Masquerade

 You sit in the back of the Uber, eagerly twiddling your thumbs. A Grindr date is not exactly what you had planned your evening, but as fate would have it, the cosmos smiled upon you tonight. Instead of laying in your bed scrolling through the ten Netflix shows you actually like, you are enroute to hopefully get lucky this evening. And indeed, lucky you are. When you saw the profile that had messaged you out of the blue, your jaw nearly dropped to the floor. His username was 'Rubbercock' and from the pics he had sent you of his rather monstrously large uncut appendage, you can only imagine that it stretches even larger as it grows. That blonde hair, those dark brown eyes, that pig boy nose ring, those muscles... it didn't take much convincing for you to toss on whatever clothes were lying close to you and bolt out the door. 

You peer down at your phone, tapping it gently to reveal another message from Rubbercock, or as he had introduced himself to you: Justin. It's merely the door code for his building and his apartment number, of course accompanied by a smiling devil emoji. You feel yourself start to blush, wondering if that monster dick of his would be stretching your hole or your throat this evening. A twinge of nervousness had already crossed your mind, but you have tossed it aside as common performance anxiety. You haven't ever seen a stud of this caliber before, neither had you ever expected one to show any interest in you, so the thought of having to perform at the same level does permeate your thoughts. Though, due to the simple fact that Justin had messaged you first, initiating the contact himself, it proved enough to carry you from your doorstep to the curb of the dingy apartment building. 

As you pull up, you look up at the building before you. Every window on it's weathered facade was dark and vacant, save for the single corner unit on the fourth floor where the light shone a deep red. You thank your driver, tipping him adequately for charioting you to a late night hookup at one in the morning. As he pulls away, you stare up at the windows, seeing the dark outline of a figure standing there, as if watching your approach. You smile and wave, but the figure simply retreats back into the recesses of the apartment. For a moment, you take pause, as a sense of foreboding tickles the hairs at the back of your neck. Though, driven purely by the throbbing brain in your groin, you decide to persist. Walking up to the apartment doors, you punch in the code he'd given you, and the loud click of the door rang out into the dark night. You swing the door open, walking through the seedy lobby to the elevators at the rear of the room. Pressing the call button, the doors immediately open; and there, standing in the elevator, waiting for you, is Justin. 

He is certainly no catfish. He leans against the elevator wall with a stoic smoulder on his impossibly handsome face. There was no photoshop or FaceApp involved in his profile pictures whatsoever, he is exactly as he was in his profile: 6'4", broad shouldered, muscles bulging as if chiseled out of marble. Michelangelo couldn't have sculpted a more perfect specimen if he'd tried. The same commandeering attitude which had permeated his bio exudes from him merely idling before you. You recall instantly what he'd put. Dom Switch, Muscle Jock, Alpha Male. He certainly checks all the boxes.

"Well. You coming or what?" His voice is gravelly and stern, there was no question in what he said, it was a command. You blush as you enter the elevator, the doors shutting quietly behind you. In the cramped, small elevator, there is little room for the two of you. Though, you couldn't care less. You stand mere inches from your personal Adonis for the night, taking immediate notice to the smooth shine of his pecs and boxy abs. Furthermore, you take notice of the scent. It is pungent, as if he had just finished a several-hour workout, with the strangest undertone you can't quite place. His gaze shoots toward you, looking down as he faces forward. "Patience. You'll get a nose full of this soon enough." He raises his inked arms and flexes, his bulbous arms seemingly grow another three inches from the mere contraction. You swear you hear the faintest sound of groaning, as if his biceps were like creaking leather. Surely a fluke, besides, the aroma radiating from his smooth, sweaty pits all but intoxicate you at the slightest whiff. The scent of pure, unmitigated testosterone. You feel a dribble of spit drip from the corner of your lip, and he scoffs at you. 

The doors open, and he struts out. The squeaking of his beat up trainers against the terrazzo floors bounces from wall to wall in the dim hallway. You quickly make haste and follow him and his trailing musk down the narrow corridor until he reaches the final door on the right. Twisting the doorknob, the two of you enter and are immediately met with the shocking Jungle-like humidity of the apartment. The red light casts a dim glow on your surroundings. The unit is sparsely furnished if not in disarray, appearing to be a classic four bedroom layout. The kitchen appears to barely be used, a thin layer of dust coats the formica counters. The humid air traps Justin's scent twice as strong, amplifying both the more obvious masculine musk but also the peculiar tinge just beneath. You sniff at the air in a feverish euphoria, before the slamming of the door behind you snaps you back to reality. Justin locks the deadbolt and chain, turning to you with a sort of voyeuristic curiosity.

