As the crowd whooped and cheered at the arrival of their human sex toy, Ryder held up a hand to indicate that there was one final touch he needed to add. Many burly men clustered around, the nearest being a skinhead in a black rubber vest and 20-hole Doc Martens whose looks frightened Brandon.

Ryder gripped Brandon's face in one hand, forcing his mouth open, and spread the lubricant all around the skin of Brandon's jaw, just past his lips. Rapidly, the lube did its work on Brandon's jaw muscles, even through the pink body paint on his skin. Already looking like a human sex doll, Brandon's mouth now locked open good and wide, ready to accept whatever the hungry crowd saw fit to shove in it.

"Yduh, whuh duh uhgg?!", Brandon the Love Doll groaned.

The skinhead asked, "What'd he say?"

Ryder grinned, translating, "I think he tried to say, 'Ryder, what the fuck'. Show him, won't you?"

Brandon was internally bracing himself for the skinhead to drop his pants and jump on Brandon's frozen face, ramming his stiff member into his mouth to face fuck him with abandon. But surprisingly, the skinhead took Brandon's pink-painted head in his hands and French kissed him with tender compassion, his tongue probing deep, but with more affection than force. This little coerced experience might not be so bad, after all, Brandon thought.

As the skinhead kissed Brandon, Ryder made his way to Brandon's dick. With a careful twist of the red knob on the end of the dildo protruding from Brandon's front, more of the stiffening lube used on his mouth and body was released all over Brandon's cock. In no time at all, he was stiff as a steel rod and aroused to a ludicrous extent.

Brandon wanted to cry out to Ryder, to beg him to stop applying the gooey stuff to his dick, making it so stiff, so hard, so horny. But Brandon wouldn't be saying much as long as the skinhead was making out with him. And Ryder did not want Brandon to lose his erection until everyone present had had a crack at him.

Another guy grabbed the skinhead by the shoulder. He was a huge muscleboy with longish hair and a boyish face. His patterned rubber shirt was nearly as loud as his voice. "Dude! Don't hog the love doll, man!" The skinhead looked as if we were about to relinquish his hold on Brandon amicably, but the muscleboy didn't wait. He yanked Brandon away, patting the skinhead on the back with one hand, and lifted Brandon high over his head as if the petrified man really was nothing more than an inflatable plaything.

"Dudes! Major party favor coming through!"

Brandon felt like a football as he was grabbed, lifted and passed from one buff fetish man to the next. Unlike the tender skinhead, the next man to whom he was handed off, a ripped surfer boy in the yellow rubber shorty, had no hesitation in ramming his meaty member into Brandon's mouth and getting off until a river of his juices sluiced down the faux love doll's throat.

Another couple, these two being harnessed leather daddies, picked up Brandon and posed him over the edge of the bar, fixing him into place like a lockable erector set. One daddy knelt atop the bar and made use of Brandon's wide open mouth as the daddy from behind filled up the Love Doll's hole. As Brandon was worked over, his pal Ryder made his way about the room, providing everyone with an assortment of heavy-duty Magnum condoms. He paused and waved a package or two at Brandon, making sure his friend saw them. Ryder wanted his shy and retiring buddy to have the time of his life, but not at the expense of same.

As the two leather daddies passed Brandon on to a group of rubbermen in gasmasks, Brandon's eyes lit upon a glorious-looking young man across the room. He was a virtual dreamboat, and the sight of him made Brandon's heart jump within it's tight and padded rubber confines. He was 6'3" if he was an inch, 27 but looking 24, thick blond hair cut short at the sides, and the smooth build of an Olympic gymnast. He had a trim waist and a broad chest, around which was wrapped a sleek rubber singlet. On his feet were 17" tall snug rubber boots with side buckles.

Brandon's jumping heart skipped a beat as the dreamboat navigated the crowded floor to reach him. A gruff, stubble-faced cigar master was busy licking Brandon's rubber body when the dreamboat approached. Brandon, posed with his legs in the air, expecting to get rammed any second, also expected the gar man to haul off and belt Mr. Dreamboat when he nudged him gently as a sign that he wanted a turn with the living love doll. The gar man turned harshly, a look of boiling aggression on his face, until he saw the dreamboat's. There was something about the smile on the blond man's face and the gleam in his green eyes that made the gruff master receptive. The man moved the cigar from one corner of his mouth to the other as his dismounted Brandon. "Pass 'im back my way when yer done", was all he said.

The dreamboat positioned himself behind Brandon, planting himself firmly on his booted feet that Brandon gauged as size 13s. Brandon braced himself to receive the beautiful man's tool when he instead gently pulled Brandon's legs back down and leaned forward to kiss him.

