Inhibitions
written by Skye McCloud
...It has been three days since anyone has seen Thomas...
...If anyone has any information about James and Michael, please call...
...Three more missing person claims have been filed...
...I just want my Francis home. He disappeared two weeks ago...
...Won't anyone help us?...
Mark flipped the television off in disgust. The media was having a field day with one of the issues most-paramount in his precinct. They knew about this weeks ago, when the number was at two or three. But with the disappearances of over a dozen young men in recent days, and the topic spreading like wildfire over the news, he knew their efforts would quickly be doubled, if not tripled. Puzzlingly enough, a few detectives were sent out in search of information, but they too disappeared. This only confirmed that there was something amiss.
The missing men were all aged from 16 to 25, causing panic through the general population. Parents were keeping their kids home from school, businesses were beginning to hurt as people stopped showing up, and even clubs were getting little business due to their target audience being the target audience of the recent abductions. People were afraid. Something had to be done.
Mark MacLure was a black panther, and was as fit and lean as they come. Handsome didn't quite begin to describe the young adult; he worked out every morning, kept in shape, and was well-defined. But, unfortunately for him, he was also the newest member of the force, having been a detective there for just under six months. Without seniority he really had very little to say when it came to accepting assignments; he took what he was given, whether or not he liked it. So he knew the missing persons' case was coming sooner or later. He had hoped later, but his captain, Wayne Roberts, had other plans for the hapless panther.
"MacLure, my office please," he called out as he stood in the doorway. Mark glanced over, and groaned. It was time.
"Yes?" Mark asked after he entered the captain's room, and shut the door.
"Have a seat," the captain stated, extending an arm to a nearby chair. The panther sat down nervously, his tail wrapping around his leg protectively. "I've got your next case for you. You know of the recent disappearances of young men, correct?"
"Of course," Mark groaned. He knew it was coming.
"So far we know very little about this. We don't know if it's a gang, or a single person, or what. But we do know the common location of the abductions, so I need you to go there, and see if you can find out any information."
"I really don't want to do this," the panther sighed. "I'm part of the target demographic, you know."
"I realize that, which is why it is ideal to send you. You can infiltrate easier," came the response. "Now then, we don't know much about why they're kidnapping such a specific demographic," the captain disclosed, "but as I said earlier, we know the common location of the abductions. It's an interesting common trend.
"What is it?" Mark inquired, damning his luck.
"All of them would visit a particular fetish club. It is my assumption that if you were to go there, you'd stumble across whoever is behind the abductions."
"Wait, you want me to go to some fetish club?" Mark blushed. He'd never really been one to explore his own sexuality, let alone allow himself to be thrust into such ideas. "I'm not really..."
The captain interrupted. "Mark, you will go, or you will be discharged," He stated firmly, earning a pathetic response from the panther. Wayne sat down at his desk to regain composure. "Look, we don't know if they were kidnapped, killed, or whatever. What I do know is that we have over a dozen families that want their son back, want answers, or at least want closure. And all we know is that this is the only place that we can glean any information from."
Mark sighed. "Fine, I'll go, I'll do it."
The captain nodded, satisfied by the agreement. "You'll have to look the part, you know."
"What do you mean?"
"What do you think?" the captain responded, irritation hanging in his throat.
Mark's face turned completely scarlet under his fur. The very thought of him wearing anything remotely provocative was difficult to imagine. But, he had to for this case. "Alright, where's this club?" he finally asked, desperate to just get it all over with.
"It's called the Rubber Room. It's an underground club in the Grey District, on the corner of DeMont and Prince."
"This just keeps getting better and better," the detective muttered.
"Now listen, I know you might be uncomfortable about this, but it'll be fine. Just get information, and get back to us," Wayne said in the hopes of reassuring the detective.
Mark pushed back his chair with a start, and made to leave. "I won't forget this, by the way."
"Neither will I," the captain responded.
~<>~
Mark shifted nervously as he stood at the bar of the Rubber Room. He had stopped by a fetish store earlier and bought a black pair of latex jeans, a silver latex midriff t-shirt, and silver bikini briefs. They clung to his body tightly, outlining every muscle and curve he had to offer. He also wore a pair of black gauntlets, and accented his neck with a thick rubber collar. He looked damned sexy in his outfit, but his discomfort was apparent; he could not stop blushing. He'd been groped by several people already, male and female alike, and even found a few in-between his legs hoping to catch him off-guard. Not only that he had yet to find any information about his case so far. It was going to be a long night.
He was just about to head home when he heard a click around his neck. Turning around, he found a leash extending trailing from his collar to a youthful-looking feline's paw. He was some kind of cat, though Mark couldn't place the exact species. He was about Mark's height if not a little bit taller; Mark couldn't help but notice he was practically naked standing there wearing nothing more than a small red rubber thong that really left nothing about his pills to the imagination. He was also covered in what appeared to be red fluorescent body paint.
He was also staring at Mark expectantly with distant eyes.
"Can I help you?" Mark found himself asking, curiosity rising. He was nervous of such a confrontation; he was an intruder within their domain and comfort zone.
