Taiyo stared at his reflection in the cylinder. It was distorted from its curve, but he could still make out the broad strokes of his imprisonment.

His mirror-self wore a thick single-piece sack that went from his neck to his toes. His feet were warm, and somehow stuck to the floor.  No points of entry or exit were visible on the front. It was molded to his form. His arms, trapped behind his back, couldn’t be seen at all in his mirrored image. Glowing lines in the sack traced around his legs, his chest, circling around his manhood, and out of sight behind him.

His ankles were warm, and now his knees. He looked down, as far down as he could. Something black and inky was rising. It had already gone past his feet and ankles, and now it was up to his thighs. Sounds of squeaky, gagged grunts echoed in his ears.

Taiyo stared up again, looking at his panicked eyes in the cylinder’s distorted reflection. Something stepped forward, visible on the other side of the case.

The Specialist exhaled, fogging the glass with his own anticipation. Golden, glowing optics seemed to line up perfectly with Taiyo’s panicked eyes.

The black goo continued to rise, passing by his waist and manhood. It was so tight, and somehow getting tighter. His legs and feet were immobilized in the rubbery black slime. He started to breathe heavier as it went to his abdomen.

He realized that those mewling, pleading sounds were his own. He couldn’t speak, or even beg. Some gooey mass had filled his mouth and coated his lips. His eyes went wider and he leaned forward, nosing his masked face against the glass.

Please, get me out of here.

The Specialist went closer, and now leaned his own mask against the cylinder. His eyes were not merciful. His unchanging, monstrous expression was not kindly. He pressed his chest and waist and legs against the tube, as if embracing it.

“Good-bye, Taiyo,” said the Specialist.

Mnfggh. Taiyo moaned, louder. He squirmed, begged, and bucked. The liquid continued to rise, passing by his stomach and chest and it was now up to his neck.

“A warm, permanent techno-tomb for his majesty.”

Taiyo managed to lose all his dignity at once. He moaned, groaned, squirmed and shut his eyes tight as the rubber passed his face and all went black. The pressure was immense. His encasement was complete. He could feel the warm goo go past his forehead and finally stop filling.

“You had your chance to behave…”

Taiyo was convinced that there was someone in the dark of his room. Seconds passed. He realized that someone was him, and shut his eyes once more.

He had never woken up from a dream the way he had woken from that particular nightmare. His body felt weak and his head was light. It felt like he had stopped breathing, and woken out of reflex. He rubbed a hand against his temples. Being awake felt like a defense mechanism.

It wasn’t just the horror at his entombment. It was a sneaking suspicion that he had enjoyed it. Taiyo tried to ignore his body’s attention and excitement, brushing it off as an unusual response to an unusual dream. But he couldn’t simply turn it off. He got out from his small bed and stood up. The urge was still there.

The itch couldn’t be scratched. It couldn’t be reasoned with logically. Willpower wasn’t making him any less excited. He took deep breaths of recycled air and shut his eyes.

His imagination was flooded with images of his captor and black goo. He could feel it. Rising up around his neck. Flooding into his tall canine ears, coating his mouth and nose. Filling him to the brim with black rubber. The thoughts made him take another breath. He was almost panting. He knew that there were things he could to to alleviate the stress, but he simply didn’t have the wherewithal to attempt them. Such activities of self-pleasure were for the common folk.

Minutes passed. Taiyo was telling himself that it was his recovering willpower, not simply time, that had helped these new sensations to pass. He paced through his small room. If he was going to survive, he needed to leave sooner rather than later. Whatever mind-altering agendas the Specialist had in store would take time to ripen. Taiyo intended to be gone before his captor’s schemes could bear fruit.

During hours when the doctor was occupied, Taiyo had some small degree of freedom within the lair. The door to his room slid open with a metallic thud and a hiss. Outside his room, a thick leash made of metallic cable hung, waiting for moments when the jackal needed to be walked. The moment that he crossed the threshold into the hallway, magnetic nodes zipped the leash to his neck and locked in place.

The leash track meant that no matter where he went or what he did, he was always being “walked” by The Specialist. Taiyo imagined his heavy rubber gloves tugging at the leash, dragging him along like a dumb beast. He snarled at the thought. He was royalty, and royalty had a long tradition of escaping from unjust imprisonment.

