Date: Sat, 15 Jan 2022 23:49:16 +0000
From: Stu Hadley <stuhadley77@gmail.com>
Subject: Whole Destruction - Chapter 2

Whole Destruction
Chapter 2 - Initiation

------

Contains themes of fucking, rubber, leather and lots of toys. If you're
not into mechanical sex aids, best turn away. Average reading time 15
minutes.

If you enjoy this - or any story in the Nifty archive - please make a
donation to keep this invaluable resource going. Every contribution
helps!

------

The next morning I tried to process what had happened. Waking up in
unfamiliar circumstances was strange enough, but the feelings in my ass
were something else. I didn't feel sore - so expert were Max's
administrations - but I definitely felt loose. A phantom fist still
present inside. My dick was obviously still constrained by that pesky
cage, my natural morning wood and the pain of not fully cumming last
night a lot to bear against the heavy steel. My butt felt craggy too, dry
with spent lube.

However, the real question was, where was Max? After our session I'd
fallen asleep in his arms, but now he was gone. I hadn't heard him leave
and strangely I feared the worse. In the end, I wasn't to see him again
for hours and hours, but shit was about to get very real for me.

The cell door swung open with a loud clang and two men - men who I can
only describe as rubber drones - stepped in. Christ, these were nothing
like the Tom of Finland leather clone from yesterday. I'd found that
guard both intimidating and sexy, but these - objects? - were just plain
fucking terrifying.

Not a single inch of flesh showed, they were entirely covered in black
head-to-toe. The base layer looked to be a full cat-suit, but I could
tell it was thicker than the one I owned from the way they moved.
Careful, considered, purposeful. Also I couldn't see any zips or entry
points. Was it possible they were sealed inside?!

Over that came rolled over and thigh-high waders, bicep-high industrial
gloves, a full body harness and an anatomically correct - if entirely
anonymous - hood. These weren't humans, they were pigs. I knew that for
sure as each drone had a truly evil looking giant dick freely hanging
from their groins. So lifelike I'd swear they were real, but no real
cock could be obsidian black and so obscenely big. Christ, what did they
want with me?

The leading drone went straight for my head whilst the secondary unit
held me down. I tried to struggle but I was told resisting was futile.
That nothing could stop my first anal therapy session. A gas mask was
pulled over my head and the sense of enclosure was immediate. Rubber
straps insanely tightening around my head. My hearing was now dulled but
was that the click of four padlocks? Hell, was this thing locked in
place?!

This was completely fucked up.

My nostrils were full of the smell of rubber and an intense chemical
tang. I was helpless to whatever they were now pumping into my system.
Immediately I could feel it. Dreamy, wasted, horny. Even though I wanted
to stay reserved - to hold back - I couldn't avoid trying to touch these
drones. Were those muscles or padding? Surely no-one could be that buff?!
I suddenly wanted to be used by these fuckers more than anything in my
entire life. In my haze I grasped for their dicks. I needed to know:
strap-ons or the real deal? I was lost, what was truth or imagined?

What made it worse was their total disinterest in me, this was all
routine to them. It was all so efficient. Gas on and the subject
frog-marched to an examination room. I couldn't see much through the eye
guards, but the tiled, institutional walls of the room put me in my
place.

They stripped me of my overalls. Seeing the harsh orange fabric fall to
the floor made me feel very naked alongside them. In my continued fog I
tried to talk to them, everything from protesting at my treatment to
trying to win their trust, but they completely ignored me.

Naked - apart from the gas mask and cage - I was pushed into what looked
like a full body scanner. You know, like the ones airports use? I stood
defenceless, my arms ordered to be held high, strange noises of machinery
in the background.

Then a white coated doctor appeared. A supervisor perhaps? He seemed to
take an age looking down at his clipboard, completely oblivious to my
interest in him. Was it the drugs or was his lab coat really made out of
thick white rubber? Was it hanging open revealing a big, hairy chest,
silver-ringed nips and a properly naked dick drooling cock-slime? This
was something else entirely.

