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|Storycodes: Solo-M; rubber; waders; catsuits; drysuits; multilayer; outdoors; caught; F/m; encase; intubate; mast; climax; cons; X||
|Deserved Fate Rbrbill Solo-M; rubber; waders; catsuits; drysuits; multilayer; outdoors; caught; F/m; encase; intubate; mast; climax; cons; X|
What had I done to deserve this? What had I done?
I am a rubberist. I’ve been one as long as I can remember. I mean my first memory as a child was my sister’s heavy rubber-lined cotton pink rain coat. You know the ones if you can remember back to the mid-1950s. It had those brass-tone buckles… I think four of them… that you pushed the tongue through the female slot then flipped the thing closed. The collar was a stiff corduroy lined rubber. When the top buckled was closed the thing fitted tight to my neck. There was a matching pink rain hat… it was floppy and had a brim all around. I never wore the coat in the rain but I wore it in our apartment in Brooklyn. I felt a certain safety in its cool slick outer shell and the knowledge, even as a little boy, the material would shield me from all manner of evil things… well that was the fantasy I envisioned… total protection from all those bad things out there.
My father was a navy man. After Brooklyn we moved. He was assigned to shore duty in Washington State. In 1956 I discovered my destiny. The basement of the house we lived in had a pair of black industrial hip waders in a corner of the large room. Those boots were calling me. I was young and the boots were sizes too big for me. But no matter, I could slide my feet into the black openings of the boot legs wearing shoes. The shoes filled out the boots quite nicely and allowed me to walk about without the things trying to slide off my feet. I spent many an afternoon watching TV – Mickey Mouse Club –boots tight on my feet and the long black rubber tubes topping out right in my crotch. Inevitably, the boot tops would rub against my small immature cock and balls… I got little hard-ons and felt a strange sense of something wonderful attached to these occurrences. I had no idea what the feelings were but I liked them. I found myself wearing the boots just about anytime my mother went to the store.
One day I shoved my feet while wearing new shoes into the boots and the tightness was extreme and even felt better than before. I discovered a mild bondage event… mild but intense when I couldn’t get the boots off! I tugged and pulled, pulled and tugged and the shoes would not slip past the boot heel. I panicked. Mother did not know the extent of my blossoming fetish. I call it fetish even at that early stage for I was hooked. Finally after much struggle and sweat one foot came out of its shoe. I knew that was what I had to do and I worked the second foot out then pushed my arm deep into the black abyss that was the boot and pulled each shoe out. My practical lesson – feet grow and shoes get too big to wear in the boots. My esoteric lesson – being trapped in the rubber was incredibly amazing!
What had I done to deserve this?
I was fourteen years old when I had my first rubber sexual experience. On that hot July afternoon my eyes opened to the true identity of my years before. All the years I put on the hip waders. All the years that I had my own long gray rain coat with rubberized cotton. This coat had a hood that fit the head much like a dive hood. It had an open face oval just large enough to allow seeing, breathing and talking. Long skirts reached to the shoulders and the brow had a short bill to provide some cover from rain. I wore this coat in the rainy weather of Washington State when I had to walk to the school bus stop. I wore it in the rain with my hip boots. The long skirt of the coat hid the fact the boots I wore reached up to the top of my thighs. This was as close to total rubber protection as I could create during those years. My cock always grew hard in the gear… pressing against my underwear. I always needed to pee after any time I sed the rubber things.
Clam digging and oyster harvesting were other times to wear the boots and enjoy wading in the shallows of the edge of Puget Sound. I loved clam digging and oyster harvesting.
Then the navy life was over and two years later my father was gone. Mother moved us to Kentucky. The boots were left behind in the move. But I soon longed for them. The local sporting goods store had hip boots and chest waders. The chest waders were black rubber; I loved checking out that section of the store and breathing in the raw rubber odor of the gear. I soon bought both hip boots and chest waders. I added an old military storm parka to the collection. It was a pullover parka of stiff rubberized material inside and out with a drawstring to close the neck and hood.
