Rubber Revenge: 7 - Conclusion

By M. Greene -
published May 22, 2020
2941 words

Revenge is a dish best served cold.

Oxford University, England, UK: Seven years ago

They say it’s a miracle that I’m still alive.

After I set fire to the house, I lay down on my bed with Rashid’s letter just wanting the flames to finish me off so that we could be together again. Instead, my room quickly filled with choking black smoke and, my survival instincts seizing control of my brain, I struggled over to the door and opened it. I was immediately engulfed in a ball of fire. My last memory of that night is of staggering backwards like some kind of human torch. Apparently, two brave fireman managed to get me out of that inferno; God knows how…

So here I am in hospital, recovering from forty percent burns. My hands, feet and face suffered the worst. They have managed to save my sight, but my extremities have been reduced to little more than charred bone. I am going to be a cripple for the rest of my life…

The police have been to see me, of course. They know that I started the fire. According to them, it is fortunate that no one died, otherwise I would be facing even more serious charges than arson.

So I lie here, helpless, dosed up on painkillers, knowing that, not only can I not take my final examinations, but that as soon as I am sufficiently recovered, I will be appearing in court…

London, England, UK: One year ago

“Ah good, you are awake,” Edmund said, checking Damon’s vital signs on the monitors next to his bed.

“Edmund…” Damon replied, frowning. His throat felt dry and it was quite hard to speak. He’d said that wrong anyway. It wasn’t Edmund, it was… “Master…”

“Better…” Edmund undid the leather straps from around Damon’s body. “Can you sit up?”

Damon did so, massaging his arms to try and restore some circulation. He felt stiff as though he had been immobile for many hours. How long had it been? This place, which looked like some kind of laboratory seemed to have no windows, so it was impossible to tell what time of day or night it was. He watched passively as his Master removed numerous pads from his body which had connected him to the nearby bank of medical machines. The thought flitted through his mind that he should leap up, overpower him and attempt to escape, but he also knew that there was no way on earth he could do this. This was his Master and He must be protected at all times. He loved his Master…

Damon observed his Master as he moved around the room. He was still recognisable as the man who had shared the house with them six years before, but he was now completely hairless. His pale scalp was completely smooth and bald. Like Cody and Travis had been the previous week, he had no eyebrows. As a result, he had an androgynous, almost robotic appearance.

“They said you almost died in the fire, Master,” he said, eventually, thinking back to that last tumultuous term at Oxford. “You totally disappeared from Oxford. Some folks said that you’d gone to prison…”

Edmund shook his head. “Luckily for me, Professor Davidson stepped in and saved me,” he said. He approached and held his hands up in front of Damon’s face. Although they resembled normal bare hands in terms of most details, the flesh was jet black, and had the appearance of being made out of rubber. The palms and fingers were also completely smooth, with no lines, nails or prints.

“I lost my original hands and feet due to my stupid incendiary action,” Edmund said, but the professor rebuilt them using the revolutionary nanotechnology he had recently developed.” He touched his own right cheek, which looked completely normal, although hyper-smooth. “The same material, resembling rubber, was used to repair my face too,” he continued. “Watch…”

Damon’s eyes widened as Edmund’s bald head instantly turned as black as his hands. Now he really did look like an android. There were no eyes at all and only vague outlines of a nose and ears.

“My senses are unimpaired in this form,” Edmund said, observing Damon’s astonishment. “I can see you as clearly as before, but, I admit, my natural appearance is somewhat disconcerting to the uninitiated…” In a mere split-second, his head returned to the way it had looked before. He smiled. “Nanobots are quite amazing little things, aren’t they?”

“So you didn’t go to jail, Master?”

“No, although it was a near-run thing. Although no one but myself was seriously injured, the insurance company was not happy about having to pay for the property to be completely rebuilt. They demanded that charges be brought against me.” He shuddered. “If Tom had not paid them off, I would certainly have ended up in prison.”

“Tom? Is that Professor Davidson?”

Edmund nodded. “Yes. To all intents and purposes, Tom and Miles, his partner, adopted me. It was obvious that my parents had no interest in me and they took me to live with them.” He chuckled. “Obviously, they needed a guinea-pig for their experiments, but I think they also felt rather sorry for me. I had been such a promising student, and they were both quite elderly. They needed an intelligent ‘son’ to continue their legacy…”

“I remember hearing that Professor Davidson had died,” Damon said. “My newspaper carried an obituary on him.”

