Author: SubJockBoi
Eric didn’t have a lot of rubber gear…it was expensive, and his job as a night security guard paid barely enough to cover his crappy efficiency apartment in one of the worst parts of the city. He had scraped a little together to get a rubber harness…and had found a nice elbow-length pair of black rubber chemical gloves on eBay. He’d worn the harness to “The Grind”, the closest thing to a gay fetish club in the state, but the crowd there is mostly a lot of straight “goth” wannabe’s and swingers looking for hookups, not a single “gay rubberman” that he constantly fantasized about from the pictures on the internet and in the fetish magazines he occasionally purchased.
That’s why Eric stood transfixed as he stared at the shiny black wetsuit that hung from a thick plastic hanger above the basin in the laundry room of the apartment complex. He stood in the doorway with his basket of last week’s uniforms for a moment, and then stepped in, sat the basket down, and stepped closer to the glistening wetsuit.
It was still wet…someone had hand washed it in the basin and hung it to dry. It was still dripping water into the basin. It was a shimmery rubber-coated neoprene full-suit, completely black and surprisingly devoid of any corporate logos. It zipped up the back. Eric wondered what size it was, how stretchy it was and whether he could fit into it.
Eric looked around…nobody was in sight, and the coin operated washers and dryers were quiet. He had this incredible temptation to just grab the suit, stuff it under the clothes in his basket and head quietly back up the stairs.
He slowly reached up to touch the sleeves and lightly pinched the fabric. The rubber was thick but luxuriously stretchy. His cock stiffened as he imagined how that must feel from the inside, the rubber snug against his arms and legs, the feeling as you zipped the zipper up the back as it stretched around your torso.
His tugging had dislodged the hanger, it slid off and the suit fell into his arms. Eric’s heart skipped a beat as he caught the weight of the wet mass of neoprene and rubber. He stood there for a second…the room was still silent, and there was no noise from the stairwell. He could sneak it back upstairs, try it on for a few minutes, and then return it a few minutes later. Whoever left it here obviously planned on letting it drip dry, so they may not even realize it was gone.
He dropped it into his basket, covered it up and quickly dashed up the stairs. As he ascended, his heart pounded and he kept staring at the basket to be sure that none of the glorious rubber was visible. He reached his apartment and his arms were shaking as he fiddled with the key to the door. Then he was inside.
Eric dumped the clothes out of the basket and onto the floor and delicately pulled out the damp wetsuit. He would need to be quick…try it on, check himself out in the mirror, and get it back downstairs before anyone noticed it was missing. He kicked off his sandals and stripped out of his clothes.
He sat down on the edge of his bed and held the wetsuit up in front of him. His cock was rock hard as he put his legs into the suit and pulled up the cold neoprene. The suit fit snugly, he decided to go slow…it wouldn’t be good if he ripped it.
Part of the snug fit was due to the suit’s dampness…being so wet it wanted to cling to his legs. He managed to get both feet through and then the rest of the suit slid up pretty easily over his hips and thighs. He pushed his raging hard-on down the left leg, and then tugged up the suit as much as he could at the waist. He then slid his left arm, and it was surprisingly easier than he thought it would be…it was going to fit! He was going to be able to get it completely on.
He got the right arm in, and shivered slightly from the cold. He then reached back to the zipper strap and gently tugged at the zipper. It slid up easily, and the wetsuit tightened around his chest and waist as he slowly pulled it up. He almost came in the suit, the feeling was incredible. As the zipper reached the top, he reached around the neck and fastened the Velcro flap over the zipper and then just stood there for a moment.
The coldness of the suit had dissipated as his body warmth began to heat up the moisture. He stood, caressing his arms and chest with his hands. He stepped over to the bathroom mirror…the suit couldn’t have fit any better, it was snug, smooth and shiny…he’d get a quick picture…and dashed to the closet and grabbed his old Polaroid camera. It still had film for two pictures in it.
