This one’s a little out there, just as a warning. The second part especially.
It had been dark, but that was the fucking point, right? How in the hell could I have known what he was? Hell, for all I know, last night, he’d looked normal, just like everyone else in there, just like me, dressed up in my leather harness, kneepads advertising my preferred position, looking to have some fun with people I wouldn’t have to introduce myself to the next morning. I was young, muscular, men wanted me, this, I felt, is what I was made for, in some way. Is that what drew him to me? Did he just choose me? I don’t remember, but I saw the shadow of him framed in the dim light of the bar away from the depravity, and that was enough to catch my interest.
His silhouette was leather–a bit bulkier than someone in rubber, body heavy with a jacket, legs thick with pants. The smoothness of his head signaled a hood of some kind, and from the sheen of it, I guessed rubber, but couldn’t be certain. We cruised each other; he seemed hesitant, taking one step closer, then backing up quickly, like he wasn’t quite sure he wanted to, like something was worrying him. In the end, I approached him. I told him I was clean, that he didn’t have to worry–all he did was moan in response, and press his leather clad body close to mine. The feel of the fabric was strange, not quite like real leather at all. Maybe he was just being cheap, and went for something less expensive and easier to clean. The jacket was closed and zipped, so I couldn’t access his body, aside from the lower half of his face. We were kissing, and I remember how sweaty and hot he felt, almost feverish, pressing his body to me, I felt his cock pressing against mine, through his leather, and my jockstrap. He must have unzipped, though I hadn’t heard a zipper, because a moment later it was out and grinding up against my pouch, exploring it, getting it sopping wet with precum.
I remember I reached down to touch it, and faster, he grabbed my wrists and pinned me to the wall, grinding up against me, sucking at my neck, drool all over me. It was…sticky, I remember thinking that, but it was kind of hot, how hungry he was for me, and then he flipped me around against the wall, wrists still pinned above me, and he started poking at my hole with his cock. Now, I knew he couldn’t have had a condom on–the soaked pouch cupping my junk was proof of that–but as his cock slipped between my cheeks it felt…rubbery, like it had a condom on it. That was the first thing that I really noticed, that triggered a bit of alarm, but I was on PrEP, and happy to fuck raw if that’s what a top wanted. I thought I was safe. His cock, it seemed soft, somehow, the way it seemed to explore my crack, slip around my hole. I worried he might not be able to get inside of me, but with one thrust, he pushed in deep, my hole just, opening up for him. I remember feeling really wet, and assumed he was just that much of a leaker, and he just kept fucking me. My hole went numb, and he kept fucking me. I thought he was shooting inside me, but he just kept going, and then I started to feel…strange. Sick to my stomach and dizzy. His hands were still locked on my wrists, but I remember looking down, my vision going blurry, and my stomach, which was always meticulously flat, looked…distended.
I passed out not too long after that, I think. He was still fucking me, and then I woke up here. I still don’t know where here is–some derelict building from the look of it. I think we’re a few floors up, from the way the light came in when I woke up. I was still in my gear from the night before–or at least, I assume it was the night before. I don’t know how long I was out, but it couldn’t have been that long, right? When I woke up, I was alone, as far as I could tell, and I stood up, my legs shaky, trying to remember what had happened, but knowing whatever was going on, I needed to get the hell out of here. I tried to get out of the bathroom, but felt something tugging me back. Looking back…something rubbery was connecting the back of my harness to the tile behind me, like a leash, or a web. I grabbed hold of the door frame, trying to pull myself through, and while the thing stretched to a point, it refused to break, I snapped back, reached around and tried to feel what the thing was–I couldn’t get a good grip, really, but it was adhered to the back of my harness somehow, and I couldn’t feel a seam–it went straight from odd goo to the feel of my leather. I figured I could at least just get out of my harness, but soon discovered something strange as well. I couldn’t unhook the buckles. I couldn’t even pull the leather straps away from my skin–it hurt when I tried, like someone had superglued the thing to me…and then…I think it had had enough of me fucking with it, because it started to squeeze–hard. The leather just…contracted, and I couldn’t breathe…and at the same time, I felt my jockstrap start…squeezing my cock, all on its own. I tried to get that off too, but it too, had somehow stuck to my body. I couldn’t rip it, not without feeling like I was going to rip my cock and balls apart in the process.
Bracken's Corner 