He had the run of several corridors, though many of the doors wouldn’t open. What he could see was aggressively mundane. There was a small staff room with a massive digital screen, tables, and chairs. One hallway ended in another room with the same industrial furniture, but included dispensers for drink and a view of a huge concrete chamber - presumably a sewer or old tunnel. He couldn’t even enter, as the track seemed to end just outside it. A third area was frigid, chilling him to the bone. Frozen food and samples were kept in two separate cold storage rooms.

There were more corridors, more locked doors, and more rooms for guests. To his surprise, many of them were empty. Aside from The Lovely Assistant, his captor seemed to have a fairly solitary lair. It could accommodate a half-dozen more residents with ease.

One room was visible through a glass observation wall. Within it, he could see an entire wall of large pods. He didn’t need to go inside to know what taboo torments lay within. Each of the pods was wide, cylindrical, and made of a dull metal. Pipes and clusters of wires led from the walls to the device, giving them all an irregular and homemade appearance.

Each of them had an identical monitor at their base. Each of them had an image of the individual contained within. Taiyo raised a hand to his face and blushed. The poor souls’ information was displayed like an epitaph. Their name, their date of capture, the processes and protocols that they were now enduring…

He felt those sensations creeping up his spine again. Idly, he mused about what “Protocol 9” or “Conditioning 12” meant. His mind wandered to the creatures inside. What were they feeling? Pleasure? Fear? Surely both. What was it like to be so completely restrained and at the mercy of another?

Two of the pods were open in the corner. Green lights glowed and the screens read “READY” in bold font. He couldn’t quite see who was in them; both canines, like himself. One of them seemed to contain a heavily suited female, still squirming idly.

The other had a wolf whose mouth was unmuzzled. The prince wasn’t sure how to respond. He certainly was in no place to help him. “Is anyone there?” he asked.

Taiyo slinked away before he earned the ire of his host. He imagined that one day, he’d have power over countless subjects. He could have anyone locked away in an oubliette like this. Not that he’d ever do so. He planned to be a just ruler - and to become that just monarch, he’d need to escape first.

The rail always ended abruptly against a wall; what he needed was some kind of cap or junction to break. He could never get enough momentum to dash out and break it; if he tried it in the hallways, the track would just re-direct him down another corridor. He surveyed the different rooms a second time, his eyes lingering on the pods in one of the labs and the glass window that separated them from freedom.

Taiyo squinted, inhaling and stroking the chin of his suit’s cowl and helmet. That break room that looked at the sewer - the rail there ended at the entrance to the room. He went to the doorway, leaned in - straining and struggling and pulling at the cable. With enough force and a few violent tugs, he managed to snap the long leash off of the rail. The cable fell to the ground, and he was free of the rail.

He was in luck. The large glass window that looked at the sewers wasn’t the only way out - a small access door to the side let him exit the room entirely.

For the first time, he was free of the Specialist’s lair. He stood on a small metal catwalk, taking in the enormity of the chamber. A series of huge concrete pillars rose high into the air, covered in a maze of bright green metal supports. They must have been fifty meters tall, at the very least. The Specialist made him feel important; this room made him feel tiny.

To his left, drains led deeper into tunnels. On his right, the wall angled up at a sharp diagonal. Shafts of light poked tiny pinpricks in the ceiling - presumably the surface world. Taiyo stared at them through the lenses of his suit.

The base of the room gave him a few clues. This massive storm sewer had been built a few decades ago, in order to mitigate river flooding. He ran his gloved hands along the base of one of the supports. The city’s infrastructure was huge; there’d almost certainly be a way out. He just needed time to find it.

Doors at the bottom of the room? Locked. The lower grates? Too heavy. But on the far side of the room, hidden in the diffuse shadow of the pillars, there was a matching glass wall, just like the one he’d come from. Taiyo began walking towards it, mentally musing at the thought of another villain making his or her home behind the door. Would he find “The Generalist” experimenting on poor, rubberclad captives?

He only made it halfway across the room when he heard a canine growl. An electric sensation welled up in his stomach. He froze. Instinct overcame his logic. He tried to restart his brain, to call on his logic but he couldn’t find it. The sound of heavy paw-steps was drowned out by metal clang. He began climbing the pillar, hoisting himself onto its supports and the walkways. Taiyo was re-enacting the very primal choice to climb a tree to flee a predator. So much for his noble pedigree.

The princeling clambered halfway up the walkway before he looked down. Black, glossy eyes contrasted the dark. An aggressive, cutting bark, then a growl - then a series of staccato barks again. He kept climbing, lifting his suit’s heavy boots on to stable surfaces, grabbing with gloved hands and hauling himself higher and higher. Ladders, beams, and gantries were his tree-trunk.