He snapped both in front of the mirror, one from the front, and a second from the side. He rubbed his crotch…it felt great. He thought about just keeping the suit…but he reluctantly reached around, undid the Velcro, and slowly unzipped it. He carefully slid it off and hid it back under the pile of clothes in the laundry basket.
By that time, the Polaroid pictures had developed. He gently stroked his cock as he stared at them. He then figured he’d better get a move on, quickly got dressed and headed back down to the laundry room. His heart was beating rapidly as he approached the bottom of the stairwell. Just as he entered the laundry room, he almost dropped his basket in panic as he heard a noise from inside. He stepped in, nobody was there…but someone had been there, as one of the washing machines was in the spin cycle.
He quickly grabbed the suit and stepped over to the basin. The hanger…where had he put the thick plastic hanger? He scanned the basin, the floor and the shelves. Nothing. Had he taken it upstairs?
He decided to just leave the suit on the side of the basin, and get out of there. He could do his laundry Sunday morning. He grabbed his basket and dashed out the door and ran right into someone who was on the way in. His basket of uniforms fell all over the floor.
“Gosh, sorry bud!” the man said. He was young looking, probably around 30, and pretty athletic. He reached to help Eric pick up his uniforms. “Didn’t see you coming.”
“Oh no problem,” Eric replied, scurrying to pick up the scattered clothes. He wondered if the wetsuit belonged to this guy. He looked down and realized that the missing wetsuit hanger was at the bottom of his now empty basket. He quickly tossed a shirt on top of it.
“My name’s Joe”, the man said, tossing a pair of pants he’d picked up into the basket. “I just moved in here a few days ago.” He reached out his hand.
Eric smiled, and shook his hand. It was a strong, firm handshake. “Nice to meet you, I’m Eric” he said nervously. All of his clothes were back in the basket now. “Sorry, I gotta…a…get going”, he blurted out, and then dashed up the stairs.
When Eric got back to his apartment he was panting. That was so stupid…but it was worth it just to try on that rubbery wet-suit. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the Polaroid. He stood there and beat off into his basket of clothes while looking at it.
Early the next morning he grabbed his basket of clothes and headed back down to the laundry room. As he approached he could hear the dryers running and when he walked in, he was surprised to see Joe sitting on the little folding metal chair reading a magazine.
He looked up “Hey Eric! Long time no see!” he chuckled.
“Hi again” Eric said, a little surprised. He stepped over to one of the washing machines and opened the lid.
“Weren’t those the same clothes you washed yesterday?” Joe asked as he laid his magazine down. He got up and came over across from the machine in front of Eric.
“Yeah…I forgot my quarters” Eric said. He pulled some quarters out of his pocket and stuffed them into the top of the machine. As the machine started spewing out water he looked down and realized that he could see the faint yellow stains of cum from the day before on the top of his pile of laundry. He silently cursed and very quickly began loading the clothes into the machine. Hopefully Joe didn’t see it, or if he did, didn’t recognize it for what it was.
“Hey…that looks like my hanger.” Joe said.
Eric looked down. There was the ‘missing’ wetsuit hanger, at the bottom of his laundry basket.
Right then one of the dryer beeped loudly indicating the cycle was finished. Joe stepped away from the washing machines to the wall where the dryers were. He began unloading his laundry.
Eric felt like he was going to vomit. Obviously the wetsuit DID belong to this guy…and he must know that he had been messing with it. “Um yeah…this isn’t my hanger...” he stuttered.
“Yeah it’s mine…just like that wetsuit I had drying in here yesterday.” Joe said.
Eric swallowed hard…a lump had formed in his throat. “Oh yeah…I um…I saw that.”
“Did you like trying it on?” Joe asked, nonchalantly, as he continued folding his towels.
Eric just stared at him, not sure what he should say. “I um…I don’t know what you mean.” He finally mumbled.
