Gromet's Plaza Latex Stories
From Top to Bottom
by rbbral
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© Copyright 2016 - rbbral - Used by permission
Storycodes: M/m; D/s; latex; cd; stockings; gloves; corset; corsalette; breastforms; heels; hood; bond; susp; strappado; oral; anal; climax; cons; X
de fr nl it es jp
From Top to Bottom 10: Clothes Maketh The Man rbbral M/m; D/s; latex; cd; stockings; gloves; corset; corsalette; breastforms; heels; hood; bond; susp; strappado; oral; anal; climax; cons; X
story continued from part 9

After many stories relating to rubber fetish and associated themes I have decided that, at least for now, this is my last, and for that I wanted to write something very different, and challenging for me So this is a gay rubber story, something I have never tried before. Whether or not it “works” and has credibility is entirely up to the reader, although I have to say I did quite enjoy writing it.

Chapter 10: Clothes Maketh The Man - Or There’s Always The First Time

One day I shall write a book. The title could be any number of things, but it would best be summed up as The Psychology of Cross-Dressing, or at least something like that. Actually it should be Cross-Dressing in Rubber, or the Trials and Tribulations of a Rubber Tranny because that is all my experience really, as it is the rubber element that makes cross-dressing worthwhile; otherwise I probably wouldn’t bother at all.

As I said earlier, prior to my meeting Ryan I did have some experience of it, but only as a master with a rubber tranny partner. I met a number at the club. Some were just getting into it, a little nervous and searching for compliments; they were sweet and I always commented favourably on their turnout. Others were very experienced, completely in the role – in full regalia - heels, stockings, corset, false tits and make-up or tight latex female masks. A couple would go over the top, at least for me, and could have been Marie Antoinette, such were their fantastic costumes. It’s a personal preference, but I liked the more restrained tranny. Although at that time, it had never appealed to me to do the cross-dressing myself. I was a top for god’s sake!

And Candy closely followed by Ryan was obviously the most stunning and skilled.

I had started to second-guess my conviction of being a top when I first met Candy and she had said such nice things about me, my face, my body. Then Ryan came to my apartment the first time dressed in rubber tranny glory, and only shortly after that he assumed the role of my master with me as his gimp. So could you be a top and a tranny? Well why not? He certainly is. The world loves compartmentalising, and our “scene” is no exception, and you just can’t do that with the human psyche.

So in all honesty it is Ryan (and of course Candy) who should write the book, and Ryan has a complete command of the subject. And he displayed this over the weeks following his move into my place. Like all couples when we were ready to have sex, or some tender loving, it only took a look, a raised eye, a smile, and Ryan and I developed early a sort of Morse code, sometimes just a word – “ready” - and we certainly were.

Another less subtle sign was if one of us was home and the other out, when the other returned home he would be confronted at the front door with the enema bag and tube hanging from its stand. No, not subtle, but it was fun, and now I look forward to coming home, hoping to see the bag and tube, ready and waiting for me to clean myself out and prepare for a good fucking.

One time, after I had accepted the role of a sub, we had moved to the bedroom he was sitting on the bed in my gunmetal catsuit I so loved on him. I was naked and standing in front of him, playing with my cock and twirling the ring around my ball sac. Next to him was a pile of rubber clothing.

And I shall relate here exactly what happened then - and on succeeding occasions after……….

He looks up at me and for the first time says the password – “role-play”. I am so ready for him I just nod as he smoothes talc over my legs. I am already rock hard as he opens the top of a black latex stocking for me to place my foot in, I do this while putting a hand on his shoulder. Once my foot is in he sets my foot on his thigh and says.

“Come on, you better get used to this.”

