Deviant Island

Condemned

Living in the Diaconate, a strictly patriarchal society that frowned on any form of sexual activity unless it was directly related to procreation, and even then, only under supervision and with an approved ‘mate’, has its difficulties. Any form of sexual pleasure of the self stimulating kind is strictly frowned upon, and as for any ‘same sex’ activity … Those, like myself, who are ‘different’ go to great lengths to conceal our difference, but, in a society like ours, betrayal is always a risk. Our society believes in ‘sexual purity’ and is very harsh on those who do not, or cannot, conform. Many of us successfully hide our ‘difference’ and live lonely and sometimes bitter lives, others, like myself try to live and love discreetly …

I’d found a lover, I thought, and we’d been very discreet, very careful, but obviously not discreet or careful enough. The Deviant Finders had arrived early in the morning and found me still enjoying my ‘morning glory’, traces of my activity on the bedclothes, and arrested me for ‘investigation’. My erstwhile ‘lover’ had evidently betrayed me as they had details of our trysts, the places, the activities …

The Deviant-finder General studied me critically. “You know the penalty for Onanists and Sodomites.” He frowned. “You have confessed to multiple offences of Onanism, and were found with the evidence of that activity. Further, you are accused of having allowed yourself to be sodomised. What do you say to that charge? Be truthful! We have the evidence, and the testimony of witnesses.”

For a moment I considered denying it, then realised it would just make things worse. “I allowed a man to fuck me.” Defiantly, I added, “Several times.”

“He penetrated and impregnated you with his penis?”

“Yes.”

“So you confess to allowing him to do so?”

“Yes.” I wanted to add that it had been the most beautiful experience I’d ever had, but bit my tongue and kept quiet. Dan, my lover, had been gentle, and reciprocal. We’d known each other since school, been separated by university — I’m a circuit designer, specialised in microchips — and then renewed our friendship on our return to our homes. Dan to a position in his family Engineering company, and me to the Directorate of Diaconate Technology.

“Your position in the Directorate makes you a danger to our society.” The silence between us extended for some time. Then he said, “Very well. You leave me no alternative but to sentence you to committal to Deviant Island.”

My heart sank and I guess it showed, because he smiled coldly.

“You’ll get plenty of opportunity to enjoy the sexual attention that brought you to the attention of the Department, and the condemnation of our people.” He paused. “You will be subjected to The Chair for four hours, and from thence taken to the Deviant Transport to await your removal to the Island.” His smile was cold as he watched my reaction. “You should be popular. Enjoy it.”

“The Chair?” I gasped. The Chair was the ultimate punishment. It was a strange non-human technology adapted for ‘punishment’ some hundred years earlier and since refined. It was reserved for those deemed irredeemable — and it was intended to make those sentenced to it incapable of ever re-entering any normal society by phsycally modifying them and reinforcing their ‘deviance’ to the extent that having any sort of relationship the Deacons considered ‘normal’ — that is, male to female and resulting in pregnancy, impossible. A normal sentence for the Chair was seldom longer than an hour, and even that was enough, it was said, to turn you into some kind of sexual freak. “Four hours?”

“The Chair. Four hours.” He smiled, pressing a buzzer. Four hours in the Chair was the maximum. “You will spend the rest of your life as a sexual toy for others.”

I heard the door open behind me, and two burly gaolers seized my arms. The ‘Chair’, as it is known, is a strange device. It alters any person committed to it in ways that make it impossible to hide who we are and our ‘impurity’. Anyone subjected to it is automatically an outcast and may never return to society. It is said that it does more than just change a person anatomically, it can also change their behaviours and their stimuli.

“Right. This way.”

It was pointless resisting.