Finally, the doctor paid me some small degree of attention. He told me to
manoeuvre my body into a different position. And then again. It felt like
they were measuring every fucking inch of my body. Maybe my hole too? Oh
god, they must be able to see the evidence of my illicit fisting session
with Max last night?

But hang on, surely they wanted that? Why provide a sling and lube if
they didn't want them to be used? Even though I felt utterly naked and
scrutinised, I somehow felt strangely proud. I foolishly smiled - I'd
scored on my first night!

I can't remember exactly but I think he then welcomed me to program. How
good it was to see someone so young on the course, so innocent and full
of promise. That I wouldn't stay like that for long, no, by the end I'd
be a complete wreck, absolutely destroyed and fucked up beyond belief.

I could barely process the words. I'd taken a good few fists in my life.
And toys. What else was there left to do?

That's when my real initiation started. I had thought my orange overalls
were close-fitting and tailored to our bodies but nothing compared to
what they put me in next.

Those noises I'd heard in the background? They definitely weren't the
scanner. It was a rubber cutting and manufacturing machine. They'd been
expertly measuring me for a full-suit and it was fucking faultless.
Getting into it was tough - I had to be helped in by the drones of course
- but it felt supreme. Not a single winkle or crease. Just rubber
perfection, so dark and fucking disturbing.

Even without being under the influence I would have felt ready to be used
and abused. Not least that the head covering included tubes that went
down each nostril, the gas mask layered on top, delivering drugs right
into my soul. Jesus, what a fucking hit! I would have let them do
anything to me.

And so they did. The drones had their fun. To this day I'll never know
whether they'd been released from their constraints or were operating
under instructions. But fuck me, they really reamed me out through the
one small opening in my suit: my ass.

Black, hard, unrelenting silicone dick took my hole, over and over again.
Or at least I thought it was silicone. It's too much to wish that 10",
12", 14" or 15" of cock ploughing me was actually real? The internet
proves that some guys are that blessed, but surely they must be as rare
AF. How could they be assembled here? And how many would actually want to
be turned into rubber supplicants? They had to be fake, yet the heat,
warmth and pulsating of these dicks as they rammed home meant they
couldn't be strap-ons. Could they?

My eyes watered and my body sweated. I felt insane from the feel of each
fresh rubber drone fucking my ass. It was never-ending. Just how many
were there? And was I strapped to a fuck platform or was I willingly
letting all this happen? Should I have fought back? Christ, I'm not sure
I was even human anymore at this point. None of my skin showed, I was
just as fucked as they were, except they were the ones doing the fucking.
There was no way to escape, I just had to take inch after inch of dick.

------

There's a lot to be said for being used as a complete rubber object. In
fact, I'm pretty sure there might have been a rubber sheath that
actually went into my arse - allowing for all the fucking - yet hiding
any of my flesh from being on display. Why break the fantasy? A PigHole
to to be used. No humanity left.

After that, I don't remember much - I think I passed out long before the
end of the session as I woke up in our cell.

Actually in Max's arms again. I'd been stripped of my rubber and was
naked, as was he. God, it was such a relief to feel his comforting -
human - embrace. I was so exhausted that I quickly fell asleep again, but
not before I had some serious flashbacks. Voices in my head:

`He must take the horse cock, doctor's orders.'
`I'm surprised the bitch can take this much girth so soon, maybe he
should be fast-tracked?'
`Thank god he's so open, it makes everything so much easier.'

Is it any wonder that I felt protected and looked after in his arms?

------

I should stop at this point to describe Max more fully. Part of me can't
believe this hellscape - the cells, the program, the drones, the guards -
exists. But then part of me is also amazed that Max is real... so I guess
the two cancel out.

By now - to anyone reading this - I'm aware you must be thinking I'm
experiencing all the symptoms of hero-worship. I am, with some more
powerful undercurrents throw in. The time we'd spent together could
still be measured in minutes and yet...