He looked down again. Now there was another at the base of the pillar. The first had begun to ascend. A wide mouth with a toothy maw opened. He didn’t spend long enough to get a good look at the hounds below him. He turned back, facing away from the pillar. He was just about at the level of the observation room. He ascended slightly, turned away, and jumped. He felt alone. There was no wind to rush through his hair or tunic, but instead the sensation of falling and reflexive flailing.

Taiyo landed on his chest and palms. He opened the door to the observation room and shut it behind him. The cable from his leash hung like a noose from the slave-rail. He looped the leash around his neck and walked at speed back to his room. Only then, in the rubber-clad security of his cell, did he feel secure.

When he next left his room, it was at the behest of his captor. Taiyo complied. Escape was a priority, but he had to prepare for a possibly permanent stay. Being held prisoner for long periods was also a tradition for royalty.

Escorted down many of the same halls, the princeling was brought to a room he hadn’t seen before. The floors were padded; two walls were mirrored. Equipment cases and the entrance lined the third wall, and a door adorned the last. Pride of place was given to a device that in practice was a chair, and in design was a horrid web of metal, straps, and cushions.

Taiyo was led to it by the Assistant; she began the lengthy process of strapping him in. Cushions beneath each of his thighs had two rubber straps. More at his calves and feet kept him secure. There was nothing to keep support his rear - somewhat concerning - but his torso rested against a soft gel cushion, and was kept in place by a heavy harness.

Buckles locked and tightened. Arms were at a comfortable neutral position in front of him, as though he were sitting at a desk. Individual metal buckles for each digit let him flex and clutch without being able to claw his way free.

Only his head was free. Taiyo assumed it wouldn’t be for long. He took the chance to speak.

“Who are you, exactly?”

The Specialist was a mountainous figure in the depths of his lab, but he was no hulking brute. He had an athletic build, and Taiyo had never yet seen an inch of his skin; only the thick mauve rubber suit that he was so dearly proud of. The doctor had been sitting in a corner, tapping through menus on a computer. He raised his head. Taiyo gulped. The glowing golden eyes on his helm seemed to pierce the prince’s defenses.

“I’m a scientist.”

Taiyo narrowed his eyes. The Specialist returned to work. The prince felt

emboldened. “What do you want to do?”

“I want to complete my work.”

“Why do you need me?”

“You are a critical part of my project, your highness.” He seemed to spit out the last word.

“I’ve seen your projects.”

The Specialist’s voice turned prideful. Taiyo could practically see a grin on his helmeted face. “I have many projects. Some are for others who called on my services. Others will never see the light of day - they’re just for me.”

“Why me?”

The jackal stood up and walked to his quarry. Taiyo’s sitting position meant that he had to look up to see the doctor. His golden eyes were the only thing visible outside his charcoal gray suit. He looked like a tiny pup. It was pathetic. The Specialist grabbed Taiyo’s head with two massive, glowed hands. He stroked fingers back along his snout and brow. It was almost as though the Specialist were saying, ‘mine’.

“I might have chosen to take you and keep you on a whim. But you’re more than a lost tourist; your noble blood makes you a priceless asset. You are my magnum opus, princeling.” He released Taiyo’s head. He didn’t realize he had been holding his breath.

Taiyo shifted. The squeaking sound of rubber against rubber made him blush. The suit was tight, and it was starting to feel warm. His own heat, his own intrigue at the situation was distracting. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever felt so heavily restrained. He could see himself in the mirrored wall; strapped up like a common prisoner, anonymous in his gray suit. Utterly at the mercy of whatever rubber tortures that his captor had in mind. It made him squirm reflexively.

He managed to speak. “What do you have against the royal family?”

The Specialist didn’t respond. Taiyo waited. The Specialist said nothing, which was saying much more than his other non-answers.

The Lovely Assistant was humming to herself. She patted Taiyo once on the cheek.

“Stay still!” Four more heavy straps locked his skull in place.

“I’m the only one that needs to know everything around here. Feel free to keep pushing my buttons, your highness. Feel free to enjoy your little walks around my lair. We’ll see where it gets you.”

Taiyo couldn’t see what was happening in the room. The Specialist spent a moment going over all the restraints, making absolutely sure that Taiyo was going to be held completely still and be kept completely unable to stop anything that was done to him.