This was some time after the gimp suit period and me accepting my sub role as, well, my preference, but up to then I had never crossed-dressed in rubber, however suddenly there and then it seemed the most normal thing for me to do. There was no big decision, no tantrum, I just got on with it. And I begin to slowly draw it up my calf, thumb under the latex and fingers drawing and pulling it round my calf and then thigh. He helps by gripping my calf firmly in both hands and raising them to my knee, stretching out any wrinkles. We continue until the stocking is gripping the top of my thigh. We repeat this with my right leg, my foot perched on his left thigh, with Ryan’s hands smoothing out the last wrinkle, aware my hard cock is just inches from his face. He then opens out a suspender belt and I step into it and pull it up to my waist. There are four suspenders for each leg, a little over the top perhaps but I lean over and begin to fasten the stockings to them.

“Keep them nice and straight now.” He says quietly, and he turns me round and helps me with the ones at the back. There is something extraordinarily sensual about clipping the tops of the stockings to the suspenders. When I turn back I nearly hit him in the face with my cock and we both laugh. But he isn’t finished yet. He places my feet into a pair of black leather stiletto pumps, with perhaps only three inch heels.

“Excellent.” And then he says with a sly smile. “But these are only really trainers, we’ll have you in six inchers in no time.” I feel a bit wobbly but I can adjust quickly.

Powdering both my arms he helps me into a pair of shoulder length opera gloves of matching black latex. This is not too hard as all my arm hair, as well as my leg hair has been depilated. Again, very methodically all the creases and wrinkles are levelled out.

Now he takes a plastic bottle and squirts some silicone spray on my arms and begins to wipe a clean cloth over them, bringing them to a gorgeous gleaming finish. He begins to repeat the process with my stockinged legs…..oh god. My cock is so hard and no doubt he can see pre cum at the end. He gives it a small kiss as his hands wipe, encircle, buff and tease the rubber and I feel my knees weaken. In a short cognitive moment I wonder what is triggering all this? His hands, the rubber – certainly, but also the thought whips though my mind that I am now on the way to being a rubber tranny. The thought is lost quickly however when he takes me in his mouth, licking and sucking, while running fingers up and down my shimmering legs, barely touching me, almost tickling. I hold his head in my gloved hands, gently allowing him to set the pace as this act is played out for shorter than I would have liked, but that is my fault as I come way too soon.

When he swallows my seed and licks me clean, he gets up and from the large triple-section wardrobe we have (with mirrored doors – perfect for inspecting yourself) he returns with a rubber cape. He drapes this over my shoulders and I shiver as the cold rubber brushes my skin. Then he presses the studs from my chin down to my knees. I push my arms through the openings at my sides and I see myself in the mirror, other than the medium heels all resemblance to that of a woman is covered. For the rest of the evening we carry on as normal (?). We make a meal, drink wine and read for a while. It’s almost as if the elaborate dressing had not happened. Yet as I walk around, the rubber rustling around me keeps me erect, as it is so loose it remains cool, but underneath I am not. When I place the dishes in the dishwasher he comes behind me and slides a hand under the cape, rolling my cock and balls in his hand as he kisses my neck.

Later he takes the cape off me and we go to bed, with me dressed as I am, minus the heels. I feel very horny like this and after a torrid foreplay I am delighted when he turns me round, raises me and places his cock at the entrance to my love channel. I want him desperately now and lean back into him, and he slowly eases himself inside me. Yes, it is easier now for him to thrust his hard cock into me, I am certainly not loose but my hole is virgin no more, for that is certain.

You might say here, well why did you not stop it when you wanted to, if you are uncomfortable with the tranny stuff? And this is where Ryan’s psychology (I am looking back) worked so well. When you face a mountain and look to the top, you say, well I’ll never climb that. But if you look to base camp 1 well you can do that, and then base camp 2, and you just acclimatise, bit by bit. And that is precisely what Ryan was getting me to do. It’s all to do with introduction, acclimatisation, education, coaching, encouragement and gradual, very gradual indoctrination (although I don’t like that word). At first it was stockings and gloves – no big deal, and then you move on. And the cape for the remainder of the evening was a very clever addition. For me to parade myself in front of him, even though he was my lover, may have embarrassed myself at the early stage. And so he got me that evening to get used to stockings, suspender belt, gloves and most particularly heels, and to become “comfortable” with it all.