‘The Chair’ occupied the centre of the room. It was upholstered in black rubber over the moulded steel seat. The restraints, even all opened and prepared to receive me, looked frightening, but at the same time, arousing. Clearly, once I was strapped into this thing I would be going nowhere until released. And then there were the ‘attachments’. An opening in the seat suggested something would penetrate my butt, and mountings at the front of the seat suggested my genitals would not remain ‘free’ either. I’d heard rumours of what this device could do, or did do. A ‘normal’ sentence for Onanism was an hour, sometimes two. Anything beyond that was said to leave the recipient something of a freak. And now I was about to find out at first hand …

With my guards supervising me I stripped naked. There really was little point in resisting as they could easily use their strength to restrain me, tranquillise me and insert me into the Chair anyway. The room itself was circular, monitored by CCTV, and the doors locked. Even if I put up a fight, I would lose and still have to undergo the sentence. The leader of the pair steered me into position and made me sit while his companion gathered my clothes and dumped them into a bin.

“Sensible of you to comply,” he said kindly. “Makes it more pleasant all round.”

“For who?” I asked before I could stop myself. “And what happens to my clothes?”

“For all of us,” he replied. “We’re not monsters, you know, and some people like yourself, actually enjoy the process.” He finished securing the web of straps that now pinned my torso to the backrest and began to secure my arms and legs. “As for your clothes — you won’t need them after this.” He chuckled. “Not that your jeans will fit anyway.”

The restraints had brought a response in my rather modest cock, which was now rather aroused. One of my favourite fantasies was to be restrained and ‘enjoyed’ by a man sexually. “My clothes won’t fit?” I croaked.

“Not unless they’re modified, and even then, you won’t need them — you’ll have a completely new outfit.” He finished securing my legs, and went to work on the three hefty straps securing my arms. His companion carefully fitted electrode pads to my temples and my nipples, and gave me two large injections into veins in my arms. With that done, he checked everything was tight and secure, then lifted a heavy looking rubber hood. “Right, once this is on you won’t be able to hear or speak, so before I fit it and secure your head to the headrest, we’ll insert the anal dildo and fit the genital modifier to your crotch.”

“Um,” I said. “If I’m being punished … what will this do to my, um, genitals?”

“Give you something to really play with, of course.” He winked. “A very raised libido and a fetish to go with it. Deviant Island is not just a ‘prison’.” He hesitated. “It’s more an asylum for the sexually depraved. You and your fellow condemned will find your services in demand.”

His companion had been busy preparing a strange looking device, which he now began to install between my legs. “Right, your ball sack goes into the container — that’s it — and your cock into this section.” He settled my cock into a sort of moulded channel and attached several things that looked like electrode collars to my erection. With this done, and a quick test on the machine, he fitted the cover to it and clamped it in place. “This should be interesting. I’ve never seen a four hour treatment before.”

“I have.” His companion nodded and grinned at me. “As I said to our little deviant here, he’ll not need normal clothing from now on. After four hours on the chair he’ll never leaving the island — even to anywhere that accepts deviants.” He checked the device. “Right, Dave. Insert the anal insert and prime him up.” He chuckled. “Ready?”

I bit my lip as a large penis shaped thing slid into my anus, stretching me a little. “Aaaah.” I gasped. My eyes widened as my butt seemed to fill with a cool gel, and then the thing enclosing my genitals filled with a gel as well, some of it oozing round my crotch and spreading into my pubic hair and along my perineum where it oozed round the dildo thing.

“Feels good?” The first guy asked as he prepared the heavy-looking hood.

“Um,” I managed. “Feels, um, strange. Quite nice in a way …” Defiantly I added, “But not as nice as the real thing!”

He nodded. “You all say that. Right. Open your mouth. The gag will provide you with refreshment. Just suck on it …”

I opened my mouth wide and accepted the rather detailed rubber penis. Then the thickly lubed rubber was enfolding my face and head and he set to work adjusting it and then sealing it to my face and head. I could breathe quite easily, my nose filled with the scent of fresh cum, and sucking the gag did give me a mouthful of rather pleasant tasting goo. Then my head was strapped to the headrest and I watched as the second man activated a display, ran a series of commands from a menu and a large digital display lit up. It showed a clock running hours, minutes and seconds, and now showed 04:00:00 … Then I was alone in the domed circular chamber.