“Where do those scars come from?” the villain asked.

The prince turned his eyes away.

“The ones on your rear; violent looking marks. What happened to the prince? Did you sit on a cactus? Royals like you never have a hair out of place, much less a physical blemish.”

Taiyo was silent. Morose. The Specialist waited for five seconds amid the growing pain visible on Taiyo’s face.

Admitting fault was not in the villain’s vocabulary. But he had the capacity to regret, and he regretted asking the question. He saw a genuine sadness in the prince’s eyes; one that came from a very personal trauma. The Specialist didn’t know the truth, and it burned that the prince held a secret. But he knew that the look on Taiyo’s face was one that he’d felt as well, many years ago.

“Keep your secrets, then, royal. You don’t mind not talking.” Taiyo noticed that he almost blurted it out, as if trying to change the topic abruptly.

The Lovely Assistant wrapped a muzzle around Taiyo’s snout. Latex began to enter the suit, filling his jaw and forcing his mouth to suck on a fat protrusion.

Something gooey entered his ears. He grunted, his jaw held shut by thick rubber, and squirmed - bucking against stretchy straps that had almost no give. Taiyo shuddered. Images entered his brain, alongside the low sound of licking, moaning, and grunting. Images of him - or someone like him - submitting. Faceless. A mask that covered another mask; a mouth with no voice. Black ichor filling him to the brim, reducing him in ways he could not describe. Toys and arousal, alternating with a longing blackness. He moaned into his gag. He flexed his fingers.

The Assistant ran her hands over his rubber suit. He could feel her fingers against his chest. She pinched him, groped him. Something warm teased over his manhood. The Specialist opened his gooey maw and laughed. It made Taiyo flinch like a prey-mouse. Two long tubes connected to his muzzle, and his lungs filled with gas. He twitched and bucked, gulping down sweet-smelling things that made him stiffen and then go limp with sleep.

His vision hummed. His ears buzzed. His mind was afire with avid appetites. The prince’s thoughts were concrete, real. He thought about thinking. But they were droplets in a lake; bees in a hive; snow in a storm. He was superseded. His body was not his. He could see his form; trapped in charcoal gray rubber, moaning and huffing. Legs and arms aching from the bite of straps against his flesh, he gyrated in extreme bondage.

In the mirror, he saw the body-that-was-not his. Her thoughts and motions were eager and delighted. To see these poor, doomed souls squirm - to hear them singing! - was the Assistant’s utmost delight. She approached two matching gurneys - each padded and each containing the same pathetic sight. Two females - different in size, curves, and stature - both identical in restraint.

Their prisoner suits were dull, thick, and matte rubber. Each hand ended in a balled mitt. Every articulation of their bodies was restrained with white nylon and canvas. Fat cuffs around their wrists locked to the bed. Another around their biceps mated with the harness around their stomach. Four kept their legs against the gurney. Two straps in a V-formation went from their chests, over their breasts, and to the table behind.

Thick bands locked around their heads, keeping them restrained similar to Taiyo - though without the luxury of seeing themselves in mirrors. That was only for Royalty, after all. Hoods with openings for their mouths and eyes opened to the skin of an ordinary person, aroused, afraid, allured. The Lovely Assistant carefully slipped wide lenses over their eyes; blinking wouldn’t shut out her message. Long plugs slipped into their ears. A deep, wide phallic protrusion slid between their desperate, pleading lips.

The Assistant climbed atop one. “Aww. Listen, I know you’re new here. Sorry we’ve had to keep you waiting. The Specialist has been working on another project. Not to worry - we’re here for you.”

The captives groaned, suckling and grunting on huge gags that filled their maws; unable to avoid a primal oral fixation that the gags now engendered.

“There we go! Nothing to tell anyone something silly like your identity. Nothing to give you away~” The assistant patted her on the cheek, eliciting a mewling sound. She dismounted, returning with a black mask that she placed over their faces, one at a time. “Don’t worry! You’re restrained pretty tight, but you’re allowed to squirm. The rubber cement should keep your masks on for good - or at least until the experiment was over.”

He woke later in his cell. Taiyo was unable to avoid his excitement at what he’d seen. He immediately sprung up, and checked the door. It was unlocked. He had freedom to explore the facility. The only way he could avoid thinking about his growing arousal was to contemplate his escape. The leash on the rail locked to his collar, and he quickly started down the corridor to the sewer once again.