And here I want to consider the other critical philosophy of cross-dressing – or any form of role-play. And that is not to step out of the role, to not step out of your body and stand by the door looking in. For it can, or does, sometimes look “silly”, but if you stay focussed, totally in the role then the rewards are huge. Actors do this all the time, they have to play psychos, killers, and they have to believe in the role, silly though it may be. And what’s different with two consenting adults of whatever kind dressing up, having fun, and having sex? Well nothing of course. I think I have read somewhere before that the whole premise of a play, right in front of an audience, relies upon the “suspension of disbelief”.

And so that was the first evening that we experimented with this particular form of role-playing. And it went extremely well, for I certainly loved it, the tightness of the gloves and stockings juxtaposed with the loose silky cape. And if I can be perfectly honest, I did sashay a bit around the flat in front of Ryan a couple of times, flirting of course, for I was beginning to get the hang of it, having a bit of fun, and I didn’t get hung up on all the analysis. Of course the rewards came later when we were in bed.

Over the next weeks - many weeks during and after the refurbishment of Pat’s place, my “education” or “training”, call it whatever you will, increases. During this period we continue to get to know each other – he had moved in a long while ago now, but it still takes time adjusting. But we are now “settled in”. We have sex pretty well always with rubber and with and without the cross-dressing and I’ll get to that in a second. But we are, or we like to think we are normal people. So we go to work, Ryan and I, rather than just deciding to loaf around, a lot more consulting, sometimes at home and sometimes we are out for the day. Just like any other couple we need to get away from each other as it makes the time together more rewarding.

We have friends; he has his, I have mine and we have joint, and we like to entertain. They don’t have to be “gay” parties, often they aren’t, as we are defined in many ways. We exercise, we shop, and we go to watch games and we go to the pub and restaurants. Pat looks upon our place as a second home, and since setting herself up we have lots to talk about. The evenings go really well, for she is great company and even when she is not talking rubber and being a dom she is now a best friend.

Anyway enough of this, we are just normal people….except perhaps – to some – in our sexual proclivities, and more of that now……

As I said, over a fairly lengthy period of time my exposure to cross-dressing intensifies. A week after the first session it is repeated – with me in stockings, heels, and gloves, but with the addition of a pair of tight crotchless panties, black with white frilled edges. Again this is just a small step forwards, barely noticeable. And anyway as I stand in front of him I get a big thrill as he pulls them up my rubber clad legs and then draws my cock and ring encased balls through the crotch hole. Before he begins to take me in his mouth, he asks me to turn and put my hands behind my back. And with a shiver I feel the steel handcuffs enclose my wrists. There is no wish for me to escape and I turn back and spread my legs, shaking a bit on my heels, as he starts to lick my cock.

Another week or so later, there is an addition to my costume. Both of us are naturally slim, not overly muscled but toned, we run and go to the gym a lot and eat the right stuff, so my waist is a pretty impressive 29 inches and Ryan’s a really skinny 28 inches. But that doesn’t deter Ryan from my training. After I’ve done my reverse strip - tantalising him by taking plenty of time with stockings (I am getting quite good at this now) heels, gloves and panties, this time he cuffs my gloved hands in front of me.

The first week after Ryan moved in he decided to do a bit of handiwork around the flat, and the first thing he did was screw an eye hook into one of the joists supporting the ceiling in our bedroom. There is a chandelier there already and so it is quite unobtrusive as when not in use we drape the chain of the chandelier over it. This was the hook that we used on Pat the first time she came up to our place and we tried some rubber bondage with her. And now it is being used again, on me.

He pushes the end of a narrow rope through the eye of the hook and attaches both ends to my cuffs. This is not a surprise at all, as we are both now really getting keen on bondage mixed with the rubber and the sex. With a peck on my lips he pulls the rope and my hands are raised above my head until I’m nicely stretched out, and teetering on my heels. At this time I’m now rock hard. He stands in front of me now, my cock rubbing against his latex suit, and he places his hands on my hips, then raises them to my waist. I say nothing but my breath is getting quicker.

