THE ADVENTURES OF RANGER RICK
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Rubbersuit Rick free porn video
Rubbersuit Rick by Throne
When you have more money than you could spend in three lifetimes, what do
you do with it? Well, if you're me, you pursue your most elaborate and
kinky fantasies. Mine was to create a living doll. It would be an
attractive flesh-and-blood woman, sealed into a bodysuit that enhanced her
natural contours and gave her an exaggeratedly sexy face. Of course, that
face would include a mouth with very full lips. I'm sure you get the
picture. I put a tiny fraction of my vast fortune into a research company
that was developing something that could be adapted to my purposes. They
were creating it for other, more humanitarian purposes, but were still
happy to accept my investments. They didn't appreciate that I insisted on
being able to use the fruits of the labor for my own bizarre ends, but
they couldn't afford to say no. Eventually their work was done and I was
ready to move on to the main phase of my project.
I had ditched my wife Sandy for a younger model, with the rather exotic
name of Tulla. She was a slender blond, short like me, and willing to put
up with my sexual peccadillos. Those consisted of the demands I made on
her in bed, and the fact that I gave nothing in return. I loved to hear
her say, "Yes, Richard," and "Whatever you want, Richard." But I kept my
major kink from her. After all, how happy would she be if she discovered
that I was going to transform her into a real-life sex toy for myself?
And once it was done, Tulla would have no way to reverse it. Only I could
make that happen. So, she would be more under my command than ever. I
also decided to get a few enhancements for myself, but those would be of a
more temporary type, that could be applied when wanted, and then discarded
until needed again.
To get her measurements, via a full-body scan, which were needed before
the big change could be made, I said that we were just going to do
something for fun. Because I was getting scanned as well, I figured she
would not be suspicious. I explained the basic methods to her, leaving
out the parts about mine being as-wanted and hers irreversible. She had
majored in computer science in college, so she had an understanding of how
our information would be gathered and used. I told her the name of the
company, to make her feel more relaxed. Then the big day arrived. We
headed to their facility and stripped down to be scanned. I went first,
to reassure her. The technician explained how wearing what they produced
was safe, because the synthetic, rubber-like, outer skin didn't interfere
with touch, perspiration, or even receiving vitamin D from sunlight. Body
hair growth would be stopped, though it could be duplicated on the new
skin, for a more natural appearance. Also, he added, they could even make
the second-skin permanent, with an equal lack of ill effects, for those
who needed it for medical reasons. I didn't appreciate him mentioning
that, but Tulla didn't seem to notice. I figured she was too busy being
impressed with the scanning chamber and multiple computer terminals.
Later on, I would have a talk with that technician and tell him how stupid
he had been to let slip the fact about permanent rubber-suiting. At one
time or another, I'd had to scold every member of the small staff over one
issue or another. They didn't like it, but money talks, and those who
need it keep their mouths shut.
I stripped down and entered the scanning booth. I had nothing to be
modest about. I was trim, though not muscular. I had enough body hair to
announce my masculinity, though I wasn't overly hirsute. And best of all,
I was well endowed enough, where it counts, that I didn't mind being
exposed to the female techs. I wasn't thrilled to be naked in front of
the male employees, but this was just a one-time event. Then Tulla took
her turn. That swimsuit-model body was mine to possess in bed, and I'd
bragged about it often enough that the entire staff knew. Gridlines of
light and multiple moving cursors mapped her facial features and contours,
just as they had done with mine. As it went on, I mentally pictured her
with the puffy lips, huge boobs, and a wide protruding ass that I had
designated for her. It was going to be so hot to handle the new Tulla.
And the way the second-skin worked, she would be able to feel every touch
of my busy hands.
All the information was stored in the computers. Next it would be fed
into the 3-D printer that would apply our new outer selves, my six-pack
abs and enhanced biceps to be worn only when desired, and her outrageous
curves there to stay. We had to wait a few days for the programs to be
reviewed, and any glitches to be eliminated. I contacted the lab and
tweaked her new look some more, adding larger nipples and having their
nerve connections with her natural breasts enhanced. My slightest touch
would drive her into desperately craving more, as if she had taken some
super-aphrodisiac. I was going to have endless fun after she was changed.
