The process part 1

Author: kinkyaussieboi
Title: The process, part 1
Date: 01 February 2017

I woke up in a daze in what was certainly the club bathroom. I could tell from the pungent scent of the piss soaked floor which I lay on and from the thump, thump, thump of the dance music beyond the heavily postered door. Not to mention the shrill voices of a couple of guys whining that I'd been on the toilet for ages. I'd clearly had too much to drink again or worse - someone might have spiked my drink! Heaving myself up towards the toilet bowl I then noticed and felt the slick black rubber covering my weakened arms and hands, extending all over my tired body. Somewhat confused and instantly horny, I stood up and felt around the back of my neck to see if the thick and tightly strapped rubber collar I noticed was locked as I worriedly suspected. Sure enough it was.

Though I was strangely aroused by my predicament, my feelings of worry began to overtake my horniness. You see, while I had gone out to the club that night I did not remember wearing any rubber - although we were all into the gear, it was strictly a non fetish night with a couple of friends who logically should have come looking for me and found me. My watch gone, I had no idea of the time, but the continued thump, thump, thump of the dance music pushing at the door suggested that it was perhaps the early hours of the morning. Before leaving the stalls, I unzipped the crotch of the suit and took what was possibly the longest piss of all time. I really must have drunk a lot.

As the banging on the stall door intensified, I called out for them to stop and that I was coming. I heard something retorted along the line of going to a sex venue if I wanted to do that. The guy was obviously a comedian. Certainly he was amused by my rubbered body as I exited the stall. His friend touched my arm, pulling me halfway round to face them. Their laughter intensified and even though I was fairly confident wearing gear out to venues, I sensed redness emerging from the depths of my cheeks.

"Looks like you're thirsty. How about you open that pretty mouth of yours for me whilst my friend uses the stall." It was said without inflection, more an expectation than a request.

"No thanks. Not my scene." I pushed past them both, to be hit from behind with the juvenile huffs of 'how rude' and and cheery "night night piss boy" as I re-entered the beating, barely illuminated labyrinth leading back to the dance floor.

Looking for my friends was going to be a challenge. The club was heaving at capacity with sweaty half naked bodies grinding against each other, all slaves to the thump, thump, thump of the music. While I had to find my friends, I was also conscious of the locked collar keeping the rubber suit on and the sweat starting to build up between the latex and my encased skin. Despite the enjoyment of my dick expanding in the generous crotch section of the suit, I sought out one of the technical guys to see if they had bolt cutters or something. I could just wear the suit home, but the collar needed to come off.

Two club employees and their amused (one definitely was aroused by the rubber) expressions later, I squished and slithered my way towards the bar at the front of the club. It took an eternity to get through the sea of bodies and the many hands touching me up - rubber tends to evoke many a gay man's curiosity (and more than a few straight boys too, only after being 'reluctantly' egged on by their mates or girlfriends - but that's another story). I asked for Ryan, the club manager who apparently would 'most likely' (but not for certain) have cutters for the padlock.

He gave me the up-and-down and smiled upon seeing me. "Hey, you must be Harry? I have something for you." He went round the back and returned with what appeared to be my mobile phone.

"Shit, thank you so much! This might sound strange, but I don't suppose you have my clothes and keys as well?"

"Sorry mate, but your SIR has all of those. Apparently you know where to find him."

"SIR? Sorry? What are you taking about? I'm..."

"...a slave. Yeah, I get it. Love the get-up. Never tried rubber myself, but love how guys look trussed up in it."

Admittedly I was flattered, but now definitely worried I'd gotten myself into something I was going to regret the more I found out. Ryan looked innocent enough - whatever was going on I don't think he was in on it. Though looking at him I could think of worse people to be involved with!

"Thanks, I guess. Sorry to be a bother, but I don't suppose you've got something to cut this padlock off?" I turned around, holding the end of the lock for Ryan to see. "Not really something I want to go wearing outside, you know?"

"Sorry, I don't have anything that would cut through that. Your SIR likely has the key for it - probably should go find him." With more guys lining up at the bar, Ryan went back to help his crew. "Good luck piss boy," he said with a wave.

Piss boy? Why did I keep getting called that? I couldn't see any yellow stripes or patches, unless there was something on the back of my suit. Just my luck too - I love rubber but the only water sports I enjoy are those on actual water. Opening my phone I noticed a couple of confusing messages from my friends James and Dan who had now seemingly moved on to a bar up the road and wished me a horny time. I texted back saying I was okay and was tired so would head home. No immediate response so I assumed they were all too out of it by now - it had been several hours since they'd messaged. Just how long had I been out of it on that bathroom floor?!