“You are in very good shape, but I always say everything can be improved, or at least changed. We can get this down a couple of inches.” He places his hands round my waist. “And we can certainly lose a few inches here, all the right spots.” He massages and pinches my nipples, and from the bed he picks up a pretty severe looking corset of red and black rubber. I had never seen this before, and Ryan is certainly very sneaky when he’s been rubber shopping. He wraps it round my torso and I shudder at the cool hug of the rubber. This is clearly another step in my tutoring. I can stop it now, right now, if I want, but I don’t as I am as horny as hell, bathing in the grip of the stockings and gloves.

And part of me already wants to see what I’m going to look like when fully laced in. He begins to lace the back of the corset and I feel it close in on me. It extends from the top of my hips to under my nipples and is clearly quite heavily boned and once pulled in fully (not this time I hope) will render the wearer an extremely impressive figure, not hourglass, but certainly very feminine. After taking it in a good couple of inches at the waist I’m now reduced to short breaths.

I’m not stupid; I know this slow, methodical training – garment by garment – is leading me to what I now have accepted as an irreversible destination. I am being slowly but irrevocably transformed into a fully-fledged compliant rubber tranny.

By now I am very definitely a sub and I have acknowledged that, and this is merely another further step. But it is like walking down some stairs in the dark. I feel I have to keep going, for what’s at the end? And it’s not possible to turn and go back because it’s becoming irreversible, and then I realise that I am not fighting it, no matter what I thought I was before, whatever role I played, all the rules and positions have changed. And as each session goes by I realise that any reluctance I may have had at the start is slowly diminishing, and that, unbelievably perhaps (considering where I started from) I am embracing it.

And that is what is happening to me. I know it and don’t fight it. I don’t want to be rushed and Ryan knows this, he’s wise way beyond his years, so the slow and steady programming continues.

When he is satisfied that the corset, for the first time at least, has been drawn in sufficiently, he attaches the six suspenders from the corset to the tops of my stockings. During this my cock is rock hard and Ryan gives it a couple of friendly taps with his fingers and then he releases my cuffed hands.

“There, no need for a garter belt, perfect.” He strokes the tops of my thighs and I feel light headed, whether that is due to the corset and the restricted breathing or the fact that I’m just about ready to come and I want him so much to fuck me. And much later, after considerable preamble, he does. As I kneel submissively he rolls on a condom, lubes himself, then parts my cheeks and with unerring pressure plunges into me. I offer no resistance, physical or mental; I am now thriving on this role.

When he recognises I am now comfortable with these body-changing garments he later introduces me to a foundation garment that he tells me I will get to experience a lot more over the coming period. Like an old fashioned corselette, this combines all the rigidity of a corset from hips to under bust with the addition of two quite perfect silicone boobs. It has four suspenders for each leg, extends to just below my hips on either side and has raised areas in front and back….allowing easy access to my cock and balls, and my arse. It is rigidly boned but externally very smooth, and with laces at the back. It is brutally efficient and my transformation will become quite extraordinary.

Over the previous sessions I had become used to the grip of the corset, and even enjoyed its comforting support, but this is very different as I now have to contend with the two protuberances sticking out from my chest, as well as the lower portion extending well over my hips, but still leaving me fully exposed.

So one evening, after I have pulled the familiar gloves and stockings on he shows me this extraordinary garment, one that will truly transform me. And I am not shocked any more, not in the least, for I now know that this is just another step in what I can now perceive is almost an inevitable progression. He helps me squeeze into it, pulling up the sides and the rubber slides over my stockings with a sensuous touch. I am now breathing in smaller bursts as I push my arms under the shoulder straps. Even with the rear laces loose I know already that this is going to be really unyielding.

