The surplus store had the standard red white and blue painted sign out front,
"Army Surplus, Buy/Sell/Trade". Paul had come looking for another M17
gasmask when his old one, a gift from a past Rubber master, had been stolen out
of the back of his car. Wearing tight black leather pants that outlined his
tight ass, and helped his waist and upper body in his t shirt have that
muscular look, his outfit was finished off with black biker, he appeared to be
a normal twenty-something ready to go clubbing. Scissoring his legs with
nervous expectation, hoping that this store would have the mask that held so
many strong rubber memories for him, he knew that there was much more to him
than the glossy exterior seen by most men and women. Paul was a secret slave to
latex bondage. Even now, his cock and balls were sweaty and hard inside the
tight black rubber underwear he wore under his leather pants.
He sighed, and moved forward, pushing open the door with the sound of metal jangling. Chains hooked around the door handle swung noisily as he let the door swing shut behind him. Looking around Paul saw the obligatory flak jackets, ammo boxes, and army knife display that every surplus store seemed to sport.
Glancing around he saw a buzz-cut brown head behind a huge pile of camouflage gear, "Look around, ask if you don't see what you want..."
The head bobbed up and down as the clerk straightened and pulled at the gear on the table.
Moving deeper into the store, his glance immediately found what he was most interested in, the HAZMAT gear display. Pushing between the bright orange nylon quilted pilot jackets on racks to either side of him, he moved in on the dull black and shining glass of the gasmasks laying on the display table and strapped onto various mannequins posed around it. His cock got hard, as he saw several M17 masks, black rubber dusted lightly with talc, presenting stark alien faces with the glint of their empty eyes hypnotizing him. He flashed back to the numerous times he had been bound, strapped into rubber, lubed ass filled with buzzing dildos, air hissing in and out of the ports of the M17 gasmask strapped tightly around his head. Cock and ass convulsing as he climaxed into the latex binding him, mask clamping to his face as he surrendered to the rubber.
He refocused, looking for a price tag on the nearest mask, knowing that whatever it said, he had to have one. He started, dropping the tag as a baritone voice spoke at his elbow.
"We always carry an excellent selection of breathing gear, The M17 is a good reliable model, heavy rubber inner face flanges, good face seal, and very durable. The straps tighten for a snug comfortable fit, so you can use this baby for hours at a time..."
Turning Paul saw the owner of the brown buzz-cut. About 6 foot, with green eyes, a green cotton tee tight over his chest, the clerk smiled and waited for his answer.
Taking a deep breath he tried to come up from black slick hole the rubber was pulling him into, "I'm looking for a mask to replace one that was stolen, it was an M17 too." He smiled nervously at him.
"Stolen? That's too bad. But, these should do a good job in its place. We've actually got some specially modified versions for sale also, do you want to see them?" The clerk glanced down at his crotch, and he was reddened realizing how obvious his rubber hardened cock must be though the tight black leather pants.
"Modified? Yes, I'd like to see them, where are they?" He turned from the clerk, hoping to adjust and hide his betraying hardness
"We keep them in the back, We just don't have enough floor space for everything out here...Follow me." The clerk pushed between the outreached nylon arms of the racks of jackets and moved towards the back of the store.
Hurrying to catch up, Paul let out a little gasp as the slick nylon of the jacket arms slid against his sensitive nipples. The clerk motioned him through a dark doorway. "They're down the stairs at the end of the hallway, go ahead, you can't miss it."
He moved down the hallway, his bike boots tapping, and walked down a dimly lit set of stairs at the end. Reaching the bottom, he saw several mannequins under the glare of a bank of track lights.
Each was wearing a heavy rubber gas mask, and also other gear. Walking up to them, Paul's breath quickened. Each mannequin stood supported by a steel frame, with metal cuffs holding onto its wrists, ankles, neck, and waist. They were also completely covered in black latex. He stepped closer, nipples starkly poking out from his t shirt as he stared at the rubber figures. Each was outfitted with a full latex catsuit, feet concealed by heavy latex surf booties, hands emerging from metal cuffs contained in finger-less, heavy rubber mittens. Some were slightly reclined; fake crotches bulging with cunningly placed vibrators, pushing against the slick black rubber.
