beachguygc

[beachguygc]

Beach Muscle-animated this lovely image from @aimuscledude76. This guy loves the beach...

[beachguygc]

He can’t stop touching himself. Not out of vanity — but pure, gleaming *obsession*.

Ethan’s new body is a living engine of arousal, rebuilt for strength, wrapped in black latex so tight it squeaks when he breathes. His fingers clench against his chest, red gloves creaking against smooth, polished muscle, feeling the way the suit flexes with him — tight, wet, relentless.

The boots. The gloves. The armor-like sheen over every curve. The reflection of his own power staring back from the office window. He’s not just enjoying the rubber. He’s *dependent* on it. It strokes him with every step. Holds him. Teaches him. Controls him.

And now… he’s ready to do the same to others.

Singapore doesn’t know it yet, but it’s about to feel the ripple. Ethan is the first wave of rubberization — a conversion agent cloaked in domination and pure masculine command. His job is simple: expand. Recruit. Transform. He won’t shout. He won’t threaten. He’ll *appear* — tall, hard, rubber-clad — and resistance will melt beneath his boots.

In boardrooms. In locker rooms. In back alleys and bright clubs — Ethan will find them. One by one. Each man will kneel, unzip, and accept his new uniform. Because when Ethan says “Suit up,” you don’t say no.

You beg to join.

So… when your time comes, will you watch? Or will you rubberize?

https://bit.ly/4huCvu0

[beachguygc]

He moved back home at 21. A little older. A little stronger. A little more curious.

He thought it was just a transition. A return to comfort. But nothing prepared him for how quickly comfort turned into something else… something deeper. Something binding.

The house had changed. The rules had changed. And his father? He hadn’t just evolved — he’d ascended. Now a commanding figure in polished black latex, broad and silent, he moved with the calm certainty of someone who knew exactly how to shape a mind.

And the son? He was still figuring it out. Or so he thought.

The first session came without question. Just a nod. A command. The smooth pull of tight rubber shorts up his freshly oiled thighs. Then the goggles. They slipped over his eyes, soft and snug — and the Voice began. A low, rhythmic murmur threading into his thoughts, dismantling the noise of his former life, replacing it with need. With purpose.

He stood, arms at his sides, chest rising slowly, the world gone behind mirrored lenses. His father behind him now, one hand on his shoulder, the other brushing softly across his arm — reassurance and control blended in one slow, steady rhythm.

This was a bonding moment. One that didn’t require words. One that would change everything.

Would you listen to the Voice too?

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[beachguygc]

Lachlan Mcdermott

Explore the archives

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[beachguygc]

He looks at himself in the mirror one last time, heart steady, body oiled, locked and loaded in his favorite black rubber briefs and tight studded harness.

The outfit is simple—minimal, but devastating. Black latex rides high over his hips, gripping every angle, every swell of muscle, the material catching soft golden light from the bedroom lamp behind him. The harness crosses his chest like a frame for the art of his torso—tight, defined, impossibly smooth. Silver studs glint like little weapons of lust, catching eyes before his movement even begins.

He already knows what tonight holds. He won’t be alone. He never is. But it’s not just the outfit that makes him irresistible. It’s the way he moves. The way he practices each roll of his hips, slow and rhythmic, testing how the latex reacts—how it tugs, stretches, bounces back. He watches himself like a predator studying his own reflection, refining the performance before it hits the club floor.

He shifts his weight, bends his knees slightly, throws in a twist. The rubber responds with a soft creak, tight as ever. His thighs flex, his abs ripple, and the harness lifts with each breath he takes. This is more than a warm-up. This is foreplay for the night to come.

Because when he finally walks into that room—eyes hungry, lights pulsing, beats pounding—he’ll be unstoppable. He’s not searching. He’s selecting. Someone is going home with him tonight, and they’ll know they were chosen.

The only question is... will they keep up?

https://bit.ly/4huCvu0

[beachguygc]

You remember his laugh. The way he looked at you with that mischievous smirk. The way he swore he’d never be into it “like you are.” You remember the moment you first zipped yourself into your blue suit and caught him staring too long. You remember his curiosity. His surrender. His transformation.

Now… this.

He stands before you, breathing slow, every inch of his powerful frame sealed in liquid black rubber. The man you loved is still in there — but reshaped, refined, perfected. His thoughts have gone quiet. His muscles still thick, warm beneath the suit, but his movements... controlled. Polished. Drone-like.

And you?

You're in blue — standing at the threshold of what you’ve wanted for so long. One hand against his chest, right over the smooth, synthetic surface that once held his heartbeat. He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t need to. His silence *says* everything.

This isn’t loss. It’s evolution. You didn’t lose your boyfriend. You *upgraded* him.

You built him into something exquisite. You watched him fall into this — willingly, eagerly, inevitably. You were the one who started the programming. You whispered the commands. You helped him unzip the past and slide into obedience.

Now he stands in front of you — powerful, responsive, ready.

Are you proud of what you've created... or are you tempted to follow?

https://bit.ly/4huCvu0

[beachguygc]

That’s what Doc Martens were made for !

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