That fateful July day I stripped to my briefs. I pulled on the chest waders and parka. I put on yellow dish washing glove and lay on my bed. The ecstasy I experienced was wondrous. I felt my cock get hard and cramped inside the briefs. I lay there wondering what was happening. The surge in my groin was totally new to me. The surge pushed way beyond my juvenile hard-ons from before. I lay there still, feeling sweat trickling down my skin and pooling in the back of the parka. I wondered what was coming and then to my complete surprise I surged to explosive lust. My seed burst forth and filled my briefs. Every muscle tensed, my breathing grew rapid; my senses were completely focused on pumping my seed into those briefs under the heavy rubber clothes. I finally had my answer to those feeling of over ten years. I became a man, not with a girl but with rubber.
What had I done to deserve this?
How many waders did I own? How many rain suits purchased. By college I was buying wetsuits. They lasted about six months before the pants would tear or the zipper fail. I might have kept the local dive sport shop in business singlehanded. But it wasn’t until the 1980s that I discovered latex clothing designed for the express purpose of sex.
By this time I was married and had kids. My wife never learned of my secret obsession until years later. I was afraid to tell her or show her. Besides I only had rain gear and boots at that time. I could not imagine her understanding my desire for sex in boots. So I hid my secret. I often took evening walks in rain. The rain gear over the boots did fine to keep my fetish somewhat secret. When I began to buy latex clothing I saved it for the long trips I had to take because of my job. A nice evening of solo rubbering does wonders to wind down after long hours working disaster recovery. I often chatted in the old rooms of devotees. The Latex Lair and the International Association of Rubberists were the best. Those days went by fast. I continued with acquiring latex clothing as I could. I owned a number of catsuits and hoods. I had a wader suit with shoulder entry and no other openings below the shoulders. I could wade into areas six feet deep as I am over six feet tall with impunity to the elements. And I always had sexual release during these long sessions and intimate carnal knowledge with my rubber.
A typical trip meant packing two bags. One for my regular time and one full of latex. I eventually owned four catsuits, three hoods, gas mask, gloves, sheath briefs, shorts, tee shirts, leggings and many other items. I sometimes wore the leggings and a tee shirt under my street clothes. Once or twice I wore them to work. Once to dinner with other deployed friends. A few times the light odor of latex wafted from body-heated rubber and I knew my secret would be discovered.
There were a few years I worked part time as pizza delivery. The leggings and tee shirt under my clothes were sure protection from Washington rain and chill winds. They also kept me in a high state of arousal that made the night pass quickly.
I took walks at night. Long winter nights were best. From November through March I would pull on two or three catsuits with military rain gear over the top and walk hours in the rain. We lived near open water areas and flood plain. I would put on the wader suit over the catsuits and venture into the swampy water. Sweat poured from my body and the inside suit would be slick with the sweat. The rubber pulled and tugged at my arms and legs as I struggled through the water, grass and fallen trees. The “sexercise” as I called it often ended with desire to lay quietly on my back while rain pelted my gear. If I has worn a hood, my protection would be complete and i would slowly work my gloved hands over my hard tool hidden under the rubbery layers. Quickening breath puffing hot mist into the chill air accompanied my arousal until with hot panting jerks I would surrender to my rubbery world and shoot my hot spunk into the inner rubber recesses. I few minutes of rest to recover then I would slowly work my way home.
Most of these times when I rubbered up at home my wife would be out with friends or visiting the local Bingo hall. I’m sure she was aware of something but she kept silent all of those years.
The wife confronted me about my stash sometime in early 2003. She never really asked for an explanation. I doubt I could have explained the deep feeling and my long and intimate history with rubber. By 2003 the gear was aging and torn. I had repaired my favorite items many times. Eventually the gear wore out completely. Since discovery I had not obtained any new gear… until
What had I done to deserve this?
Hydroglove appeared about a year after my determined effort of quitting rubber began. I was ready and the price was right. I soon had two of their dry suits and a pair of stocking-foot waders. I kept these from the wife and indulged only when I knew there was no chance of discovery. The old feelings soon were in full rage and I was thoroughly happy with the new rubber gear but I still was looking for more. The mind of the rubberist is always looking for more. I bought a third Hydroglove suit. I relished the layers of heavy rubber. I learned how to seal the suits and assured nothing could leak out. When the wife went on vacation to her home country, I could dress in the gear for hours. I added two gas masks to the collection, one an Israeli mask that I had blinded with layers of liquid latex on the inside and outside of the lenses, the other a US M 40-A1 gas mask, the updated version of the venerable M-14 mask.