After working through several friendly - albeit drunken - texts, I came across a random number. The first words of the message showing before swiping to open it read 'Hey urinal.' A nervous feeling erupted in my gut as I opened what was certainly a message from this SIR.

Hey urinal. It's SIR here. You're probably wondering what the hell is going on (yes, yes I was). Long story short: I own you and as you agreed it is most definitely for the best. Since you're reading this message I presume you've had your fill and so now it is time to come home. In case you forgot, come to ________. Press the green button on the panel and select 56 before pressing #. I'll buzz you up. Assume position once outside the apartment door.

Shit and double shit! How had I gotten myself into this mess? Surely it had to be a prank of some kind. It had to be. Maybe James or Dan were behind it. They always talk about master-slave stuff when we play, although they know that it's really only the rubber that I like. That said, my cock suggested I wasn't entirely against my predicament. I did attempt to text back but I received nothing back. Hoping and convincing myself that this was all for a weird laugh by my kink buddies, I set off for the apartment to meet this 'SIR'.

It was only a 10 minute walk from the strip. Not that I am ashamed of my fetish, but I kept criss crossing streets to avoid people where possible, especially after I got lots of attention on the footpath just outside the club entrance. I did encounter a couple of people on the walk, but only one looked up from their phone to notice what I was wearing. As I hurried off, I turned and saw him try and snap a photo of me. I hope it turned out blurry - not so keen on photos showing up online!

***

Standing before the door to apartment 56 I couldn't help but feel nervous again. The voice who'd answered the intercom before buzzing me up was unfamiliar, but he didn't sound dangerous. That said, you can never be too careful these days. Occasionally the papers report how a guy was found roped up in a compromising position in his house or worse. It's almost perversely interesting how the media can never bring themselves to report that the guy was having kinky sex - but I guess that's not really PG or mainstream.

As the door opened I kind of braced myself thinking I could make a dash for it should the guy be psycho. Either way, he had the key to my collar and presumably my clothes and wallet, and knew me based on the fact I was wearing gear selected by him. Just I didn't remember playing with him, let alone even getting into rubber tonight. I really should be scared to the point of going to the police (that would be commonsense, right?), but my cock kept pressing against the rubber and I felt compelled to uncover the truth. I just hoped on the other side of the door were James and Dan.

To my shock but not entirely dismay, the man who appeared before me was not James or Dan. But he did not look psychotic. He was actually fairly nice looking - not my usual type, but around my age and dressed in tee and shorts. Hardly what I'd have expected someone calling himself 'SIR' to look like.

"Er...SIR? Hi?"

He looked me up and down. His initial smile soon turned into a serious look. "Urinal, what did I say you were meant to do on arrival?"

"Look, sorry mate (a flash of anger in his eyes prompted a stutter) ...um...SIR, but I'm not sure what's going on here. This isn't really my thing. Can I just get my clothes and wallet and I'll give you this gear back and we'll call it a night?"

He said nothing but walked right up to me and put his hands on my shoulders. Before I could say anything else he forced me to my knees and tilted my head forward.

"I said to assume position. That's better - remember this." Before he'd even finished the last word he clipped what I assumed to be a leash to the D ring at the back of the collar.

"Really, just give my stuff back and I'll go. I'm not up for this." I looked up at him, but before I could stand he pushed my head down and held it there.

"Urinal, I am not going to go through this with you again. And you already have your clothes - you're wearing them. I don't want anymore complaints. Now come inside on your knees and face the corner at the end of the corridor. Not another word."

In a sudden panic, despite the horniness, I made a rush down the outside corridor, pulling the leash out of the man's surprised grip. Halfway down the corridor I realised I'd made a mistake - I'd run the wrong way. However, there might be another set of stairs or lifts in this direction as it was a large building. As I turned the corner my hopes were dashed - a window overlooking the streets below. Behind me I could hear the unhurried footsteps of the man who believed he owned me.

"Urinal, what are you doing?" He spoke softly but firmly, sending a chill up my spine.

"Look, I'm not your urinal or slave or whatever. I just want to go home."

"What do you mean you're not my urinal? Of course you are. Look..." He tilted his head in the direction of a mirror on the wall adjacent to the floor to ceiling window, the space between them marked by a potted fern.

It only took me a micro second of looking into the mirror for my hands to grab my bald head and proceed to rub the black lettering on my forehead which read: URINAL. It didn't smudge, it didn't fade, although there was a reddish hue across the surrounding area. I turned to the man, a sudden pang of fear attacking me all over.

"What the hell? What the HELL?! Are you fucking serious?! What have you done to me?!"

