7. News of the Family
A few months later I was surprised to come downstairs freshly showered and dressed for a walk in the city to find my brother, Glynn, in the living room. He leapt out of the armchair as I approached.
“You’re looking good,” he greeted, embracing me. “Glenda is pregnant. Five months now, and the Doc says its twins.”
“That’s good news.” Returning the hug, I kissed him. “They’ll both be boys, you know, and one will be …”
“How’d you know?” He stared at me.
“Call it intuition.” I wasn’t going to tell him it was down to our last kiss. “Does Glenda know about … the family arrangement?”
“Yeah.” He ran his fingers through his hair as we separated and sat down. “She’s not wild about it, but …” Pausing, he stared at his fingers. “What’s it like? Is it bad being …?”
“A rubber fuck doll?” Meeting his embarrassed look, I grinned. “It’s nowhere near as bad as it sounds, Glynn. Actually, now I’ve settled into it fully, I enjoy it in a rather strange way, and you wouldn’t believe the ‘high’ we get when we revert to human.” Waving my hand round the spacious living room, I added, “And we live very well here. Ty keeps us busy and makes us look after our intellectual side when we’re not being fucked. I’ve developed my art, Rob writes and has a publisher, and Ty is quite an art historian. We have everything we could wish for.” Pausing as something else struck me, I added, “And you remember my dyslexia? Well, it’s gone. Cured—or something.”
“Does Tynan live here too? Cousin Owain let me in.”
“Did someone mention my name?” Owain asked as he entered with a tray and coffee mugs, jug and a piled plate of small cakes and biscuits. Putting this on the coffee table, he grinned at Glynn. “Rob and Ty are on their way down.” Handing out plates he asked, “Do you want coffee or something else, Glynn? Help yourself the the biscuits or angel cakes—grab them before the locusts arrive.”
“What locusts?” Rob demanded from the door. “Hi Glynn, my brother send you to check we’re looking after your little brother?” Hugging Glynn, he laughed. “You remember MY uncle—Tynan. Ty, you remember Glynn.”
“Grown a bit since my last visit, Glynn.” Tynan embraced him, planting a cheeky kiss on his mouth. “My father wasn’t thrilled when I became. Did his best to keep me from ‘afflicting’ Rob and Gareth with what he called ‘the family jinx’. I gather Gareth caught some of that attitude. I thought it best to not upset him.”
“Not really, but Mum’s dumping him because Eon was going to take after his ‘freak of a brother’, didn’t help.” Glynn grinned at me. “I thought I’d get in ahead of the game. If things go the way they usually do with you guys … I want my son to get to know what he’s in for before … I don’t want him to have the same problems Eon had when …”
“Good idea, Glynn,” Ty nodded and grabbed the last cake.
Quietly Owain took Glynn’s still empty plate and handed him one with a choice selection on it. “Warned you about the locusts,” he said in answer to Glynn’s surprised thanks.
The portal opened and I stepped out into the destination. This time I was alone in a brightly lit cellar with four men in head to toe latex.
“You wish to use me, masters?” I greeted them as they turned toward me.
“We do,” one of the men replied. “Fuck. He really is a rubber doll …”
“How may I serve you, master?” In my head I could ‘hear’ my Master. “These are new to my following, you will need to prompt them to use you.” Aloud, I said, “Perhaps you would care to examine my body? I am a living rubber pleasure giver. I can give ‘head’, be fucked, fuck and be subjected to bondage for sexual torment. Whatever you find arousing.”
“You’re actually solid rubber? Not just wearing a suit?” The question came from a slim man wearing an extremely tight catsuit, his excitement visible.
“Yes, master, I am. Would you care to examine me? I am here for the use of you and your companions.”
They looked at each other, and the first man laughed.
“Okay, I wasn’t sure what we’d get when I used that amulet thing, but he’s here, so let’s take a good look at him.”
Their examination was thorough, and with a bit of encouragement, intimate. In my head, my Master made his approval plain, suggesting, “Offer the youngest a demonstration. Give him head. He will cum very quickly, but will find his desire for more irresistible.”
Obeying that instruction was easy. Our rubber bodies adopt any sexual position almost without effort—unlike attempting to do any normal activity such as walking, holding something or opening doors. The object of the Master’s interest was very aroused, and had explored my erection and my butt very intimately. The others were clearly pushing him to be the first to experiment with me, so I addressed him.
