The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

NICK’S SHINY RUBBER SUIT

© 2000 Westpalm

Nick was the lead singer of a successful “boy band,” a group whose popularity among teenage girls often reached frenzied proportions. The band’s cute, wholesome image also made them attractive to a certain number of gay men, and Nick, the dreamy blond “twink” of the group, was considered by many the cutest of all. One of the men in this category was a young fashion designer from South Beach named Trent, who was about to do something that would change both his life and that of the young singer forever.

Like every group, Nick’s band changed their “look” every few months, and for their upcoming tour, they wanted to try something a bit edgier than usual. Local fashion designers were competing for the opportunity to design the new costumes—whoever got the contract would naturally get a lot of beneficial exposure—and Trent was now in the final stage of the bid process. Since they were the ones who would actually have to wear the things, the group decided that they would make the final costume choice themselves, and word got around that Nick (who was the clothes horse of the group) was going one-on-one with the designers as they presented their costumes. Trent, who was always a bit of a charmer, convinced Nick’s staff to give him the last appointment on a Friday afternoon for his presentation; by that time of the day, Nick would likely be tired—and a bit pissy—from seeing so many costumes during the week, but Trent wanted more than just the contract. If things went right, Trent would get something more desirable—the opportunity to transform the singer into his obedient sex slave.

Trent sat outside Nick’s office with the sample costume wrapped in box. The procedure for the interviews was as follows: the designer would say a few things about his costume and background, and would then present the costume to Nick to try on. Nick would test it out for a bit, say a few things, and then show the designer out. Trent had caused some amusement among Nick’s staff by requesting the exact dimensions of Nick’s body—neck width, arm length, and the size of the torso, crotch and foot—explaining that the costume that he had in mind would be “quite tight fitting.”

What Trent had designed for Nick was essentially a shiny black body suit, composed out of a special blend of rubber he had discovered during an earlier trip to Thailand. The rubber in this suit was stronger yet more elastic than rubber typically was; molded to human form, it became like a second layer of skin, presenting the contours of the wearer’s body but allowing wide flexibility and movement. The suit was in five pieces: a section for the torso and arms, one for the legs, a separate piece for the crotch, gloves and boots. Each piece could be attached to another by means of a thin zipper. The final effect was of a single flow of rubber from neck to toe; only the head above the neck would be visible.

There was something else that Trent had discovered in Thailand. While visiting the country, he heard rumors about a plant there whose pollen made anyone exposed to it susceptible to any suggestion. It took him a while to find a source for the plant, but once he did, he immediately purchased—at heavy expense—some powder made from the pollen, to see if the rumors were true. Once he returned to the states, Trent arranged lunch with an old friend of his from high school, one on whom he had had a deep crush. Once the friend went to the restroom to wash his hands, Trent added a portion of the powder to his friend’s drink. The effect was devastating, and Trent quickly imported more of the powder from his overseas source, knowing that he would always have a use for it.

Nick was a special case; Trent wanted more than a one-night fling with the singer, he wanted to be Nick’s master, to have Nick’s gorgeousness always subservient to him. To this end, Trent mixed a portion of the pollen in a container of baby powder; and would make sure Nick applied it to himself before putting on the costume. The moisture that would be created from wearing the suit would allow the pollen to slowly seep into Nick’s skin, and his consciousness as well.

At 4:00 p.m., the receptionist told Trent it was time to enter Nick’s office. Trent sighed nervously and went in, hearing the sound of the office door shut firmly behind him. Nick was sitting at a desk talking on the telephone, apparently finishing a conversation with someone; he motioned Trent to have a seat. Nick’s clothing seemed slightly out of place for the office—he was wearing a Florida Marlins baseball shirt, baggy jeans, and a pair of old hi-tops; there was a baseball cap on the desk next to him. The phone call ended and Nick hung up the telephone; as Trent predicted, the singer looked a bit tired and a bit pissed off.

“Okay, lets get this done quickly—I can’t believe they scheduled me one of these for Friday afternoon.”