“See, yesterday after we met in the hall, I found this picture of you wearing it.” Joe said. He stepped over to his magazine, picked it up, and pulled out a Polaroid that was tucked inside it. It showed Eric in the suit from the side…he hadn’t even realized it was missing! It must have
dropped from his pocket!
“From the bulge down here...” he said, looking at the picture, “…it looks like you did.”
“I guess I just wanted to see what it was like on…I’m sorry…gosh…I know it was wrong to mess with your stuff.” Eric felt sick. He then noticed that Joe was smiling at him.
“It’s no problem boy.” He said. “I know where you’re coming from.” He opened up the magazine and held it up to Eric. Inside were pictures of rubber clad men groping each other. It was a fetish magazine! “Tell me, what you think about this?” he asked.
Eric was dumbstruck. “I guess that’s cool.” He stared with disbelief at the magazine, and then into Joe’s friendly brown eyes. “Are you into rubber and stuff?” Eric finally got the courage to ask.
“I’m way into rubber, boy.” Joe replied. “Sounds like you are too!” He turned the magazine around and flipped through a few more pages. “What about this? Does this turn you on?”
He flipped the magazine around…this time it was a full page spread with a guy completely decked out in a shiny rubber wetsuit, just like the one Eric had on the day before. The man was strapped down to a table with thick red rubber straps. He was wearing some sort of rubber mask hooked up to an inflated bag. He had a look of horny desperation in his eyes.
Eric stared at the picture, and realized that he was quite turned on. “Um…sure…” he said. He had an erection. It was obvious from the tent in his thin sweatpants that he liked what he saw.
“I took this picture.” Joe said. “I contributed this whole article…” he closed the magazine and reached over and put his hand on Eric’s shoulder. “Tell me, boy…” he said…his voice had taken on a more authoritative tone, “do you want to come up to my loft and try on some of my other gear?”
Eric nodded slowly, “Yes.”
He followed him up the steps to the top floor and into his loft. “This isn’t where I live, I just use this as a studio.” He said as they walked in. The first thing Eric noticed was two thick metal cages by the door. Inside each of them were men clad in rubber on hands and knees. They had thick puffy rubber hoods on, with no eyes and a tube that stuck out and made a hissing noise when they breathed. Their hands were puffy balls of rubber. Their ankles and knees were strapped to the back and side of the cage, and their hoods were attached to the top.
“Ah…that’s Ralph and Derick…my pups for this afternoons shoot.” Joe said. “They can’t hear us, so you can go ‘pet’ them if you want to say hello.”
Eric could hardly believe it. He reached into the right cage and patted the ‘pup’ on the back. He instantly sensed the touch and began to wiggle and strain against the restraints. Eric could hear a swishing sound and could smell urine…these guys had evidently been in this suit for some time. There was an inhumane grunting sound from the breathing tube.
“How long have they been in there?”
“They agreed to be my pups for three days…oh don’t worry, they haven’t been in the cage that long. I take them out for walks and exercise and for feeding. At the end of the three days we do a photo shoot and then they go back to their master. I’m just watching them for him.”
Eric stood up from the cage and surveyed the rest of the loft. It was large, and there was a lot of photographic equipment, big lighting umbrellas and tripods. There was also a suspended bondage board, with the red rubber straps hanging from it that were the same ones in the picture from the magazine. On a rod hanging from the ceiling near one wall were at least forty various rubber suits mostly in black but a few in grey, and one that looked like a red and white leather motocross suit.
There was a large iron bed, with black rubber sheets, and all along the wall were metal shelves covered in gasmasks, and other unrecognizable rubber toys. Eric was overwhelmed.
Joe had stepped over to a large metal tool shelf and had pulled open one of the drawers. “So boy, how about you try this on?” he held up something small and black. Eric couldn’t make out exactly what it was in the dim light. He stepped closer.
“Here yah go.” Joe said. It was a hood. He unzipped it and lifted it up. Joe reached up and felt it. It was made of thin rubber and had a thick strap with buckles at the neck. “Come on, let’s see if it fits.” Joe said and held it open in front of Eric’s face.