My body felt soothed by his, my mind settled. His arms were huge and held
me so nice. I don't think I'd even touched a guy so big or muscular
before, let along been hugged naked for hours on end. Waking up to him
was a relief. Our bodies fitted against each other, our temperatures
compatible. We seemed to need each other, not least after my punishing
fuck treatment.

Oh shit!

My mind suddenly raced ahead, it has a habit of doing that, even when
I'm resting. Had he deliberately opened me up so the rubbers gimps would
have such easy access today? I mean, they'd fucked me so hard but I
doubt I could have possibly taken it if I hadn't of been warmed up. Was
it a favour or part of the program?

No! Surely not. There's no way he could know the program's schedule or
what would happen today. Yesterday had to of been lust... right?

I was bought back to reality by Max shifting his body and I became aware
of a a very familiar scent. He kissed my neck and then gently extricated
himself. As his heat left I felt confused. Was he for or against me?

However, that's when I noticed how stilted his movements were and I
suddenly felt soul-crushing guilt. Just how insensitive had my thoughts
just been! Talk about main character syndrome! Here he was, limping as he
moved around the cell, and all I was doing was thinking about little me.
What had he been through whilst I'd been fucked? I jumped out of bed and
rushed to his side, to both comfort and draw out his story.

------

He looked genuinely touched and then started talking. The words flowed
and didn't stop. He had a lot to get out.

How multiple leather guards had come for him in the middle of the night,
pulling our sleeping bodies apart. How he'd then spent the entire day
being assessed, so long and arduous that it needed to start before dawn.
Christ, no wonder he was limping. From what he made out, my examination
was far easier than his. Maybe that reflected our different levels of
experience?

He was taken to a room I was eventually to become very familiar with
(though, given the size and throughput of this place, I imagine they must
have several identically-kitted out rooms to process all of us). However,
Max was the first to tell me it's name though: The Whole Workshop.
Designed to scientifically and mechanically measure the capability and
capacity of your cunt.

Yes, I know. Why on earth would a guy willingly use a term that almost
singularly defines what it is to be a women to describe their own, male
sexual organs? It can't help be helped though. The programming is slowly
taking effect, degrading and debasing my psyche.

Anyway, let's move on.

The basic deal is that you get strapped into an immovable and heavy-duty
gynaecological chair. All the time, the guards laugh and take pleasure in
what's going to happen next. They've seen it countless times: the
hardest non-sexual workout of your pussy you'll ever received. Until the
next time.

Non-sexual? Trust me, there is nothing erotic about this experience.
I'll admit the guards provide a certain energy and it's difficult to
not feel a thrill when climbing in. To have your progress clinically
measured and reported back? It really makes you feel like you're
achieving something.

However, it's fucking scary the first time. Your overalls are removed
and then you're literally bound down, your legs in stirrups and your
hole open for inspection. Your body is wrapped with leather straps that
have heavy duty buckles. There's something so obscene and banal about it
that makes me hard even through my cage. Knowing you can't escape - or
protest - about what's coming next? That you're just a passenger,
that's truly fucked up.

I say passenger, because you're in for a real ride. Once restrained, the
machines get to work.

When Max described it the first time I honestly didn't believe it. In
fact, I had to experience it myself to understand the severity of the
situation. That first `machine cherry experience' is as mean as hell.

You're locked in position, your pussy open and you're confronted by a
giant carousel of ass-measuring machines. Seriously. They're implements
of torture on a 12 foot wide rotating turnstile. They take no mercy, no
compassion for your mind, only what your ass can accommodate.

Of course, all this was new to me as Max explained it. I was shocked,
revolted and strangely fascinated.

First on the rotating axis of doom was the girth machine. Honestly, it
looks like something from Star Wars teamed with steam punk. Industrious
and simple-minded in its purpose: to discover just how wide your hole can
get. And it's fucking relentless. It explores the extremes of your
sphincter like you can't possibly imagine.