As I watched the display changed and I jerked in my restraints as my cock got a jolt that felt like an ‘electro-torture’ pulse. My nipples tingled, and then my mind seemed to fill with a desire to be making love to my lover. The display, the only thing I could see, changed to 03:59:55 and the seconds ran down as more jolts followed, accompanied by a very strange feeling of swelling in my crotch. The intensity of the sensations increased steadily and I began to whimper and moan …

A Rubberised Mannequin

I felt totally drained and my head swam. I had a very strong desire to be fully enclosed in rubber, and my skin tingled. The time display now showed 00:00:00 in a flashing pattern. The men were busy removing the device covering my crotch and I felt the dildo withdrawn from my butt as the top of the crotch machine was removed. The feeling of uncomfortable confinement sent a wave of relief through me as my penis was released and my scrotum freed from its confinement. It took several minutes to release me from the straps securing me to the chair, but finally I was helped to stand, and almost fainted when I saw my crotch.

My penis was now over twenty centimetres in length, and almost five in width, and below it my balls were about the size of a large orange. I’m circumcised — a requirement of our society — and my glans, a little over five centimetres in length and about six at the flared rim, looked enormous as it dangled at the end of my cock.

The leader removed the hood and gag, and promptly replaced the hood with a new one, again with built in lenses, and then a separate gag, and said, “Told you you could forget wearing normal jeans or trousers from now on.”

I nodded. There was no way to say anything, desperately trying to think how much bigger this ‘thing’ would get once I got an erection! Then it hit me, my pubic hair seemed to have gone as well. I shivered. I would soon know what it looked and felt like erect …

“Okay, now we’ve got your permanent special outfit to get you into, and then it’s off to the Transport centre.”

The ‘special outfit’ proved to be a skintight latex suit that covered me from head to foot, with an opening at my butthole. It was open at the back, and the inside thickly coated with a scented gel. It felt good as my legs entered the extremely elastic material, and they certainly knew how to apply it. My enormous penis, now in a tight sheath, joined my oversized scrotum inside a seriously reinforced pouch, the under strap of which held a large tapered butt plug in my anus. Boots that reached just below my knees encased my feet and calves, the heavily weighted soles making walking awkward. 

A breather mask was fitted to my face, and a sort of air filtering backpack fastened on my back. My head swam as the scent of warm rubber and the almost overpowering scent of freshly ejaculated cum filled my nostrils. Lenses covered my eyes and partially restricted my vision to directly ahead. Finally, having applied a polish to the suit, my gaolers slipped a wide belt round my waist, cinched it tight and fastened my wrists in the cuffs on the sides.

“Ready for transport!” The man I’d heard called Dave said as he stepped back. “Enjoy the ride Six-Four-Nine-One.”

“Remember your number, it’s your name and your record. All you ‘four hour specials’ have numbers starting Six-Four, not that anyone can mistake you for anything else.” His companion grinned. “You’ll be popular on Deviant Island looking like that.”

I didn’t want to be ‘popular’ looking like anything, for anyone, unless it was for my former lover, but, curiously, I found myself liking being encased in latex like this, and restrained. I followed them out of the chamber and down a short corridor and the waiting transport. The journey wasn’t a long one.

“The second Six-Four for you.” Dave told the reception clerk. “The DFG went to town on him. Four hour treatment and the full rubber fetish and bondage. His libido will be off the scale I think.”

The receptionist laughed. “The second one today. Okay, I’ve got him.” Taking my elbow he steered me through a heavy door. “Come on, I’ll put you with your fellow freak. You can keep each other company until we’re ready to ship you.”

My heart skipped. There was someone else undergoing the same punishment? Were we both now as freakishly equipped?

“Here you go, 6491, meet 6485. Have fun getting to know each other.” He propelled me into a cell and I came face to face with a figure identically clad to myself. Like me the pouch at his crotch was huge, and, like me, he was clearly starting to feel strangely aroused. Something about his figure struck a cord in my memory and my pulse quickened. Could it be …?