The room seemed smaller this time. He didn’t have the same sense of awe as  he did on first visit. Being chased by some strange beasts had the habit of breaking the magic.

Taiyo spent a few moments circumnavigating the room. It took far longer than he thought; walking along its huge concrete floor took more time than simply eyeballing it from above. He got about halfway across its expanse and took a look  at the far observation room. It was a mirror to the one that The Specialist’s labs used, but it had signs of habitation. A cup of coffee sat on a table. The lights of a few screens brightened an otherwise dark chamber. It wasn’t much to go on, but he got the feeling that it was a way out. His rubber-clad keeper didn’t seem to much enjoy coffee. He had to hope that maybe the chamber was in use by the maintenance of the sewers. It was better than nothing.

Climbing was easy at first. His antics the day before had tired him, but it was a good soreness. His body felt like he’d  had a good workout the day before - which he had. He blushed slightly, wondering if this is what the morning after a vigorous night of intimacy felt like.

There wasn’t any sort of rhyme or reason to many of the platforms and ladders. It felt like a maze, or a work-in-progress. Taiyo got to the area where he’d been forced to jump last time and paused. There was someone standing on the ledge by the observation room he’d entered from.

She wore two thigh-high stockings of shining, glossy latex. Athletically-designed boots made her footfalls light. The stockings were held by garters around her hips and thighs, which mated with the bolero around her neck and shoulders. All of her thick black latex was layered and intertwined with a thin and transparent layer which bared her breasts.

It was her head to which Taiyo’s gaze was drawn, though. She had a hood of thick rubber, completely sculpted against her canine features. The woman’s mouth and gums were replicated, as were some lethal-looking, shining black teeth. They looked razor-sharp. The sculpting also kept her mouth mostly open, giving her a vicious, tooth-bared appearance. Last of all were the glowing vermillion optics that shone in the dark.

The hound was stepping back to take a running start. Taiyo climbed faster.

Cling-clang sounds of metal and weight below him. The prince reached a platform. The hound was grasping from below. She was taller than him. Hungry eyes and searching teeth shone in the dim light.

He carefully balanced himself as he crawled along a slim catwalk to the construction platforming along the next pillar. He gauged the distance to his goal - the room on the far side. One foot in front of the other, he shimmied along a narrow beam. He was at the other side before he knew it. Halfway there.

Taiyo turned around. It was a mistake.

The hound had gained on him, and gained on him significantly. She had a sculpted, toned form that lent itself to easy movement. He was fit and light, but she was gaining on him.

The sound of his breath was eerie. He was running and climbing, moving from platform to platform , ever rising. But the suit dulled much of the external noise. Instead, he heard only his own breathing - and occasionally his emissive sounds as he grunted or cursed his bad fortune.

She was gaining on him. He saw a risky maneuver open before his eyes. He’d get to the end of a platform, and then, rather than jumping across or climbing up, he’d drop down to a lower level - and ideally, let her momentum get the better of her and send her flying over the edge.

He ran, built momentum, and dropped - grabbing the railing to flip and drop down. The railing bent and then promptly snapped. Taiyo felt himself falling. The sensation of being utterly weightless made his lower back tingle.

Something snagged at his wrist, and dragged him back over the edge onto a platform. Taiyo was staring at another hound; male but dressed otherwise identically. Glowing red eyes seemed to burn with an inner fire.

“Sorry, Prince,” said the hound. “But we can’t let you escape.”

The hood retracted, revealing the face of the wolf Taiyo had seen earlier.

“You have to get me out of here,” he said. “Please. We can all escape, together!”

The wolf shrugged. The other hound dropped to the platform, pinning him against the cool metal. “Sorry. No can do. The rewards for your return are simply… too great.”

“No! Please! He’s doing things, he’ll-”

“We know what he does,” said the male. The female made a growling gagged sound into her rubber-lined lips. She gummed at his neck, and Taiyo was treated the strange sensation of her false fangs squishing against his throat. It was a scary experience, and yet the feeling of soft, rubbery gagged gums against his sensitive spots was intriguing.

The male wolf took his arms and slipped them into a box-tie sheath. It looked more like a purse than a piece of binding equipment - until his arms slipped behind his back. He wiggled in place, gyrating helplessly. “Be reasonable! I’m a prince. I can reward you! You’re obviously capable. You’re strong! We can get to the sur-”

“Quiet, your majesty,” said the wolf. There was an element of grim, sneering sarcasm in his voice. “We’re strong, but not as strong as he is.”