I spent from over eight hours up to sixteen enclosed in rubbery bliss. I frequently did this for days in a row. Months of celibacy between rubber opportunities made the times in rubber extreme and very intense. Since I am retired now my limitations were only dictated by my stamina. Some days I would just enjoy the rubber bliss of the tight latex cuddling my body in constant massaging and warmth. I had a sexual glow but would go hours without release. Sometimes the tension lasted so long that I was totally exhausted from the enforced chastity of the gear. Eventually I leave the rubber world with its protection certain that I will not dress tomorrow only to find myself dressing the next day and enjoying the pure pleasure of rubber bliss yet again.
Still I needed more. A rubber fetishist always needs more. I need complete enclosure and layers of rubber isolation. I need the tight stretchy resistance of rubber pulling, massaging, arousing and encasing my entire body in the dark rubbery world only rubberists understand. I searched for more gear. I wanted to restore my collection of catsuits. I wanted a wader suit. I wanted outer wear so I could again take rubberized walks during wet weather. By now we lived in Texas. Summer was not good rubber weather but there were times in the winter when it rained and walking was possible.
I discovered an amazing total enclosure suit. This suit had penile sheath, attached gloves, feet and hood. I could wear it under the Hydrogloves and manage even more amazing rubber bondage. The site also had many different hoods with features that enhanced the rubber bondage experience. They also had a basic catsuit with feet and gloves and shoulder entry. I already had myself dressed in the “total enclosure” suit, two Hydrogloves dry suits, the shoulder entry suit as my outer layer, two full hoods locked under the attached suit hoods of the enclosure suit and dry suits, breathing tubes to keep all nasal openings aligned and a mouth tube for hydrating during long (endurance) enclosure. Four interlocking rubber layers that promised complete rubber protection, rubber arousal, rubber heat and bliss… all the joyous desires of a dedicated and totally devoted rubberist. I worked out a plan to purchase a suit every three months along with the additional items. Once I received the suits it was only a matter of waiting for the wife to take a trip. Odd how our roles had changed – I used to take the trip, now she took them.
Still I looked for a wader suit. I toyed with the idea of a special order. There were companies that made similar suits. The one I had in the 1990s was from a supplier that was no longer in business. Then I wandered into the Aquala dry suit website and saw the perfect crowning achievement for my collection. The heavy commercial dry suit with attached hood, gloves and boots was perfect. It was also incredibly expensive. Even with my relatively comfortable income I saw difficulty in obtaining the suit while keeping the sudden expense from the wife.
I ordered my first catsuit in many years, the total enclosure suit. I paid the $400 price for a made-to-measure suit, provided all of the required numbers. I asked for a perforated eye with tube mask on the suit. I received my order confirmation with an estimated delivery time. The six weeks passed slowly. My anticipation of holding this glorious suit to my nose and breathing in the rich fresh latex gave me goose bumps. I knew this suit would be covering me any time wife played Bingo. Unlike the Hydrogloves, which are somewhat difficult to don properly, this suit could easily go on and give me at least two hours of fun before having to climb out and clean up.
I had room in my box labeled “Bill’s Books” where the Hydrogloves were stored to keep the new suit. The anticipation was intense. Each passing day seemed too long to wait. Finally a notice in our mail box said a package was available for pick up at the post office. Some amount of duty was due at the time to pick up. The next day I rushed to the post office to collect the box.
She went to Bingo that night and I pulled the long awaited suit out of my hiding place and slowly let the black slick latex slide through my finger. I held the suit to my nose and inhaled the rich latex scent. I smothered my face in the folds and felt rising anticipation. I put the suit aside and stripped naked. I pulled on my sheath brief – ages old – the slid a leg into one of the inky black leg openings of the suit. The cool rubber sent shivers up my entire body. All the years without a real latex catsuit fell away from me. I pushed the second leg into the suit and pulled it up to my waist. I slid the sheath cock into the suit sheath. My arousal was complete. My desire so delicious a surge of carnal lust shot through me.