He stepped forward clumsily, making grunting noises. Awkwardly, he managed to take my hands, our huge pouches touched and then he put his breather mask against mine. We peered into each other’s lens covered eyes and my heart skipped. I squeezed my lover’s hands, and he returned the pressure. In its prison, my cock hardened. Behind me the door opened again.

“Good, they recognise each other,” said a voice. “Take them down to the transport cells. They leave in an hour.”

The thing about the place the Diaconate had named Deviant Island — or rather renamed when they decided to dump their unwanted deviants here — is that it is the remains of a long dead volcano. It is ringed by cliffs of basalt, great hexagonal columns of the stuff, that rise up to sixty metres in places. The original crater must have either collapsed or been blown out, because inside it’s ruing of cliffs, there is a bowl of fertile land. Several ancient lava tubes had been the basis of what had become quite a honeycomb of chambers and tunnels in which some ancient intelligent species had built their civilisation, and in which manufacturing and working spaces had been created by humans, though these were, if the Deviant Finders were to be believed, very basic and purely to keep the deviant population busy. The only thing anyone knew for certain about the original inhabitants was that they had not been human and had been the original creators of the device we called ‘The Chair’.

What is less well known is that the island is the source of a very unusual latex, harvested from strange creatures that live in deep caverns open to the sea. The creatures generate this ‘milk’ and come to be milked daily. There is also an unusual fungus which can be processed to provide a range of medicinal products, and a very nutritious food source. The latex forms the basis of a wide range of artificial materials, including the rubber suits my companion and I now wore. In this form it is incredibly elastic, very strong and extremely hard wearing — properties the Deviant Control Directorate found ideal as prison garb for those of us condemned as the most extreme ‘deviants’. As we would discover there were other reasons we were sealed into the suits and we would soon learn that our fellow prisoners had discovered a great deal more there, and exploited it to their advantage unknown to the Diaconate.

Deviant Island, seen from the sea, appears a grim and forbidding place. Granite cliffs rise from a very rocky base against which the seas break with an almost animal anger. The only known landing dock is little more than an enclosed and protected jetty, and once ashore, we found ourselves alone with just one guard as we walked up the short path to the entrance of a tunnel. A man in the dark grey uniform of the Deviant Controllers walked to meet us.

“Two more for the collection,” our escort called. “These two are specials. They both got the Max sentence — the full four hours and all the add ons.” The man laughed. “You’ll probably have to keep them under strict control.”

“Specials?” The DC man eyed us. “All the add ons?” He paused. “Someone had it in for them then. Offended a Deacon did they? I’ll sign for them.” He took the proffered tablet and signed. “This way you two.”

The escort hurried back to the transport and our new gaoler led us up to the tunnel and a door that had obviously been designed and built to intimidate. Inside, we waited while he secured the door, then took us through a second even more intimidating door and secured that behind us. 

“Okay. Let’s get those restraint belts off you.” He grinned as we stopped. 

Puzzled and confused we turned and allowed him to release our wrists and then removed the belts completely. 

“Flex your arms and hands a bit, these damned belts can make you a bit stiff.” He chuckled. “And then you can take those breathing masks off each other, But keep the breather packs on for now. Easier to carry.”

We did as he ordered, now thoroughly confused. I worked my jaw to ease the muscles as the tongue gag came out, and breathed a sigh of relief. 

“Welcome to Deviant Island,” the DC man said. “I expect you’ve heard all sorts of horrible tales about what happens to you here? Forget them.” He chuckled and indicated his uniform. “This outfit is just for appearances. Everyone here these days is a Condemned Deviant — us ‘guards’ included.” He lifted the waist of his shirt to expose a latex body suit. “If I guess right, you two have a few things to say to each other, so I’ll leave you to say it while I log you in and do all the registration stuff. Oh, you might want to change those bloody restriction boots for the less restrictive ones I’ve put out for you while you’re at it.” He smiled. “You’ll find them a hell of a lot easier to walk in.”

“This isn’t what we were told …” Dan began, then stopped.

“Nothing here — apart from the mastic cows and the fungal caverns — is anything like what the Deviant Control Directorate tells everyone it is.”