I step into a pair of 4 inch pumps, for now I have no trouble keeping my balance. Now he kisses me slowly and at the same time subtly places my wrists in cuffs in front of me, then with a calm look attaches them to the rope from the ceiling hook and raises me quickly up. Within seconds I’m stretched out, powerless, teetering on my heels. Now he goes behind me and begins the lacing, and within a minute I’m taking short breaths. He runs his hands around my diminishing waist, testing for any give in the garment, then pulls in the laces a further half inch. He adjusts the thick shoulder straps and seems satisfied and he lowers the rope and releases the cuffs.  I look across at the mirror in the wardrobe and see, well almost someone else. Three areas of my body have just been completely transformed. I now have a narrow waist, narrower than with the corset, but below that the effect is that my hips appear marginally wider, and above, well…….

I raise my gloved hands and place them on my rubber boobs. The first thing I notice is not their shape (which is perfect) but their weight. I can feel the slight drag on my shoulders and back. And their feel is, well, spongy, lifelike, in fact incredibly normal. But the most important thing I notice about this conversion is its effect on me. For I look down between my large, firm boobs and see my cock sticking out, hard and with a little pre cum at the head. No matter what my brain might think about this change, my cock is telling its own story. There is really no coercion any more, not the slightest. My role as a master, as a top, has now receded very quickly into the past.

“There’s more to be done still, but we can wait for another day.” Ryan says as he stands back and admires me. I don’t know what more ideas he has, but I am not really concerned any more. He places my hands behind my back and cuffs them again. I am now breathing in short bursts of excitement. Quickly he pulls a full rubber mask over my head, brilliant red, with black around the eyes and mouth.

“Just to complete the transformation for now, but I have more plans for you, subbie, to make you even more desirable and beautiful, and without hiding your face.” This perks my imagination but I have little time for this thought as he attaches the rope to my wrists and begins to pull on it. I now have to spread my legs for balance as my arms are raised behind me and I have to lower my torso, which is difficult with the cruel corselette gripping me.

“Ooooh, aaaaah.” I gasp, but Ryan, undeterred, raises my arms until my masked head is at groin level and my arse, well exposed between the corselette and stockings, is delectably vulnerable. It is precisely the position we had Pat in all those weeks ago. I look down between my boobs and see my cock still rock hard and screaming for attention. Ryan takes his time and moves in front of me. I can’t see his face but I’m sure he is beaming as he unzips the crotch of his drum tight scarlet catsuit and his cock springs out.

“Well now my delicious rubber tranny, what do we do now, I wonder. You concede I have you exactly where I want you, hhmm?”

And I am now quite happy with that, for I want to be helpless, I know that now. He lifts my head slightly so that his cock is a couple of inches in front of me, and then without any encouragement from him I lower my face, opening my mouth to take him in. Oh, the taste, the feel, the warm comforting sensation. Despite the fact that I can barely move, legs stretched wide seeking balance and my arms pulled high behind me, a calmness comes over me as I settle on his hard member. I breathe through the small nostril holes in the mask, my lungs restricted by the brutal corselette.

I can feel how much he’s enjoying this, allowing me to do as I wish, but just when I think I have him coming he withdraws and immediately stuffs a large red ball gag in my mouth, pulling the straps brutally hard behind my masked head. I grunt my displeasure, but can barely move at all as he rounds behind me. I hear him roll on a condom and this at least pleases me now. He eases a small amount of lube over my sphincter and then I feel his swollen cock at my entrance. Yes, this is what I want, to be helpless and taken by him. And this is what he does, pushing relentlessly into me until I am gurgling with pleasure through my gag. He holds my hips, more for balance than to thrust into me and I clamp down on the rubber ball and close my eyes, just feeling the total bliss of it all. The constriction of the corselette is now in the distance as I concentrate on him filling me, stuffing me, cramming me to the hilt. I squeal through the gag, but in pure pleasure.

I am how hooked, literally and figuratively.

 

 

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26.07.16

story continued in part 11

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