“Yes, sir.” Trent couldn’t believe how intimidated he was feeling; Nick, for his part, broke out into a little smile. “What’s your name again?” “Trent.” “Okay, Trent, let’s see what you got.” Trent handed Nick the box, which contained the costume and the container of baby powder. Nick opened it and did a double take; his face turned a little red, and he started laughing.

“Yo, you gotta be kidding with this shit,” Nick said, taking the pieces of the costume out one by one. “What type of gay shit is this?” Trent’s throat went dry. “Well, it’s a bit... edgier, it gives you a new look—” “Yeah, looking like some kind of fag porn star. You gotta be kidding me. We ain’t gonna wear this shit.”

Trent recognized that his opportunity was slipping away. Boldness was required, and perhaps a little charm. “Oh, come on Nick, try it on and see what you think. I think you’ll look really good in it.” Nick paused and looked Trent over. His face changed, as if he suddenly realized that Trent was gay and probably had some kind of sick fantasy about him. “Oh, you think I’ll look GOOD in this huh?” Oh shit. “Uh, yeah, I think it would... you guys would look great.” Nick was all smiles now. Trent thought he was about to be shown the door, but Nick’s reply surprised him. “Okay, I’ll try it on for ya. You might as well get something out of all the work you’ve done.” Nick winked at Trent, clearly toying with him. Trent reddened a little, but continued with his plan. “Thanks, Nick. Um, the costume might seem a little tight... so you might want to... to apply some of this baby powder before putting it on.” Nick shook his head, incredulous. “You thought of everything, didn’t you?” Nick grabbed the powder and the costume and headed to his private bathroom. “I’ll be back out in minute. Don’t go anywhere.” Nick shut the bathroom door and let out a little laugh doing so.

Nick quickly removed all of his clothing, left it in a pile next to the toilet, and re-examined the costume. There was a full-length mirror in the bathroom and he spent a few seconds admiring his body, which was gorgeous as always. Nick grabbed the container of baby powder and took a quick sniff—yeah, baby powder, he thought—poured some into his hands, and started rubbing his body with it. He started putting on the separate pieces of the costume, and as he did so, applied more powder to the appropriate area, starting with the crotch, and followed by the leg portion, the boots, the torso and arms, and finally the gloves. Each piece was a little tight, but when he finally got them on, they fit perfectly. As soon as Nick finished, he stared at the final result in the mirror. It was weird, looking exactly like a shiny black layer of skin. He could see the ridges of his abs, his butt cheeks, his biceps—everything. The sensation of the rubber against his skin was unlike anything he had ever felt before—it was like a continuous warm massage. That little fag Trent was right: Nick liked what he saw—this costume made him look and feel sexier than he would have believed. It could never be used on stage though—it was too sexual for that.

Nick exited the bathroom, barely aware of light ringing in his ears. Trent, who had been eagerly anticipating this moment, audibly gasped when Nick re-entered the office and started walking towards him. The costume was beyond perfection—Nick stood before him fully contained within the tight-fitting suit, looking as if nude, but a nudity highlighted by shiny black rubber. But did the powder work? First to try something simple.

“So, do you like it?”

“It’s great. You realize we can never use it though, right?” Nick said, sitting down on his desk in front of Trent’s chair.

“But you like it though, right?”

“Yes.”

“You think it’s a really great costume, don’t you.”

“Yes, I already said that.”

“Say it again. Say that you think it’s a really great costume.”

“I do. It’s a really great costume.” Trent smiled.

“And you really appreciate me for making it for you.” Nick paused, uncertain. Something wasn’t quite right, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. But then, of course Trent was speaking the truth.

“Yes.”

“Say it. Say how much you appreciate me.”

“I really appreciate what you’ve done, Trent.” Nick smiled. Trent was a good person after all.

“Nick, you’re thirsty now.” Nick paused a moment, and suddenly realized that this was true. “Yes,” he replied. Trent handed Nick a bottle of water—water mixed with the powder that was already proving effective. “Drink this and feel refreshed. Drink all of it.” Nick grabbed the bottle from Trent and quickly drained it.

“Thanks, man.” Nick said. “I needed that.” Now Trent was entering the part that would give him the greatest enjoyment.