“Sadly, yes. Last year. His heart was weak and he had never really recovered from Miles’ death six months before.” Edmund shrugged. “I miss both of them terribly, but at least they left me their substantial fortune and equipment so that I can carry on with their vital work…” He gently tapped Damon’s forehead with one finger. “Stand up and move around the room a little. You’ve been lying down for several hours, so you need to get your legs working again…”

Damon did as he was told and paced around the laboratory, taking care not to bump into any of his Master’s expensive-looking equipment. As he walked, he wondered why he didn’t seem to be able to just run out of the door. He could see the exit only a few yards away, but every time he drew close to it, he just turned around and marched back the other way. It was as if he simply did not want to escape…

“You will start to lose your hair during the next twenty-four hours, or so,” Edmund said, watching with satisfaction as his subject’s limbs gradually loosened up. “Nothing to worry about… Sadly, nanotechnology cannot replicate human hair or nails yet, although Gurdeep and I are working on it.” He stroked his own bald head. “Maybe one day we will get our beautiful locks back…”


“My husband and assistant. We got married a few months ago.” Edmund smiled. “He’s very handsome and reminds me of Rashid in some ways, although he’s Hindu rather than Muslim, of course.” He shrugged. “I must have a thing for Indian men…”

The mention of Master’s former lover caused Damon to shudder with deep regret. “I’m sorry, Master. It was a terrible thing we did, exposing you, like that. We should never have done such an awful thing. It was wrong and I’m sorry…”

Edmund nodded, sympathetically. “I know, my slave, you’re all very sorry about it – now.”


Damon had been quite hirsute and, the following day, it was with some regret that he watched his black fuzz cascading down his body while he was in the shower. He ran a hand through his curly black hair and brought away a great thick clump of it. Ah well; might as well kiss goodbye to it sooner rather than later… He deliberately held his head under the jet of water and massaged his scalp until it was as bald as an egg.

After drying himself, he oiled his silky smooth hairless skin and then walked naked into his study. There was not much more to do here now, he reflected. He had already transferred his entire bank balance to Master’s account and resigned from his job. All that remained was to cancel his various social media accounts and terminate the lease on this flat… As he worked on his computer, he eyed the pack of cigarettes on the desk. Although a strong part of him wished to smoke, Master’s will was stronger. He picked up the carton, crushed it in his fist and threw the remains into the waste-paper basket.

His final task was to write an email explaining that he was gay and was moving to Australia with a man he had met. Damon completed this and sent it to every member of his large Catholic family. Then, he simply walked out of his flat, shut the door behind him, posted the keys through the letter-box and walked away. This was not his home any longer. Home was with his Master…


Unaware of the tidings she brought, Sir Charles and Lady Marjorie Trent-Lascelles welcomed their daughter-in-law very cordially to Trent Hall.

Deborah looked stunning as usual; dressed in the latest Paris fashions. Her heightened emotions had caused no damage to her immaculate make-up. “Justin has left me,” she announced, brandishing a letter in front of his parents’ distressed faces. “Read this…”

As the middle-aged aristocrats pored over their only son’s letter, Deborah helped herself to a stiff scotch from one of the decanters on the nearby Jacobean sideboard. “Your son is a total faggot and he’s run off to Istanbul with some Turkish guy,” she said. “He promises that he won’t contest a divorce.” She laughed bitterly and swallowed a large slug of whiskey. “He says that the gallery and everything is mine, but that’s a sick joke considering my father paid for the whole fucking thing anyways…”

Sir Charles sat down on one of the chesterfield sofas and buried his face in his hands. This was a nightmare. Deborah’s money was going to rescue the Hall from wrack and ruin… Now, the purse-strings were going to be permanently cut…

Lady Marjorie gave voice to her husband’s thoughts. “Justin told us that he was going to set up a trust-fund to vouchsafe the Hall in perpetuity,” she said, almost in tears.

Deborah nodded. “Yeah… I guess that’s still possible…”

Sir Charles looked up from his suicidal reverie. “It is?”

Deborah rubbed her fashionably flat stomach. “Yeah… Fag-features left me a present he don’t know about yet… I’m pregnant.”

Lady Marjorie embraced her. “Oh, my dear! That’s marvellous news!”

Deborah pouted. “I guess…” She treated her parents-in-law to one of her arch looks. “Of course, with my career to think of, I don’t really have time to take care of a baby…” Glancing around the oak-panelled baronial hall, she took another swig of scotch. “This is a nice place to raise a kid… I’ve already spoken to Dad and he says that if you agree to take care of the brat, he will bankroll you and this estate for the foreseeable…” She shrugged. “Otherwise, I think I’ll go for a termination, so I can move on with my life, you know?”

