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Wearing Misha

By Rix Prime

tags : latex, envelopment, m/m, voyeurism, anal, oral, chastity, orgasm denial, watersports

Tarot smoothed down his shortened headfur and straightened his shirt. It was his fourth time going to the fetish club known as The Black Squeak, and this time, he swore, he would approach someone. The first night had been the hardest for him. Knowing nobody there, and not even knowing much about the etiquette, he'd spent most of the time at the bar, nursing cooler after cooler. By the end, he'd been able to walk, but not very well, and he'd apparently radiated some sort of aura that kept anyone from talking to him even once over the course of the night.

The second and third times he'd stepped through the heavy steel double doors, he'd explored a bit. Watched some amazing play happen. It had been a relief to him to realize that over half the people there weren't wearing any rubber at all. He'd watched an incredible display on stage where a ferret had been sealed into a vac-bed. The thought of all that tight, shining latex, squeezing and sleek, all around him, had left him so hard he'd wanted to go and jerk off somewhere.

Tonight, as he stepped into the Squeak, he made his way back to the room with that central raised stage. He could remember the bartender, a cute young mouse with uniformly gray fur and dark eyes, telling him that if he really wanted to see something intense, he should come by on Saturday night and watch the show.

The stage was still empty, but the room was full, milling about with an anticipatory energy. He wondered if he'd catch anyone's eye tonight. He knew he wasn't really much to look at; Average height, average build. Black fur from head to toe. He was wearing simple denim jeans and a white t-shirt with the words 'I WISH THIS SHIRT WAS RUBBER' on it. Like most post-humans, he left his feet unshod, finding it a lot easier to walk on bare pawpads.

He took up a spot near the back corner of the room, in an area that seemed to be mostly vacant. It was raised up slightly so he could see the stage area easily. He blushed when he saw what was there. A strange contraption with one huge looking dildo in the middle along with a number of straps was already prepared, something he'd been unable to see from within the crowd. This was going to be interesting, he realized.

A few moments later, a hush fell on the room, and the door at the back of the stage opened and a fox and a cat stepped through. Both of them were covered in tight, shiny latex rubber from head to toe, with the fox in blue and black and the cat in green and paler blue. The fox was leading the cat on a long nylon leash clipped to a ring embedded in a thick posture-collar shaped part of the suit. The cat's arms were in a separate sheath of black buckled latex and bound behind him. Though he was far from the stage, both outfits were seemingly seamless, though Tarot expected that the suits were just very carefully designed. He figured the cat's zipper was on the back, obscured by the buckled latex. The fox's would be much harder to identify.

The cat walked hesitantly and slowly, taking his steps carefully, and it was then that Tarot realized that unlike the fox, the cat's eyes were completely covered in latex. He was walking blind onto the stage. “Oh wow…" Tarot whispered to himself, feeling his sheath swelling a bit. He could tell where the cat was supposed to go. From his vantage point, he could see that the cat's mouth was propped open slightly by the mask portion of his suit. At his groin he could see a hard sheath cap and two very clearly defined balls. Still, everything seemed seamless.

The fox led the cat to the middle of the stage. He held up his hands and then called out, “Yes, everyone, your favourite little fuck-toy is here again! Toy, be polite and wave. Oh… right, you can't. Ah, that's a shame. Just because you're all bound up doesn't mean you shouldn't be polite. I'll have to cane your nuts later." The cat squirmed and let out a sound of protest. Predictably, the crowd laughed. “So, my toy's been a bit bad this week. I'm going to say… his number is twenty. Think you can all oblige him?" The crowd roared.

Despite the way the feline was trembling, he didn't protest or fight as he was led to the middle of the stage. The fox nuzzled the cat's cheek and murmured something in his ear before reaching down to squeeze the latex-covered sack firmly until his 'toy' squealed loudly. “Alright, toy, go show them how much you want this."

The cat couldn't even nod, but he took the lead now and approached the strange assembly of buckles and straps. He knelt over it, and Tarot was surprised that he had enough balance to do it without the use of his arms. The wolf touched the front of his tented jeans when he saw just how large the waiting dildo was.