Arms bound, squirming slightly, the wolf stretched a stretchy rubber sheet over Taiyo’s mask and planted his foot on his back. He pushed forward, smothering Taiyo’s masked face and cutting off his air. He yowled, moaning and quietly squirming in stretchy, suffocating rubber. Taiyo’s bound arms grasped against the boxtie to no avail. He began to pass out. The stroking hands of someone against his body were the last thing he felt.

The first thing he felt as he woke was the strong, firm digits of gloved hands. He knew it to be his captor’s rubber gloves, stroking his mask and petting him like a kitten.

The Specialist spoke in a patronizing tone.

“Thank you for bringing back my pup,” he said. “I’d hate for him to get lost out there.”

Taiyo couldn’t see, but he was bound and hanging via straps from the ceiling. A harness around his stomach and four more points around his biceps and thighs were attached to unbreakable cables that led to the ceiling. His mittened hands pawed at the air uselessly.

“Of course, Master,” said the hound. He stuttered slightly on the ‘M’ of Master, as though he weren’t used to saying it aloud.

The doctor pointed at Taiyo, who moaned as he woke.

“A reward commensurate with your success on the hunt. You’ve caught him; he’s yours for the night.”

The Hounds chittered with glee at the reward. The female was already beginning to undo some of the straps that hung him from the ceiling.

“Mmm! Mmnngh!” Taiyo squirmed in his bonds, rocking back and forth in the air. He was theirs? What were they going to do with him?

“His Royal Highness is a gentle little pup. That thick rubber suit is not to be broken or damaged, and nor is he. But he’s a royal. And royals are supposedly made of sturdy stuff, no?”

Taiyo squirmed agaig, waving his arms pathetically like a fish caught in a net. The male hound walked between the flailing, hanging rubberslave and grabbed him by the thighs.The prince felt the warm bulge of the Hound’s suit rubbing against his rear. He curled his toes in his suit. That sensation of rubber grinding against rubber; of a warm body with an intent to arouse against his - they were not feelings he was accustomed to. But he now knew the appeal.

“Oh, good. The prince looks like such a little morsel. We’ll take good care of him.”

“Mmn-! Mmn-mmgh!” Taiyo shook his head. No! Please! Get away! You can’t do this! 

The Specialist’s glowing golden eyes loomed over the jackal-prince.  “Careful, Prince… aren’t you glad my hounds could bring you back? I won’t always be available to take care of you.”

He turned, laughing, as the two hounds undid his straps, and brought him to a padded trapezoidal wedge - a padded sawhorse - and forced him onto it. The woman held him firm, squishing him down from his back against its padded surface while the wolf strapped his arms and legs to its sides.

Taiyo was on his paws and knees, and from the sound of things, his arms and legs were kept in place with nylons straps and plastic buckles. Every curve of his soft and touchable features was accessible to his captors and their whims. He didn’t need to see his pose to know that his rear was very accessible, or that he was reflexively grinding against the device. The desires he’d pretended to ignore were coming back.

Rubber squeaking filled his ears as the two hounds pounced him. They were pent-up and eager to embrace their reward. The woman took him first. She grabbed his head, gently but firmly caressing it, and maneuvered it between her legs. Taiyo could feel her immense heat, smell her musk. He moaned as his snout dipped between her rubber-clad thighs.

The wolf came from behind, grinding his bulging manhood against Taiyo’s rear. He yelped at the feeling; a place normally never touched, reserved and pristine. And now being generously teased by the hound behind him.

Taiyo’s lungs gasped for air as the female shoved him tighter against his womanhood; the double-team from the wolf was pushing him over the edge. He loved this. He was aroused in ways he didn’t think possible. All this restraint, the thick rubber, the villains that were taking him and making him a piece of flesh to be used - it was intoxicating.

They kept going, taking short breaks to let themselves steady and ready themselves for more. Taiyo - royalty - was reduced to a rubber-clad toy for their pleasure. More. More. He wanted more, squirming in his suit.

His toes clenched and he raised his rear, desperate for the wolf to go further, to use him - to let the woman have him as hers.

But they were gone, brought to climax  and now copulating with each other and with no need of him.

Taiyo huffed, staring at them. He knew that if he didn’t escape soon, he’d end up like them. The scariest thing was that he knew that, if he was reduced to a faceless little rubberslave for the Specialist’s pleasure… he’d love it.