Lockdown! Chapter 7
These are difficult times and good erotica can help us get through the next few weeks and months of isolation and social distancing. This fantasy is how I wish I was spending my lockdown...
However, before then please do whatever you can to support your local health and essential workers. They have the toughest jobs of all and deserve our backing, as do local charities (such as food banks and shelters) that provide invaluable support to the wider community. Please donate wherever and however you can.
Now, onto full rubbered-up play...
"I want your pussy. Get in the sling, now" demanded Lee.
How could Kris possibly refuse?
Top hunger is a powerful thing. When someone wants to use your hole, you run with it. Not least as everything the pair needed was still on the bed from their session the day before: poppers, towels and some left-over lube. There wasn't much, but there would be enough, if they were determined.
Kris jumped his rubber-clad body into the sling and in seconds Lee had hooked the bottom's legs into the ankle supports. Even though he'd only done it once before - and his thickly gloved hands were naturally more clumsy - he already seemed incredibly well-practiced. Some guys are fast learners.
And so, for the second time in 24 hours Kris was locked into his sling, except this time was wildly different from yesterday. This time Kris was wearing a red and white rubber singlet with a chaps cut that perfectly presented his hole. And Lee? He was wearing full coverage. Intense full coverage. A thick black rubber cat-suit that hugged his muscular body, the back-entry zip perfectly encapsulating his body. Vintage waders made him stand tall but the pièce de résistance were the heavy industrial rubber gloves that ran from each forearm to his finger tips. He looked mean and ready for business.
Some fist-tops feel that wearing thick gloves for play takes them away from the action. It removes them from intimately being able to feel exactly what's going on inside the hole you're using. To feel that way is to miss the point entirely. Thick gloves allow you get even closer because of the damage you're able to do whilst layered up. Of the immense stretch that's achievable when your hands are super-sized. If you could, why wouldn't you? True fist-pigs want their holes to be as big as possible, and true fist-tops know they want to destroy and rebuild in their image. It's the perfect symbiosis of need and desire.
And that's exactly was happened next.
An evilness consumed Lee. He took power and certainty from the cunt that was so willingly laid out in front of him, and strength from the connection he felt to his body through the warm, tight and pungent gear he was wearing. He felt strong, ready to destroy, ready to use. All in the name of lust. And so he did.
Smashing Kris's hole didn't take long.
It started gently though. Lee's rubber-clad fists might have gone up a size, but he knew already how to tease open a pussy. How to work it and then respond to its hunger. How to push through the opening flanges and then truly own it. To react to the hunger in the eyes of your sling-cunt, to see their desire and then use it against them. To see a pig's eyes go wide in wonder as your broach their cunt and push forward with thick and unfeeling rubber.
It's hardcore, but that lack of feeling is only possible if it's built on connection and intimacy. Trust has to be at the next level and communication between top and bottom in another league. It's not for the amateur.
Sure, nothing can prevent the clutch of a a bottom's ring squeezing down onto a top's wrists (well, unless they're truly slack!) but everything else Lee had to feel, to intuit. A top has to use all their senses, constantly looking deep into the eyes of their bottom to fully understand the impact of their fists. If you can't read the signals, you don't get to play, and the bottom will shut down before you can blink.
That wasn't going to happen here.
Both men were truly connected. Kris could feel those newly fat fingers exploring his trench, the cold lube relaxing and juicing his cunt. He was safe in the knowledge of something that Lee didn't know yet: that thick gloves actually make it easier to accept a fist, regardless of size. All the imperfections of a human hand - the knuckles and bumps - are smoothed over, making it easier to take. Even when bigger. Oh, so much bigger. The only thing the top needs is confidence. Confidence to throw away their inhibitions and to really give the bottom what they want. To unlock their cunt.
The look of co-joined delight as Lee pushed through the gates of Kris's cunt was a revelation for them both. Like Kris was handing over permission for Lee to really go for it.
The top flexed his fingers, finding the limits of how much he could tease and tweak. He discovered how he could form a fist whilst deep inside Kris's butt, to ream and core `his' bottom from the inside out. His discovered how he could gently retreat with his giant fist still clenched, before going back in coned. And then feeling the exact moment when Kris was stretched out enough to be able to take a full punch. How he could toy and play with the cunt splayed out in front of him by changing the speed and force of his delivery. Hearing the intensity when he full-punched, or the screams of pleasure when he pulled back at full-force, both happily knowing Kris's cunt was really being wrecked.
Is it worth pausing the narrative to linger upon those words? `Kris's cunt was really being wrecked'? To the handball uninitiated they may seem extreme and unreal. To those in the club those are words of potent magic. Every fist-bottom wants a bigger hole. To be bigger, looser and more sloppy so they can take more. And every fist-top wants to destroy, wreck and ravage. To leave every hole they find bigger and better then when they found it.
Well, we can but dream.
Lee's full rubber coverage was making him hot, literally. He was sweating buckets but the continued sight of his taut and shiny reflection in the mirror beside the sling was sensational. It made him want more. He was also enjoying Kris's writhing body in his red and white wrestling singlet, but his mind was running at full-speed. He'd spent an entire day being indoctrinated in the wilds of Kris's giant wardrobe of gear. He'd gone from fetish newbie to fetish-king in the matter of hours. Surely more - much, much more - was possible?
