The Telemachus Story Archive

Theatre of Rubber
By Hooder

Theatre of Rubber

“That didn’t hurt, now, did it.”

Duncan opened his eyes cautiously. “No. Thank you.”

The nurse smiled. “It’ll take effect soon. You’ll feel a bit whoozy. You’ll go into theatre in a few minutes. Now don’t worry!” She nodded, and then swept out, pulling the screen closed behind her.

Duncan was in for a relatively minor operation. Routine stuff, but he’d never been in a hospital before and his imagination was working overtime. What if they made a mistake? What if the anaesthetic didn’t work? With an effort, he stopped himself thinking about that.

The gurney he was lying on was comfortable. He felt good. Must be the pre-meds, he thought. Like to get some of that stuff…

A little later, the screen opened and a couple of guys came for him. They wheeled the gurney past the screens, turned it, and set off towards the ward doors. Down a corridor and into a small room. This didn’t look like an operating theatre. Where was he? What were they doing to him? He began to panic.

A guy in a surgical mask stuck a needle into his arm. He looked down – it had a light greenish liquid in it. A rubber mask came down over his face.

The gurney was moving again. The guys in the white scrubs wheeled it through double doors and into a much larger room – all the while holding the rubber mask over his face. When they came to a stop the mask was removed and they lifted him onto an operating table. His eyes widened – why did it have thick black leather straps on it?

The guys knew he couldn’t struggle, so they took their time slowly buckling the straps over his arms, legs, and body. When they’d finished they looked at him for a moment, and then they left.

Duncan was beginning to get very afraid indeed now - and when the door opened again and he saw what was standing there, he really started to panic.

The figure was black. The man was clad from head to toe in shiny black rubber. Over a rubber suit he wore waders, long rubber gloves – and a rubber apron. His head was covered by a rubber mask with sadistically leering eye holes, and over his mouth was a rubber surgical mask. He looked like he’d stepped straight out of a horror film.

He was joined by two more guys – also in full black rubber, except that these two did not have aprons. Slowly the three apparitions walked towards Duncan, flexing their shiny black rubber fingers slowly.

One of them wheeled a large grey machine closer and started checking the gauges on it, while the other one pulled over a small trolley. Duncan could see objects on it but not what they were. The figure in the apron – Duncan thought of him as the surgeon – stood gazing down at the helpless boy.

When everything was ready, the surgeon took Duncan’s cock in his rubber-gloved fingers and began to examine it. He moved it forward and back, looking at it from all angles, and then, holding the base of the shaft with one hand, carefully slid the foreskin back to expose the head. He peered at the naked glans through the eyeholes of his black rubber mask.

Even though he was still very afraid, at the touch of the rubber fingers his cock began to get hard. Bit by bit it stiffened in the examining hands.

The surgeon transferred his attention to the boy’s balls now, lifting them and massaging them gently. One finger moved down across his perineum and explored the rim of his arse hole gently.

By now Duncan was fully erect. The surgeon let go of the boy’s cock and it flopped onto his stomach. He picked up a pair of devices, and clicked them into slots on the operating table either side of Duncan’s hips. They were designed to hold a single steel rod across the top of the boy’s body, and in the centre of this rod was a curved section. The surgeon lifted this rod, pulled Duncan’s cock up away from his stomach, and clicked the rod back into position behind the base of it. He adjusted the whole frame until the cock was held past vertical, pointing slightly towards the bottom end of the table.

Duncan had no idea what was going on. Why were these guys dressed in black rubber? Why were they masked? Why had they put his cock into such a vulnerable position? He wasn’t here for an operation on his cock! With no answers to these questions, he could only lie there worrying.

Satisfied with the position of the cock, the surgeon now took another device from the small table. It, also, seemed to be of black rubber. He squirted something – lube? - onto the inside of the cylindrical bit and spread it around with his gloved finger. Then he carefully placed it over the erect cock.

It felt cold. The device came about halfway down his cock, and the top end was closed. A couple of thin rubber tubes snaked away from it back to something on the table. The surgeon switched it on – and it began to ride up and down over the boy’s cock head slowly, making slurping sounds. Duncan gasped as electric currents of pleasure ran through his body.

Satisfied that is was working properly, the surgeon switched it off again. He took a small object that looked worryingly like an electrode and stuck it onto the boy’s perineum. Two more went onto his balls, and a final wire was connected to the cylindrical device on his cock.