I held back as best I could as my surging member teetered on the very edge. I held until my arms were in the suit and latex caressed my chest. My nipples hardened against the smooth rubber touch. My gloved finger pinched the nipples through the suit and I trembled with a moan. I held as I ducked my head into the hood and adjusted all of the openings and the mouth tube. I held, barely, as I tugged at the zipper and pulled the suit tight around my body.
I held as I ran my hands lightly along the side of my torso and slowly up the front to my chest. I held back just that long then a volcanic explosion of pent up passion took me over the top. It felt as though molten magma was surging through my veins, I collapsed under a titanic release of carnal desire falling to the floor in a massive orgasmic release that I had not achieved for years. I returned home to my rubbery roots without any second thought. The Hydrogloves were good but this was total ecstasy beyond all my wildest dreams!
The total enclosure suit was sealed but fifteen seconds and I was spent. I panted hard in the hood. I had that surge to get out of the suit that so often hits after a massive cum. I resisted and the reward of new arousal soon followed. This time my anticipation and build-up to explosion was slow. The orgasm was a rolling one with waves and ebbs. I let my body surrender to the will of the suit then rested another fifteen minutes before it was time to clean up, dry the suit and put it away. Bingo nights were the best for me. I loved Bingo nights only slightly less than the suit and my wife.
What had I done to deserve this?
Some may say a second suit to wear at the same time is overkill. But ask anyone who has indulged total enclosure and layers. Layers are good. Layers help multiply the feelings in rubber encasement. Layers are exponentially effective. Two layers creates four times the feeling, three – nine times. Layers are the ultimate expression of rubber surrender and bliss.
I ordered the second suit. This one was a catsuit with attached gloves and socks. It had shoulder entry and would fit well over the total enclosure suit. This suit would press my sheathed cock against my belly and keep it secure until I wanted to release it by opening the crotch zipper. Keeping the zip closed would be an effective means of chastity as the extreme locked angle would make cumming very difficult, especially if my arms were pinned. Again it was six weeks before the delivery note showed up in the mail box. Again I went to the post office, paid a due duty and rushed home to open my prize.
By now it was the cool days of November. I remembered my old exercise days… two catsuits under sweat pants and top. I realized the new suit with a Hydroglove under and sweats over would keep me warm and toasty as I walked the neighborhood. I could do this activity even when the wife was home. I would just dress out in the garage and make my way out into the street. I did that when we lived in Washington State. I would dress under our backyard shelter then slip over to a nearby park. The park had a pond and creek that provided hours of rubberized wading and walking.
Our current home has a large pond – or is it a small lake – with ducks and fish. Rainy nights became a time to dress up, add rain gear and hip boots then wander over to the pond and check out its more remote corners. An hour slogging around in shallows, sometimes interrupted with a nice long rest on my back while letting rain spatter my rubber-protected body, and the walk to and from the pond typically exhausted me to a point that climbing out of rubber and a good hot shower was all I needed to complete a relaxing evening. Pleasures are simple at my age.
Still I wanted that wader suit or the Aquala Dry Suit. I looked longingly at the site once a week. I wanted so much to push the “Add to Cart” button. The $2,000 plus tag held me back some but as the weeks stretched to months and my credit cards slowly reached available credit for the purchase, I became more inclined to push that fateful button.
After six months of waiting I realized I had the funds available to push the button. I ordered the Aquala. My order included attached gloves, a hood and boots. I ordered the XXL suit. I didn’t think about the bulk of the suit. I mean everything up to now folded neatly and fit into one of my “Bill’s Books” boxes. This suit was another kettle of fish. I mean the heavy rubber, boots and the size just didn’t allow for a nice folded suit fitting in one of the book boxes. But a rubberists doesn’t think ahead all that much. I mean getting the gear is the all-important act. Storing the gear is an afterthought unless you live alone or your significant other is very understanding – my situation was neither.
What had I done to deserve this?