"Please come with me," was all he got as a response before the cat began pulling on his leash, beckoning him to follow.
What did he have to lose?
The two went down a narrow hallway and into a stairwell. As they descended into the bowels of the club Mark tried to make conversation with his rubbery escort, but he spoke not a word. The thump-thump of the music became fainter as the distance grew until it was practically quiet. Finally they stood before a doorway, and after a moment it clicked open.
Mark padded into the dim room after the cat, noticing dozens of folks lining the walls. They writhed around, their breathing hot and heavy; it dawned on Mark that they were all having sex in plain view of each other. His cheeks turned scarlet at such an obscene idea.
The cat lead him over to a wall. The floor was padded with a thick layer of rubber, and the walls had various devices attached to them. Some of them looked extremely weird; Mark tried not to think about that. But the distraction proved fruitful for the cat; Mark glanced down to see his wrists bound in a pair of heavy shackles.
"The hell...?" he cried out as the cat locked his shackled wrists to the wall, quickly stepping out of Mark's reach.
"Ghost will see you now," the cat stated before leaving.
Mark was dumbstruck by everything that was going on. But he didn't have long to dwell, either. Mark's attention was snapped to a figure before him. A white tiger approached him, his face expressionless, but his body language hinting at something more. He appeared to be in his mid-twenties, but a touch of childhood youth was left clinging to his features. He wore a black latex midriff tank that barely covered his chest, and a pair of the most unusual pants Mark had ever seen; they were completely solid down the front and back of his legs, but along the side the fabric was held together by dozens of straps. All in all, this cat's body was barely held prisoner by such high fashion.
He couldn't help but notice a very unusual tattoo upon his forehead. It was shaped like a U, but appeared more crescent-shaped than anything. Other similar tattoos were on his stomach, and shoulders; upon closer inspection Mark realized that the patterns were integrated within his own tiger stripes. Every bit of magenta glowed hotly, illuminating the dimly lit basement they stood within.
Whoever this tiger was, he certainly intrigued Mark.
"Who are you?" the tiger demanded, "I have not seen you here before."
"Mark," the panther responded. "I might ask you the same."
"Name's Ghost," the tiger stated firmly as he gestured the panther to sit. Glancing around for a chair, Mark then gave Ghost a puzzled look. Ghost sighed. "Kneel."
"Kneel?"
"Kneel and be evaluated," came the bored response. Mark did as he was instructed, and Ghost kneeled before him. He seemed a little sad, as if he had no real reason to smile. Mark couldn't help but feel a pang of remorse for such a person, but the feeling was quickly tucked away in the back of his mind. "Don't be shy," the tiger said as he placed his paws on the panther's pectorals. "Nice and firm," he commented before playfully tweaking the panther's nipples, earning a groan from his victim.
The tiger traced his paws over Mark's body, causing the panther to shudder as he glided over particularly sensitive areas of his well-defined build. Ghost crept behind him, and massaged his shoulders slightly. His body rested comfortably within the curvature of Mark's spine; the panther's face was making up shades of red at this point. Ghost then trailed a paw down to grope his ass, and another wrapped around to rub against the panther's crotch, much to his embarrassment.
"Uh... I'm not gay," Mark stammered out. He was embarrassed, but despite what he said his body still responded; Ghost had coaxed out a small erection already.
"Did I ask that?" Ghost inquired as he fingered the outline of Mark's crotch.
"Well, no, I just..."
"What does it matter then? Is there something wrong with pleasure?"
"No, it's just that I've never..."
"An orgasm is the most beautiful gift you can bestow upon another," Ghost stated as he unzipped Mark's jeans. "If you refuse my gift once more I will leave you down here to rot."
"No, no, please, you can do anything you want," the panther cried out. "I want it, I want it."
"Good boy," Ghost smiled as he tugged Mark's pants down to his knees, and continued to massage the panther's nether regions. Mark's breath hitched; his mind kept telling him no, but his heart and body kept saying yes. Inhibitions be damned.
Ghost grasped Mark's erection in his paws, and stroked him slightly through the rubbery material he wore. A gentle symphony of squeaking played from his crotch as his mind was engulfed in the moment. It felt so wrong, but at the same time it felt so good. He really did want this.
Mark couldn't help but feel how needy Ghost's ministrations were. As if he was searching for something specific. He seemed lonely.
"Tell me why you're here," Ghost inquired softly as he continued to stroke off the bound panther.
"To this club?" Mark asked, his body giving in to Ghost's agenda. He mewled as the tiger tenderly fondled his balls through the latex, sensing pleasure surging through his core.
"Yes."
"Because I love rubber," the panther lied, though there was an inkling of truth in that statement. The more he wore it, the more and more comfortable he felt wearing it. Especially now. "I spend a lot of time at home wearing it, experimenting with it, and wanted to find more people who shared my love," he continued to lie.
Ghost released his paws from Mark, leaving him whimper slightly. He drew Mark's face around to the side to face Ghost's intimidating gaze, and looked directly in his eyes. "You're lying," the tiger stated as the magenta design glowed brighter than ever, turning shades of scarlet.