He circles you like a predator surrounding his prey, looking you up and down with a single peaked eyebrow. Standing there, silent as death, a sense of exhilaration overwhelms you. Perhaps it's the slowly mounting sense of danger, or more likely, the animalistic interest he's taken in you. He finally stops and stands before you. Your head tilts upward to meet his gaze and he looks down at you. Practically drooling, you stand there in silence before he brings his large hands on either side of your head. He steadily brings your face closer and closer to his massive, firm chest, until your face collides between his pecs. Immediately, the wet droplets of his sweat emit his glorious musk as they splatter against your nose and forehead. Though, rather than single mindedly basking in his splendor, you notice an odd texture to his skin. 

It is slick and smooth, which is to be expected of a sweaty, clean shaven hunk. Yet, there is a peculiar malleability to it. Your face seems to push into it, and it stretches and pulls in every direction- as if to swallow you whole. Purely for the sake of science, you allow your tongue to sneak out of it's cave to have a taste. Sure enough, it is smooth, wet, almost slick like a polished and lubed latex. That is to say, it is lubed with Justin's virile sweat, but there is an unusual poreless gloss to it. 

"Ahh," his sultry voice glides through the air. "I'll give you something to taste, boy. Get on your knees." You feel his thick hand plop atop your head, pushing you down until you're eye level with his bulging crotch. The scent is strong, wafting out from his buttoned cargo pants. As he unbuttons them, they quickly fall to the ground, showing an obscene bulge within the appropriately labeled underwear: Fuck Yeah. Your mind is completely filled with filthy lust, and he shoves your face deep into the outline of his gargantuan python. Though, again, as you breathe in his piquant musk, it is hinted with that subtle synthetic odor beneath the cheesy fragrance. If you weren't so blinded by thirst and libido, perhaps you may have said something; but alas, the feeling is too good. The dominant grip is too strong. The scent was is mouthwatering. 

"Bedroom, boy. I have things to show you." You stare up at his smirking visage, the first smile he has cracked since you arrived. It's a smile filled with licentious mischief, which pleases you all too well. He turns around, kicking off his well worn sneakers and tossing his pants to the side as he walks toward one of the four doors. Turning to you, he beckons you with his finger and a seductive wink. You eagerly hasten to the open doorway, and a quick flip of the switch reveals his unkempt bedroom. Dirty clothes litter the floors and drawers, the walls, floors, and bare mattress are all dotted with what you can only assume are cum stains. Though, while all of this is enough to drive you wild, your interest is piqued by something very different.

Masks. Four, to be exact. Each lifelike to an impressive degree of detail and craftsmanship, distinct in their masculine appearance. Silently, you ponder if Justin is merely a collector. There's plenty of stranger things individuals might collect, you note a couple of your own rather off beat menageries. However, you observe one that has caught your attention rather powerfully. Sitting upright in a pile of Justin's dirty laundry is a particularly handsome one.

Tanned, tattooed, a strong brow and some delicious wavy locks of sculpted silicone- it is shockingly handsome. For a split second, you can swear that it's dark brown, almost black eyes dart in your direction. That's ridiculous, though, you convince yourself. An optical illusion is all it is. You hear Justin's heavy footfalls against the hardwood floor approaching you from behind, but you're so taken with the mask that neither your eye nor your attention moves away from it. 

"His name is Orlando. Sexy, isn't he?" You nod in agreement, feeling his strong hands starting to unbutton your shirt. "He's my favorite. Cocky. Strong. Masculine. Dominant. Reminds me a lot of myself." He pries the shirt from you, discarding it onto the bed. "He's got that attitude I look for in a man, and has the face to back it up." His fingers pinch down on your undershirt, and in one fell swipe, it is ripped down the center. You feel your breath quickly being swiped away, his hands glide down your bare skin, leaving trails of his sweat wherever they roam. "Turn around, boy." You do as your commanded, and as a reward, you are greeted with Justin's indominable stare. His eyes suck you in, entranced. "If you want to worship this," he grabs his absurd horse cock through the ripe black fabric, "you will have to do something in return." You brace yourself for a particularly kinky demand: bondage, sneaker huffing, nipple clamps, cock cage... and in your anticipation you are correct to imagine a bizarre request. "Put him on for me."

You immediately turn to the mask, again taken in by it's piercing gaze. Orlando is large, surely it will swamp your head. Would you even be able to see out of it's dark eyes? You hesitate, that quiet twinge of danger presents itself to you yet again. For what reason, you can't quite put your finger on, but it has grown stronger and stronger to the point where you are unable to deny it further. You were prepared for kink, but this is a bit too left field for you to stomach. Beside a sense of intimidation, you're uncomfortable fulfilling his request, and having met him merely moments ago, you're unsure of how such a man like Justin would respond to your denial. He detects your uncertainty, and you can somehow feel the smile creeping back onto his face.