Wading in the lake in the dark. Yes. This is my new pastime. Two catsuits, one Hydroglove and my Aquala under a rubber rain suit. Five heavy layers of rubber make movement quite laborious. But the excitement of being sealed so heavily in rubber more than compensates for the hard work walking against the resistance of the rubber layers. The rain suit was probably the hardest item to secure. They don’t make the military rubberized olive drab outer/black rubber lining suits any more. Finding something not Gortex or PVC is next to impossible. Any real rubberist knows that PVC is a pale imitation of latex rubber. Fortunately EBay had just what I wanted – a heavy rubberized rain suit from China. The suit was rubber-lined as well.
Four nights a week the wife went to her Bingo. I walk to our neighborhood duck pond. I would walk to the pond before pulling hoods into position and doing any final adjustments before entering the pond. I then walked out to a remote area of the park area and wade into the water and mud. I used a walking stick for balance and for depth measurement. I slowly waded out letting the water slowly rise up my rubber-encased body. Water to my knees, then my thighs, my waist, and my chest. I waded until water covered me to my neck. I vented any air out of my suits and felt the pressure of water through rubber layers. I waded along the edge of the pond.
Once someone came down with a dog. They were across the way, at least 100 yards away. I froze in my tracks and watched as the dog walker let his dog take him along the grass edge. The dog sniffed and lifted his leg a couple of times. Once I shifted in the water because I was slowly sinking in the soft bottom and the dog looked toward me. I was on the dark side and any light was behind the walker.
Across the water I heard, “What is it, boy?”
The walker peered out into the darkness. With only my black head above the water, I was pretty certain I was nearly invisible. I dared not move lest I make a ripple in the smooth surface. Maybe my head was a dark oval in the water as it did not reflect the back light of the street lights like the water.
The dog remained alert to my spot.
“I don’t see anything, boy. It’s just the ducks.” He pulled the dog away from the edge and started back toward the street.
I waited until they were gone and pulled up my foot. I tried to pull the leg. The foot had sunk deep into the mud and I was stuck fast. I tried to gain some leverage and fell completely in. Using the walking stick I was able to get back up and stuttering water looked around to make sure there was anyone. I used the walking stick for purchase and leaned toward the shore. I felt the boot suction break and I was able to slog back to shore. I flopped against the bank with only my upper body on the bank. I rested from the exertion of breaking loose from the mud. Light rain was forecast and I think it began to fall. I mean how can you tell if rain is hitting a wet black rubber suit? I rested.
Time always caught me and after an hour of wading I had to head home and clean up the gear. I usually changed out of the gear on our backyard covered deck. I would hang wet rubber in the backyard tool shed then get into my running clothes and go around to the garage. Each morning I returned to the shed to finish putting the rubber away.
Thus went a typical rubber wade evening lasting three hours.
What had I done to deserve this?
It takes an hour to dress in the wading layers. I keep to using powder as my choice of lubricant. After the first suit is one the rest actually pull on my body fairly easily. Anyone who has worn layers knows how easily powdered rubber slides over rubber. The Hydroglove suit goes on over the total enclosure suit. Its thick molded rubber fits fairly tightly on my body. For wading I don’t roll its top and bottom seal. I then pull on the catsuit with gloves and feet. As the third layers embraces me I find myself being drawn into black inky latex quicksand. I hear my heart and feel hot blood rushing in my ears. My heart quickens from the rubber pulling each inch of my body. I surrender to the blissful rubber world surrounding me.
The Aquala is fairly loose fitting. After all it is a dry suit but it is also quite heavy. I feel very much like I am swallowed by some living rubber entity. It is an alien rubber being from some distant world of rubber life. I work the thick black suit over my waist. I push my arms into the sleeves and push my fingers into the attached gloves. I shrug my head through the open shoulders and push it through the neck into the hood. After adjusting the suit I tug the lanyard on the zipper and complete a full seal from any outer elements. I am truly sealed from the world. I am alone in my rubber bubble and getting quite hot from the many layers of tugging rubber pulling each part of my body as I move. I pull on the rain suit, not that I need it for my rubbery bliss but to have an outer layer that is almost “normal” for any walkers or cars I might encounter during the three-block walk to the pond. Light rain is falling and there are flashes of lightning to the north. I like this weather. If a storm breaks I will have the neighborhood all to myself. I let the heavy caressing rubber clear my mind of all outward thought and I center my thoughts on rubber surrender.