Eric peered into the hood…he could see some light from the thick goggles and as he moved forward Joe carefully slid the hood onto his face. He felt soft rubber press up against his chin, and over his nose, and something pushed up against his lips.
“Oh…open your mouth up, boy.” Joe said. Eric complied, and a bit of soft rubber entered his mouth…it was like a little pacifier, he sucked on the rubber a little. The mask then fit firmly around his chin and up around his nose. As Joe pulled the rest of the hood on, he could see him smiling at him through the goggles. “What do you think? You want to try it zipped up?”
“Sure” Eric said. His words were sort of muffled. Joe reached around and pulled the zipper down over his head. The rubber pressed against his forehead and against his ears. He felt the soft rubber tighten all around his face and as he breathed he could hear the gaskets in the gas mask open and close.
The rubber smell was intense, and Eric sucked it all in. He has been fully erect since he petted the “pup” on the way in the door…this was almost too much. He reached down and realized that his rock hard cock had made a huge wet spot on his sweatpants.
Joe had moved around to Eric’s rear, and was buckling up the hood. Eric felt it tighten snugly around his neck. His tongue moved around the small bit of rubber in his mouth, and he suddenly realized that it was probably some sort of inflatable gag. “Hey…is this a gag?” he mumbled.
“Yes, boy…let me show you.” Joe reached back in the drawer and pulled something out. Eric couldn’t tell very well what it was, it was hard to see in the dim light through the goggles. He felt Joe attach something to the front of the mask and then suddenly the rubber bulb in his mouth expanded.
“That’s awesome…” he blurted out, and then the bulb expanded again, and Eric found it difficult to say much at all. He squeezed down on the soft rubber, and then it expanded again and again, and then his mouth was crammed open and he couldn’t close it if he wanted it. There was a tube in the bulb, and he was able to breathe fine, but every attempt at speech came out only in grunts.
“Grunt if you like it, boy.” Joe said.
Eric grunted. He then felt Joe disconnect the pump he had used, but the pressure in his mouth didn’t change. He reached up and felt the hood. It felt sung against his head. He could feel his warm breath coming out of the gasket at the bottom of the mask. He tried to locate the release valve for the gag, but wasn’t exactly sure where it was. He reached around back and felt for the buckle…and was surprised to feel a small metal padlock.
He wanted to say “Hey can you release the gag for a second”, but the only noises that came out of the hood were grunts and wheezing sounds.
“That’s what I like to hear!” Joe said. “You must really like it eh?”
Eric stepped back…his hands were sliding all over the hood, searching for the release valve. It was a cool hood, very horny, but he didn’t necessarily like the fact that it had been padlocked on.
“Now, now…come back here.” Joe said. He grasped both of Eric’s wrists and looked at him through the goggles. “Settle down boy, no need to get all excited. Take a few deep breaths.”
Eric inhaled a few times deeply…the hissing sound of the gasmask calmed him a little. As Eric looked at Joe’s eyes through the gas mask goggle, he realized that Joe was now looking beyond him. He seemed to nod at someone. Eric suddenly realized that they weren’t alone in the room. He felt someone come up from behind, and his wrists were transferred into someone’s strong, rubbery grip.
“We got a lot more stuff for you to try on.” Joe said, and with that he reached up and to the goggle and turned something and a shutter snapped closed over them. It became pitch black…Eric couldn’t see a thing!
He began to struggle. He tried to say “Let me go…hey” but it came out as a series of wheezes and grunts.
He felt someone, Joe?, hug him tightly and push him backward into someone else’s arms. He was dragged along and then dropped down on something soft…maybe the bed. His felt straps being attached to his arms and legs, and soon he was pulled spread eagle. Then everything stopped.
“It Looks like we got ourselves a brand new rubber boy to play with” he heard Joe say. “Grunt if you like it, boy.”
