Deviant Island

Preparation

Roger selected the ‘team’ that would treat our Liberan candidate. Piotr would control the Chair with Dan to assist, and our Doctor Mervin and his two nurses would administer the serum injections and insertion and supervise the medical side. Together with Mervin’s partner, Doctor Pawel, I was assigned to preparing the subject, and making sure he knew what the Chair would do to him …

“Tristan ushered the Liberans into our preparation room. “Trader, this is Dr Pawel, and Pat, one of the team that manage the unit. As you can see, Pat is one of those who has undergone the full four hours.”

“Trader Orwen, and this is my companion, Owain.” The man introduced as ‘Trader’ smiled and shook hands with Dr Pawel then extended his hand to me. “Owain wishes to become like you.”

“Welcome, Trader. Welcome, Owain.” I shook hands with him and then with his companion, a man around my own age, slim, and rather attractive in an androgynous way. He wore only a teeshirt and a pair of light slacks with slip on shoes, and his thong underwear — which would have got him arrested in the Diaconate — showed through the light material. His excitement was obvious, as was his interest in my appearance.

“Pat is here to explain exactly what it is like to undergo the full treatment in the Chair.” Dr Pawel indicated they should sit. He smiled at me as I moved to his side. “As you know, everyone in our community has been subjected to the Chair, most of us for a single hour, a few more for two, and a small number to three hours. Only eight of us, of whom Pat is one, has endured the full four hours — the maximum treatment — which is what you have requested we provide for Owain. As you can see it leaves alters the subject anatomically, mentally and biologically.” He paused, watching Owain. “We need to be certain that you are fully aware of what you will become, and how you will live the rest of your life before we commence.”

“I understand.” Owain had a rather pleasant voice, soft and rather musical. He looked at his companion, and took his hand. “Orwen is my lover, and I want to do this for myself and for him.” He smiled. “I understand I will never again be able to live as a normal person, but it doesn’t matter to me. Orwen rescued me years ago, and loves to see me fully encased in rubber. We travel in a personal yacht, and I have no need to appear in public when he goes ashore to trade or when we are at home in Libera.”

“There are some things that take a bit of getting used too,” I interjected. “Like a libido that means you are always ready for sex, and, of course, this.” I waved my hand at my huge codpiece. “And then there is the fact that you need sexual relief every few hours.” I grinned. “Or it becomes very uncomfortable.”

“I was told,” Owain swallowed, glancing at his companion. “And your skin changes?”

“Yes.” I carefully removed my hood. “As you can see.”

He stared, then smiled, turning to his companion. “Do you like it, my love?”

The Trader hesitated a moment studying my face and head, then he turned to face his companion. “My dearest, I love you as you are. Yes, I would find you even more sexually exciting like that — but is it what YOU want for yourself, or do you want it just because you think I do?”

Dr Pawel nodded. “That’s a very important question.” He indicated me. “Pat had no choice, like all of us here. You must be certain this is what you want.”

“Yes, I do want it.” Owain smiled and looked at me. “If you had the choice now, would you do this?”

“I was afraid you’d ask that.” I smiled. “Yes, I think I would, but your lover has to know how it will change you and the first few months of adjustment aren’t going to be easy. You’ll discover there’s a whole lot of things you’ve always been able to do, that you can’t like this.” I removed my codpiece, and let my penis become erect. “He’s going to have to cope with something very similar to this from now on.”

The Trader stared, then smiled. “I think I can … In fact, Doctor, I would like to discuss with you the session booked for myself.” He paused. “Perhaps an increase?”

“I think we’ll have to discuss it with the Council, Trader, as there are certain side effects associated with anything over two hours. But I am sure they will be sympathetic in view of the new agreement.” Dr Pawel smiled. “If you are both determined to continue,” he glanced at me, “I suggest Pat allows Owain to make a closer, perhaps more intimate examination, before Pat takes him through to the chamber.” He stood, this was the opportunity for me to make sure Owain was making this choice, and not being compelled to do so. “In the meantime, you and I can finalise the required authorities and I’ll take you to watch the preparation.” 

“Um, can I … er … touch you?” Asked Owain as the door closed behind them. He licked his lips.