"Did I stutter, boy? What, does he scare you? You don't think that you can handle wearing a face like his?" You turn back to Justin as he's  deliberately pulling the waistband of his underwear down. You stare in intense awe, as they slip farther and farther down, his shaft gradually revealing itself as they slide down his muscular legs. One final tug and his hooded cockhead is exposed, two peach sized balls prominently hang behind. His dick hangs unnaturally, dripping globules of precum from it's hidden slit, and drops of sweat from the impossible smooth testes. It's easily a foot long, thick and ripe. If the mask didn't stir you awake from your promiscuous haze, the sight of his terrifying appendage surely does. Your lips begin to quake, and goosebumps shudder down your arms. 

"I see." His smile turns wild, unhinged. "We're going to play this the hard way." He chuckles to himself, "Or, better yet, the fun way." You stand there frozen before him, wide eyed in an emotion beyond fear. Then, he brings his hand in front of your face, wriggling his fingers mere inches from the tip of your nose. He quickly grips your cheeks, letting his pointer finger slip into the corner of your mouth. Spinning you around, he pulls you tight against his chiseled back, and extends his other arm toward the mask. You watch in abject horror as his arm begins to slowly lengthen. The sound of rubbery creaking and stretching reverberates in your ear as it stretches farther and farther across the room, over the king sized bed, and to the dresser on the far side of the room where Orlando sits atop his musky throne. In that moment, you realize precisely what that synthetic odor is that cuts through his delectable scent. Perhaps you had blocked it out earlier,  or dismissed it as an impossibility. Though, as his hand firmly grips onto the mask's strong neck, you can deny it no longer: silicone. Rubber. Latex. 

The arm quickly snaps back to it's original size, and the mask's stoic face quickly shifts to one of impish delight. Justin's grip loosens, and the mask begins to hover in the air before your wide eyes. The breaths pull in through your nostrils rapidly, catching the same pungent, rubbery musk that radiates out of your captor also spreading out from the mask. As it slowly begins to turn around, you feel Justin's cock snaking down the back of your pants, past your underwear and in between your cheeks. A muffled groan escapes your mouth, you can't refute the carnal pleasure that is flooding your mind. You feel the tip of his dick gingerly pressing against your clenched hole, and you instantly yelp as the head slides out of it's sheath and into you. Justin lets out a guttural moan, and the mask immediately makes it's move.

It flies above your head, quickly shoving itself down onto the crown of your skull. You feel the wet, slick silicone sliding down your face. Justin unlatches his finger from your mouth, and the mask suctions down fully onto you in a firm slam that nearly knocks you from your feet. The world goes black for you, blinded by the dark of inside of the dank mask, having nothing to sense beside the noxious fumes from within, and Justin's probing cock sliding ever further into you like a burrowing snake. The mask begins to become tighter and tigher, clamping itself soundly onto you. From within, you try to let out a cry of ecstasy from his slithering dick making it's way through your colon, only to have the smelly slime plunge down your throat. 

You feel your rigid skull seem to crack, as the mask starts to undulate and contort. You're being invaded from both front and back, top and bottom: the mask flooding it's rubbery sludge down your throat and nostrils, and Justin worming his cock up your rear, surely bulging out of your belly. Your vision begins to return, hazy at first, but when you feel the silicone press against your retinas, it's clear as day. You gasp for breath, as your rubbery lips part for the first time. The familiar musky air flows into your lungs across your slick rubber tongue. You feel your now plump lips curl into a wide smirk against your will as tendrils of slick silicone begin to sprawl out from the edges of the mask around your shoulders. Orlando is now in control.

The warm, cascading torrent of liquid rubber flows freely down your body; invading every pore and orifice it washes over in it's wake. You hear the first sounds out of your pierced ears: sloshing, splattering, squeaking, and the sound of your brassy new moans. You feel yourself biting down on your lip, an ever so subtle rubbery squelch pinging out as your teeth press down on it. Justin begins to thrust hard and rough while the the sludge encompasses your ass. All you can do is listen to the splattering sounds of wet, heavy sex as the stud plows you from behind. His hand clamps around your neck, releasing a satisfied 'ah' from Orlando's suave voice deep in your throat. The sludge finally reaches your feet, encompassing you in the warmth of your wet cocoon.

Justin's pace picks up, you feel his cock deep within you slamming and protruding from your gut. Your collective moans grow louder and louder until the first barrage of his load barrels into you. Your head turns downward, and you see your body for the first time now tanned and covered in intricate tattoos from your chest down to the tops of your toes. As his second deluge is shot into you, you see your gut expanding with his seed, only to quickly spread out beneath your smooth, supple skin. The rubbery sound of creaking and expansion rings out of you as his splurge starts to pool in your feet, expanding as they are filled like a water balloon. Orlando wriggles your toes while they grow, size 10... size 11... size 12... 13... 14... eventually they finally hit their maximum volume at 15. The sludge rolls around beneath your skin, until it starts to firm up and emit the funkiest musk you have ever smelt. Your left foot lifts off the ground, a wet sweaty footprint left behind on the floor, while the sludge inflates your calves and meaty quads. Bulbous, at first, but they soon start to sharply define each muscle.

