Nightshade Ascending

 

You can’t believe it. You are face down in an alleyway, your wallet being shuffled through by some mouthbreathing guttersnipe, pain ringing in your ears from the unexpected blow to the back of your head. New Orleans was a dangerous city, and all the tour guides had warned you to never walk back to your hotel alone at night. But after more than a few shots on Bourbon Street and a few hits of ecstasy, you were not exactly in an awakened state of mind. That is how the pathetic thugs in this town operate anyway, preying on the weak and hoping for whatever scraps are leftover from the bars and strip clubs.

As he ruffled through your wad of twenty dollar bills, you sense a shift in the air. Someone is standing above you. Perhaps it was another neerdowell ready to finish you off, and yet… As you turn your head ever so slightly to the left, expecting to see a steel toed boot or some form of intimidating footwear, there stands what immediately looks like a bare foot. Are your eyes deceiving you? Perhaps it’s the onset of a concussion, but you’re seeing what appears to be a shiny, black, slick foot- toes and all. As your eyes adjust to the haze of pain in your peripherals, you struggle to come to terms with the fact that what you’re seeing is a rubbery latex foot. 

In a flash, they move forward, and the sounds of fists landing on flesh, grunts of pain and the odd squeaks and slurps of something not entirely solid. Within seconds, the thug is unconscious on the ground in the corner. While the sense of ironic satisfaction is absolutely lovely, it is dwarfed by what great hope you have that your saviour is who you think it is. Mustering just enough strength to look up, your excitement is immediately justified. It’s him, standing there with his now legendary baton, the shine of his slick, rubbery suit glimmering in the dull glow of the streetlight. It’s Nightshade.

New Orleans’ friendly (albeit vainglorious) neighborhood superhero had been one of the many reasons you made the trip to the Big Easy, though while you’d only hoped to catch a mere glimpse of him, you’d never have expected to seem him this close and personal. He is just as you wanted him to be. Tall, muscular, mysterious, and so insanely sexy. As he turns your eyes meet with his own: completely black underneath his shiny red eyemask. He smirks, pleased with himself and his vigilante handiwork. A swift last kick to the mugger, and he swaggers over to your limp, broken body. Kneeling down, you hear the slick, almost slimy squeaks of his suit as he leans over you.

“Hey kiddo. Hang in there. Help is on the way.” You stare into those deep, abysmal eyes, searching for so much as an iris or pupil… Seeing only the same shiny black sheen that covers his body. You get a whiff of his scent with him this close. The unmistakable smell of rubber, with the faintest ounce of sweaty musk beneath. You inhale, taking in as much of the intoxicating odor as you can before coughing it all back up; unfortunately, tiny specks of blood come up with it. “Shit.” Nightshade mutters under his breath, as he scratches his sweat-soaked messy black hair. “Don’t give me much of a choice, do ya?” The gruffness of his sultry baritone voice grates against your ears like sandpaper. It’s just as inebriating as his smell, and together it’s nearly hypnotic. You feel the lukewarm touch from his rubbery fingers against your cheek, as he lifts and cradles your head in his hand. “Looks like I’ll be getting the sidekick I’ve been wanting.” 

His thumb caresses your bleeding cheek, wiping the dirt and grime from the wounds before it slides down to your bottom lip. He smiles he slips it into your beckoning mouth,  It’s slick, with an almost slimesque texture, tasting of freshly lubed latex. As you eagerly suckle on it, you feel part of the suit disconnect from his thumb and attach to your tongue. He removes the thumb and sits across from you, flashing an earnest but almost sinister smile.

The slimy rubber encases your tongue and begins to slide down your throat. You cough, but by now it’s already coated your entire mouth and beyond. It flows up from your uvula into your sinuses, filling them completely before dripping out from your nose. Everything you taste, everything you smell is now a healthy dose of latex and sweat: it’s his taste… his scent… Whatever Nightshade truly was is now rapidly and methodically swarming into and across your body. 

He leans back against the wall, and stretches out his legs. The tips of his shiny toes glisten in the yellow glow of the streetlight. You feel compelled to crawl toward them as you feel the slime crawl up the side of your cheeks, and probe into your ears. Dripping from your mouth, the slime pools beneath you and begins to slide into your pants, creeping ever so carefully downward. Nightshade wriggles his toes at you, teasing you toward him.