“Of course,” I smiled. “That’s why I’m here. The Council insist you have to be fully aware of what you will become. After a full four hours in the Chair, you’ll be like me, essentially a living, breathing, sex doll — a living mannequin with a libido that never subsides and a real taste for strict bondage sex.” I watched his face. “Is this what you want to be?”

“Yes!” He didn’t hesitate. “Yes!” His smile was cheeky. “Do you like it? You said, given a choice, you’d choose it.” 

“Do I like being like this? Yes. Yes, now I do. I wouldn’t change it now for anything, even if it were possible. But that’s the whole point of our having this time for me to make sure you understand what it means. Once you go this route, there’s no turning back, no way to reverse it and adjusting to being like this is not easy, though it may be for you, since you’ve chosen to do it — we didn’t have a choice.” Watching him, I said, ”Take a good look at me. Go on, you can touch me anywhere you like. This sheath, has an opening in the end, and there’s an opening at my anus. I need to have some sexual engagement every two to three hours at least. Go on, feel my scrotum. Feel how swollen it is? That’s because it’s getting close to time for me …” I grinned as he carefully cupped my balls. “Yeah, I ejaculate a lot — it can be quite an experience, especially when I go into multiple orgasm mode.”

“Your penis is huge,” he murmured. “What’s it feel like?”

“Fantastic.” I laughed. “Takes a bit of getting used to, especially because it’s pretty sensitive and you keep touching things with it …”

“Will I ..?”

“Be as big? Probably. Are you circumcised?”

He nodded.

“Then you’ll probably be like me, or my partner, Dan.” I grinned. “Go on, have a good look at it.” Nervously, he gripped my erection. “Think your partner can handle that?”

He grinned. “Oh, yes. He can handle it.” Hesitating, he looked down, his hand holding my rigid member. “May I ..?”

“I thought you’d never ask!”

With a sigh of anticipation, he knelt, and sucked my swollen glans straight into his mouth. I have to say, he was no slouch at giving head, and I was fully loaded — on instructions from Doc Pawel. I was also under orders to make sure, if he’d confirmed his submission as being his desire, that I delivered him to the Chair with as much of my sperm in and on him as I could manage. It wasn’t difficult. He swallowed a lot, but then teased my now hyper sensitive glans and aimed my cock at his face.

Wiping my cum from his eyes he grinned. “Wow. Do I want to be like this? You bet I do.” Looking down at his now cum soaked shirt and the patches on his slacks, he added, “Well, I guess I won’t be using these any longer. What now?”

It was my turn to grin. “I put this hood on you, strip you, put you in restraints and deliver you to your future.”

“Restraints?” He smiled. “Why?”

“Call it another little test. When you go in the Chair, you’re going to be strapped down and helpless, and one of the things the Chair will do to you, is make you a bondage fetishist alongside all the other things it will be doing.” I held up the restraint belt the Deviant Finders loved to use. “So this just sets the tone and gets you used to the idea.”

“Why does it give you a taste for bondage? Not that I mind, I love being restrained for sex with Orwen.”

“We’re not sure. No one really knows. It may have been necessary for the race that originally created the Chair.” I flourished the hood. “The hood is part of the process.” I smiled. “Ready?”

“Just like this?” He grinned. “Covered in your spunk?”

“Just like that. Here, let me fit the hood and then you can strip.” I fitted the hood carefully, checking that the electro pads were correctly aligned to his temples and that the penis gag was secure. The inside of the hood was thickly coated with the conversion gel, and slipped into place quite easily. Once it was fastened, he stripped quickly, and I gathered his spunk drenched clothes into a bag, fitted the heavy restraint belt and then secured his wrists to his sides. 

He had a nice penis. Not large, but well formed, circumcised and now erect and leaking copious amounts of pre cum as I steered him the short distance to where Roger and Dan waited to insert him into the Chair. Leaving them to place our subject in the Chair, I took the bag to where the suit we would fit him into lay, and inserted the cum soaked teeshirt into the special compartment in the breather bag. As I did so, I recalled wondering where the Deviant Finders had got the cum with which to treat those of us they’d subjected to this. As I waited to carry out the next part of the process my mind went to another unanswered question.

