I’m currently open for flash commissions like this one! For more details, check out this post, or send me a message!

Sure, maybe it was a bit early in our relationship for kinky gifts, but you see how eager I am when you pull the thing out of the box…though you don’t know what you are looking at. It looks a bit like a leather bag of some sort, but it is stitched in the strangest pattern, so that it looks almost lumpy. You ask me what it is, and I tell you it’s a sheath–it’s meant to go over your cock and balls–I tell you it feels amazing, and you give me an incredulous look.

It isn’t like you haven’t worn leather before. In fact, you quite like it, but this seems a bit ridiculous. You don’t want to seem ungrateful though, so you agree to try it on. The leather, when you first felt it in your hand, seemed kind of thick–but when you pulled it over the head of your cock, it was surprisingly supple instead, and the sensation of the leather against the head made you get erect almost immediately. You didn’t know what kind of leather it was made from, but it had quite a bit of stretch to it. It took both of us to get it in place around both your cock and balls, and then pull the drawstring running through the base tight–I knotted the cord around it again, which only made you harder, and then gave you a teasing stroke.

You shuddered, hard, which was sexy as hell. Much to your surprise, it felt way more intense with the sheath on, and I kept stroking while you laid back on the bed, moaning, and let me do all the work. I climbed over you, and lowered myself onto your sheathed cock, and you nearly came from the dual sensation of your leathered cock in my hole. I knew how to keep you on the edge though, and rode you for a good twenty minutes, before you finally exploded.

You apologized, certain that the sheath would be a mess when it came out…but when I got off…the sheath wasn’t there. It was just your cock–or a cock, at least. It wasn’t the cock you’d had before, that much was for sure. It was big–easily nine inches, even though it was a bit soft, with a thick foreskin, and balls the size of oranges. You inspected them–they weren’t the right color–they looked like the same light brown the leather sheath had been, but it was skin. You could see veins and hairs…and when you asked what had happened to it, I just smiled at you, and told you that I hoped you liked your present.

You certainly played with it often enough, after that. I would catch you jacking off, even when you weren’t thinking about it. It just demanded attention. You got used to the rough surface eventually, how leathery your dick skin felt, how much more sensitive it had become. You even forgot about the sheath after a day or two–this, in your mind, was the cock you had always had. That didn’t make you any less uneasy when I brought over a much larger gift the next week–an entire set of leather gear. There was a harness, a pair of gloves, a pair of biker boots, and some shorts. But with one hand on your new cock, it was easy enough to coax you into the gear, and as soon as it was on you, it was like you became a different person.

The harness made your whole body feel alive, the straps biting into your flesh, digging in, becoming a part of you. The gloves felt just like the sheath had on your cock–you could feel…everything with them, and they knew things too. How to spank my ass just right to make me cry out, how to choke me while you fucked me, how to use the flogger I shoved into your hand, your cum dribbling down the inside of my legs as you whipped me, and you came again, just from that. It was so intense–you could almost feel every strike you laid on me, against your own back as well. By the time we had finished, the leather gear had melded with your body, just like the sheath had–but the effects manifested over the next several days.

You grew constantly. I had to keep you fed all the time, because of how much mass you were putting on, until you were six and a half feet tall, full of muscle, with hair growing everywhere on your leather brown body. Your feet were massive now, size twenties, just like the boots I had given you. Everywhere you went, you would catch the constant scent of leather wafting from your body, and everytime you did, you got rock hard. If we were alone, you would fuck me, but if you were at work or in public, you would have to find some excuse to slip away to the restroom and jack off. You were so happy–you took every chance you could find to thank me for these gifts–but when I told you I still had one more to give you…you got quiet, and a bit hesitant.

I pulled you into the bedroom, and showed you the hood I had saved for last. It laced up the back, but didn’t have any holes for your eyes or mouth that you could see. You tried to tell me you were fine–that this was good enough, but when I ordered you to put the hood on–your leathery hand obeyed me, not your mind. You fought hard, as best you could, but your body wasn’t yours now–not really. It belonged to the leather, and the leather belonged to me. You pulled the hood on over your face, and I laced it tight against the back of your head. You couldn’t breathe, everything smelled of leather, and…and you were so horny, nothing else seemed to matter.

You found your way to my hole and fucked me, rougher than before, as the hood tightened around your face. I flipped over so I could watch the hood do its work, flattening the features of your head until it was nearly flat–just an anonymous leatherhead, on top of a hulking, hairy, dominant frame–just the kind of man I’d wanted you to be. Well, not really a man, I suppose, because you don’t do much in the way of anything human anymore. You live in my closet now, when I’m not using you, one leathery hand always milking your cock–but you can’t cum that way anymore–you can only cum inside me. When I get home and let you out, you do everything I want you to do to me–beat me, choke me, rape me–but we both know that I’m the one who’s really in control. You’re just a leatherhead, after all, and that’s all you’ll ever be.