Then came the big day. We went in and entered the makeover booths. One
of the staff administered a mild sedative, because we had to remain still
most of the time, but also be able to follow simple spoken commands when
it was necessary to shift our position. The drugs made me passive and
obedient. I stood in the booth, my wrists in rubber cuffs that were
attached to straps that kept my arms elevated. The guy positioning me
made sure my feet were in the right spots. I didn't like having a man
touch my bare legs, but it was a small price to pay for what came next.
And more so, for how much my getting done reassured Tulla about her own
situation, though our results would be very different.
As I slipped deeper into warm enveloping calmness, the door was closed and
the walls of the booth began to hum. I closed my eyes and was aware only
of gentle invisible forces playing over every inch of my body. There were
some odd sensations, in various parts of my anatomy, but I had enough
euphoria-producing substances in my system to ignore them. I drifted
along on a cloud and then lost consciousness for what I guessed was a
brief period. When I awoke, I got the first of a series of unwelcome
surprises. The door to my booth was opened and I was looking out at a
naked... me?
The mirror-image of myself raised both arms and said, "What do you
think?" but the voice was Tulla's. She said, "Wait, let me see if all my
practicing paid off. How about now? Sound better?"
It was a convincing enough imitation of my voice. But was that really
her? I noticed that my doppelganger was perfect, including what was
between its legs. The other Richard saw where my eyes had gone and said,
"Yes, it's just like yours and -- thanks to some new advances the staff
didn't tell you about -- is fully functional." After letting me absorb
that revelation, or at least try to, it added, "And yes, it's me, Tulla,
wearing the duplicate of your physique that the scanners recorded."
Then I got an even greater shock. Tulla said, "And how do you like what
we gave to you? You'll be happy to know that I used my computer skills to
help them do it."
My arms were stretched out to the sides, wrists still in cuffs. That was
probably good, because what I saw next might have made me collapse, if I
hadn't had that extra support. Looking down the length of my body, I saw
a huge set of knockers, with prominent nipples, just like I had intended
to give my trophy wife. As I bent further forward, I saw that the rest of
me was smooth and pink and curvy, with flaring hips and shapely legs. I
whimpered loudly and shook my head. Long hair brushed my shoulders.
"What did you...? How were you able to...?"
My own face smiled at me. "It was a simple switch. No one here was very
fond of you, to put it mildly. And I didn't want to be transformed into
Barbie Bimbo. So after I hacked into your laptop and discovered your
naughty plan, I got in touch with the good people here and we concocted
this switcheroo. Clever, don't you think?"
"I'll cut their funding immediately," I yelled, noticing that my voice was
pitched higher than normal.
"No, YOU won't do anything like that. Know why? Because I'm going to be
Richard and make all the decisions regarding your money. Whenever you
need to be present for a teleconference or even an in-person meeting, I'll
simply jump into the booth, get turned into you for as long as needed, and
do what needs to be done." As if to emphasize that, she began to put on
my clothes.
"The minute I get back to normal," I told her angrily, my voice driven up
to a squeak by emotion, "you're going to be sorry you ever attempted
this."
She didn't get upset. Tulla smiled with her perfect reproduction of my
mouth. "Here's the thing. The way you are now is your new normal. For
as long as I say so, which in this case I intend to be for always. And
the modifications I made to the system allowed us to make some changes to
your actual physiology as well, which is how we adjusted your vocal
chords."
"That's not possible."
"It is now, thanks to your money and my smarts, which were considerably
more than I let on about."
"So, my voice will stay this way?"
"It sure will. Soft and girly. Plus -- and this was my personal
inspiration -- we made your bladder smaller." She chuckled. "You'll need
to go potty more often... and to sit when you do it."
"But did you...? I mean, you didn't...?"
"Get rid of your cock? Of course not, Rick. That would be terrible. And
it would play havoc with your male self-image. Let's have Bob free your
hands, and Shondra help you over to the video unit."
