[SS-1645] VR Latexts

VR LATEXED

The scientist’s hands tremble as he secures the final strap on the VR goggles, his breath catching slightly.

The gym head sprawls in the leather chair, his massive, sweaty form encased in a copper latex suit that clings to every ripple of muscle. The suit gleams, accentuating every line and curve. As he shifts, the latex squeaks, and the chair groans under his weight.

“Remember,” the scientist mutters, trying to maintain a clinical tone, “this is for motivation. Focus. Testosterone.”

“Yeah, yeah,” the gym head replies, his lazy grin visible beneath the headset. “Make me more jacked.”

The program initializes. Inside the goggles, darkness. Then, a slow, throbbing pulse of light, synchronized with a deep, pulsating bass beat. Outside, the scientist watches the gym head’s broad chest rise and fall, the latex stretching and shining with each breath.

“Just breathe with it,” the scientist instructs, his voice low. “In and out. Don’t fight it.”

The gym head’s body begins to sync with the sound, his breaths deepening. The latex moves like liquid metal over his ribs, the room filling with the scent of warm rubber and musk.

On the screen, the gym head sees himself: a taller, even more muscular version, wrapped in the same suit. Words drift around him, sinking into his glowing chest.

OBEY THE PROGRAM. OBEY THE VOICE. OBEY TO GROW.

“You love following orders in the gym,” the scientist whispers in his ear. “Sets, reps, tempo. You love being told what to do with that body. Makes you feel… pumped. Hungry.”

The gym head lets out a rough laugh that morphs into a shaky breath. The suit tightens across his lap, outlining his growing hardness. The scientist can see the way his thighs clench, muscles flexing under the latex.

The program’s voice slides in, low and smooth:

Stronger when you listen. Harder when you submit. Every command turns you on.

The gym head shifts again, the chair creaking. His hands grip the armrests, knuckles white against the black leather. A faint, helpless sound escapes his lips.

“You okay?” the scientist asks, though he can see the answer in every tense line of that glossy body.

“Feels… crazy,” the gym head pants. “Like my whole body’s… wired. Hot. Don’t stop it.”

The scientist swallows, staying close. One hand presses flat to that wide, heaving chest, feeling the pounding heart beneath.

“Good boy,” he breathes. “Just sink. The deeper you go, the hotter you get. The more you need to obey. The more you need to… let go.”

Inside the goggles, the avatar drops to its knees. A huge word flashes across its chest:

SUBMIT.

The bass beat accelerates. The light pulses with it, strobing through his skull, down his spine, into his gut. Every inhale pulls the latex tight; every exhale lets it snap back, dragging over sensitive skin.

The gym head starts to tremble, breaths chopping into gasps. His cock strains against the latex, clearly visible through the thin material.

“Ride it,” the scientist murmurs. “Let the program take you. Let it use you. That’s what you’re built for.”

The big body bows in the chair, muscles locked, suit straining. A raw, choked noise tears out of his throat as everything peaks—heat, pressure, need—and then breaks. His body convulses as he cums, the latex glistening with his release.

For a long second, he just hangs there, shaking, then collapses back, boneless, chest heaving. The latex glistens, the whole chair reeking of heat, sweat, and rubber.

On the VR feed, the glowing avatar stands again, calm and perfect. New words slide slowly over its chest:

EMPTY. OBEDIENT. GOOD.

The gym head lets out a weak, blissed-out laugh.

“Damn,” he mumbles. “Think your program… worked, doc.”

The scientist smiles, fingers still spread over that pounding, satisfied heart.

“Oh,” he says softly. “We’re just getting started.”

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