The fox stepped up behind his toy and stroked down his back, leaning in again to whisper into his ears. Tarot couldn't tell what was being said, but the tone was clear. Coaxing, affectionate, encouraging. Trembling, the feline pressed the head of the huge toy up under his tail and started to bear down. A yowl of discomfort came from his throat, but he didn't stop pressing down, taking the thick toy all in one motion until he was kneeling fully. The fox quickly started attaching the buckles and straps, ensuring the feline would be unable to rise without being freed. Little whimpers came from the feline as he was locked into place with the thick toy in him.

Tarot let out a low, desperate groan at the thought of being so completely helpless. The feel of a too-big toy under his tail, unable to get comfortable. Not even able to see. Only able to feel the heat of stage lights upon him, warming the latex that covered him from head to toe, hear the murmur and clamor of the crowd watching his predicament. What would it feel like for real?

The fox teased the cat's sack with his foot and stroked back his ears. “Such a good toy. Are you ready, hmm? I know they are!" He turned to the crowd and called out, “you're all ready aren't you? Now, he only has to do twenty, but if he gets more, that's great. And remember, if the line-up at the bathroom is too long, well, he'll help there too!" The feline's sound of protest resounded through the room, somehow louder than the crowd's enthusiastic response. The fox stepped back from the feline and then slowly strode out, leaving his toy on the stage. A rabbit… no, a hare, he was larger than a rabbit, wearing nothing at all other than a leather harness and a jock that was tugged down, ascended the steps to the stage and up to the helpless feline. Without even a word, he pressed the tip of his cock into the feline's mouth.

Tarot went utterly still, the tent in his jeans straining. Now he understood. Now he knew what the point of all this was. The cat was up there to be used by anyone who wanted him, and the implication was that it wouldn't just be semen that filled his belly tonight. The cat wouldn't ever even know who had fucked his face or pissed down his throat. He groaned, watching with rapt fascination as the hare roughly fucked the cat's face, the gurgling sounds he made somehow amplified. It wasn't long before the hare took two final, rough shoves and then pulled his cock out, spattering the feline's face with his seed.

Immediately, a heavyset bear stepped up, his long and pink shaft already stiff, and took the hare's place. He actually fist-bumped the hare as he stepped off stage. Before the feline could even recover, the bear was guiding the tip of his cock between the helpless toy's lips.

One after the other, more males took their turn, and all the while the feline gurgled and whimpered and let out little moans. One of the more sadistic ones used a light flogger to abuse the cat's sensitive nuts while he used that eager little mouth, and soon the gurgles were interspersed with squeals. Tarot couldn't stop watching. The thought of doing something like that made his stomach clench, feelings of shame and fear thrilling through him. But that was part of the fantasy for him, feeling embarrassed and used and humiliated, a dirty slut that would take whatever dick was given to him, not caring one bit who it was.

“He's beautiful, isn't he?" came a low, rumbling voice from behind Tarot. With a surprised squeak, hands flying to hide the bulge in his jeans, the wolf turned to face the speaker. He'd been staring, and it was likely very clear how much he'd been enjoying watching the nameless cat being used.

With a wicked smile on his face, dark eyes shining, there stood the tall fox that he'd seen guiding the feline to the spot where he was tied down. Like the feline, he was covered from head to toe in an outfit of glistening, glossy latex, though his was midnight black and navy blue instead of bright green and sky blue. In this dim corner of the club, it seemed as if even his teeth and tongue were coated in the stuff, but that had to be just a trick of the lighting. The question of how the fox had crept up behind him confused Tarot, but it seemed an unimportant detail. Before he knew it, Tarot was reaching out to touch the surface of that suit at the fox's belly to see how it felt on his fingers. Smooth, warm and sleek, it let out the tiniest little squeak that the young wolf could somehow hear over the pulsing beats of the music in the club. He blushed when he looked down to see that even the fox's sheath seemed to be covered up somehow.

“My my, dear, a little forward are we? It's usually polite to ask before touching someone," came that low voice. There was only the slightest bit of a chiding tone to his voice as he spoke, and he made a mollifying gesture before Tarot could splutter out an apology. “Oh don't worry, it's fine, I don't mind. I really don't. My name is Misha. And you, I think are just adorable."

Tarot's ears went even more flat than before, and he felt his sheath swell just a bit in his embarrassment. Despite his twenty-three years he somehow felt like he was still a pup caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Thank you?" he said hesitantly, cursing the shyness that always seemed to come up when he was confronted directly.