The guy I'd always tagged as a fairy stepped into the booth. He smelled
faintly of some flowery scent. As he unfastened my wrists, his hands
touched my ribs and hips. Maybe he was just helping me keep my balance,
but it was exactly as if he was touching my bare skin, and I didn't like
it. Then Shondra, a dusky mixed-race girl I'd always looked down on, took
my hand and I stepped out. As I walked, my overblown bust wobbled
nonstop. She led me to a large screen that wrapped halfway around me.
When it was turned on, I was looking at a video image of myself. Before
that, I hadn't been able to see between my legs because that big bust got
in the way. Now I had a clear look at my cock, or what used to be it.
There was only a nub there, and a total absence of pubic hair made it
appear even smaller.
Tulla got behind me. She explained, "We left it normal size, but I
programmed the new rubber skin in much smaller dimensions. The result is
that it's like you're wearing something over your penis, like a chastity
device. You can get aroused but you can't get hard. So frustrating. Let
me demonstrate."
Her arms wrapped around my torso and her fingers found my nipples. When
she toyed with the two points of tissue, it sent powerful arousal signals
to my dick. I tried to get hard but could only strain against the new
sheath of rubberized covering. My response to her tantalizing was several
times stronger than it would have been in the past. I got weak in the
knees. All I could think about was receiving more of her touch. I gasped
and moaned.
My attention on the way to the video mirror had been fully on my groin.
Now, as what she was doing made me bring my head up, I got a first view of
what had been done to my face. It was how I had intended her to appear,
but taken even further.
Still fingering my massive boobs, she said, "I figured that, if you liked
the bimbo facial features so much, you'd enjoy it even more if we went
further. How about it?"
I gaped at my unrecognizable reflection. Staring back at me was someone
with long blond hair, now streaked with red highlights. Her eyes were
rimmed with impossibly long lashes. The lids were naturally flushed, as
if she was in a state of high excitation. She had an extra layer of
softening thickness all over her features, but her cheekbones were so
strong as to still stand out. Worst of all, her lips were pillowed up to
a ridiculous size and colored bright pink.
Tulla said, "I went with that color for your kisser, because this way you
can still put darker shades of lipstick over what's there. Wasn't that
smart of me?"
"You can't do this. I'm a wealthy man."
"Actually, now I'm the wealthy man, whenever I put my Richard disguise on.
You're my poor penniless wife, Tulla, who now finds herself reduced to a
salivating sex addict, thanks to what happened while she was in that
booth. And the staff here will tell anyone who asks that she requested
everything that was done to her. In fact, we have signed documents to
prove it. Naturally, it was me who signed them, over a week ago."
"This isn't possible."
"Of course it is. You paid for it."
"But what's going to happen to me?"
"Part of the time you'll spend here, Ricky. They want to run some tests
on you. And all of them have personal grievances to settle with the old
Richard."
"And the rest of the time?"
"You'll live where you always did, in MY penthouse, atop that building
that I now own, where you can model all the hot sexy outfits that I found
out you had ordered for me. And those bondage clothes? Naughty Richard.
You've earned yourself a spanking for that. Well, many spankings. And
some of them while you're wearing those very outfits. We are going to
have so much fun together. Just like you planned."
"But I was supposed to be the one putting you in those... I mean, you
were going to be the one who..." His words trailed off.
"You know what they say. Change is good." She slapped me on the butt and
I felt it sting as hard as if it was on my uncovered bottom. "Now turn to
the side a bit, hot stuff."
Realizing how helpless I was, I did what she said. There, in profile, was
my rear end. It was full and jutted out dramatically. With the aid of
the curved video screen, I was even able to see it as if I was standing
behind myself. That bum was wide and round. Tulla suggested, "You are
going to look so rump-a-licious when I put you in one of those tight
skirts you bought me, and take you to a party. Imagine how your buddies
will react, when they think it's me, and that you had me made over to your
specifications. Some of them might even want to see if they can get a
piece of the action." She winked broadly. "Know what I mean?"