“Masters, may I offer a demonstration of my use? Would you allow me the pleasure of giving you head, master?”
“Go for it, Benny!” One of his companions pushed him toward me.
Flustered, the guy mumbled, but his companions steered him to a seat that would allow him to semi-recline with his legs open. When he was seated and, with encouragement, had opened the crotch zip of his suit to release a rather well formed erection, I knelt between his knees.
“Thank you, Master,” I said, gently gripping his throbbing penis. In my head, I heard Qwedokoloshe, “Use your tongue my servant. I will ensure he does not release his cum too quickly. You will ensure he is transported by your fellation.”
I heard the gasp as I extended my tongue to grip the man’s penis, taking care to ensure, without being told, that the secretion from the tip of my tongue coated the sensitive spot just below the slit in the head. Then, very carefully, I began to enjoy and explore his male organ. I enjoy this, especially exploring and stimulating the whole of a client’s penis and his scrotum. Holding his precious ‘eggs’ in my mouth and applying gentle suction to them usually gives them a great deal of pleasure.
His responses were exciting and good, and his friends were obviously turned on by them. His cum, when it arrived, was delicious. The Master sounded pleased, as he ‘said’, “He is now mine. For him there is no pleasure in any but rubber sex in future. You will encounter him again, my Eon. Now let his companions enjoy you. You will fuck himI before you leave tonight. He will become a true rubber lover.”
The ice had been broken, and now the others all began to explore their choice of pleasure. I loved it, especially when they decided to go for fucking my mouth and butt while the third man feasted on my male appendage. It gives me a lot of pleasure to have sex, but the best part is when I return to human form and experience the flood of hormones released by our bodies …
The ‘pleasure’ trip is indescribable, and there is no limit to our ejaculations, though it isn’t semen we discharge, but a fluid that keeps our users aroused. And the beautiful Benny was a dream fuck …
As the months passed I settled into the routine and the easy friendship that grew out of our shared ‘servitude’. Gradually I got used to the restricted use of my arms and hands when I was in my rubber state, and became quite adept it using them. Tynan was a wise guide as well, and took me under his wing, sharing his love of books and reading with me. His sense of humour tended to the subtle, whereas Rob’s tended to be more physical. Rob loved to pull practical jokes and I often walked right into them. His favourite was to sneak up on me when I was concentrating on a sketch—usually naked—and tweak my nipples. That always sent me ‘rubber’ and it always took at least a half hour before I could revert. Of course I always tried to get him back, and it was all very good fun.
“You’ve probably noticed that some of our ‘missions’ are just to ordinary guys having fun, and others …” Tynan said as we sat watching the rain beat down outside.
“Yeah.” I frowned. “Those ‘others’ are so bloody arrogant … and if they treat the people they work with or live with the way they treat us …”
“Some do. They don’t always recognise the fact they’re doing it.” Laughing, he explained, “My great uncle, another Falstaff, said it was taught them in Public School. Our Master often uses us to subtly, sometimes not so subtly, teach them a lesson.”
A sort of pattern had become apparent to me in our nightly ‘assignments’. There was a wide variety of venues and in the people we found ourselves enjoying being enjoyed by. Many were young and experimenting, exploring their own sexuality and fetishes, but in between were some rather darker characters who got their pleasure in abuse—and we were simply the instruments they used on those they wished to dominate. On those occasions Qwedokoloshe, the Master, would have me give the victim-submissive the kind of sexual experience they’d dream of repeating and guide them out of their abusive relationships.
“Yes.” Ty watched the rain. Almost dreamily he continued, “I’ve done a bit of digging. Qwedokoloshe wasn’t always considered a demon.” He chuckled, patting my knee. “It seems he was the ‘god’ of those who find love and sexual pleasure with people of their own sex—especially those that have a liking for fetish inspired sex. A sort of anti-fertility god. The human population was growing fast, and doing a lot of damage to their surroundings, so he was ‘sent’ with the task of slowing our multiplying expansion. He succeeded—by carefully selecting who should breed and who should not. To those who should not breed he gave a different taste. One that included the fetishes of bondage and rubber or leather sex with their own sex.” Staring into the rain beyond the window he paused. “A cult arose that demonised his, um, followers, and him.” Pausing again he continued, “Our ancestor gave him a way to reconnect with those he ‘protects’. And he’s pretty generous to some of our users—but I have learned that the guys who enjoy being nasty or abuse their power against those like us … they don’t seem to enjoy the same good fortune.”