One of the assistants had been preparing what looked like a thin, curved, butt plug – it also had wires running from it – and now handed it to the surgeon, who inserted it carefully into Duncan’s arse.

When everything was plugged in and connected up, the surgeon nodded. “I think we may begin.” He had a deep, serious voice. He hovered over a machine on the trolley and appeared to be tapping on a keyboard. With a look at the boy, he pressed a final key.

Duncan threw his head back and howled as the cylinder started to milk his cock slowly, and pulses of pleasure darted through his genitals. His sphincter was contracting rhythmically, causing the butt plug to move inside him slightly, and its tip was doing something wonderful deep in his body. It felt amazing.

He’d never experienced anything like it in his life, and in less than a minute he knew that he was going to cum. His cock was rock-hard, and the cylinder had ridges or something inside it that stroked over the head in exactly the right places. He screwed up his eyes for an unbelievable orgasm.

Everything stopped. The cylinder froze, the electric pulses ceased, the butt plug was inert. Duncan’s eyes snapped open in astonishment, then disappointment, and then in intense frustration. “Noooo..” He wailed.

The surgeon adjusted controls on the machine, and after a few seconds everything started up again. But it was slower and less intense this time. Even so, in another minute the boy was on the edge once more.

Again it all stopped. The frustration was worse this time. Duncan needed to cum. He wanted that more than anything.

Start – stop – start – stop. The surgeon and the assistants were concentrating on his reactions, watching very closely, especially each time the machine stopped. They seemed to devour his unbearable frustration; pure, sadistic satisfaction visible in their eyes through the holes of the black rubber masks.

It was getting worse and worse. Each time the machine stopped, leaving him on the brink of orgasm, the frustration was becoming more and more unendurable. The drugs they had given him seemed to have worn off now and he could move – except that the thick leather straps holding him down made that movement minimal. But the ability now to struggle in the restraints made everything worse – he felt even more helpless.

The surgeon nodded to the ventilating machine. “Amyl, sixty percent,” he said.

One of the assistants adjusted a couple of controls on the machine and took a black rubber mask from its holder. He moved it across and slowly placed it over the boy’s nose and mouth, the wide black corrugated tubes resting on his bare chest.

Duncan caught a whiff of something chemical, and held his breath. He shook his head from side to side in an effort to dislodge the mask, but the assistant stretched two elastic straps around the boy’s head to hold in in place. Now it moved wherever he did, and there was no way he could escape it.

Duncan couldn’t hold his breath any longer. Helplessly, he inhaled a deep lungful of the gas.

Almost immediately his head started to swim. The machine started up again and this time its effects were multiplied alarmingly. Oh shit! He needed to get fucked, he needed the electricity in his balls and cock, he needed that cylinder to ride over his cock head – and more than anything in the world HE NEEDED TO CUM!

The machine stopped.

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!” Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!! He was so close! Right on the very edge of cumming! Right there! But he could NOT fucking cum!

He wailed, he screamed, he yelled, he pleaded, he begged.

The surgeon and the assistants were leaning close to him, observing closely every part of his helpless suffering. Both of the assistants were wanking their cocks slowly through their tight rubber suits, but it seemed that the surgeon himself was concentrating too hard on the boy’s torment even to do that. It was as if they were demons, feeding on their helpless victim’s torment.

The machine started again.

The machine stopped again.

Duncan was in a world of poppers-fuelled ecstasy and hell. It went from one extreme to the other every few seconds as that infernal machine worked on him.

And it went on and on.

The surgeon reached out a black-gloved hand. The rubber fingers stroked Duncan’s cheek gently. His masked face filled Duncan’s view. “Are you with us?” He said. The hand was taken away and the surgeon leaned over him. “Duncan”, he said, his voice soft, and surprisingly high.

Duncan blinked. The rubber face had morphed into that of a smiling, fair-haired nurse. He was back in the ward, lying on a bed. He looked around but there was no sign of rubber surgeons anywhere.

“You’ll feel a bit whoozy for a few minutes. That’s normal. Just relax and close your eyes. If you need anything press this.” She put a push-button into his hand, smiled, then left him alone.

It had seemed so fucking real! Duncan lay back and breathed deeply. Then he felt his cock. It felt normal.

The nurse returned later. “You can go home in a few minutes, but be very careful, and move slowly for a while. You have to give everything time to heal.” A bashful expression came over her face. “You seemed to enjoy the operation.”

Duncan frowned. “What do you mean?”

The nurse giggled. “Well, you had a stonking hard-on when you came out...”