Eric didn’t have a lot of rubber gear…it was expensive, and his job as a night security guard paid barely enough to cover his crappy efficiency apartment in one of the worst parts of the city. He had scraped a little together to get a rubber harness…and had found a nice elbow-length pair of black rubber chemical gloves on eBay. He’d worn the harness to “The Grind”, the closest thing to a gay fetish club in the state, but the crowd there is mostly a lot of straight “goth” wannabe’s and swingers looking for hookups, not a single “gay rubberman” that he constantly fantasized about from the pictures on the internet and in the fetish magazines he occasionally purchased.
That’s why Eric stood transfixed as he stared at the shiny black wetsuit that hung from a thick plastic hanger above the basin in the laundry room of the apartment complex. He stood in the doorway with his basket of last week’s uniforms for a moment, and then stepped in, sat the basket down, and stepped closer to the glistening wetsuit.
It was still wet…someone had hand washed it in the basin and hung it to dry. It was still dripping water into the basin. It was a shimmery rubber-coated neoprene full-suit, completely black and surprisingly devoid of any corporate logos. It zipped up the back. Eric wondered what size it was, how stretchy it was and whether he could fit into it.
Eric looked around…nobody was in sight, and the coin operated washers and dryers were quiet. He had this incredible temptation to just grab the suit, stuff it under the clothes in his basket and head quietly back up the stairs.
He slowly reached up to touch the sleeves and lightly pinched the fabric. The rubber was thick but luxuriously stretchy. His cock stiffened as he imagined how that must feel from the inside, the rubber snug against his arms and legs, the feeling as you zipped the zipper up the back as it stretched around your torso.
His tugging had dislodged the hanger, it slid off and the suit fell into his arms. Eric’s heart skipped a beat as he caught the weight of the wet mass of neoprene and rubber. He stood there for a second…the room was still silent, and there was no noise from the stairwell. He could sneak it back upstairs, try it on for a few minutes, and then return it a few minutes later. Whoever left it here obviously planned on letting it drip dry, so they may not even realize it was gone.
He dropped it into his basket, covered it up and quickly dashed up the stairs. As he ascended, his heart pounded and he kept staring at the basket to be sure that none of the glorious rubber was visible. He reached his apartment and his arms were shaking as he fiddled with the key to the door. Then he was inside.
Eric dumped the clothes out of the basket and onto the floor and delicately pulled out the damp wetsuit. He would need to be quick…try it on, check himself out in the mirror, and get it back downstairs before anyone noticed it was missing. He kicked off his sandals and stripped out of his clothes.
He sat down on the edge of his bed and held the wetsuit up in front of him. His cock was rock hard as he put his legs into the suit and pulled up the cold neoprene. The suit fit snugly, he decided to go slow…it wouldn’t be good if he ripped it.
Part of the snug fit was due to the suit’s dampness…being so wet it wanted to cling to his legs. He managed to get both feet through and then the rest of the suit slid up pretty easily over his hips and thighs. He pushed his raging hard-on down the left leg, and then tugged up the suit as much as he could at the waist. He then slid his left arm, and it was surprisingly easier than he thought it would be…it was going to fit! He was going to be able to get it completely on.
He got the right arm in, and shivered slightly from the cold. He then reached back to the zipper strap and gently tugged at the zipper. It slid up easily, and the wetsuit tightened around his chest and waist as he slowly pulled it up. He almost came in the suit, the feeling was incredible. As the zipper reached the top, he reached around the neck and fastened the Velcro flap over the zipper and then just stood there for a moment.
The coldness of the suit had dissipated as his body warmth began to heat up the moisture. He stood, caressing his arms and chest with his hands. He stepped over to the bathroom mirror…the suit couldn’t have fit any better, it was snug, smooth and shiny…he’d get a quick picture…and dashed to the closet and grabbed his old Polaroid camera. It still had film for two pictures in it.