“Nick, you love your new uniform, don’t you?” “Yes.” “It makes you feel better than you’ve ever felt before.” A pause—Nick was processing the new information. “Yes.” “It is no longer a costume for you, but a uniform. You wear it because it makes you feel wonderful.” A pause. “Yes.” “It is the most wonderful feeling you’ve ever known. You never want to take this uniform off. You want it to be a permanent part of you.” “Yes.” Trent’s dick was almost ripping through his pants—and he was pleased to see that Nick was also sporting an erection. “You love the uniform for bringing you this pleasure, don’t you?” “Yes.” “And you love me for making the uniform for you, don’t you?” A pause. Nick stared at Trent in confusion. This couldn’t be true—Nick knew that he wasn’t gay—but this was Trent after all, and Trent was so good to him. “Yes.” “Yes what, Nick?” “Yes. I love you, Trent.”

“You love me because I’m so good to you.” “Yes.” “But it’s more than love. You worship me. You worship me because I’ve been so good to you.” Nick’s face changed during this—it almost looked as if he was going to cry. “Yes.” “I am your master, and you are my slave.” Nick stared in confusion, but then the logic of what Trent said made sense to him. “Yes, you are my master, and I am your slave.” “And you will always refer to me as ‘master,’ or ‘sir.’” “Yes. Yes, master.”

“You worship me, and you desire me like you’ve never desired anything before.” The contour of Nick’s erection was clear through tight fitting rubber. “Yes, yes master.” “Nothing pleases you more than the idea of being my slave, to bring me pleasure.” “Yes.” “Your greatest desire in life is my pleasure.” “Yes.”

Trent wanted to take Nick right now, to introduce him to the sexual pleasures he would enjoy for the rest of his years, but he had to get him away from the office before that occurred. One more thing before that, however. “Nick, dance for your master.” “Sir?” “Pretend you are on stage and singing of your love for me. And show your desire for me through your dancing.” The smile of the old Nick returned; he jumped from the desk and began to sing one of his group’s most popular love ballads. It was a vocal performance filled with great soul and meaning, but what enhanced it even more was Nick’s dancing; he danced with great seductiveness, caressing his rubber-encased body throughout, each move making him love his master even more. At the end of the song, Nick looked at his master, and his master nodded approvingly. Nick beamed, and rushed to his master’s chair, kneeling before it. Trent couldn’t resist kissing Nick—he plunged his tongue into the singer’s mouth and started caressing his rubber skin—but drew back. “No, not here.” Nick looked panicked. “Do I not please you, Master?” Trent smiled. “Yes, of course you do, but we can’t do this here.” Trent got up from his chair and retrieved Nick’s clothes and the container of baby powder from the bathroom. He couldn’t help rubbing himself with Nick’s underwear and socks, and the thought that the person who scented these was now all his almost made him explode in his pants.

“Put these clothes on over your uniform.” “Yes, master.” Nick obeyed, and his regular clothing was baggy enough—and the rubber uniform was tight enough—that no one would be able to tell that anything was different. As a final touch, Trent grabbed the baseball cap that was sitting on Nick’s desk and placed it on his slave’s head, turning it around backwards in the way he usually wore it. Seeing the figure of the old “teeny-bopper” Nick before him, Trent invaded his slave’s mouth once more, but pulled out again. Nick’s eyes were filled with obedience and desire, but there would be no fulfillment until later. “Slave, I will exit the office and wait for you at the elevator. You will leave your office five minutes after I have and meet me there. We will go down the elevator together and you will drive us to your house.” “Yes, master.” “During the five minutes you are in here, you will repeat the following to yourself: ‘I worship and obey my master, and live for his pleasure.’ Each time you say it, the idea will reinforce itself in your mind, and your desire for me will increase even more than it already has.” “Yes. Yes, master.” Trent gave his slave one final kiss, waved him goodbye, and headed towards the elevator, closing the door behind him.

“I worship and obey my master, and live for his pleasure. I worship and obey my master, and live for his pleasure. I worship and obey my master, and live for his pleasure...”

... to be continued.