His gaze swung up to take in the amazing gasmasks strapped tightly around each mannequin's head. All modified from what looked like M17 masks, they had tubing running from the intake ports, over the back of the racks to convincingly real oxygen tanks. Also, every gasmask's eyeports had been painted black on the inside. Each mannequin also had sizable rubber covered breasts ending in shining chrome metal caps with connecting wires.
Listening intently, he even heard the whistling of air through the hoses of the display.
"This is so realistic!" He thought to himself. Peering around the closest mannequin, he noticed that wires ran from what looked like a PEZ electrical box to a spot under where the mannequin's cock / balls and asshole would have met under the rubber of the catsuit and up to the nipple caps in front.
Unable to resist, he stretched out a hand and touched the taut rubber crotch of one of the mannequins. A moan sounded from the gas mask, and the mannequin's black slick rubber body moved under his hand.
"What!?" he jerked her hand back. His mouth opened in amazement as he heard a click, and a hum began to come from the electrical box. Each of the "mannequins" began to jerk against the metal cuffs holding them to the racks, black rubber of the catsuits shining in the hard light of the display, heavy mittened hands twisting under the restraint of the wrist manacles, masked heads nodding and pulling side to side, metal capped breasts heaving, as the sounds of air whistling though the attached hoses backgrounded it all.
He backed up, and bumped into the clerk who had stolen up behind him. "How do you like it? We deal in all types of surplus, rubber slaves included of course." Grinning he spun him against the wall and quickly bound his wrists with a pair of cuffs. "We actually just sold one of ourdisplay items, and I think you'll make a fine replacement!"
An hour had passed; he had been summarily stripped, lubed and forced to put on a heavy rubber suit just like the other slaves on display. The suit had slithered on to him, squishing the lube between ass cheeks and the tight rubber sheath enclosing his cock and balls, was now held in place by a metal band.
Zipped tightly behind his back up to his neck, wires trailed from the suit from where they entered it to control the vibrator in his butt plug that was jammed in his ass and to other vibrators located near and around his cock and balls. His hands were useless in the heavy rubber mittens, feet forced into the tight rubber feet of the suit also protesting. His toes strained against the tight slick cling of the rubber.
He was strapped into the same type of rack as the others. Wrists, ankles, waist and neck wrapped in rubber, pinioned by steel. His head was covered with the open hood of the suit, white face shining sweat-slicked from the surrounding rubber.
"Yes, I think you're going to be one of our more popular display models" The clerk stepped into the light. He was now wearing tight rubber pants, with a heavy rubber codpiece not quite concealing his thick, stiff cock, black latex t-shirt showing off the muscles in his arms and torso. His heavy black riding boots finished the look.
"Don't worry, judging by your reaction to our 'tame' display out front, you'll enjoy being a surplus rubber slave, not that you've really got a choice though..." laughing the clerk picked up a heavy rubber hood
"I want you to open wide now, we wouldn't want this hood's gag and air-hole to be blocked would we," Hooking the heavy rubber over his forehead, the clerk pulled it down, forcing a heavy rubber ball gag into his mouth, and smoothing the rubber of the hood, until only his panicked eyes were showing.
The clerk grinned and reached down to knead his new "mannequin's" cock through the rubber of the suit, feeling its stiffening in the rubber even without the aid of the butt plug that had slid so effortlessly into his tight ass.
"I really do like surplus work!" Reaching behind him he picked up one of the modified M17 masks, "Have a good time!" The mask was pulled over his head, and he was plunged into the artificial darkness caused by the blacked out lenses of the mask. The clerk pulled the straps tightly around his head, pressing the heavy seal of the mask against his nose and face.
His breath whistled through the ports with a gasp as he felt the clerk push aside the latex bonded metal caps covering his nipples and pinch each of them cruelly. Smiling, the clerk gave Paul's rubber covered nipples a squeeze also. Repositioning the chrome nipple caps, he then leaned down and plugged the leads trailing from his newest display piece into the master electrical box.
As the vibrators and butt-plug came to shuddering life deep in his ass and around his cock and balls, and the first electrical jolt shocked his nipples to even greater sensitivity, Paul gasped into the rubber of the mask, and bit down on the rubber gag filling his mouth. He was blinded, bound in rubber, nipples hard, latex covered body heaving, arms jerking against his bonds, cock trying to thrust with the vibrators, ass clenching under the butt plug's mad gyrations. Paul was a latex slave once again.