The ‘guard’ walked away as I turned to my companion. “Dan, I thought you’d turned me in …”

“It must have looked that way, and in a way, I did do this to us both.” Dan took my hands and drew me closer, but seemed hesitant. “You didn’t know my father was the Deviant Finder General?”

“The ..?” Suddenly it all made sense. “Oh.” I stared at him, suspicion growing. “No, I didn’t know. Looks like he really made an example of us.”

“That’s one way of putting it.” Dan’s kiss was light. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think he’d be this vindictive.” He paused. “We need to talk — later.”

“Nothing to be sorry about.” I kissed him. “What happened?”

“His spies were monitoring you. I was confronted with everything you’d — we’d — done, and he demanded I confess to be seduced by you. I told him I’d taken you by force …” He grimaced. “I thought it would get you a caution, nothing more …” He shivered. “He wanted to send me out of the country, and was going to make you take the full …”

“Yeah, they had everything alright. That’s why I thought it must be you that betrayed me.” I slipped my arms round his waist. “Do you think we’ll be allowed to see each other here?”

The gaoler returned. “Of course you will.” He gestured at the uniform. “I told you this is just for the look of things. I’m also a Chair victim, but a light sentence, like most here. I’ve got where they Council have assigned your quarters. Grab the stuff you took off and I’ll take you to them and see you settled.”

“Our quarters?” I managed as we gathered the belts and boots. What the ‘guard’ was saying didn’t make any sense. “Are we being taken to our cells?”

“Cells?” He laughed. “No. I told you, forget everything they say about this place.” He hesitated. “Did they tell you anything about what the Chair does to you?”

“No,” I shook my head as we followed him. “Just that we’d never be able to come back to normal society.”

“They got that right. And you guys got four hours in it, so that means you’ll never go back.”

“Yeah.” Dan said. “My father is the Deviant Finder General. The main man. Bastard. Our tackle is, um, massive, and modified in some way, but he also said something about it making us dependent on rubber or something.”

“Uh huh. You’re sealed into those suits because your skin is now keyed to the latex. You can’t wear anything else, and if you remove those suits for any length of time over about half an hour, you’ll start to feel pretty ill.” He smiled encouragingly. “No one is quite sure why, but everyone who has been subjected to the Chair comes out of it a latex fetishist, and the longer the treatment, the more dependent you are.”

We entered a huge hall with what looked like jail doors and passed through several barred doors that opened as we approached.

  “This is the ‘prison’ facility the Deacons planned. We only use it when someone wants to enjoy a bit of bondage.” He laughed. “This is only for the Transport people to see. I told you, forget all the stuff you’ve heard about this place — yes, this section is exactly as the Deacons intended, but we only use it for a bit of fun, or when the DFG’s people visit. And none of them have set foot in here for at least fifty years.”

Astonished, we followed him into a well lit tunnel and then into a huge circular cavern. Rows of walkways encircled it rising toward the dome above that let in light. Figures dressed as we were moved along the walkways or looked down at us as we crossed the floor. Some waved and called greetings, and then we were in a second passage. A short walk and we found ourselves in a wide valley, with neat lawns, trees, a stream and flowers.

“This is the bit the DFG and the Deacons don’t know about.” our guide commented. “They seem to think that all we do here is fuck each other, and it suits us to let them to think that way. As long as they think we are isolated and out of sight they leave us alone.” Stopping at a circular opening at the base of a cliff, he ushered us inside, then shut the door behind us. “Now we’re in Hobbiton. This way to the lift.”

The lift rose rapidly, and we stepped out into a new corridor. Walking to the end of this, he stopped at a door. “This is your accommodation. Your neighbours are all Six-Four men, so you’ll fit right in. Someone will come to fetch you later for induction and dinner. That’s in about six hours.” He winked. “In the meantime I suggest you both make yourselves comfortable — lose the butt plugs and the hoods if you like. There’s a light meal in the kitchenette for you and a refreshing gel you can pump into those suits to freshen up in the bathroom. The dispenser hose connects to the suit at the injection points. All the other Six-Four guys have to use it too.”