What really lay behind the Diaconate’s deliberate use of this equipment on us? Was it just to make sure we could never return to a normal society? If so, why limit the full treatment to so few of us? I’d have to ask Roger — or maybe Doc Mervin. And then there was the question of the chamber the Chair was in — circular, domed ceiling, no windows, metallic walls and all controls outside of it. I knew what electronic radiation shielding looked like, and this was it.

Back in the chamber, I watched as Dr Mervin checked the electrode collars on Owain’s cock, and then the placement of the pads over his nipples. Owain himself was now totally immobilised in the Chair’s restraints, and I could sense his excitement and the tinge of fear as he tried to see what was happening through the restricted view offered by the lenses in the hood he wore.

The Liberan Trader, Orwen, was ushered in by Dr Pawel just as the rest of us left. For a moment he stared at the figure of his helpless lover, his concern and doubt showing, then he moved to stand beside the chair, and touched Owain’s arm gently.

“Are you sure, my love?” He asked his gagged lover.

A muffled grunt escaped the breathing mask, and Owain’s hand, the only part of him he could still move, made a thumbs up. I handed Dr Mervin the first of the large syringes, my eyes on the device encasing Owain’s entire crotch area, noting the bright blue gel oozing over his shaved pubis as the doctor administered the first dose. As we moved around, I caught sight of the big dildo embedded in his anus, and the gel oozing around it, then it was time to leave, and Roger shut the door firmly as I exited, and turned the locking wheel. On the monitoring screens we saw Owain strain against the straps securing him as the process began.

“Is it painful?” Orwen sounded concerned.

“Not painful,” I replied. “At least, not in an unpleasant way.” I glanced at Dan, my hand finding his. “Your senses more or less overload with sensation of pleasure.” I could feel my libido rising watching the helpless figure writhe in the restraints, and sensed that Dan had the same response. A glance at Roger and Piotr confirmed it. We all found the scene irresistibly erotic. I turned to Doc Mervin. “Um, Doc, I think Dan and I are going to need …”

“So are we,” chipped in Roger. 

“Come on, you four, Time you did your next part … you’re part of the process.” Doc Mervin indicated the door. “Quick, follow me, before you lose control …”

Hastily we followed him into the room he indicated. Dr Pawel was waiting with a team of men ready with strait jackets and apparatus I’d never seen before. Almost before I knew it, I was secured in a strait jacket, my cod piece removed, and I was face down on an inclined couch, with my rigid member inside a ‘milking’ tube. I moaned as it started to stimulate me and my attendants strapped me in position with my legs apart and my anus open. I heard myself begging to be fucked, to be fed someone’s cock, and then …

Dimly I heard Dr Mervin explaining to the Trader, “Their semen is now being fed to Owain. It’s part of the process — the element none of us knew in the Diaconate. Dan and Pat were scheduled to be two of their permanent sources of semen at their facility. We only learned a few months ago that they regularly subject someone at random to the four hour shot so they always have at least four like them permanently available.”

Bastards, I thought, then let myself surrender to the ministrations I was enjoying. There was a pattern to it. It wasn’t continuous, though we were — or at least I was — fairly constantly aroused. At intervals I got the fucking I wanted, at others, I enjoyed a cock in my mouth, and the milker did its ‘thing’ in between. After a while, my mind sort of blanked, time stood still, and I dreamed …

A satisfied customer

Owain emerged from the chamber in his new latex ‘skin’, the breathing mask covered his mouth and hid the gag we knew was there, his enlarged penis impressive as it dangled from his crotch, the ‘head’ large and beautifully defined at the end of his shaft. The Trader gasped.

“Owain, my love!” He grabbed his lover’s latex covered hands. “How do you feel? Oh, stupid, you can’t speak!”

The slim latex figure nodded, then pulled his lover toward him and hugged him, the thick rubber sheathed body of his penis stiffening and slipping between the Trader’s legs so it poked out behind him.

“Oh, my darling,” Orwen sobbed, tears streaming down his face. “Oh, my darling, you look so magnificent, so …” He turned his head. “Doctors, I want you to increase my treatment to three hours.” He gulped. “Owain, I have to remain able to fulfil my function as ‘Trader’, but,” he glanced at Doctor Pawel, “Will three hours make me at least able to give my beloved Owain the satisfaction he deserves?”