The clerk stood back and watched the twitching, restrained contortions of his newest surplus rubber slave, sightless masked head swaying and rubber wrapped hips writhing with the intensity of the sensations the rubber and electricity were evoking.
The surplus business was definitely looking up.
He sighed, and moved forward, pushing open the door with the sound of metal jangling. Chains hooked around the door handle swung noisily as he let the door swing shut behind him. Looking around Paul saw the obligatory flak jackets, ammo boxes, and army knife display that every surplus store seemed to sport.
Glancing around he saw a buzz-cut brown head behind a huge pile of camouflage gear, "Look around, ask if you don't see what you want..."
The head bobbed up and down as the clerk straightened and pulled at the gear on the table.
Moving deeper into the store, his glance immediately found what he was most interested in, the HAZMAT gear display. Pushing between the bright orange nylon quilted pilot jackets on racks to either side of him, he moved in on the dull black and shining glass of the gasmasks laying on the display table and strapped onto various mannequins posed around it. His cock got hard, as he saw several M17 masks, black rubber dusted lightly with talc, presenting stark alien faces with the glint of their empty eyes hypnotizing him. He flashed back to the numerous times he had been bound, strapped into rubber, lubed ass filled with buzzing dildos, air hissing in and out of the ports of the M17 gasmask strapped tightly around his head. Cock and ass convulsing as he climaxed into the latex binding him, mask clamping to his face as he surrendered to the rubber.
He refocused, looking for a price tag on the nearest mask, knowing that whatever it said, he had to have one. He started, dropping the tag as a baritone voice spoke at his elbow.
"We always carry an excellent selection of breathing gear, The M17 is a good reliable model, heavy rubber inner face flanges, good face seal, and very durable. The straps tighten for a snug comfortable fit, so you can use this baby for hours at a time..."
Turning Paul saw the owner of the brown buzz-cut. About 6 foot, with green eyes, a green cotton tee tight over his chest, the clerk smiled and waited for his answer.
Taking a deep breath he tried to come up from black slick hole the rubber was pulling him into, "I'm looking for a mask to replace one that was stolen, it was an M17 too." He smiled nervously at him.
"Stolen? That's too bad. But, these should do a good job in its place. We've actually got some specially modified versions for sale also, do you want to see them?" The clerk glanced down at his crotch, and he was reddened realizing how obvious his rubber hardened cock must be though the tight black leather pants.
"Modified? Yes, I'd like to see them, where are they?" He turned from the clerk, hoping to adjust and hide his betraying hardness
"We keep them in the back, We just don't have enough floor space for everything out here...Follow me." The clerk pushed between the outreached nylon arms of the racks of jackets and moved towards the back of the store.
Hurrying to catch up, Paul let out a little gasp as the slick nylon of the jacket arms slid against his sensitive nipples. The clerk motioned him through a dark doorway. "They're down the stairs at the end of the hallway, go ahead, you can't miss it."
He moved down the hallway, his bike boots tapping, and walked down a dimly lit set of stairs at the end. Reaching the bottom, he saw several mannequins under the glare of a bank of track lights.
Each was wearing a heavy rubber gas mask, and also other gear. Walking up to them, Paul's breath quickened. Each mannequin stood supported by a steel frame, with metal cuffs holding onto its wrists, ankles, neck, and waist. They were also completely covered in black latex. He stepped closer, nipples starkly poking out from his t shirt as he stared at the rubber figures. Each was outfitted with a full latex catsuit, feet concealed by heavy latex surf booties, hands emerging from metal cuffs contained in finger-less, heavy rubber mittens. Some were slightly reclined; fake crotches bulging with cunningly placed vibrators, pushing against the slick black rubber.
His gaze swung up to take in the amazing gasmasks strapped tightly around each mannequin's head. All modified from what looked like M17 masks, they had tubing running from the intake ports, over the back of the racks to convincingly real oxygen tanks. Also, every gasmask's eyeports had been painted black on the inside. Each mannequin also had sizable rubber covered breasts ending in shining chrome metal caps with connecting wires.
Listening intently, he even heard the whistling of air through the hoses of the display.