I was stunned speechless. She had me in a perfect trap, one of my own
making, with plenty of ingenious input from her. Then I suddenly had to
speak.
"Oh my," I said, sounding more girly than ever. "I have to take a leak."
"No," the Richard-version of Tulla gently corrected, still with that spot-
on imitation of my voice. "You have to pee-pee. Or piddle. Even tinkle
is okay. Tinkle like a princess. But someone who looks like you never
needs to 'take a leak'. We'll be doing plenty of work on your vocabulary,
dear. Now who would you like to walk you to the lavatory? Bob? Or
Shondra? How about Mack?" She leaned in to whisper confidentially, "I
think he likes you."
She summoned that last choice over, to walk me to the toilet. He was tall
and as manly as I was feminine. To my humiliation, he stayed with me
while I did my business. Then it was time to begin those tests Tulla had
mentioned. To my shame, they were like naked aerobics, with my outlandish
curves bouncing and jiggling the entire time, the staff ogling me with
only the slightest pretense of scientific detachment. They made frequent
checks of my vitals, which always involved excess touching. Then came the
sexual response evaluation. One after another they stroked and fondled
me, while I squirmed and moaned endlessly. My heightened responses had my
entire body tingling and twitching. I wanted to beg them not to stop but
managed to keep myself from doing it. My balls, which I could only assume
were somewhere under the rubbery covering of my crotch, throbbed with
need. I was given water, to avoid dehydration. Almost immediately, I had
the urge to drain the dragon -- I mean go wee-wee -- again.
"Tulla," I said to the mirror-image of myself. "May I please use the
potty?"
"That's good," she congratulated. "You're already improvising on your
word-choice skills. So yes, you may... in about ten minutes. This time
Shondra will accompany you. Until then, let's see you do some upper-body
twists. Really jerk yourself side-to-side. And let's do it in front of
the video screen."
It made those supersize boobs swing wildly. That overfilled bottom
quivered. As I blew out through my lips, they stuck out even further. My
nipples wouldn't stop buzzing. I perspired mildly through the new coating
that covered my skin. It was as if it had bonded to me, which might have
been true. At last, I was allowed to visit the restroom, Shondra at my
side the entire time. After that, it was time to leave. I was permitted
to dress in the sleeveless top and short skirt that Tulla had worn. They
were stretched to their limits by my new contours. I showed plenty of
side-boob. My nipples made themselves visible as two points, pressing
against their confinement. I wasn't given my wife's panties, so there was
a constant fear of someone seeing what was under that high hemline. Tulla
gave me tips on how to slide onto the passenger side seat like a lady, or
at least like a bimbo.
She said, "You'd have trouble sitting behind the wheel, with those
monstrous mammary glands, so I think someone else will drive you anywhere
you have to go. Maybe it can be that handsome Mack some of the time."
I shuddered at her suggestion. She got me home and announced that it was
time for me to try on some of the goodies I had purchased for her to wear.
Because she had expanded my curves even more than I was going to enlarge
hers, everything would fit very closely. She had me wriggle into a tube
top and mini-shorts, that made me look like a sleazy hooker waiting to be
picked up by a John. That outfit was completed with sandals that had
thick cork soles. They were tricky to walk on but reminded me to take
small mincing steps, which she said should be my new way of moving.
"You'll graduate to high heels soon. Repeating some of those movement
tests at the lab, while you're in stilettos, might yield some fascinating
and very scientific results." She laughed at the obvious absurdity of
that. I understood that my workouts at the lab would be less for anyone
there to gain knowledge from, and more for them to be entertained by.
Passing through the lobby of my building went smoothly. No one suspected
she wasn't me. My new figure attracted lots of male stares. One we were
in the penthouse, Tulla got out of her Richard disguise. She made a point
to remind me that the male equipment was fully functional, linked to her
nerve endings, and that she would try it out on me soon. It was a relief
to see her as herself. But it was also arousing, especially when she
didn't put on more than a skimpy bra and bikini-cut panties. My cock
twitched inside its sheath. She smiled seductively and came to me. Her
hands went up under my tube top, to fondle those jumbo jugs. She rolled
the nips between thumbs and forefingers. I nearly melted from how it
affected me. All I could do was mewl with need.