The man's kiss was electrifying. Not as tender as the skinhead's, oddly enough, but conveying a chemistry to the immobilized Brandon that could not be denied. Brandon's body stiffened beyond even what the lube caused, and his head went light as this dreamboat's lips and tongue danced upon and against Brandon's own. The dreamboat evidently felt not only the rush of energy between them, but also Brandon's desperate need to reciprocate, something his frozen body prohibited. So the blond heartthrob reached down and posed Brandon's rubber arms around his dreamboat's back so that at least the object of his affection could pretend to be embracing him in return. The two kissed for perhaps fifteen minutes before the other attendees at the party, impatient to partake of the guest of honor, pulled the adorable blond off.

Brandon wanted to crane his neck around and find the man whom he was now ready to accept as his soul mate. He tried to cry out for the others to give him back to the gorgeous guy in the rubber singlet, but forgot that his mouth was lodged open and could only blurt out, "Oh, oh! Gi' ee 'ack! Gi' ee ACK oo 'im!"

Brandon feared he would not see the cute dreamboat again. But he did get to see everyone else in the room. Two cute guys in ball caps and rubber jock straps who appeared to be about college age sat on either side of Brandon and used his posed hands to jack themselves off. A rubberman clad in a heavysuit stood Brandon up and took him from behind while a trim, small leather boy bent himself over and used Brandon's erect, red-topped cock as a handy dildo. So it went all night. Horny, muscular men all using every orifice of the helpless Brandon just as they would an actual inanimate sex doll, everyone present using the formerly inexperienced, underweight rubberman to get themselves off.

What no one knew, and Brandon certainly had not expected, was that he was getting off, too. The lube, the rubber suit, the stiff, frozen prison of his own body, to say nothing of the erotic nature of this entire bizarre situation, allowed Brandon to reach climax time and time again throughout his Guys & DOLL adventure.

At one point in the evening, the dreamboat returned. He sat down upon Brandon's rubber love doll cock, still pointing skyward. And as the man of Brandon's dreams sat with his back to the human love doll, rising up and down on Brandon's encased shaft, he leaned backward and kissed Brandon passionately through it all. The beautiful man with the perfect body, the clinging singlet and the smiling face took only ten minutes to get off, spraying the floor before him and part of Brandon's legs with his seed. After a final tug or two on his own member to ejaculate all that remained, the dreamboat gave Brandon a final kiss, whispered a soft "Thank-you", and was gone. He dismounted and left room for still others to fall upon Brandon. Brandon didn't know if he'd cum again for the rest of the night, but he knew it didn't matter. He'd shot four times while his dream lover rode atop him.

The rest of the night was as hot as it was humiliating. Brandon provided everything from blowjobs to hand jobs to a stiff dildo to a welcoming crack. At around 3:45am, one rather drunk fellow even took the frozen Brandon out for a spin on the dance floor. By 5:30, the flashing lights were being faded out and the music had been turned off. Ryder was settling up with the deejay and the bartender as Brandon, discarded like the toy he represented, lay on his back on the club's floor, cast adrift amongst the many empty drink cups and beer bottles, scattered pieces of glitter and torn condom packages. The sound of fading footsteps, slamming doors, and distant car engines echoed in Brandon's ears along with the steady ringing left by the pounding techno music. And there was one other thing to be heard. A voice speaking to Ryder, asking for one more moment alone with the living love doll, and asking for a reminder of his name. It was a voice Brandon last heard whispering a thank-you to him.

The young-looking guy who Brandon now thought of only as his dreamboat was the last lingering attendee. He came over and straddled Brandon's exhausted, prostrate rubber body and spoke softly to the human love doll. "You were so fucking hot tonight, Brandon. I usually go for slimmer guys, so call me after you lose the suit and we'll go again, one on one." With that, the dreamboat slapped a yellow sticky note with his phone number onto Brandon's rubber-painted forehead. He gave the love doll one more deep kiss and then he was gone.

Ryder hit the lights, illuminating the formerly darkened room in bright fluorescents as a cleaning crew set to work on the mess left from the festivities. Ryder sauntered over to Brandon, who still lay in the middle of the dance floor where the partygoers had left him. His limbs were still stiff, his legs spread eagled and his right and left arm at different angles, fingers still curved to grip meaty cocks that were long gone. Cum was splashed and streaked all over his rubbered body, some of it in his hair, plenty more either dribbling down onto the floor or hardening into a tacky film at odd spots.

Ryder could see Brandon beginning to regain some control over himself, as he slowly shrugged his shoulders and began to move his mouth. The host braced himself for his guest of honor's impending outrage.

"Just...", Brandon forced out, "Just tell me...one thing."

"What's that?", Ryder asked, anticipating the question. How could you do this to me? How demented are you? Do you have a good lawyer?

"Can you have this suit and that lube ready for your next fetish party?"

Brandon's head fell backwards to thump upon the wet and sticky floor. His glazed eyes staring blankly at the ceiling, Brandon felt his jaw relax as the effect of the tension-forcing lotion left his lips. Now free of its hold, Brandon's mouth formed a wide smile. It'd be hours before he'd be able to change that expression, too.