“I see you like my toy," Misha murmured, gesturing to the feline, and Tarot looked back to where he'd watched the feline fellate the squirrel. His face now spattered with the rodent's spunk, the helpless cat was servicing a heavyset tiger wearing nothing a leather vest and sporting an impressively-sized tapered pink shaft. He held a thin, long rod in one hand and was lightly slapping the feline's nuts with it, drawing out pained little mewls with each strike. “You can go use him if you want, I don't mind. It's why I bring him here. I like seeing my toys used."

The suggestion only made Tarot more embarrassed, now unable to even say a word. All around him, the sounds of the club seemed to grow indistinct. All, that was, but the mewls of the feline, the slap of that rod against latex-sheathed nuts and the wet slurping of the now very aggressive face-fucking. Firm, smooth digits suddenly gripped Tarot's chin and turned him back to make him meet Misha's gaze. “No, I don't think you want to use him, do you? Well, you think it would be fun, but you, little wolf, you want to be the cat."

A soft moan spilled from Tarot's lips, and he found himself saying, “yes" before he could take back the word. Misha grinned, teeth gleaming, and Tarot could see that, indeed, the fox's teeth and tongue were latex. A tongue that seemed wrong somehow. It was serpentine and pointed, soon pressing out of his mouth, flexing and undulating, dripping a slick substance. He drew that tongue up one side of Tarot's face, soaking the fur there.

“Wh-what the fuck?" Tarot half-yelled. He wondered if everyone else could see what he was seeing, but for some reason nobody was looking in his direction. Nobody could see him. It occurred to him that the fox really had appeared from out of nowhere, as if he'd come from the shadows.

Misha's eyes, inky pools of black, somehow even wider than before, stared back at Tarot. “Shh, shhh…" he said, his voice growing a little higher in tone, the sound somehow sibilant now. “You're afraid, boy. I know. You don't understand. It's all right. If you walk away now, you can forget what you've seen. Remember it as a dream."

“You see, dear boy," Misha growled, “I come looking for ones like you. The same ones like my dear toy over there." He stepped back and gave an entirely too-wide grin, then pointed to the latex feline with the tiger. “The moment you saw him, saw the way I pet him as he was tied in place. He loves me, trusts me. I provide everything he needs, and he plays the toy for me. I don't let him leave until he does one of two things… makes ten men pop, or he drinks down every … last… drop of some guy's piss. And…" he made an exaggerated sound of mock surprise. “There he goes… can you hear the noises he's making, little wolf?"

Tarot watched with horrified fascination, the sense of unreality washing over him. Someone had to have seen what he did. Felt what he did. But not a soul in the club was watching or even seemed to even look in his direction. It was as if their gaze just slid over his little corner of the club.

The cat was making gurgling and gagging sounds of protest, but Tarot could see him swallowing reflexively. He was squirming and seemed to want to get up, to stop, but his bound arms prevented it. When the tiger was all done, he pulled himself out of the smaller cat's mouth and wiped himself off on a shiny latex cheek.

“I took him last year," Misha said, a low growl, right into Tarot's ear. One strong arm wrapped around the wolf's chest and stroked from chest down to belly. “You knew from the moment you saw him he was different. You couldn't see a seam on him anywhere. And that's because there isn't one. He's like that forever. And with me, forever is a very long time."

Tarot let out a low, terrified groan, but his excitement at that idea was evident in the way his jeans were tented out, his erection straining at the fabric. Smooth hands lifted his shirt, and Tarot tried to protest, “Wait, what are you doing? I didn't…"

“Not yet, you didn't. But you will. I've done this so many times, little wolf," Misha said, and then ran that strange tongue across Tarot's cheek again, leaving another smear on his fur. He ran his fingers through the fur on Tarot's belly, and then moved his hand down to stroke the bulge in the wolf's jeans. “Let me take you, boy. Let me hold you. Fill you. Cover you. Come on now, lift your hands up…"

Tarot did as Misha demanded, and soon he was shirtless. Smooth fingers undid the snap on his jeans, front and back, and soon they were being tugged down as well, freeing his stiff canine shaft. He felt the fabric pooling at his feet half a second later. “I… I…" he stammered. “You can really do that? Turn me into that?" What would it feel like, to be helplessly held down, used for someone's pleasure. Never knowing what they looked like. Only tasting them, feeling them pressing under his tail.

Misha's toothy smile widened and he took a step back. “Do you want to see, dear? Do you want to see what I really am? Completely?" His eyes had gone completely black now, focused entirely on the naked wolf before him. When Tarot nodded, the fox pressed his fingers to his chest and pushed inward, digits sinking into a strange seam that Tarot could have sworn hadn't been there before.