It is late December. The Christmas season is upon us as is my birthday. I won’t tell you how old i am but my birthday is tomorrow. Late night Bingo follows regular Bingo so I plan a longer session. Wife left about 6:00 and late night means she won’t be home until 1:30.
I return home shortly after midnight. I am so exhausted from slogging in the pond, just resting on water’s edge and letting rain pound my rubbery form. I am oblivious to the raging storm around me. This is true rubber weather. What was my name for it in one of my stories – Shun Weather? This was Shun Weather for sure. There are flashes of lightning and I wonder if all this rubber insulates me from a strike. It probably does. I enjoy the rain as it pounds in torrents. It drums on my suits. I feel like I am in water not just being poured on by heavy rain. It is so incredibly cooling after the inner heat and sweat. I relax and let my thoughts drift to my early rubber times. Many of the events related earlier here pass through my mind. It in a rolling progress of events that cemented my rubber fetish as surely as any bondage position would render me helplessly trussed.
“Hello Honey.” My wife is waiting in the garage. She is dressed in black – shiny black latex. She is head to toe in rubber and wearing the highest stiletto thigh high rubber boots I’ve ever seen.
What had I done to deserve this?
I stand dumbfounded. I cannot say I feel exposed since she is dressed in latex but I sure do feel like something amazing is happening.
I can’t even reply with a simple, “Thank you.”
“So quiet. So surprised. I wish I could see more of those eyes through the perforations. I bet they are stunning.”
She comes over to me and stroked the outer suit lightly.
“We have much to do and little time to do it. I want you to remain perfectly silent. You have nothing to explain. And I will tell you everything in time.”
She pulls me to the door leading to the house.
Half an hour later I am down to the total enclosure suit. The other suits hang in the bathroom to dry for a while. She pulls the lower zipper of the total enclosure suit which exposes the brief bottom under it.
“This is a little something I learned during my education into this thing you do.”
She pulls the brief aside and pushes a large butt plug inside me. She puts the brief back in place and seems to be fiddling with something. I don’t know what she is doing but I feel the plug moving around inside me as she works. Then she recloses the zipper on the enclosure suit.
Again she fiddles with something at my back. I feel something sliding under my balls and at the bottom of my cock. I cannot figure out what she did. She finishes at my bottom and I feel her doing something to the entire length of zipper.
“What are… ” I start.
“Silence ‘rubber slut’”, she barks. “I’ll gag you if you speak again without permission.”
I like the term ‘rubber slut’ and a thrill passes through me as she says it.
“I’m so glad you like your new name,” she says.
She comes to my front and strokes me lightly.
“I’ve learned lots about this thing you like. You think I’ve been Facebooking all those nights after Bingo? I have but not as my regular avatar. I’ve learned all about you. So many of my new friends are friends with ‘rbrbill’.”
“I want you to be cozy and warm so here is one of those funny suits with pants and top. I think you get them from a place called Hydroglove… what a perfect name. I’ll fetch the other one from the bathroom. I want you wearing both.”
After I have one Hydroglove in place she helps me roll the top and bottom together. It is the first time I ever have the thing actually smoothly sealed. She fiddles with my bottom again.
“Just pull the second one on… pants all the way up and shirt all the way down. I doubt we need to roll it.”
What I do not know is a long length of tubing is hanging out the back of the first suits. She had glued fitting over the tubes sealing them to the suits while allowing a tubed access into my rear.
She pulls back one of the suit hoods and pulls a full hood on my already hooded head. After tucking the hood under the neck of the Hydroglove she pullsHydroglove hood back in place.
“Lovely,” she purrs as she touches my rubberized face.
“Here’s your second catsuit,” she hands it to me. “Put it on quickly.”