He snapped both in front of the mirror, one from the front, and a second from the side. He rubbed his crotch…it felt great. He thought about just keeping the suit…but he reluctantly reached around, undid the Velcro, and slowly unzipped it. He carefully slid it off and hid it back under the pile of clothes in the laundry basket.
By that time, the Polaroid pictures had developed. He gently stroked his cock as he stared at them. He then figured he’d better get a move on, quickly got dressed and headed back down to the laundry room. His heart was beating rapidly as he approached the bottom of the stairwell. Just as he entered the laundry room, he almost dropped his basket in panic as he heard a noise from inside. He stepped in, nobody was there…but someone had been there, as one of the washing machines was in the spin cycle.
He quickly grabbed the suit and stepped over to the basin. The hanger…where had he put the thick plastic hanger? He scanned the basin, the floor and the shelves. Nothing. Had he taken it upstairs?
He decided to just leave the suit on the side of the basin, and get out of there. He could do his laundry Sunday morning. He grabbed his basket and dashed out the door and ran right into someone who was on the way in. His basket of uniforms fell all over the floor.
“Gosh, sorry bud!” the man said. He was young looking, probably around 30, and pretty athletic. He reached to help Eric pick up his uniforms. “Didn’t see you coming.”
“Oh no problem,” Eric replied, scurrying to pick up the scattered clothes. He wondered if the wetsuit belonged to this guy. He looked down and realized that the missing wetsuit hanger was at the bottom of his now empty basket. He quickly tossed a shirt on top of it.
“My name’s Joe”, the man said, tossing a pair of pants he’d picked up into the basket. “I just moved in here a few days ago.” He reached out his hand.
Eric smiled, and shook his hand. It was a strong, firm handshake. “Nice to meet you, I’m Eric” he said nervously. All of his clothes were back in the basket now. “Sorry, I gotta…a…get going”, he blurted out, and then dashed up the stairs.
When Eric got back to his apartment he was panting. That was so stupid…but it was worth it just to try on that rubbery wet-suit. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the Polaroid. He stood there and beat off into his basket of clothes while looking at it.
Early the next morning he grabbed his basket of clothes and headed back down to the laundry room. As he approached he could hear the dryers running and when he walked in, he was surprised to see Joe sitting on the little folding metal chair reading a magazine.
He looked up “Hey Eric! Long time no see!” he chuckled.
“Hi again” Eric said, a little surprised. He stepped over to one of the washing machines and opened the lid.
“Weren’t those the same clothes you washed yesterday?” Joe asked as he laid his magazine down. He got up and came over across from the machine in front of Eric.
“Yeah…I forgot my quarters” Eric said. He pulled some quarters out of his pocket and stuffed them into the top of the machine. As the machine started spewing out water he looked down and realized that he could see the faint yellow stains of cum from the day before on the top of his pile of laundry. He silently cursed and very quickly began loading the clothes into the machine. Hopefully Joe didn’t see it, or if he did, didn’t recognize it for what it was.
“Hey…that looks like my hanger.” Joe said.
Eric looked down. There was the ‘missing’ wetsuit hanger, at the bottom of his laundry basket.
Right then one of the dryer beeped loudly indicating the cycle was finished. Joe stepped away from the washing machines to the wall where the dryers were. He began unloading his laundry.
Eric felt like he was going to vomit. Obviously the wetsuit DID belong to this guy…and he must know that he had been messing with it. “Um yeah…this isn’t my hanger...” he stuttered.
“Yeah it’s mine…just like that wetsuit I had drying in here yesterday.” Joe said.
Eric swallowed hard…a lump had formed in his throat. “Oh yeah…I um…I saw that.”
“Did you like trying it on?” Joe asked, nonchalantly, as he continued folding his towels.
Eric just stared at him, not sure what he should say. “I um…I don’t know what you mean.” He finally mumbled.