“What the fuck," Tarot whispered, horrified fascination and arousal rooting him in place as Misha tugged at that seam and his body… opened. There was no other way that Tarot could have described it. It was as if the latex was all that Misha was, as if there was nothing within the tight sheath of rubber. As if Misha was the latex suit rather than the one wearing it. In the dim light, he saw a slick, smooth and wet surface and what seemed like dozens of little squirming tendrils of moving latex. From just under his chin to just above the thick vulpine shaft, Misha held himself open. A half dozen thicker tendrils of latex snaked out of the suit and reached out for the wolf

The fox… no, the suit spoke, a strange harmonious sound of two voices at once. “All you have to do is say yes, boy. Then you can be mine. I'll take you into me. And nobody will ever see the old you ever again." The latex tendrils stopped just short of Tarot, not touching him, quivering in the air mere centimetres away.

The words spilled from Tarot's lips before Misha had even finished saying that last syllable, “Yes. Yes, do it, yes." The tendrils curled around his arms and legs immediately, smearing his fur with more of that slick, slimy substance. His eyes widened as two reddish vulpine shafts formed inside the suit, one at the bottom of the suit, one forming at the top. Both dripped that strange slick lube-like substance, and seemed to pulse with life of their own. “Oh my god," he whispered.

“Oh yes, you're certainly right about that, toy," Misha said in that strange voice, a third tone joining the first two. “That's what I am, and every moment of your life from now on will be spent in my service." The tendrils tightened on Tarot's limbs and lifted him off the ground with as little effort as a dog with a chew toy. He was spun around to face the dim club and pulled backward. His legs were pulled up and back, and he felt his feet slipping into the mass of writhing latex tendrils. Dozens of them curled around his feet, then his legs, and he felt them slipping down into tight, slick warmth.

Tight rubber enveloped Tarot's legs, and when he looked down, he could see his feet distorting Misha's own legs from within. The vulpine shaft, looking so detailed that it could have been real, looked huge, dripping with milky white fluid. He knew without a doubt where that would be going, and he could sense that any chance to protest had gone the moment he'd said 'yes'. His arms were pulled back and tendrils wrapped around his head and neck. “Now now, no peeking. Watch my other toy…"

Inch by inch, Tarot's legs slipped into Misha. The rubber, or whatever it was, was restrictive and hot and somehow slick and wet at the same time. He gasped in surprise when something within Misha grabbed his tail and pulled it up and back. His arms slipped into Misha at the same time as his rump, and he felt them enveloped in the same way as his legs had been. “Oh, it's so close, toy. I love being able to feel the panic, the longing, as I cover my new toys completely. The moment they get their last glimpse of the world before I take them."

The head of the cock inside Misha nestled up against Tarot's tailring, pressing forward as the tendrils tugged him back. The wolf let out a moan as the broad tip stretched him open, sliding under his tail, slick and hot and wet. To his surprise, it didn't press deep, barely passing that tight ring of flesh before he felt slick rubber squeezing against his rump.

Misha seemed to be taking great pleasure in ensuring the wolf's torso and head were the last to be pulled in. With his head held in place, he only felt the warm rubber slipping over his cock and balls, his stiff length slipping into its own tight sheath. All of a sudden his sack and shaft were being squeezed from all sides, the pressure growing more intense by the second. Tarot let out a low moan that turned to a squeal of pain as every part of him within Misha got the same treatment. To his surprise, heads in the club turned in his direction, confused glances gliding over and past him, unseeing.

“Take a look, sweet toy… take one last look. Next week that will be you bound to that bench. It will be you letting anyone with a dick leave a load in his belly. Whether it's piss or cum." Misha growled. Tendrils gripped Tarot's chin and muzzle and tugged it upward. “Open up, toy…" he commanded. The cock before his lips seemed to be completely real, and maybe it really was. Dutifully, he opened his muzzle and it pushed in. Something seemed to flow over his muzzle and coat his teeth, but he could taste nothing but vulpine musk. Everything pressed in around his head, and the world went black. The suit -Misha- grew tight around him, restrictive, confining, dark. For just a moment, Tarot began to panic, fighting against the enveloping sensation of latex. Then, a soft, soothing voice was heard in his mind. “There, calm down, toy. You're safe. You're inside me. Nobody can see you. Nobody can hear you. You're mine completely. Doesn't it feel good?"