Your senses of smell and taste now heightened, you take the full force of his musk. The tip of your nose touches the rubbery flesh between his toes, taking in every ounce of rank, masculine scent and within seconds, the tendril prodding your ever growing cock dives into your slit. It’s sensory overload. The feeling of slimy, slick liquid flowing like a river into a canal which until now had only flowed outward; the overwhelming smell of hard-earned foot funk invading your sensitive nostrils; the squeaking sounds of your rubbery tongue reaching out to run down the sole of his foot; the ever-present taste of latex and texture of slick, slimy rubber… 

As it flows up your cock into your swelling balls and stretches now across your groin toward your torso, your mind is numb. You can’t process any more stimuli as your brain begins to fly on autopilot. Now, as your worshiping his smelly feet, Nightshade’s echoing voice begins to bellow into your mind. 

“You are no longer who you were. You are anew.” Lapping up every minuscule droplet of seeping sweat, you can only focus on the words he says with a subconscious acceptance. “You are mine. You will obey every command I give with enthusiastic devotion.” He pauses long enough for you to sense the slime, now coating your entire body from the neck down, inside and out, finally penetrate from your inner ear directly into your brain. The world slows as you can feel the slime push into every nook and crevice, every fissure and cavern of your brain. You are no longer in control- he controls you.

“Now, my slave, who do you serve?” You feel your mouth answer, 

“You, master.” A rush of endorphins ripple across your body, a clear reward for a correct answer. Gently holding the back of your head, he pulls you close to his supple lips. He cocks a smirky side grin, flashing the confident trademark smile he’d built over the years, and finally places his lips upon yours. What you thought was a rush before is put to shame by the immense flood of ecstasy overtaking your entire body. Unbearable pleasure tingles every nerve ending inside and out of your body. Every grope, every probing tongue, every bite of your lip sends shockwaves of absolute euphoria. 

It is finally now that the slime begins it’s final task. Your body warms as the liquid begins to tighten across your body. Compressing down against your skin, warmth becomes heat, and you feel your body beginning to sweat. You finally understand why he tastes, smells, feels of sweat as you feel yourself slimming and toning. Your body is sweating out the fat, the toxins, everything preventing you from becoming anything more. The slickness of the rubber, paired with your sweat pouring from your pores makes the two of you slip and slide across eachother as if oiled and lubed. A second prodding at your tight hole alerts you and instinctively you reach downward to grasp your master’s throbbing cock.

Your hand can barely hold the entire thing as you feel yourself guiding it to your hole. As if you’ve done this thousands of times before, you pull your master’s rubbery, encased foreskin down before welcoming it into your body. Your hole stretches with inhuman ease, like a well used fleshlight to accommodate your master’s impossible girth and length. As he thrusts into you over, and over, and over again… feeling his pendulous balls smack against the latex skin of your butt, whatever threshold for  unadulterated bliss you have built for yourself disintegrates. Every neuron is firing, every nerve is producing a blinding sensation of paradise- more than a mere human would ever have been able to endure. 

You feel his balls begin to quiver, his pace becoming more rapid, and you know that whatever modicum of your former life remained is about to be obliterated. He pulls from your lips to howl a near animalistic roar, and his balls finally release their load. You feel his sticky, hot cum rush into you like a hose; the sheer force of the stream nearly pushes you up and off of him. It flows up your insides, filling up every empty space within you, and then begins to expand. More and more of his cum flows into you and you feel yourself growing… expanding… stretching. The sound of creaks and elastic stretches echo around you as your muscles balloon within you, filled with the slimy cum of your great master. Your feet buckle under the pressure, and expand out, elongating nearly twice their original size. Your hands swell, growing powerful and strong. You feel a final lump of cum pushing up your throat towards your head, and it as it reaches your mouth, it propels upwards into your skull. Your face squishes and squirms as the liquid reforms your face. Droplets of cum drip from the edges of your lips, nose, and eyes… and with a final ‘pop,’ it’s over.

He pulls out of you, and a loud ‘schlorp’ emits from your gaping hole before it tightens itself once again; readying itself for the next time your master requires it. He pulls you to your feet, and smirks at his job well done. You’re clearly your master’s creation, as you wink at him seductively, knowing exactly how to please him. Nightshade swaggers over to a bike chain, easily yanking it from the metal confines of the rack. Bringing it back to you, he places it around your broad neck, and pinches the locking link together.

“As long as this is around your neck, you are mine.” You lick his cheek, eager to show your devotion and insatiable lust for your master. Sirens blare far down the boulevard, and you both turn toward the noise. Nightshade turns to you with a cocky grin. “Are you ready?”

“Yes sir.”