“Yes, though you will also need to wear latex at all times, and your genitals will attract some notice.” Dr Mervin replied. “Two hours would probably be less obvious.” 

“Think about it,” Dr Pawel advised. “For now it is important that Owain rest. We’ve accommodation set up for you both, and the nurses can monitor him and help you.” He signalled one of the nurses, one of the guys that had set us Six-Four team for the milking, who grinned and moved to the door.

I turned to Dan as we followed, hand in hand, and now ravenously hungry, and for the moment, sated, and asked, “Did you know the DFG’s department kept several Six-Four subjects in their Chair facility? I heard Doc Pawel saying something about our spunk being part of the process …”

“No, I didn’t, but I did wonder where the spunk we tasted and smelled came from …” He shook his head. “Bastards. It makes sense now, I know my father intended us — or at least one of us — to be kept there.”

We walked on in silence for a bit, then I said, “I wonder if Owain is happy with his new tackle?” I grinned. “I guess we’ll find out eventually.” I indicated the restaurant we enjoyed most. “Shall we treat ourselves? Maybe give someone a tip?”

“Why not? Especially the tip. Yours? Or mine?” Laughing we crossed the park and entered to be greeted by Pierre, the guy who managed it. “Got space for us, Pierre?”

Pierre laughed. “Of course, Dan, Pat. I’ll warn the waiters to make sure they’re prepared for a tip.”

Laughing, we followed him to a table at the back from where we could see the room, and yet be private if we needed to be. “Thanks, Pierre,” I said as I slid into my seat. “It’s been a long, but fun day.”

We’d just ordered when Tristan walked over, his partner, George, with him. May we join you guys?” He asked.

“Of course,” I responded. “What brings you guys out? We’re just too lazy to cook for ourselves after the day we’ve had!”

“Don’t blame you,” Tristan said, smiling. “It went well I hear. The Trader is absolutely delighted with the result, and so, it seems, is his companion.” He squeezed George’s hand as they took their places. “Was it a strain for you chaps?”

“You could say that,” Dan replied. He paused as the waiter approached to hand out menus. “We didn’t expect to be supplying a part of the, er, infusion needed in the process.”

“No, apparently that was something Dr Pawel only learned in the last few days.” Tristan frowned. “And it rather shocked us. It seems that you fellows were very lucky our contact supervised your processing. The DF General had ordered you both be sent to their secret facility to be used for the process in their Chairs — yes, they do have more than one. We’re not sure how many, our contact says at least three are in use.”

“I was wondering where they got …” I glanced at Dan, my hand reaching for his. “I wonder who the poor bastards were who your friend swopped us with?”

“Don’t worry about them,” George interjected. “The DFG also uses the Chair to punish criminals — the real kind — so Samil swopped you with two who’d been down for a slightly different sentence.” He shrugged. “From what he tells me they deserved worse — so they got it.”

“George is being judgemental,” Tristan commented. “You should hear what he wants to do to the DFG or the Deacons!” He paused. “Speaking of which, did the Trader tell you the rumours circulating in Libera? It confirms something we’re hearing from the Diaconate.” His smile was sardonic. “It seems the precious Deacons are struggling to keep control — a lot of ordinary people seem to be getting tired of the strictures and of their sons and sometimes daughters being accused of ‘deviance’.”

“He didn’t say anything about that,” I replied as our food was served. “But it doesn’t surprise me — especially with what you’ve just told us. What will happen to us if the Deacons lose control?”

“We can’t be sure. It depends on who does get control,” Tristan replied. “For now we’re trying to keep a low profile and stay below their radar, but their media is full of stories about how ‘Deviants are behind the problems’ no matter what it is. The power generators failed? Deviants! The crops aren’t good? Deviants …” He sipped his drink, a Liberan wine we all liked. “You know how it goes.”

We did, and our conversation drifted onto other, more pleasant and more amusing topics as the meal progressed. Dan and I excused ourselves individually while coffee and cheese was served and rewarded our waiters with their choice of the use of our cocks — a custom we’d developed at Pierre’s restaurant at his suggestion — and walked home hand in hand deep in thought.