"Calm down," he said as he approached me further. "This is exactly what you wanted, remember? And before you wake anyone in the building up with unnecessary screaming, yes you have been tattooed and yes it is permanent. The collar is not permanent, but will be eventually."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing from this man. How could I have willingly allowed this? He must have drugged me or something. He was definitely psychotic and I needed to get away. Now.

"I know you're thinking about running urinal, but please don't." His previous anger had now completely faded and he spoke quite charmingly - it was perhaps scarier than before yet it stopped me in my tracks. "You did ask for this and I have delivered...almost. Now come inside urinal. I am sure you have a lot of questions you want answered."

Thinking for a moment, perverse curiosity got the better of me and I submitted to his request - I was escorted back to apartment 56, or I should say I was pulled along with the leash now gripped again in the man's hand. Once the door closed behind me he directed me to the end of the corridor as before. As I knelt and tilted my head towards the corner, I could hear several locks being shut on the back of the door. I was trapped. I was sure this guy was crazy, but I had allowed myself to be taken in here...hand't I? My cock jumped a little in the suit as I realised the predicament I was in was very real. My thoughts turned to James and Dan (they could still be behind this, but surely not the tattoo? Was it even real?) and how they always joked that there was a rubber bondage slave within me just begging to be locked up. But no, it wasn't my thing, although my cock was suggesting that might not be entirely true.

I decided it was best to remain in position, not wanting to bring down the possible wrath of this man. I could hear him moving things in the room near the front door. A minute or two later he re-emerged and I could hear his muffled, uncovered footsteps come up behind me.

"Okay urinal, hands behind your back."

I hesitated at first, but a more aggressive regurgitation of the initial command encouraged me to obey. In no time I felt heavy handcuffs shut and lock around my wrists.

"Good, glad you consented."

"I didn't consent. I..."

"You just held out your hands behind your back for me to cuff. You followed me back to the apartment. Before that you showed up at the apartment. You very much consented, urinal."

Just as I went to turn around to protest, a ball gag found its way into my opening mouth. I tried to push it out with my lips but he'd managed to get it in a fraction of a moment quicker than I could resist and in 30 seconds it was buckled tight and locked. I sighed heavily into the gag and slumped forward towards the corner.

"Good. You've finally relented. But remember you did ask for this. You asked for all of this and I promised I would deliver. I'm almost halfway there with you. I know it's taken some time to get here, but don't worry it will all work out in the end. You'll see."

Presumably he had more gear to add judging by that comment. Based on the stock standard fetish story, I technically should be wearing permanent chastity by now! There was something in his voice that both disturbed me and aroused me. He had a rather sexy voice that was reassuring in its tone. I also guess I kind of did like bondage a little bit after all since my cock had swelled considerably. It moved about with ease inside the sweaty rubber, almost dancing and edging itself - the pre-cum adding continuous lubrication. This did not help me in my predicament. Based on his next few words, it was clear he had sensed it too.

"I bet you're all hard, horny and sweaty in that rubber, urinal. Up you get. Follow me."

He pulled me up by the collar with the leash before leading me back down the corridor to the room immediately to the left of the front door. What I saw was surprising yet predictable: a St Andrews cross against the far wall, a jungle gym looking apparatus in the middle of the room, a door on the wall opposite to the cross and a metal cage to the side of the apparatus. It wasn't a dungeon in the fetish fantasy sense, but it was more heavy equipment than I had seen in person. And standing there rubbered, collared, cuffed and gagged, I knew it was all meant for me. At least just for tonight...I hoped.

I was taken to the cross at the far side of the room. He attached my collar to a chain ring link at the back first to 'ensure I don't do anything silly' before removing my cuffs and locking me hands and then ankles to the heavier cuffs on the sides. Once secured, a zip at my rear was pulled and a plug was worked up inside of me. I was very much on display. I tried to moved about, but it only encouraged the newly inserted plug to torment my arse. My thoughts turned to trying to avoid shooting my load - I doubted very much I'd be released from bondage if I did. Better to stay in that blissfully-torturous state than to be that opposite state of mind and body.

"You look hot, urinal. Very hot. Now I know you have lots of questions and I will answer them. I can see by your eyes and from your grunts that you want the gag removed. No need. I already know what you will ask anyway, so it stays on. Besides, you wanted this. You asked for this. You begged for this. Now you have it so enjoy it. You know the best is for last. Ah, I see you're confused. I expected this to happen every now and then. It's part of the process. But don't worry, everything will work out fine in the end. It's been nearly 4 months now and everything is on schedule."