A wave of calm rushed through the trapped wolf, and the suit pulsed around him, massaging him, as if it was right against his skin, the fur gone. Gradually, he felt his chest rising and falling. He could breathe! He wasn't sure how he could, but he could breathe. As he calmed himself further, a soft feeling of pride suffused him. “That's right, toy, you're safe, you can breathe. Why don't you work your tongue, dear. I can feel it, you know."

Without any hesitation, Tarot began to undulate his tongue around the shaft in his mouth, sucking a little at the same time. Almost immediately, a dribble of heavy, musky pre started to seep onto his tongue, tasting faintly of rubber. All of a sudden, he felt the suit trying to move, trying to make him take a step forward. Instinct made him struggle against it, and immediately every inch of the suit started to squeeze around him. Even the small plug under his tail widened to an uncomfortable stretch., especially around his trapped nuts. He squealed and hollered around the cock in his mouth. “Don't fight me, toy. Let me take charge. Let me drive you," came the firm command.

Tarot whimpered, but relaxed. Immediately that constriction lessened and he was again just left with the feeling of tight, enveloping latex all around him. His legs moved forward, and he wondered where he was going. He could feel warmth on him soaking through the suit, and he felt his arm reach out and touch something. To his surprise, he could feel everything with exquisite detail through the heavy rubber suit. He was touching something smooth and sleek. The curve of a cheek? What was it?

“Mmm, two of my toys getting a treat at once. Make no mistake, toy, you're mine. You'll feel what I want, hear what I want, see what I want. I'm going to flood you with myself. I'm going to fill you inside and out. I know what you want, toy. You want to lose control of everything. Even your emotions. Your desires." Now both of Tarot's hands were exploring whatever Misha was making him touch, and then he knew. It was the contours of that other toy's head, the propped open mouth. Misha pressed that glossy black cock of his against the feline's mouth and pressed it in. Tarot groaned, suckling and licking the shaft in his mouth in response. As with the touch of Misha's hands, he could feel that shaft pressing into the toy's muzzle as if it were his own.

To his surprise, the moment that cock pressed into the feline's open mouth, Tarot felt the plug… the part of Misha under his tail press in, spreading him wider. Even as he was being made to fuck into the helpless cat's muzzle, the suit was going to fuck him. “You know what to do, sweet toy. Use that muzzle, enjoy him. Rut him and fill his mouth with your cum. And think of every filthy fantasy you've ever had, every dark and twisted desire. And know that I'll give them to you. Prove what you want by making it happen."

Before he knew it, the suit had stopped making him move, stopped making him fuck the cat's muzzle. What would Misha do if he pulled out, if he rejected the gift he'd been offered? A wave of nausea and a sense of crushing loss and despair washed over him, and he knew. He'd be let go, pushed out, and never be given another chance.

Tarot stroked the toy's cheeks again, a gentle, affectionate touch, and the feline stiffened suddenly. “Oh, he knows, toy, knows just what's happening. He knows I have a new toy just ready to become like him." He gripped the feline's head and began to thrust into the waiting muzzle, drawing a gurgle from the helpless toy. The cat's tongue worked up against the underside of his shaft, undulating and slurping, and it only drove Tarot to fuck just that much harder. “You can knot his mouth, toy. He loves choking. I'll never let it really hurt him."

With each rough thrust, Tarot felt the twin cocks in him start to fuck at the exact same pace. This was really happening to him, he was really doing this. All the dreams and fantasies he'd ever had rose to his mind, with the promise resounding in his mind that when he came, they would all come true. To be held forever in a prison of shining rubber -cherry red and pink, he'd always envisioned-. To service anyone that wanted him. To spend hours with plugs in. Piss down his throat. A paw shoved under his tail. Serving one after another without seeing them. And deeper desires, ones he'd never been able to put to exact words. To feel everything with the same intensity… not just the pleasure, but the shame and embarrassment. The humiliation. Each damning fantasy made his rutting grow more frantic, more excited. “You're holding back, toy. Give everything to me."