Owain proved to be the first of a small number of Liberans who wanted to undergo the change of lifestyle four hours in the Chair produced. There were only two of our own community, both of whom had been sentenced to one hour by the Deviant Finder Courts, who chose to do it. Most opted for one hour more to enhance their genitals and not much more.

Dan and I walked home from the latest session with Roger and Piotr. 

“I think we’re going to see fewer candidates for a while,” Roger remarked. “I think the Diaconate is in trouble.”

“The rumours are starting to match what we’re seeing on the Deacon’s Hour,” Dan laughed. “That must be a bad sign.”

“Their official communication channels are full of reports of ‘unrest’ in certain communities, rising ‘deviant’ activity and falling attendance at Rest Day worship.” Piotr said. “A lot of it confirms the rumours.”

The rumours filtered through to us on Deviant island from both the newcomers, some of whom had clearly never been even remotely interested in other men before the Deviant Finders subjected them to the Chair. Now they needed a lot of help to adjust and support to settle in. Tristan and the Council’s own ‘security’ team kept a careful eye on those having the most difficult time adjusting — and controlled what and how much they learned of what we were really doing. 

For something like a year now we’d been hearing about ‘unrest’ in the Diaconate, with stories of people seeking refuge in neighbouring Libera and even in Mea, the near impenetrable mountain Queendom to the north of the Diaconate. If that were true things must really be getting bad at home. The Queendom defied everything the Diaconate stood for, most specifically the fact it was governed by women, for women. If the Preachers had it in for Onanists and Deviants, their venom was really released at the mere mention of Mea.

The second source was the Liberan traders. They had a more commercial interest in what happened in the Diaconate, and supplemented the equipment installed on the island to receive broadcasts from the Deaconsville transmitters — essentially a propaganda channel — with a unit capable of monitoring ‘official’ communications.

“The shit’s hit the fan in Deaconsville,” Roger announced as he entered my workspace. “Big time.” He perched on the edge of my desk. “You’d better find Dan and then both of you better get over to the Chair facility.”

Standing, I grabbed my hood and pulled it on. “What’s happened?” 

“We don’t know for sure, but the last group of ‘exiles’ the Deviant Directorate sent over were all two or three hour subjects — six of them, and all ‘minor’ onanists — and the transport guards have said they aren’t going back until things calm down. They sent a message to say they had a problem with their wave rider and need to remain here until they can fix it.” He paused. “They think there’s been a coup — and that the Deviant Finder General is now in charge. Calls himself the Lord Protector.” He grimaced. “Now we’ve got the problem of how to make sure they don’t see anything the DFG could use  …”

“Damn. I’ll find Dan. “Why do we need to go to the Chair facility?”

“Because he’s found out that you two were switched and he’s sworn to find you and make an example. You’ll be well hidden there until we know what he’s planning.” He stood to follow me. “Tris thinks it will be best if we get you both away from here in case, and Trader Orwen has agreed to take you to his secure factory where Owain and his security can look after you.”

“What about everybody else?” I asked. “That bastard is capable of taking it out on everyone else here until someone hands us over — and even then he’s likely to make damned sure you all pay for trying to frustrate him.”

“We know.” Roger smiled. “But first, he has to get here, and get in, and once in he has to try to take us, and we have ways to prevent that!. By making sure you guys are not easily found, we can at least keep his attention on trying to find you, and not on what we’re doing. Now get going, find Dan and get to the Chair.” He grinned. “And tell Dan, Piotr and the others will put him restraints, package him and ship him if he doesn’t go with you immediately.”

I laughed, heading for the door. “No, I won’t, that’ll make him play up just so they have to!”

“Yeah, you’re probably right there.” Roger laughed. “Tris is wanting to send all of us Six-Fours off the island, but the key is to get you two away as soon as possible.” He hesitated. “We can’t all disappear at the same time, and there’s always the chance someone here might fall for a generous offer …”

“Point taken. I’m on my way.” He was right, with several hundred people here, even though all of us were victims of the Anti-Deviant laws of the Diaconate, we all have our price, and for the right incentive — and the Deviant Finder General would have access to information on everyone here — someone would almost certainly be ‘persuaded’ to give the DFG the information he wanted.