Mark found himself caught in the tiger's gaze, the fiery glow of his tattoos coming to life. A chemical reaction exuded from the tiger as it invaded Mark's senses. He was trapped. There was no lying to Ghost. He knew everything anyway; he simply preferred to hear the truth. His mind fell into disarray as the dominoes within tumbled down one by one.
Ghost had a gift, and not the one he spoke of earlier. Whatever his tattoos were comprised of gave him powers beyond mortal imagining. Mark learned of this all too late; Ghost could read his mind, and rearrange it to his own liking. The world swirled around the panther as his mind was overcome by such a dominant force. Everything he felt, believed in, strived for, and hoped for shattered in an instant. There was nothing on his mind except the raw facts he had, and whatever his master wanted him to feel. He slumped down, his arms dangling over his head. He then brought his face up to stare blankly at Ghost.
"Now then, let us hear the truth," the tiger demanded.
Mark swayed slightly, as his mind tried to find the facts to present, but finally spoke. "My name is Detective Mark MacLure." His voice was low, and careful. "I was sent here to investigate the whereabouts of the missing persons. I know nothing else. But in being here, I have found I'm enjoying the situation. I enjoy rubber, and I enjoy your company." The next part earned himself a surprised look from the typically stoic Ghost. "I am grateful that you are ridding me of my own inhibitions."
Ghost was silent for a few moments, his mind dwelling on that last statement. But after a few he shrugged. "Well then, that changes everything," he stated as he put his arms around the panther. "So, you like latex, huh?"
"I've never worn it before now, but I like it very much," Mark responded, his will to overcome anything fading away. "I'd like to always wear it."
"Would you like to stay here, and wear it forever?" the tiger asked as he brought his paw back down to Mark's crotch.
"If that is what you wish of me, than that is what I wish for my life," the panther stated plainly.
"I think I can arrange that," Ghost responded.
Mark's hard-on was raging, his own thoughts and defenses absolutely gone. His body yearned for touch, pleasure, and release. Ghost obliged; he pulled down Mark's underwear, exposing his cock, his balls spilling down over the fabric. He then stroked the panther's erection greedily, and fingered his sheath slightly. The mewls Mark made were so cute. He went to work, pumping him to climax. Mark moaned loudly as his senses went into overdrive, and his load erupted into Ghost's paws.
The tiger nuzzled Mark's neck, purring loudly into his ear. "It doesn't matter what you think you feel. What matters is how I want you to feel," he said as he stood up, and walked away, leaving Mark dangling from the wall, his body spent, his mind exhausted, and himself vulnerable to sleep's embrace.
~<>~
The panther blinked opened his eyes to blinding morning sunlight. The four walls were familiar, and the bed he rested upon smelled normal. He was home. He gripped his wrists; wasn't he left dangling from a wall the night before? He sat up, trying to remember what had taken place the previous, but couldn't remember much.
"I guess it was just a dream..." he muttered, flopping back down to snore away the morning. It was strange, though. He felt absolutely wonderful just lazing about there. Fulfilled might be a better term to describe his feelings.
He sat up once more; he needed breakfast. Mark pulled back his bedcovers, and quickly realized another oddity of his morning. He was wearing latex.
It was nothing more than a loose outfit consisting of black shorts and a matching tank top, both articles loose and baggy, just barely clinging to him, but it was still enough to coax out the same sensations he felt last night. Paws were on his body, fingers fondling his manhood, the moans he cried out...
He got up and opened his closet, searching for something a bit more appropriate to wear, but much to his surprise it was completely bare. Not a single article of clothing remained. He opened a few drawers; even his underwear had gone missing. Things were definitely not right. But he did notice a large box on the floor. Kneeling down he tore off a note that had been attached to the box.
Enjoy your gift. See me when you're ready.
~ Ghost
Ghost. That was a tiger he met last night. He had a fluorescent stripe pattern, and an interesting personality. It seemed as though he was bored, and lonely, despite having such free company around him. It was as if he was searching for that one special person.
Mark opened the box; tucked away inside was nothing but latex clothing. He pulled out garment after garment, his mind spinning as he touched it all. It felt so good against his paws, so wonderful against his fur. He loved it. He had to wear it. He needed to wear it. Everything seemed made to fit him exclusively. Why wear anything else?
His body glowed slightly as a faint white design began emanating from his skin. Ghost had a firm grip on his mind; he was consumed by his lust for latex.
He found himself stripping out of the loose latex pajamas he had been wearing, tossing them in a heavy heap upon his bed. He pulled on a new outfit, his inhibitions scattered to the wind. A pair of red and white boy shorts. A red sleeveless midriff. Sleeves, and fingerless gloves. He then found the collar he wore last night, and slipped it on as well.
The feel of latex was intoxicating. The shine was entrancing. He'd never stop wearing it. He'd never stop wanting it. He would head over to the Rubber Room again. He would stay there. He would live for latex.
Ghost would no longer be lonely.
And Mark would be free from his inhibitions forever.
This was an old commission for Hypnoghost over at FurAffinity. I don't quite recall the circumstances involved in creating the story, but I do personally enjoy the result.