it. I would not be able to see it for about two weeks after, when HE was personally stretching it. From our conversations I know that we both agreed that it would be hot that any piercing I had should be stretched to at least 0 gauge, and HE is definitely a man of his word. Over the past few months, more and piercing have been placed in me, and he has started having me inked as well, but he has been preventing me from seeing most of it. I always stressed that I wanted to be a canvas for his pleasure and not mine. I am perpetually becoming more and more a thing. I am becoming a toy and a canvas and am leaving my human beingness behind. I would originally have thought I would be the luckiest man around months ago, but now I realized my error. I am not a man, I am becoming a thing. I am the luckiest toy and the luckiest canvas.

One of the topics HE and I had talked about over and over again was ‘storage.’ I wanted to be stored like a toy when not in use. I wanted that storage to become longer and longer. This really turned HIM on and we both got hot from it. I told him about how I used to tie myself up in sleeping bags, and this got HIM even more excited. Well now I am in the midst of my storage training. HE has promised me a special treat if I make six days. I have mixed feelings about this ‘special treat’ but then remind myself that it really is not up to me. It will be HIS special treat. My humanity is shrinking the longer my ‘storage’ sessions last.

Today is standing ‘storage.’ I am in a thick and heavy chastity belt with a strap up my ass keeping in a think plug. The rings that had been placed in my cock were used to more firmly lock my cock into the belt. I have just had my monthly cum, which is designed to keep me on edge. Over this is a rubber suit followed by a heavy leather suit. A posture collar keeps my head still and keeps the hood that plugs and blinds me firmly sealed. My gut is so hungry. I have not eaten solid foods in months just the tube that feeds me water and liquid nutrition, and this session was extra special because I was on a respirator this time. This has been something that has been added to the routine lately, and my lungs have been rebelling against the control. I constantly have to remind myself to stay calm and to relax and allow HIM and his toys to control me, because fighting it is futile. My arms are bound behind me and chained tightly to the ceiling. Though simple it completely immobilized me and I it has taken months for me to be trained to make my three day mark. There was nothing to do but to stand there hunched over and to wait. Swallowing whatever comes into my moth and letting the catheter in my dick to tae care of the rest.

After training sessions, there was usually an exercise session. This time it was a running day. I was simply placed on a treadmill, with the piercings in my cock chained to the hand rail, and a heart rate monitor placed on my chest. I had to keep a steady but manageable heart rate till HE returned. It could be long or short. I never knew till it ended. Although I was usually blindfolded when I was forced to run, my mouth was usually free to breathe. It was one of the few times my mouth was uncontrolled and I really enjoyed it, but this time, HE decided that the respirator would be used when I was running as well. The machines started up. I felt so controlled. My legs just moved so I would not pull off my dick, and my chest filled and emptied at a fair rate. If it was only free instead. HE was kind, and my run session was just a short three hours instead of the four like last time. I think HE was being kind since HE added the respirator this time. But I had gone crazy. I had forgotten where I was. As soon as he removed the mask, I broke a rule that was supposedly trained out of me. I screamed, ‘FUCK!’ I regretted it instantly.

Regrets. I have learned a lot about regrets. It is best to leave them behind. Sometimes I regret coming to HIM, and abandoning my old life. But I have found that it is useless and to just let life be. Well I am regretting now, what I had done. But regret will not prevent or change what is about to happen.

A thick heavy metal plug is placed in my ass, roughly and without the concern that HE usually shows me. I am then crammed in a tight and heavy rubber suit and then a leather suit follows. Both only have a nose hole to breathe through. The respirator is then placed on my face as well. I hate this thing, but I will soon learn to accept it, because He wishes it. I am then placed in an old-fashioned sweat box, like those found in gyms. These things get hot! I am quickly locked inside. My hands are free and I am allowed to play with myself. But it is so hard to concentrate. I sweat so much I feel like I am turning inside out, but worse yet, all the piercings and the metal plug are starting to heat up from the steam and it feels like white hot steel burning me all over my body. Time passes and I contemplate my situation.

But as soon as I begin to accept my situation, I am unlocked and stripped quickly and without any tenderness. HE immediately begins winding coarse canvas around my body tightly. I am quickly immobilized and am becoming a mummy. It is done quickly and roughly so that most of the heat does not escape. I am forced to lie down on a thin stretcher attached to a winch. I am quickly raised high in the ground and moved and then dropped. But I did not hit the ground. I am plunged into a ice water bath. I try to take a deep breathe from the shock, but the respirator just goes at its steady rate. I must accept it. After the canvas is soaked though, the winch raises me up and I’m allowed to dry allowing the canvas to shrink tighter and tighter around me. As soon as it is dried through, I am dropped again into the icy bath, but this time I am prepared and try to accept the pace of the respirator.

After I was dried again, I was placed in the hot box again. My mind was spinning from the radical changes in temperature. The only constant in my life was to accept the steady and consistent pace of the respirator. I truly began to accept it, not because I had to, but because I wanted to. I focused on it so I could ignore the rest of my body. I was eventually thankful that HE gave me the respirator. HE knows what I needed and now I glad accept and relish the respirator.

Afterwards he said I was a good boy and that I will be ready for my treat soon.

When I was first chatting and emailing with HIM, HE had sent me a wonderful piece of art by GothDog called NetWorm. As soon as I saw, I knew I wanted that and told HIM, that it will happen if I trusted HIM. Anytime I doubted or was scared before I left America and my old home, HE would say, ‘It will happen, Eric.’ Well my training has been going strong and I have now made it to 6 days. HE spoke to me. HE said, ‘It is going to happen now, NetWorm.’

A catheter was first shoved into my cock deep into my bladder, and then an enema tube was forced into my ass. The ends of all of the tubes were balloons that were then blown up to prevent me from expelling them. I was then placed in the most wonderful suit ever. It had a sleeve for my cock that firmly kept it pointing down preventing me from getting hard. The catheter was threaded though a while which joined the ass tubes which all went out one large hole in the back of the suit. Although my legs were in separate legs of the suit they were bonded together and my toes were forced into a sharp pointed stretch. It would be completely impossible for me to stand in this suit. My arms were put into sleeves of the suit that were already bonded to the sided of the body of the suit. The suit had a tight hood attached as well. It plugged all my holes and had a feeding tube and a respirator.

I was placed into a relatively large tiled room where all of my tubes were connected into sockets in the wall. The first time I became NetWorm, HE stayed with me and stroked me, but I soon learned what was expected of HIS rubber worm. I did not notice at first but my cock, ass and nipples were wired. If my ass was shocked I was supposed to squirm forward, my ass backwards, my left nip was to turn left, and my right nipple was turn right. My first sessions were just to train me to be responsive to these stimuli. I could not help but remember crawling around in my sleeping bag when I was younger. The circle was beginning to close and my life was about to be complete. I would be completely controlled by HIM. Webcams were installed in the room and HE gave out the address to HIS close friends.

Now for six days a week I have my own interactive web show, where you can direct where I squirm on my wormy belly. All my feeding, breathing and waste is managed by tubes and HIM. I am finally complete and completely controlled.