Derek’s sensory fabric was supposed to be a godsend for the paralyzed. The fabric looked like an ordinary cotton-polyester blend knit fabric, but it was really a series of miniature nanobot sensors, which actually generated their power from the wearer’s body heat. The corollary project was an bionic exoskeleton which would work with the sensory suit to provide feedback so the paralyzed victim could move again and sense their own movements. It was a cool idea. Pity Derek wasn’t that cool.
He made the fabric into a jockstrap, and then wired it to be totally sensory for sight, sound, taste, smell, and full body touch. Then he conned me into to trying out the sensory control helmet.
I’m immobile trapped in his basement lab’s store room. He had me stripped and cathetered, and a nasty looking “colonoscopy” bag attached to me. I looked at him funny, but he was paying me $1000.00, so I went along with it. The machine had a waterbed mattress, and it felt like I was floating. The electronic field induced REM sleep, and I was unconscious. It was odd. I was plunged into warm darkness. At first I thought it was like a womb, but it smelled like the sauna at the gym. Suddenly, there was light. My vision was screwed up. I was apparently looking at a dense thicket of tumble weeds. I felt cool air on my back, and tried to turn my head. The nanobots responded by changing my visual orientation. I was looking outward at a full-length mirror next to a locker. I could see Derek there stripping down to his jockstrap. It took me about two minutes to get that I was the jockstrap. I realized what the hot dampness I was tasting was, and wanted to puke. I don’t know if I made a mess of the machine or not.
Looking around as he dressed to make sure no one was in earshot, Derek revealed his evil plan. It seemed that he had the hots for my girlfriend Uma, the foreign student from Sweden. She was blond and 20, and I thought we’d be getting married. Seemed Derek had the same plan with one substitution: him as the groom instead of me. He couldn’t understand what Uma saw in me, I was just a dumb jock, and he was a scholar and an athlete. I’d of said something, but my mouth was full of his junk and besides I no longer had use of my vocal chords.
Anyway, Derek was planning to keep me in the store room forever, but he didn’t want me going on his honeymoon with him and Uma. I didn’t quite understand. He pulled his work out shorts on and then spent a good half hour on the treadmill working up a sweat. Then he lifted weights for about 45 minutes. Then the fucker wore me under his swimsuit and went for a swim in the university pool. It was a short swim, I could tell he was out of breath. But he spend 20 minutes in the Jacuzzi, and then another 20 minutes “drying” me out in the sauna. He wore me back to his locker, and stripped out of me. I was still warm from his workout and sauna. He jauntily swung me from one finger as he headed to the showers. Then he snapped me like a slingshot and sent me flying over the lockers.
Before he let me fly, Derek said, “How’s it feel, James Standish, to know that you’ll spend the rest of your existence as a jockstrap? A jockstrap destined for the lost and found, and then who knows?” Snap, I was airborne.
A hand caught me in mid-air, I looked up into the face of Dirk Marsters. He grinned, and whispered, “Jimmy boy, is that really you? I fucking hope so!” Then he put me on, and put on the rest of his dirty work out gear.
“Hey, Dirk, I thought you were headed for the showers?” said a voice I knew belonged to Roger Cummings.
“Oh, I was, but I figured since Jimmy bailed out on his commitment to workout with us, I’d do his workout too.”
“That’s fucked, man!”
“Yeah, it is,” he agreed adjusting his swelling cock inside me.
True to his word his did my workout. I never realized how much action I put my jockstrap through doing situps, and lifting weights before. Compared to Derek‘s workout, Dirk’s workout was like comparing the a merry-go-round ride to the Tour d’France. I was reeking with sweat when he took me off to shower. You can imagine my horror, when the bastard put me back on, and wore me home. Then he sat there naked except for his jock-me, and watched television. It was video of me, I never knew he’d taken it. It took me a few minutes, and some gentle manipulations of his fingers on his crotch for me to realize that I was his jock-off video. It was fucking weird feeling his hot cum hit me, tasting it, and then feeling it permeate me. Of course he let it dry inside me. He went to bed. I tried to sleep, but to my horror, I realized that I was already asleep. Perpetually asleep at that. So I remained conscious in my dream state throughout the night and day.
After a week of this, I was so fucking ripe, people were making comments to Dirk. He finally caved in and washed me, while he showered. He then blew dry me on his crotch.
To say, I hated Dirk by now was an understatement, but the bastard really got off on making me want to hate him. He constantly made comments about me to my friends. The comments were all lies and rumors. I know he heard a few before repeating them, as he wore me all the time. I was sure that Derek was the source of those. The one that Dirk latched on to and embellished was the one that I’d discovered I was a gay sub, and had left Uma and college to be some old guy’s slave boy. He actually called up Derek while wearing only me to talk dirt on me. He dialed Derek’s number with one hand, and massaged me and his crotch with the other while he lay in bed. He was wearing a telephone headset.
“Hey, Derek, Dirk Marsters here. I was just calling you to see if you heard any more about that cum-eating jock Jimmy Standish?”
“Standish?” Derek asked playing dumb. Dirk had rigged his phone to his computer, and had used a jack splitter to provide headphones for his crotch, while he spoke on his headset. “Yeah, I heard something about him turning queer, now that you mention it. Really didn’t hang with that guy though-if you know what I mean.” He said with emphasis on “know what I mean.”
“Oh, yeah, I know exactly what you mean,” Dirk said squeezing his dick and me hard, “See Jimmy boy used to hang out with me and some other jocks while we worked out each day. I had no idea that he was there to ogle me!”
“Oh, I bet you were his wet-dream,” Derek said with glee.
“Wet dream? Ooh, ah,” Dirk said releasing a load prematurely into me, “Oh, yeah, I’d say he was thoroughly drenched thinking about my hot cock. But that isn’t why I called you.”
“It isn’t?”
“No, you see the day he disappeared. You know took off for life as a gay sex slave? Anyway he was supposed to work out with me and the guys. Now we take turns spotting each other, and when one misses well that makes the workout a bit awkward. Anyway he called to let us know that he wouldn’t be there because he was going to be getting paid to be your lab rat.”
“He wasn’t supposed to tell anyone--I mean, I’m sure you’re mistaken,” Derek blurted out.
“I don’t think so, because I saw you working out at the gym when we were there without Jimmy.”
“Well, then you know I couldn’t have been with him?” Derek said with relief.
“I got good hearing, and better reflexes,” Dirk said squeezing again.
“Huh?”
“I caught that jockstap you called Jimmy, and I’ve been wearing him every minute since then.”
“What? That was over two months ago!”
Two months! It couldn’t have been that long, could it?
“Yeah, and I was wondering just how gay our wet dreamer might be after eating at least 50 loads of my cum?”
“Fuck, you’re kidding? You knew it was him, and you did that to him? And I thought I hated that dumb jock?” Derek confessed.
Dirk grinned and sat up giving me a better view of his computer monitor and pointed. He was recording the conversation.
“Anyway, I was wondering if he’s linked only to this jockstrap or if he could be linked to other articles of clothing. I’m on the wrestling team, and I prefer not to wear a jockstrap while I wrestle. You know just me and my singlet,” Dirk grinned.
“Oh, well, the jockstrap was specially modified, it’s got 100 times the sensors that would go into an article of clothing that size,” Derek replied. He thought for a moment, “Hm, but I bet I could program a singlet to handle all the sensory data. Maybe you could bring one by for me to use as a model.” He seemed awfully keen to have Dirk come by.
Dirk agreed. Then after the disconnect, Dirk exploded another load inside me.
“Damned fucker thinks he can outwit me. We’ll see about that Jimmy Jockboy, we’ll see about that.”