"This is so realistic!" He thought to himself. Peering around the closest mannequin, he noticed that wires ran from what looked like a PEZ electrical box to a spot under where the mannequin's cock / balls and asshole would have met under the rubber of the catsuit and up to the nipple caps in front.
Unable to resist, he stretched out a hand and touched the taut rubber crotch of one of the mannequins. A moan sounded from the gas mask, and the mannequin's black slick rubber body moved under his hand.
"What!?" he jerked her hand back. His mouth opened in amazement as he heard a click, and a hum began to come from the electrical box. Each of the "mannequins" began to jerk against the metal cuffs holding them to the racks, black rubber of the catsuits shining in the hard light of the display, heavy mittened hands twisting under the restraint of the wrist manacles, masked heads nodding and pulling side to side, metal capped breasts heaving, as the sounds of air whistling though the attached hoses backgrounded it all.
He backed up, and bumped into the clerk who had stolen up behind him. "How do you like it? We deal in all types of surplus, rubber slaves included of course." Grinning he spun him against the wall and quickly bound his wrists with a pair of cuffs. "We actually just sold one of ourdisplay items, and I think you'll make a fine replacement!"
An hour had passed; he had been summarily stripped, lubed and forced to put on a heavy rubber suit just like the other slaves on display. The suit had slithered on to him, squishing the lube between ass cheeks and the tight rubber sheath enclosing his cock and balls, was now held in place by a metal band.
Zipped tightly behind his back up to his neck, wires trailed from the suit from where they entered it to control the vibrator in his butt plug that was jammed in his ass and to other vibrators located near and around his cock and balls. His hands were useless in the heavy rubber mittens, feet forced into the tight rubber feet of the suit also protesting. His toes strained against the tight slick cling of the rubber.
He was strapped into the same type of rack as the others. Wrists, ankles, waist and neck wrapped in rubber, pinioned by steel. His head was covered with the open hood of the suit, white face shining sweat-slicked from the surrounding rubber.
"Yes, I think you're going to be one of our more popular display models" The clerk stepped into the light. He was now wearing tight rubber pants, with a heavy rubber codpiece not quite concealing his thick, stiff cock, black latex t-shirt showing off the muscles in his arms and torso. His heavy black riding boots finished the look.
"Don't worry, judging by your reaction to our 'tame' display out front, you'll enjoy being a surplus rubber slave, not that you've really got a choice though..." laughing the clerk picked up a heavy rubber hood
"I want you to open wide now, we wouldn't want this hood's gag and air-hole to be blocked would we," Hooking the heavy rubber over his forehead, the clerk pulled it down, forcing a heavy rubber ball gag into his mouth, and smoothing the rubber of the hood, until only his panicked eyes were showing.
The clerk grinned and reached down to knead his new "mannequin's" cock through the rubber of the suit, feeling its stiffening in the rubber even without the aid of the butt plug that had slid so effortlessly into his tight ass.
"I really do like surplus work!" Reaching behind him he picked up one of the modified M17 masks, "Have a good time!" The mask was pulled over his head, and he was plunged into the artificial darkness caused by the blacked out lenses of the mask. The clerk pulled the straps tightly around his head, pressing the heavy seal of the mask against his nose and face.
His breath whistled through the ports with a gasp as he felt the clerk push aside the latex bonded metal caps covering his nipples and pinch each of them cruelly. Smiling, the clerk gave Paul's rubber covered nipples a squeeze also. Repositioning the chrome nipple caps, he then leaned down and plugged the leads trailing from his newest display piece into the master electrical box.
As the vibrators and butt-plug came to shuddering life deep in his ass and around his cock and balls, and the first electrical jolt shocked his nipples to even greater sensitivity, Paul gasped into the rubber of the mask, and bit down on the rubber gag filling his mouth. He was blinded, bound in rubber, nipples hard, latex covered body heaving, arms jerking against his bonds, cock trying to thrust with the vibrators, ass clenching under the butt plug's mad gyrations. Paul was a latex slave once again.
The clerk stood back and watched the twitching, restrained contortions of his newest surplus rubber slave, sightless masked head swaying and rubber wrapped hips writhing with the intensity of the sensations the rubber and electricity were evoking.
The surplus business was definitely looking up.