This time she opens the convenience zipper and pulls the tubing out. She works on the zipper and again I wonder what she is doing to the closer. She then pulls on another hood. This hood has a fairly wide mouth tube/gag that she shoves through the inner hood mouth openings. The small holes of the inner hoods stretch wide to accept the new intrusion. I’m sure the rubber seals tightly around the tube.
“I have a special surprise for you now.” She leaves the room for a few minutes and returns carrying a red vintage wetsuit. It has high pants, beavertail top, hood, gloves and boots.
“I saw those photos of that Japanese girl and her red wetsuit. I think you like it very much. I mean you have so many photos of her but the red wetsuit seems to have a very special place.”
She drops the bundle, picks up the pants and approaches me. With some difficulty she works the pants over the four layers already encasing me.
“Wow, this is harder than I expected. I got this suit a little large just so it will fit over the layers but it is still tight.” She strokes her brow with a glove as though swiping sweat even though she is in a hood. She giggles at her gesture.
Soon I feel the tight red rubber pants pressing all of the suit on my lower body into one rubber mass. Air has easily vented out of all the layers from the complete press of red neoprene. She makes sure her tubing is out and hanging down my red rubber bottom. She pulls the sleeves of the jacket on. She pushes the right arm then the left arm in and pulls the jacket up my back. She pulls the hood on and zips the jacket, making sure the hood is under the high collar.
She sits me down and put on the red booties, then the dive gloves. Now I am completely red save my black hoods.
“Okay, the dive suit is last,” she says.
I want to say something about already being totally encased in four rubber suits AND a red rubber wetsuit but the mouth gag holds any protest to grunts.
“You must wear all of your suits tonight.”
She kneels at my feet and lifts each leg into the dry suit. She gently pulls the legs and works the boots over my feet. She has a hard time getting the multi-rubber layered feet into the boots. The tight fit so reminds me of sixty years earlier – the hip boot worn over shoes. The old memory is amazingly clear. As she pulls the suit up my legs I realize that all of the bulk inside is providing a surprisingly tight fit. There is even slight compression as the dry suit has no give and the thick layers actually make me slightly bigger than its fit.
“Just as I wanted. You’ll be tight as a tick inside the dive suit. Nice and cozy and hot.”
Heavy bondage in rubber layers is amazing. I mean I am so encased there is no escape. Oddly this new turn of bondage sends another surge through me and I shiver visibly.
“I can tell you liked that,” my newly discover dominatrix purrs.
She stands me up and pulls the suit to my waist. She walks me over to a corner of the room. She opens the front convenience access of the suit and pulls out the tubing that had been attached some hours earlier. I finally understand these tubes are inserted into my lower orifice and are there to remove waste.
She feeds my arms into the suit sleeves and pulls it up my body. The sleeves are another hard fit. The red wetsuit gloves really are bulky. She pours some Neutrogena wash down the sleeves. I discover it allows the gloves to slide with a squishy ‘whoosh’ right into the sleeve and into the attached gloves. Air has remained inside the arm and ballooned the suit gloves just enough to accommodate the wetsuit gloves but physics rules and the dry suit gloves return to almost normal size as the air pushes out of the sleeves. Then she pushes my hooded head through the neck opening and into the suit hood. My form is practically locked into position. Sure I can make very slight movements but I am effectively immobilized.
“You look wonderful. You’re a black version of the Michelin Man!”
As if she knows what I need she pushes a large bottle of sports drink into my mouth opening and tilts it up. The drink flows in and I choke as I swallow it as best I can. She applies a second and third bottle of drink. I feel I will burst as my belly swells.
“You like that mask, don’t you. I made a modification to it. I took out the exhaust port valve so a feeding/drinking tube can be fitted through to your hood.”
She pats my head.
“You are completely sealed now. We need to get you settled now. I’ll help you walk.”
True to her words, she pulls on my arm and I am forced to waddle as best I can in the interlocking rubber prison. I do not know where she is taking me but the walk is only a short way. I find my breathing is distressed from the exercise and the pressing layers.
“I’ve put you in a closet. The tubing from your rear is temporarily in a collection bag. Tomorrow I’ll be making more permanent arrangements for your care and feeding. Sweet Dreams.”
What had I done to deserve this?
To be continued?
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