Four months?! On hearing that I instantly began thrashing against my restraints and yelling into the gag, only for pathetic indistinguishable noises to emerge. My plug began to push heavily on my prostrate and I somehow stopped myself out of fear of shooting. The man, this person who claimed to be my SIR watched on somewhat amused. After I tired myself out some minutes later he continued.

"That's better. You complained more last time. Now, you clearly want to know whether I have indeed kept you for 4 months. Let me clarify. You moved in with me 4 months ago, give or take a few days. This is your bedroom, although you spent most of your awake time this past month in the bathroom which you will return to later. The tattoo is most certainly permanent - you received it earlier today. That's why you're not hooded right now, although that will change in the coming days and weeks. Eventually you will always wear a hood. Something to look forward to."

He smiled a massive grin as he said that. His face lit up, revealing him to be actually quite handsome. He could see that I was confused and, well terrified by this point.

"I can see that I need to show you the video again. It's okay, this is to be expected during the first months of processing. Here, watch..."

I viewed with intrigue but also horror as I sat in front of a camera and confessed that I desired to become a 24/7 rubber gimp urinal with no hope of release and no normalcy to my life. I spoke about my thirst for piss and how I wished to have it fill my stomach and to recycle as much as I could, drinking as much as possible each day. I agreed to be processed into a total urinal by having my memory and personality stripped from me over time, eventually leaving me in a mindless drone state. I finished by begging for this to happen more than anything in the world. He ended the video on my phone, which he had picked up off the floor when I attempted to run. How had I not realised this was on my phone and when had I agreed to all of this? It was me, but I would never have asked for this. Would I?

"So, urinal, I hope that answers some more of your questions. As for why you cannot recall when you agreed or why you agreed, that's because I used a little hypno trick on you when we went on a date some time ago. You were so keen for rubber, but you didn't want the bondage side of things. That just wasn't going to work for me. You jokingly agreed to be put under, thinking it would have no effect and you'd then win the right to top me. That was never going to happen. While I did use hypnosis to get you into bondage, I could never have imagined what I'd unleash within you. Your friends James and Dan were really impressed by your initial transformation into a bondage pig. They've been really supportive of your ultimate decision too - in fact they said they loved how you gulped down all their piss at the club tonight. Hearing you grunt and nod when they called you rubber slave and piss boy, putting out your face so eagerly really turned them on. You just couldn't get enough - in the end I let you stay longer until you couldn't take anymore. My buddy Ryan (so he was in on it) ensured you got a little rest before helping you back to me.

Hypnosis is a great tool for unlocking deep desires. Of course, the process to becoming a urinal is infinitely more complicated. However, I need not explain it to you as it doesn't really matter. Within a few more months you will cease to be Harry and will simply become urinal. That is all you need to remember at this stage. It's what you wanted and what you need. You're made to drink piss."

My eyes must have been bulging from their sockets. Basically this man tricked me into asking for all of this. It was unethical, cruel, hell it was illegal and a violation of my rights. Yet the more he revealed to me the harder I got. He noticed my bulge and bent down a little to pat it. It swelled more and more and I began bucking in the hope he would unzip me and give me some relief - just touching it would help. That wasn't to be.

"Your cock betrays your eyes, urinal. I know you must be thinking I have manipulated you. It's true, I have manipulated you, but only into begging for what you really crave, what has always been deep inside you but that which you would never allow yourself to enjoy. Everyone has such desires, but few ever take the plunge or are in a position to do so. I am here to help that happen, to give you what few ever get to achieve."

Somehow I knew what he said was true. Perhaps I am a rubber bondage pig. But a urinal, stripped of my personality and mental capacity? That was twenty thousand steps too far. Though as I pulled against my restraints and tried unsuccessfully to move my gag away from my lips, it was clear that I was in no position to reject what he offered and what I seemingly, crazily begged for on camera.

"You can stay like that for now, urinal. I know, I know, you must want my piss really bad, even after drinking all night. Don't worry, I'll get you when I need to piss and we'll get you all trussed up back in the bathroom. You like the bathroom, I know you do. But you'll look even better in the one at the new place once it is finished. It should be ready just before you finally succumb to the last phase of the process. Anyway, hang in there for now. I'll be back soon."

As he switched off the light and shut the door, I was left with so many new questions and sensations. What was this process, what awaits me in the bathroom, and what's so special about the new one he is building? And of course the sudden vibrating movements of the plug hitting my prostrate just enough to keep me horny but not allowing me to cum only encouraged me to take pleasure in the thought of becoming urinal. Yes, I was going to become urinal. What...what am I saying?!

To be continued...