It comes to life, the machine automatically positioning its height to be
at exactly the right spot. It's not programmed to miss. A slender,
hollow probe projects and is inserted about 8 inches or so inside you.
Not deep, as this is a test of girth not depth.

Of course, it doesn't stay slender for long. The insertable part of the
probe is made of a strong but flexible rubber, connected to a
high-compression air line. Once inside the subject, it only has one job.
Inflation.

Air is forced into the probe and very quickly you find out why the rubber
has to be so strong. It forms a perfectly rounded cylinder, not a fake
cock or faux fist. No, this is all about the stretch.

You can hear the rushing air and feel the probe growing inside of you.
Then your outer ring - the entrance to your hole - starts to expand. You
feel the stretch, gentle at first but then bigger and bigger. Your hole
feels punished, your eyes start to water. Then, just when you feel you
might be broken, when you think you're at your absolute limit, it
deflates a touch. Just enough to give you precious relief.

And then it starts over.

Okay, I've got this you think, just breath through it. But that's
difficult when the very limits of your rectum are being challenged. Cycle
over cycle, until you're screaming in agony. Only then does it make a
determination that your true limit has been reached. For now.

I personally don't want to know just how big it's ever got inside my
cunt - thank god there aren't any mirrors for this one as I think I'd
be scared.

------

God knows what it did to Max on that first day though. Given his
superlative top skills I figured he had to be a great bottom too - you
don't get to be such an expert without seeing it from the other side.
That meant his hole must have pretty big already, but now they had a
baseline from which to build upon.

Once done, the relief you feel as the air is fully released from the
probe is extreme. To be given back your hole feels wonderful. And yet, as
the probe withdraws you feel strangely empty. And gaping. That's when
the lights flash and the klaxon sounds. To warn that the carousel is
rotating and the next machine bought into position.

By now you can't help but wonder. Are they simply measuring, or actually
expanding?

There's no time to think though. The next? Depth. This is where I'll
admit to being impressed by the creators of this program. Depth can be
challenge for some and they don't push it. But they do use copious
amounts of lube and constant pressure to rape the hell out of your
insides.

Seriously, I can only describe this machine as being like a tentacle. God
knows what articulated marvels are on the inside of this thing, but it's
insidious. A one inch thick worm moves towards you, finding your hole,
all the while leaking thick slugs of lube from the tip. It pushes its way
inside and then just keeps on going, navigating your inner paths until it
feels it can't go any further. You feel completely invaded, touching
parts of you that have never been touched. Is there any science behind
this or are they simply training you to take a fist as deep as possible?

Oh, wait! Yeah, that's absolutely what they're doing.

When you feel the tentacle might actually pop out of your mouth, it
withdraws. You're left stunned at just how much pulls out of your body.

Then the carousel shifts again. The next machine presents and you know
this is the fucking worst. The force test. What size object can be pushed
against your cunt - shoved inside - and accepted? It's a ferocious test
of ability and resistance.

This perhaps makes it the most complicated of all the devices. It has a
horrible wheel of different sized dildos, all absolute girth monsters.
These can be spun around, each one progressively pushing your abilities.
The starting point is always the same though, just a couple of inches
wide. The dildo-tipped, mechanical arm extends towards you. The angle and
alignment is always spot on, perfectly positioned for insertion. There's
nothing you can do to refuse admission. They have sensors, expertly
calibrated, that interpret everything your body is capable of.

At the first size, the toy slides inside pretty easy. However, that
feeling doesn't continue for long. Once the machine confirms you can
take a toy, it withdraws and the wheel rotates. In seconds another toy is
projected in a relentless spiral until the machine determines they're so
fat that you can't possibly continue.

Now, you may be wondering how this differs from the girth test? Well,
that simply measures your stretch once a probe is inside of you. This is
entirely different. This is about pushing against the gates. Just what
will you let in and for how long?