"Hey stud" he asked in a momentary pause (his fist still embedded deep inside) "can we go deeper?"
"What are you thinking?" said Kris, gently raising his eyebrows. He suspected exactly what Lee wanted right now, but he needed to hear it himself. No, actually he wanted Lee to say it out loud more. The fetish bottom knew from long experience that to vocalise our fantasies is an essential part of our fetish journey. To have confidence in our ability to talk and share our deepest desires. To not be rebuffed or be offended, Kris wanted to hear exactly what was going through Lee's mind.
"Can we step things up a gear? I want you to be fully covered too. In black." That was all the invitation Kris needed. Time to use his experience to good effect.
"Now?" Kris asked.
"God, yes"
The certainly was all Kris needed. Whilst still in the sling he guided the top in taking off Lee's thick gloves so he could help Kris get free (top tip: pull down from the forearm and then down over the hand). Soon after Kris had stripped off his red singlet and was reaching into his cupboard for more gear.
"I can wear this, or this?" He held up two seemingly identical catsuits. "One is thinner, but it has a zip up the back just like yours. The other is thicker - the same weight as yours, but the zip is up the front." Kris really was a well-prepared pig.
The top immediately went for the thicker option. "I want you to feel exactly what I'm feeling. You said thicker is more intense, right? Well I'm living that right now. Time for you to get on board!"
Part of Kris laughed, who was Lee to command his fetishes? But he took on-board the rivulets of sweat running down Lee's face. The top was committed and he rolled with it.
Soon, Kris was lubing up the thicker catsuit and was climbing inside. He then took great pleasure in accessorising his outfit. Rubber socks to envelop his feet. A pair of red and black high-tops on top. Soon the only thing not covered was his face and hands. Despite the vision of rubber in front of him and his own rubber-clad body, Lee took one look and wasn't satisfied.
"I've seen into the depths of your collection. Are you saying `this is it?'"
Kris laughed. He really had woken up a fetish-pig.
He reached into a drawer to slip a rubber hood over his head. It was a lot like a super-hero's mask, covering the back of his head and then sweeping up to his nose, leaving his mouth free and holes for his eyes. He could tell from the way Lee's cock was twitching that the top found it hot.
There was something about that anonymity - of taking away humanity - that was super horny. You're removed yet fully in the moment. It takes away your inhibitions, letting you fulfil your deepest and darkest desires. What's on the inside suddenly comes to the outside. For Kris, his over-aching fantasy was always the destruction of his cunt. By now he knew that Lee was fully on-board, but it was time to take things up a gear.
He reached deep into his collection to get out more pairs of industrial gloves. Lee looked non-plussed, how could he possibly wear all of these at once?
"Trust me" winked Kris.
He grabbed the first thick pair and slid them over Lee's expectant hands. They were actually the same size as the ones the top had already worn (except these weren't covered in slippery lube that made them impossible to put on - a good bottom is always prepared with spares!). He did however direct the slightly bewildered Lee to gently lather the gloves with a small amount of lube.
"Don't worry, you'll see."
It was then that Kris's purpose became clear. He carefully looked through the four gloves lying on his bed to find the next size up for Lee's right hand. He held it open and nodded. The top had a moment of disbelief, but then shrugged his shoulders and slid his already thickly gloved hand into yet another layer of thick rubber. It was a squeeze, it was tight, but it was done. Lee finally understood. Kris was making his hands bigger. And bigger.
"Oh yeah" he said. "We can make your fists absolute giants."
"Are you sure? These are going to be real pussy slayers" replied Lee.
Kris wilted on the inside. The joy of playing with someone who understood exactly what the bottom wanted and was ready to say it out loud. To not be ashamed or feel guilty. He could tell that Lee was totally turned on, not least by the stream of thick precum that was leaking out the side of his cod-piece.
And now for the final touches.
"Have you ever taken K?" asked Kris.
Lee paused for a moment before answering. "I haven't..." leaving the words hanging. Was that an invitation or a refusal? "I trust you though" he said.
Kris smiled in reply. "Here, take a small bump" said Kris, before doing the same himself. "In about 7 or 8 minutes you'll feel like you're floating free, disjointed yet still perfectly connected to each other."
The final touch was Kris pulling a 2mm thick rubber mask over Lee's head. Made by Invincible Rubber, the face was moulded with life-like features, just harsher and more stern than real-life. As Kris pulled the zip down at the back of the hood, Lee felt the tightness and it felt good. He also felt something entirely new, of removing himself from the world of social distancing and queues, of now inhabiting a new reality. One that was totally focused on this moment and only limited by his fantasies. He stretched his fingers and felt the power inside of him before looking in the mirror to see an anonymous fist-god staring back at him. All hail!
In seconds Kris was back in the sling, both men covered in tight black rubber. The only show of humanity was Kris's eyes and lower face, and (of course) his cunt sticking through the open ass zip of his catsuit.
