The Process Pt 1

Author: drool
Title: The Process Pt 1
Date: 12 February 2009

The fuzz began to lift in his mind. Where was he? What wad happened? He remembered the bar, loud music, stumbling home. Then nothing. Slowly, methodically, he began to open his eyes. It took him a few moments to get his bearings, but he began to realise he was encapsulated in near total darkness. He was lying on his side on a hard floor, and only a thin shaft of light pierced the absoluteness of the darkness. He raised his hand to rub his face, and was immediately alarmed. He saw it before him, but didn’t quite know what to make of it. His hand was replaced by a ball of some sort. It gleamed faintly as it caught the thin light in the room. He tried to stretch his hand. It was unresponsive; he felt it now, it was curled tightly into a fist, and no matter what kind of force he exerted, he could not straighten it out. It was trapped inside the shiny black ball at the end of his wrist.

The sense of alarm in him grew rapidly as his eyes traced the line of his limb. The shiny blackness continued down his arm. He sat up sharply in shock. The creak of a foreign sounding material and the rattle of a chain accompanied his sudden movement. He felt something enveloping his body. It was tight, restrictive, smooth. His eyes frantically searched over his body, unless the darkness was playing tricks on his vision, the blackness that crept up his arms enveloped his entire body. The sheen played in the light as he began to explore his foreign looking surface with his balled hands. There was a sudden rapid pounding in his ears. Mind numbing pain. His eyes rolled back in his head. Then darkness.


He dreamt. Ugly shards of images broke through his unconscious mind. A deep, cruel laughter. ‘You wanted it. Now you’ve got it.’ A Germanic sounding voice issued. There was a clinking sound of metal. A loud creaking sound. Cool air rippled across his body. It felt strangely close as it swept over his skin. His eyes roved drunkenly around the cold white room around him. A gloved hand stretched its grasp before it recoil into a tight fist. The knuckles flushed under the silver grommets of the glove. ‘You chose well.’ The voice said. ‘I know.’ Another replied. Darkness.


It was a single bead of sweat that crawled down his back that woke him. It tickled as it rolled around the curve of his ribcage. He did not know how much time had passed. He rolled his head on the floor on which he lay. It was hard. Something close to his skin stretched over it and pulled at it. He rolled over and tried to yawn. He was unable. Something filled his mouth. He quickly raised his hands to his face, forgetting that his hands remained balled into fists. The room was still dark, so he could see little apart from the shine of the thick blackness that covered his body. His clenched hands met his face, seaching across the surface. There was a heavy series of straps wrapping over his head, and a large, thick cover over his mouth. It was some kind of muzzle, with a large protrusion on the inside that had entered and filled his mouth. What was going on? Why was he gagged?

Suddenly the room lit up. Bright fluorescent light exposed the horror of his situation before him. He was surrounded by concrete. A room, a cell maybe 8 feet by 8, made entirely of concrete. Before him was a doorway, a heavy iron door, opened on its hinges, showing him the way out of this grim prison. Putting his weight on his fists, he planted his black clad feet onto the ground and stood. Or, he tried to. His head raised barely a few feet of the ground before he felt the iron grasp of the chain that was bolted to the floor. He fell back down. As he did so, he caught sight of himself in a mirror that waited outside of the door.

What he saw was at first alien, then terrifying. He was covered, enveloped, sealed, from head to toe in thick, black, shiny rubber. No skin, not even a fraction, showed. His hands were inside right black rubber mitts. His feet inside rubber feet. His mouth, rendered useless from a heavy rubber muzzle, from which a pipe of a few inches protruded. His eyes were even glossed over with some kind of mirrored rubber. He hurriedly rose himself to his knees to look at himself. What was this sight before him? The thick rubber gripped tightly to his sculpted body, creaking softly and rippling gently as he moved, exploring his new body. A heavy collar wrapped round his neck, the heavy steel chain attached to the floor locked tightly to it. A quick feel with his mittened hands revealed the collar was locked on at the rear, as was a heavy zipper the base of his neck. This was not him? Was it? He had been young, virile, well built and well defined. A shock of blond hair had crowned his head, now there was nothing but a tight black dome of a rubber skull that resided at the top of his head.

‘Now you see,’ The voice from his dreams echoed inside his ears. Headphones. ‘Now you see what you truly are. What you have always been beneath. What you have always wanted to become. What you will know exist as for the rest of your life.’ He roared into his gag in rage. A violent electrical jolt surged into his hard penis. One that, while it throbbed, he felt it trapped tightly in some kind of chastity device.

His mind whirled. He had seen all this things before. Seen them on the images, in magazines, in videos. He had read about them, dreamt about them, fantasised about them. He had never once acted on them, but recognised everything he felt and saw on him.

‘You really should be more careful about who it is you talk to on the internet. Anything can be done, for a price. That includes the relocating of people. The reason you were kept mostly unconscious this past week was so that your skin could adapt to prolonged encasement, and adapt to its new hairless state. In the coming months, you will begin to recall how you got here. You will begin to understand how your life will play out. You will remember the way your life used to be, and you will be made to forget it. Your spirit will be crushed, your mind and body broke, and you will be rebuilt. You will cease to exist. An object will be all that remains. In one year, you the object will be able to leave the room it now knows as home. In one year, the man that paid me to do this to you will return, and you will disappear forever.

Whether your fantasies were merely idle dreams of masturbation or genuine desires means little now. The darkest thoughts inside your head were unleashed and told to the wrong person. Now those thoughts have trapped you. As I said, whether you wanted this or not is now irrelevant, it is all you are and will become. You may have heard it said before,’ A cruel smile crept across the lips of the speaker, ‘But resistance is futile.’

The lights snapped off once again, and the room plunged into darkness. The pounding bass began inside his ears again, the pain ripped through his brain, and he blacked out once more. His future now sealed.