“Are you saying he rewards some of the people we entertain, and punishes some?”
“In a way.” Tynan changed position, and put his book aside. “He is bound. Confined to the chamber in the pyramid Falstaff fell into. Who bound him to it, and how … I don’t know, and he’s not telling us. But Falstaff’s desire to live and willingness to sacrifice his freedom of choice, offered the Master a way to bypass his confinement. In a way we are his agents. The living bodies that allow our Master, Qwedokoloshe, to escape briefly into the world.” He paused. “These people we serve and entertain … they’re all people the Master needs to use, or influence for something. Sometimes we’re sent to give comfort and encouragement, and occasionally we are the instruments by which the Master seeks to punish. What we see and hear when we’re with our ‘users’, fucking, sucking … he hears and feels and he acts through us to influence them.”
“I think I get it …” Frowning, I recalled some of the places and people I’d had as sexual partners. Some of them young men who seemed quite nice. Several I’d ‘enjoyed’ a number of times. “What about some of the guys my age I get to serve? Some of them he triggers a sort of cum in me for.”
“Yes, I know the ones you mean.” Tynan smiled. “He’s rewarding some of them and others he’s making into serious rubber lovers who he’ll use to influence or control men we’ll probably never see. People who’d run a mile rather than admit their sexual preferences or their use of us, powerful men who’ve built their careers and their following condemning anyone with a preference for their own sex and some fetish.”
“You mean the ones that go in for heavy bondage and use us to tease one of their own people until he’s begging to be allowed to cum?”
“That’s them.” Ty laughed. “Or put us in bondage, then make us have sex with them. They don’t seem to get it that we don’t feel anything but pleasure no matter what they do. For us, it’s all pleasure. Our Master loves it as he thrives on the pleasure we feel.”
Our return to the cellar was nearly always simultaneous, but occasionally one of us might be a little delayed, usually because a client had attempted to prevent our return. That usually took the form of putting us into heavy restraints shortly before the time appointed for our return. When this happened, as I discovered, our place was taken by one of the clients Qwedokoloshe picked and we returned home, though still restrained, plugged or bound.
Qwedokoloshe had a wicked sense of humour, but, as I soon learned, had a very strict sense of justice. What had initially appeared to sometimes be random selections, were not. Tynan laughed when I mentioned this.
“I’ve learned the Master is never random. There is always a purpose.” Patting my hand, he chuckled. “When you have been his servant as long as I have you will learn that he selects our users with great care—and always with a purpose.”
I got a better understanding of all of this when Ty showed me Falstaff’s original Journal and the drawings our ancestor had made of the friezes decorating the entrance to Qwedokoloshe’s pyramid. They were detailed and clearly the old boy had been a damned good artist because he’d managed to capture everything—including one frieze showing a man being fucked in my favourite position—knees behind my shoulders and my own cock in my mouth. And then there were the statues, all showing rampant arousal or engaged in sexual action, some of them apparently in rubber form like us.
The final drawings showed Qwedokoloshe himself fucking Falstaff … The Master was built like a warrior, muscles on muscles and handsome with it, and his huge penis had only half its prepuce …
“The origin of our ritual of becoming, Eon.” Ty smiled, handing me a manuscript folder. “Read this when you’ve time. It’s a transcript of Falstaff’s writing. Easier to read. Than his handwriting and I’ve put it into English as we speak it.”
Our Master also had a way of making our ‘service’ enjoyable, even sociable for us. I soon realised that I was often sent to serve younger men, men trying to recover their self-confidence, or learning to enjoy their fetish. It struck me that their having me as a playmate/plaything actually had a double purpose, giving me a ‘social’ companion, and binding them to the purpose the Master had for them. I looked forward to these encounters and began to know the men concerned and enjoy their use of me.
Our ‘day’ fell into a pattern, or rather, I fell into the established pattern. Breakfast, shower, sleep with my fellow ‘servants’ in Falstaff’s huge bed. Followed by a visit into the city, a walk in a park or along the canal and through a market, or reading something, watching television, gardening or working on some project—for me, usually a painting commissioned by someone. I’d developed quite a catalogue now. Some days I stayed naked.
Owain managed the house and I often assisted him, though here I had to be careful. Several times unexpected ‘skin to skin’ contact immediately sent me rubber—which he loved, but always meant the task we were supposed to be dealing with didn’t get finished.