Kris looked deep into the dark eyes looking down upon him. "Let yourself go man, don't hold back. I'm here every step of the way!"
And so Lee went for it, battering Kris's cunt through thick layers of rubber, truly working up a sweat. Both their minds slowly being taken by the K and losing themselves in the moment. Everything and anything was possible. Total cunt expansion, total hole destruction. Both united in rubber, a seamless unit of pleasure. One infinite purpose in life for both of them. Lee couldn't hold back, and Kris didn't want him to. It was as if he was being fisted by a man possessed - there was no humanity, just a rubber god using his cunt. The giant fists stretching him to new and monstrous proportions. Meanwhile, Lee was truly lost in the moment, giving more and more of himself over to the creation of the perfect pussy.
And perfect it was. Up til now Lee had always been used to tightly puckered holes. That had changed from the moment his wandering hands had found Kris's hole in the shower just two days before. His fingers had unexpectedly slipped into a rubbery and loose cunt, surrounded by what could only be described as pussy lips.
From that fateful moment `cunt' was the only word Lee thought of to describe Kris's trench. For all the hardcore punches, Lee took great delight in the moments between. He was able to watch Kris's cunt blossom, perfectly surrounded by thick and puffy lips, cunt-flaps that seemed to beg for more punishment. They seemed to be getting bigger and bigger in front of his very eyes. If he was determined - if he was focused - just how much could he transform Kris's cunt?
It couldn't go forever. It had to end at some point, right?
As ever, it was the body that gave up before the mind. Lee slowly came round and realised that he beginning to overheat.
"Jesus man! I'm bushwhacked! I need to be out of this!" he said, shaking his hooded head. The bottom responded immediately, having lived the experience for himself time and time again. In seconds, he'd managed to bend up from his lying back position to unzip the heavy rubber hood and discard it on the floor.
The relief on Lee's face was almost joyous. Both the fresh air on his face yet also the delight at what he'd just achieved - the wreckage of which was clearly laid out in front of him. Cry freedom!
Kris's emotions were mixed though. Whist his hole had been well and throughly used, in this moment right here and right now, he needed more. He wasn't done yet, not by a long way. He pulsed his cunt muscles, knowing that Lee wouldn't be able to resist, even if he was sweating buckets.
"Man, that was pretty amazing" said Lee, his fingers unable to resist and gently probing the punched out cunt in front of him. "I've never felt that way before - a total head-fuck! Is it always that way?"
"Not always sexy, only the best times" replied Kris, pushing his hole back onto Lee's wandering hands.
"I'm done though, I need out of this" said Lee.
"Damn, are you sure? I need more. Can you not punch me for a while longer?" plaintively asked Kris.
"Dude, I'm like an oven-roasted turkey in here! I need out!"
"Your fingers at my cunt say something different. Are you really sure?" said Kris slyly, blossoming his pussy to envelop as much of Lee's still gloved fingers as possible. "Tell you what, punch me for another round and I'll set you free."
"Free? What the fuck?!"
"You want to try getting out of that suit without me?!" laughed Kris. "Remember where that zipper is? Did I mention the padlock?" Was there an evilness in his voice? Payback for all the times a top had wanted to keep on playing past the point at which he was spent? Maybe.
`What the fuck' thought Lee. He knew it was true without questioning it. There was no-way he could get this suit off with the help of Kris. Help that currently wasn't on offer. He knew he was trapped, but being unable to escape gave him a new freedom. He was going to make Kris wish he'd never clicked that lock.
"Deal, one more round. Gloves off? No holes barred" stated the top.
"Almost! Trust me one more time. Take another bump and keep the gloves on... for the moment" replied the eager and still hungry bottom.
And so it began again, the thick rubber turning Lee's large hands into XXL monsters. The stretch for any normal bottom would have been epic, but they had been playing for so long that Kris's cunt was a slack and sloppy playground that could take virtually anything. Huff after huff of poppers, full-fist punch after punch...
Until it was time. The deepest of hits and then Kris told Lee to rip the gloves off his hands, quick! All of a sudden Lee's fists went from giant unfeeling brutes down to his regular hands, alive with a million nerve endings. Jesus-motherfucking-cunt! To say that they sunk into the gigantic canyon he'd so eagerly created over the course of the session didn't do it justice. So open, so sloppy, so loose, so fucking perfect! He couldn't hold back, the moment perfectly timed with the K so all he do could was pummel and punch into oblivion.
Eventually - of course - the lube ran out and they had to stop. Dazed, battered and sated, Kris climbed out of the sling and helped Lee undress before climbing out of his own suit.
They had both learnt important lessons. Lee about what a cunt was truly capable of, but also to know just how hungry Kris was. That meant there was no way the top was going to allow Kris to fall into bed with him without making a fresh batch of lube for the morning. Just in case.
Next: another gear collection gets a workout...
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In the meantime, comments and suggestions are welcome at stuhadley77@gmail.com and my previously published stories are:
https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/the-first-hand-school/ https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/the-reintegration-centre/ https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/the-curse-of-troy-fletcher/ https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/sf-fantasy/the-wish