“See, yesterday after we met in the hall, I found this picture of you wearing it.” Joe said. He stepped over to his magazine, picked it up, and pulled out a Polaroid that was tucked inside it. It showed Eric in the suit from the side…he hadn’t even realized it was missing! It must have
dropped from his pocket!
“From the bulge down here...” he said, looking at the picture, “…it looks like you did.”
“I guess I just wanted to see what it was like on…I’m sorry…gosh…I know it was wrong to mess with your stuff.” Eric felt sick. He then noticed that Joe was smiling at him.
“It’s no problem boy.” He said. “I know where you’re coming from.” He opened up the magazine and held it up to Eric. Inside were pictures of rubber clad men groping each other. It was a fetish magazine! “Tell me, what you think about this?” he asked.
Eric was dumbstruck. “I guess that’s cool.” He stared with disbelief at the magazine, and then into Joe’s friendly brown eyes. “Are you into rubber and stuff?” Eric finally got the courage to ask.
“I’m way into rubber, boy.” Joe replied. “Sounds like you are too!” He turned the magazine around and flipped through a few more pages. “What about this? Does this turn you on?”
He flipped the magazine around…this time it was a full page spread with a guy completely decked out in a shiny rubber wetsuit, just like the one Eric had on the day before. The man was strapped down to a table with thick red rubber straps. He was wearing some sort of rubber mask hooked up to an inflated bag. He had a look of horny desperation in his eyes.
Eric stared at the picture, and realized that he was quite turned on. “Um…sure…” he said. He had an erection. It was obvious from the tent in his thin sweatpants that he liked what he saw.
“I took this picture.” Joe said. “I contributed this whole article…” he closed the magazine and reached over and put his hand on Eric’s shoulder. “Tell me, boy…” he said…his voice had taken on a more authoritative tone, “do you want to come up to my loft and try on some of my other gear?”
Eric nodded slowly, “Yes.”
He followed him up the steps to the top floor and into his loft. “This isn’t where I live, I just use this as a studio.” He said as they walked in. The first thing Eric noticed was two thick metal cages by the door. Inside each of them were men clad in rubber on hands and knees. They had thick puffy rubber hoods on, with no eyes and a tube that stuck out and made a hissing noise when they breathed. Their hands were puffy balls of rubber. Their ankles and knees were strapped to the back and side of the cage, and their hoods were attached to the top.
“Ah…that’s Ralph and Derick…my pups for this afternoons shoot.” Joe said. “They can’t hear us, so you can go ‘pet’ them if you want to say hello.”
Eric could hardly believe it. He reached into the right cage and patted the ‘pup’ on the back. He instantly sensed the touch and began to wiggle and strain against the restraints. Eric could hear a swishing sound and could smell urine…these guys had evidently been in this suit for some time. There was an inhumane grunting sound from the breathing tube.
“How long have they been in there?”
“They agreed to be my pups for three days…oh don’t worry, they haven’t been in the cage that long. I take them out for walks and exercise and for feeding. At the end of the three days we do a photo shoot and then they go back to their master. I’m just watching them for him.”
Eric stood up from the cage and surveyed the rest of the loft. It was large, and there was a lot of photographic equipment, big lighting umbrellas and tripods. There was also a suspended bondage board, with the red rubber straps hanging from it that were the same ones in the picture from the magazine. On a rod hanging from the ceiling near one wall were at least forty various rubber suits mostly in black but a few in grey, and one that looked like a red and white leather motocross suit.
There was a large iron bed, with black rubber sheets, and all along the wall were metal shelves covered in gasmasks, and other unrecognizable rubber toys. Eric was overwhelmed.
Joe had stepped over to a large metal tool shelf and had pulled open one of the drawers. “So boy, how about you try this on?” he held up something small and black. Eric couldn’t make out exactly what it was in the dim light. He stepped closer.
“Here yah go.” Joe said. It was a hood. He unzipped it and lifted it up. Joe reached up and felt it. It was made of thin rubber and had a thick strap with buckles at the neck. “Come on, let’s see if it fits.” Joe said and held it open in front of Eric’s face.