Your groin stirs to life as your sac starts to fill with Justin's seed. You can feel your balls swell with rubbery, slick fluid, growing to the size of clementines within mere seconds. Your cock starts to stretch from the weight of the pooling liquid gathering in your hooded head. It grows longer, stretching down your smooth thigh, until the trajectory shifts upward. You hear yourself huffing in Orlando's husky timbre, and your cock springs to life, hard but flexuous. Your hole immediately begins to tighten, your sphincter becomes stretched: the perfect fleshlight ass as your cheeks round out and jiggle all while Justin continues to pound it.

Abs pop out as your torso elongates. Two meaty pecs balance atop them as your back & shoulders bulk to hold up their sheer weight. All that fills your ears is the sound of the wet smacking of groin to ass, the sloshing of the goo inside of you, and the sound of your rapidly stretching arms. Your biceps swell, your forearms firm, and your hands expand to meet the entirely synthetically perfect equilibrium. You feel Justin wrap his hand around your neck, pulling backward to let the fluid rise up your throat and into your mouth. It tastes like the silicone of the mask itself, slick, salty, sweaty. You find yourself unable to breathe, just as you approach climax. Your cock throbs against the grey underwear barely containing your bloated bulge and juicy behind, leaking the rubbery pre that has filled you into the fabric.

Pressure grows more and more as the fluid fills your sinuses, pressing against the cranial bone. You have no thoughts left to ponder, you are completely filled, completely encased within someone else: functioning more as a skeleton for your new body than anything else. Resistance is futile, and having seen the end result of your rubbery transformation, perhaps the ride would be entertaining at the least. Letting go of every last shred of who you were, you feel the cracking of the bone, and the final flood of fluid into your head. You shoot your first musky load as Orlando right into the pouch of your underwear, round after round. Likely Justin's excess spunk just flooding out of your palpitating cock at first, though as more and more sprays out, it's quickly replaced by the batter now produced in your heavy balls. The liquid surrounds your brain, poking and prodding, creeping into every single groove and crevice, and as it completely fills you, you admit surrender, happy to be the quiet voice in the back of Orlando's mind.

---

Justin lets his cock retract back into it's typical size, and pulls out of your juicy hole with a wet schlorp. You smirk as you feel your hole tighten again, ready for the next load to be swallowed and integrated. You hear your host purring in the back of your mind, now imprisoned in abject euphoria for the rest of time. You wouldn't be needing him often, this body is all yours after all. He was merely the frame for which this masterpiece was to be birthed. You collapse onto the bed, still panting from the hot absorption you'd completed. Sighing in satisfaction, you turn over, grabbing your deflating bulge in your sweat slick fingers.

"Sorry it took so long, Lando. I got carried away with myself." Justin smirks as he flexes before you. You scoff, stretching your firm arms behind your neck, your irresistible musk wafting from your sweat-slicked pits.

"Mmmmm. I'm just happy to finally have a body of my own. Not being used by 'master' whenever he gets horny." No more would you be just a suit to be used by whomever thirsts over your sheer studliness. You were your own man now, abeit a synthetic one. So what? You're made for pleasure, both giving and receiving. It's about fucking time you had your turn in the driver's seat. You're sure that the whispers and moans within your mind agree with you, anyway. Turning to the other three masks lifelessly strewn across the room, a curling smirk scrawls across your face. "We got a lot of work to do, mi amor."

"Heh, those little cucks can watch for a couple hours. They've waited this long, what's a little bit longer?" Justin starts to bend down to his knees, bringing your massive dripping foot to his face, gently sniffing and licking your soles. As you lean back in satisfaction, his mouth stretching to fit the entire size 15 into his gullet, you realize he's right. You sure liked to watch, so let's give the boys a good show. You press your smelly toes onto Justins bulge, letting your lust take over.

---

Three months have come and gone. The world is a lot less exciting than you thought it would be. Sure, Justin is a damn good fuck and the best brother you could ask for. At the same time, there's nothing quite like variety to throw some spice into the mix. Besides, your other brothers have waited for so long. Perhaps it's time to finally bring another in. Lounging in the hotel room chair, you eagerly await Justin's return. Zy'aire awaits his host, sitting prominently on the minibar in silence. You wink at him, knowing the unworn mask could do nothing in return... yet. 

From across the room, the sound of the clicking lock brings you to attention. You lean backward, letting your arm rest comfortably behind your head, and your fragrant feet on full display. As Justin walks in, you exchange a quick wink before the host sheepishly sulks in. Just a few breaths of your funk, he'll be down for the count. He has no idea whats coming for him, just how you like it.