The problem with standard fuck machines - a piston sliding in and out -
is that nothing's fixed. Your body can shy away and change position. Or
if the machine meets real resistance then it tends to move back across
the floor. It doesn't hammer home like you need it to.

That's not the situation here. You're immobile - strapped in the chair
- and the machine is fixed in position too. You can't escape. The only
thing that can give way is your cunt. The machine forces its way in -
with the biggest dildo it possibly can, that arm constantly moving up a
gear - until it determines your ass is spent.

God it hurts.

That makes the last machine even more insidious. The max test.

Three in and you've been dilated and (to be honest) abused. This last
machine is the worse though: ramming speed. It horrifies me each and
every time. Not least that you've been primed for this moment. You're
open and ready.

The system takes a dildo - size based on the results of your other tests
- and places it on another heavy-duty piston. This is not the same as the
previous implements as this has got some serious heft behind it. It
slowly comes towards your cunt, finds the target and inserts itself about
an inch in. Then there's this horrifying pause that feels like an
eternity. The anticipation. Your body clenches but you know you just have
to let go. How else will you ace the test?

The speed of action is slow at first - a leisurely pace in and out of
your ass. You can feel it though. And this toy isn't smooth or regular.
No, it has a head - a big helmet - and a shaft threaded with really thick
veins. It's designed to make you know you're being fucked and the toy
never fully leaves your hole. It pummels your cunt in a test of friction
and endurance.

As the guards laugh in the background, the speed increases whilst you get
ploughed until you break. I don't mean physically, I mean mentally. Your
body convulses, you orgasm, you can't take a single inch more. The
machine knows, the system knows, but it takes you beyond your limit to
hammering speed.

What's worse? That the next time will be even harder and faster.
Relentless progress.

Once the arm withdraws you're photographed for the file. Just how much
as your cunt has progressed? Mutilated, trashed, wrecked, beautiful? The
image is put on your cell door so all the inmates know your status. I was
fucking shocked when I saw Max's before and after pic. Would I ever be
that big? Did I even want to be that big?

After the cameras flash, that's when the guards do the ultimate
defilement.

You're lying naked, your cock caged and oozing juices, your hole leaking
lube. You're still strapped into the chair though and unable to escape.
You feel completely wasted, so wrong, and yet you also feel strangely
euphoric. Used and tarnished but on a high. You've achieved something
special.

Then the guards approach. More men than you can count. They open their
jeans and haul out monster cocks that are ready to shoot. The smell of
warm leather and ball sweat fills the air. They manhandle their big
schlongs and jerk off on your face and body, taking extreme pleasure in
jizzing on your wrecked soul.

------

As Max's description finished I realised that's what I could smell.
Cum. It was heavy in the air, activated by our lying together. I'm going
to be honest - I don't fear being judged here - when I recognised the
scent I jumped out of bed and tongue bathed him all over.

Most of it was dried, but some - around his groin and where our sweaty
bodies had been in full contact - was still moist. I wanted him and I
wanted that spunk! It was the least I could do, the closest I could get
to actually sucking his caged dick.

As I explored with my hands and tongue, I knew where I'd have to end up.
I buried my face in Max's trench - folds of puffy cunt that were
absolutely stunning, even if they had been created by those diabolical
machines - and rimmed away for my life. I couldn't help but ask again -
between slurps - just why he was here again? If his hole was this fucking
gigantic - epically bigger than my own pussy - why did he need to have it
destroyed?

`Oh fuck, that hits the spot! Jesus, go deeper man, get that nasty
tongue right inside my cunt, Christ, that feels so fucking good... Why am
I here? To feel this! A face buried in my wrecked pussy, eating me out.
You can never, ever be too fucking big!'

Before I could understand what he meant we were interrupted. The next
day's programming was about to begin.

------

Next: Assessment

Comments and suggestions very welcome at stuhadley77@gmail.com