Eric peered into the hood…he could see some light from the thick goggles and as he moved forward Joe carefully slid the hood onto his face. He felt soft rubber press up against his chin, and over his nose, and something pushed up against his lips.
“Oh…open your mouth up, boy.” Joe said. Eric complied, and a bit of soft rubber entered his mouth…it was like a little pacifier, he sucked on the rubber a little. The mask then fit firmly around his chin and up around his nose. As Joe pulled the rest of the hood on, he could see him smiling at him through the goggles. “What do you think? You want to try it zipped up?”
“Sure” Eric said. His words were sort of muffled. Joe reached around and pulled the zipper down over his head. The rubber pressed against his forehead and against his ears. He felt the soft rubber tighten all around his face and as he breathed he could hear the gaskets in the gas mask open and close.
The rubber smell was intense, and Eric sucked it all in. He has been fully erect since he petted the “pup” on the way in the door…this was almost too much. He reached down and realized that his rock hard cock had made a huge wet spot on his sweatpants.
Joe had moved around to Eric’s rear, and was buckling up the hood. Eric felt it tighten snugly around his neck. His tongue moved around the small bit of rubber in his mouth, and he suddenly realized that it was probably some sort of inflatable gag. “Hey…is this a gag?” he mumbled.
“Yes, boy…let me show you.” Joe reached back in the drawer and pulled something out. Eric couldn’t tell very well what it was, it was hard to see in the dim light through the goggles. He felt Joe attach something to the front of the mask and then suddenly the rubber bulb in his mouth expanded.
“That’s awesome…” he blurted out, and then the bulb expanded again, and Eric found it difficult to say much at all. He squeezed down on the soft rubber, and then it expanded again and again, and then his mouth was crammed open and he couldn’t close it if he wanted it. There was a tube in the bulb, and he was able to breathe fine, but every attempt at speech came out only in grunts.
“Grunt if you like it, boy.” Joe said.
Eric grunted. He then felt Joe disconnect the pump he had used, but the pressure in his mouth didn’t change. He reached up and felt the hood. It felt sung against his head. He could feel his warm breath coming out of the gasket at the bottom of the mask. He tried to locate the release valve for the gag, but wasn’t exactly sure where it was. He reached around back and felt for the buckle…and was surprised to feel a small metal padlock.
He wanted to say “Hey can you release the gag for a second”, but the only noises that came out of the hood were grunts and wheezing sounds.
“That’s what I like to hear!” Joe said. “You must really like it eh?”
Eric stepped back…his hands were sliding all over the hood, searching for the release valve. It was a cool hood, very horny, but he didn’t necessarily like the fact that it had been padlocked on.
“Now, now…come back here.” Joe said. He grasped both of Eric’s wrists and looked at him through the goggles. “Settle down boy, no need to get all excited. Take a few deep breaths.”
Eric inhaled a few times deeply…the hissing sound of the gasmask calmed him a little. As Eric looked at Joe’s eyes through the gas mask goggle, he realized that Joe was now looking beyond him. He seemed to nod at someone. Eric suddenly realized that they weren’t alone in the room. He felt someone come up from behind, and his wrists were transferred into someone’s strong, rubbery grip.
“We got a lot more stuff for you to try on.” Joe said, and with that he reached up and to the goggle and turned something and a shutter snapped closed over them. It became pitch black…Eric couldn’t see a thing!
He began to struggle. He tried to say “Let me go…hey” but it came out as a series of wheezes and grunts.
He felt someone, Joe?, hug him tightly and push him backward into someone else’s arms. He was dragged along and then dropped down on something soft…maybe the bed. His felt straps being attached to his arms and legs, and soon he was pulled spread eagle. Then everything stopped.
“It Looks like we got ourselves a brand new rubber boy to play with” he heard Joe say. “Grunt if you like it, boy.”