Locked in Rubber Lust (Patreon)

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Soul, a dragon with striking blue skin and a soft white belly, slowly opened his eyes. The world around him was blurry at first, a haze of indistinct shapes and colors. As his vision cleared, he realized he was in a room unlike any other—a strange, rubbery chamber with walls that seemed to pulse and breathe. It was almost as if the room itself was alive, with a soft, squishy floor beneath him and walls that seemed to shimmer and stretch when he looked too closely.

As he tried to move, he felt something sticky and odd covering his body. Looking down, he saw that his skin and fur were coated in a thick, glossy layer of rubber. He blinked in confusion, feeling a strange, numbing sensation spreading across his limbs. His legs, his tail, his claws—everything was being swallowed by this rubbery substance. He tried to shake it off, but the more he struggled, the more the rubber seemed to tighten around him, reshaping him in its image.

The rubber goo crept over him, sealing his limbs in a smooth, seamless layer, turning his dragon form into something more akin to a toy. His tail, once a tool of balance and defense, became a shiny, smooth appendage. His claws, sharp and hard, were now soft, rounded nubs, useless for anything but decoration.

He tried to roar, to call out for help, but no one came. His mouth, too, had been transformed, covered in the same rubber that now encased him. Panic set in as he struggled to move, to escape this nightmare, but he was trapped, helpless, and utterly alone.

Then, something even stranger happened. The sensation of the rubber against his body—against his skin, his belly, his most sensitive spots—began to change. A warmth spread through him, an intense, almost unbearable sensitivity that he had never experienced before. His body, now fully transformed into a rubber toy, was hyper-aware of every touch, every movement. And there, where his bulge once was, now covered by the rubber, a strange symbol glowed faintly, a lock etched into the material.

Driven by an instinct he couldn't control, Soul began to rub himself against the smooth, rubbery floor of the room. The sensation was overwhelming, waves of pleasure coursing through his now-helpless body. But no matter how much he rubbed, how desperately he tried to find release, it never came. The pleasure built and built, but it was forever out of reach, locked away by the symbol that shone on his bulge.

He was trapped in a cycle of endless frustration. The room, filled with squeaky sounds, offered no solace, no escape. All he could do was lie there, rubbing himself against the floor, lost in a haze of pleasure and despair.

As time passed, Soul's mind began to slip away. The constant, unrelenting pleasure became all he could focus on. He no longer cared about escape or freedom. He no longer cared about anything but the sensations coursing through his body. The thought of someone finding him, of someone playing with him, was the only thing that brought him any comfort. Maybe, just maybe, someone would come and unlock the symbol, give him the release he so desperately craved.