It got so bad that, this time, I wasn't able to contain myself. "Please,
Tulla. Don't stop."
She took that as her cue to do exactly what I didn't want. "This has to
be an equitable arrangement. Tit-for-tat, if you'll excuse the
expression." Her hands went under my boobs, to jog them up and down.
"It's time to head to the bedroom, so you can do something nice for me."
She undid the front-closure of her bra and opened it up. Those medium-
size breasts that I had intended to mercilessly expand, added to my
excitement. "Since your dick is now too small to do anything for me,
you'll have to learn to use your mouth, instead."
"You know I never do that." My girly voice lacked authority. "It's
disgusting."
"Oh? Was it disgusting for me, when you demanded blowjobs all the time,
even on our wedding night? And when you neglected my needs during regular
sex? Hmmm? Somebody owes me a LOT of orgasms. Starting about three
minutes from now, Ricky."
She took me by the hand and I followed passively as she walked me to the
bedroom. Tulla made me undress, slowly and erotically. I had been king
of that room, master of the bed, ruler of her body. The role-reversal was
traumatic. Having to lick and suck her was unthinkable. But it happened.
I had to slurp her labia and apply suction to her clitoris. She murmured
appreciatively and eventually had a climax, a very wet one. I was
relieved for it to be over. Except that she expected a second one and
then a third. In the end she was satiated and I had a sore jaw.
After she had lazed for an hour, with me lying alongside her as she toyed
with my nipples, keeping me in a constant state of heightened arousal, it
was time for one more event. She said, "I hope you don't mind, but I
can't wait to try one of those bondage costumes on you. The ones that you
bought to make me wear. Isn't the irony delicious?"
"Y... yes, dear," I said in a strained whisper.
"And some of those sex toys you stocked up on... whew!"
I did a mental inventory of the butt plugs, dildos, vibrators and more.
It made me tremble all over. At the same time, my nipples pulsed. I
craved stimulation so powerfully that even a session with those devices
sounded attractive. Would I get addicted to them? And even to what she
was about to make me wear?
She went to the back of my walk-in closet, where I kept the secret stash
of my fantasy wardrobe for her. The fishnet and rubber and leather and
more. There was one outfit that was pretty much just a series of straps,
all connected to a central strip that ran down the back. She got me into
it, starting with the wide stiff collar that forced my chin up high. Then
came straps that held my upper arms against my sides, one that went under
my breasts to hold them up, unnaturally high, another that fit around my
middle and could be tightened until it pinched my waist into narrowness,
and others that hampered my legs at thigh and calf level, enabling me to
take only the tiniest steps. Then came the rubber paddle I'd selected for
spanking games. On one side it was flat, which was bad enough. But the
reverse had the name TULLA spelled out in metal studs that would add to
the instrument's pain-inflicting capability. She slapped the less
punishing side against her hand.
"I want to keep you in tip-top shape, Ricky-girl, so we'll have plenty of
exercise sessions. Let's start this one with an energizing walk around
the penthouse."
She slapped my rump hard. I could imagine what a tempting target it made,
so broad and jiggly-bouncy, below my constricted waist and above the thigh
bondage, pale pink skin against black straps. She struck again, and I
started moving. How much walking would she make me do? The penthouse was
very spacious. And my steps were the smallest possible. WHACK! WHACK!
WHACK! I yelped each time, making high-pitched sounds. My big bottom was
on fire. Even so, at some level the penetrating discomfort was being
translated into a weird type of libido-stirring. The shame, the semi-
nudity, those exaggerated, jelly-filled curves, being encased in that
rubbery second skin, my financial reversal, the maddening arousal that led
to no release, her absolute control over me, the ordeals ahead at the lab,
and even the pain, were all strangely turning me on.
How much worse could it get?
*********
(Talk about having a rough day! I hope you'll leave comments and tell me
what you thought.)
Bess
- 02.04.2022
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