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Tag: latex
Chapter 1: Caged Silence
The silence roared in my ears. The rubber hood amplified my pulse, the hiss of filtered air slipping in and out of the breathing tube, and the subtle, maddening sound of latex creaking as I shifted the barest fraction of an inch.
I was sealed in, encased from scalp to toe in black rubber, bent at the knees, and arms folded tight to my chest in the smooth, padded hollowness of a hidden chamber. Anyone glancing at it saw nothing more than a piece of designer furniture, a custom walnut bench beneath the living room window. Seamless, elegant, and dead silent.
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Charlie once ruled boardrooms in sharp suits and sharper words, a self-assured executive with everything under control. Until Brian. Charismatic, calm, and unshakably dominant, Brian didn’t take Charlie’s control away. Charlie gave it to him.
What began as flirtation turned into a bond deeper, and darker, than Charlie ever imagined. From whispered rituals to permanent chastity, from obedience to objectification, Charlie’s descent is tender, terrifying, and utterly complete.
Now, stored beneath a polished wooden bench in the middle of a suburban living room, sealed in rubber and silence, Charlie listens to the man who owns him laugh with guests just inches away. He is no longer a partner, no longer a man. He is furniture, and he has never loved more completely. A devastating, slow-burn tale of erotic surrender and identity erasure, Stored is a haunting journey into submission, devotion, and the beauty of being unmade.
Stored is a 7,000-word short story. All content in this story is fictional and depicts activities between consenting, unrelated adults who are 18+.
Donovan hadn’t been expecting mail. The knock at the door startled him out of his whiskey-hazed stupor, where he’d been curled on the couch, nursing the ache of something old but still sharp. Patrick was out running laps around the neighborhood, steady and consistent as ever, which left Donovan alone as usual, with his thoughts for company.
He shuffled to the door, opened it, and stopped.
A large, sleek black box sat on the welcome mat. The return label rubbed away into smudged illegibility, but he knew what it was. His stomach tightened as he bent to pick it up.
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Aaron stood in front of the full-length mirror, but his gaze wasn’t fixed on his reflection. Instead, he stared at the gleaming latex police uniform laid out on the bed behind him. The pieces were so perfectly arranged, each polished to a gleaming shine, reflecting the afternoon light streaming through the blinds.
It wasn’t just a uniform; it was a promise of change. Aaron’s heart pounded with the weight of what he was about to do. The air felt thick, charged with the raw energy of expectation, as if the uniform itself was watching him and waiting for him to surrender to its authority. Deep down, Aaron knew that once he started, there would be no going back.
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