As their wily daughter-in-law was well-aware, there really could be no debate. To save Trent Hall and their dynasty from certain annihilation, Sir Charles and Lady Marjorie would have happily adopted a chimpanzee…

Trent’s Mother

Trent’s mother had just returned home from reporting her son as a missing person. Just inside the front door was a letter addressed to her. Plodding into the kitchen to read it, she made herself a cup of tea and lit up a fag. The letter was typed, but bore her son’s signature at the end. In it, Travis announced that he was gay and had met a marvellous man. They had set off to travel the world together and he would not be back any time soon. He said that he was sorry, but that he hoped that what was pinned to the letter would help her recover from her loss. She fumbled with the paper-clip and a small slip of paper fell onto the table. It was a cheque for a hundred thousand pounds…


In her dingy little flat in Chelsea, at the exact same moment, Jess was examining an almost identical letter and attached cheque. She frowned. Cody had never owned that much money in his life. Much as she still missed Cody, such a huge amount would really help her out with the baby coming… Could the cheque really be genuine? She guessed that there was only one way of finding out. Grabbing her jacket, she headed out of the flat towards the nearest bank to pay it into her account…

Drone 5

Drone 5 took a bus from Vauxhall to the City and then walked to the house in Clerkenwell. Due to its rather strange appearance, it had received a few curious looks on the way, but it didn’t care. The cells around its lips, nostrils and ears had already begun to rubberise and it suspected that, underneath its clothing, the same was true around its penis and ass. Slowly and gradually, the ‘rubber’ would spread until its entire body was transformed. It felt its dick stiffen at the mere thought. This was how Master wanted it to be, so it was happy…

It knocked on the front door of the rather dilapidated house and was admitted inside by Gurdeep, Master’s partner and assistant. His body also improved by nanotechnology, the Indian man was both tall and extremely muscular. Unlike the drones, Gurdeep could control his own appearance, so his flesh and features both looked entirely human, if completely hairless.

Drone 5 bowed low before Gurdeep, showing proper respect to Master’s chosen lover and then followed him down the shadowy passage. Gurdeep opened a door and indicated that it should step inside. As soon as it did, the door closed and the lock turned.

It was quite dark and hot inside the tiny chamber, but drone 5 could see its four brothers writhing around on the rubber mattress at his feet. Removing the last clothes it possessed, it threw them into a corner and knelt down to join the others. Drones 1 to 4 were all totally identical and fully rubberised by now. Drone 5 looked down at its body in the dim light. The blackness completely covered its genitals and had spread over its buttocks, belly and thighs. It knew that its head was well on the way to completion and longed for its entire body to be similarly perfect for Master.

The sight of its brothers’ gaping holes caused drone 5’s dick to swell. Now a thick, nine-inch-long baton of solid rubber, it was already slick with synthetic lubricant. It could feel its ass also becoming wet. It threw itself onto another drone and slid its dick smoothly into its anal passage. It had no idea which one it was fucking, but it felt so damned good… Another brother moved behind and grasped its round ass cheeks. Pushing its globes apart, it pushed its rubber cock inside… A third brother grasped its skull and began probing its rubber coated mouth with its rubber tongue…

Clerkenwell, London, UK: The present

The five drones stand in a row, completely motionless, their broad shoulders almost touching. Edmund, their Master walks slowly along the immaculately straight line, inspecting them closely. He is very pleased with what he sees.

Edmund touches the arm of drone 5 and commands it to kneel. It does so, instantly and without question, as always. He grasps his rubber-coated manhood and slides it between the drone’s rubber lips. There is no gag reflex as he thrusts his dick right down to the back of the drone’s soft and willing throat. Grasping the back of its smooth rubber head, he begins to thrust into its perfectly round mouth-hole in earnest.

At the other end of the line, he sees that Gurdeep has ordered drone 1 to bend over so that he can start to fuck its ass. Observing his husband having pleasure, Edmund smiles. Have fun while they are still here, he thinks. He has not yet quite decided what he will do with his five drones. Although it is quite fun to have these sexy fuck-toys around, he and Gurdeep do not really need them in the house. After tentative advertisements on the Dark Web, he has already had a couple of lucrative offers from foreign powers to use them as elite soldiers and one middle-eastern sheik wants at least two of them to guard his harem. An American billionaire wants one as a lover-slave. He is not sure what their ultimate destination should be; he will think about it…

Looking down at all his obedient drones, he feels like laughing. These five heterosexual homophobic jocks have reaped a bitter harvest for driving his beloved Rashid to suicide. They have been justly punished for what they did… As his hot seed begins spurting into the drone’s mouth, he lets out a gleeful sigh of pleasure.

Revenge always was a dish best served cold…

Mind control
Wanking material