The feline gurgled and whimpered, and Tarot realized he could feel the toy's own feelings of humiliation… an exultation. Pride that he was going to be used to bring another being into the service of a deity of lust and hedonism and unleashed desires. That, more than anything, drove him on. The words that had come to him made him shudder inside Misha. Even as his knot bumped up against the toy's mouth, he felt the thick bulb at his own tailring, at his lips. Make this the last I ever have. Seal it away, make it hurt when I start to get hard don't ever let me cum again Misha please. Just keep me wanting it and never getting it.

“Of course, my sweet toy," he found his own lips forming the words as he shoved his knot hard against the feline's mouth and with a lewd pop, his knot sank in. The toy squealed and gagged, a horrified gurgling. Tarot felt the panic, the fear, he could feel the desperation to breathe as his thick cock tip cut off the toy's air. At the same time, his own rump stretched around the thick bulb of Misha's, which swelled and locked into him. Even the one in his mouth grew a knot somehow, though the tip was just barely inside otherwise. Tarot whimpered, just on the edge, almost on the peak of his own damnation… or was it ascension? “I think, toy… we'll start now… give you what you want."

Suddenly, Tarot's cock began to pulse, the physical sensations of his cock spurting seed coming to him. He could feel muscles tensing, he could feel his nuts tightening, and then the release of glob after glob of semen spilling directly into the toy's throat, but there was only a dull pleasure, and the feeling of being on edge didn't subside for even a second. He… he couldn't do it! Misha wasn't letting him! And with that realization, there was a thick and heavy spray of pure, cloying liquid rubber in his mouth. Viscous, thick, it flooded into him without any signs of stopping. Pressure and heaviness within his rump told him that there, too, more was filling him. He tried to swallow, tried to gulp, but it was too much for him, and he coughed and gagged as it just forced its way down his throat. “Oh, you're mine now. Another new worshiper. Another new toy. All mine, devoted to my purpose. Just relax. Calm. Breathe me in. It will hurt, I know…"

Tarot struggled desperately, instinct telling him to fight what was happening, but he was held firmly within Misha. He could see spots dancing in his vision somehow, flashes of light. All of a sudden there was pressure at his ears, squirming and wriggling and tickling. And then, to his horror, he felt something starting to creep up into his cock, and around the lip of his sheath. It was too much! Tarot tried to scream, but Misha's essence now flooded into his lungs. Fire blossomed in his chest, and across every pore of his skin, and then everything faded to warmth. “All mine… you're mine. My pretty new toy. Just relax." As Tarot felt his consciousness fading, as his awareness began to dissipate, he felt rigid hardness slip over his sheath and press slightly in, with a tiny little bit poking into his urethra. And then, everything went black, every inch of him within and without coated in Misha's entire being.

---

“Wake up, my toy. Open your eyes and see what you have become," came a soft whisper. Tarot heard it both at his ear and in his mind at the same time. Obediently, he opened his eyes. What he saw made his knees tremble, and a flush of pride and fear washed through him. He was standing in front of a stand-up mirror, tall enough to show every inch of what he'd become.

Gone was the black fur, gone was every single inch of skin he'd had. It had been replaced by cherry red latex that faded to soft pink on his belly. He twirled around and saw that the pink coated his rump too. His tail wagged excitedly of its own volition, and he turned again to face the mirror directly. He blushed then. He had a huge, swollen, realistically veined canine cock that actually seemed to be drooling pre, but when he touched it, he felt nothing. Inside the suit, his cock tried to strain against something hard and restricting. Misha stepped up behind him, no longer covered in latex himself, and stroked his fingers down Tarot's sides. To the wolf's shock, he could feel the touch as if it were his own skin, shorn of fur. “I'll let you see everything tonight. You won't serve every day. I don't demand constant unending service. But this… being my toy, it's your life now, Tarot. Hah, I don't feel even a bit of surprise from you that I know your name. I know everything about you. Which is why you're here right now. And, my sweet toy, that IS your skin now. Flesh and blood within, and latex skin without."

“Here?" Tarot asked, feeling confused. All of a sudden his arms pulled behind his back of their own accord. Buckles and straps formed there and he felt them bound tightly. “Wait, now? Right now-GLRK!" Without warning, the latex around his neck hardened, forcing his head up. A hard rubber ring formed in his mouth, propping his lips open, and latex coated his teeth.

“Oh yes… yes my dear. You've been within me a week. I thought you should start right away." Misha spun Tarot around and clipped a leash to a ring that formed from the collar on the wolf's neck. As he watched, the black and blue suit of latex flowed over Misha's body. “Let's go, my dear. The crowd is waiting."