Story – ‘Flight of Fantasy’

A once in a lifetime holiday adventure in rubber!

The warmth of the water was almost too good, as I lay there relaxing. Time was ticking by though, and I had to start making a move if I was going to get to the airport with time to spare. I didn’t like rushing, especially at airports, and anyway, I had to be checked in two hours prior to take off. If I was going to go, I was going to have to make a move. It was now or never.

You see, this holiday was to be one with a difference. A weekend break in San Francisco was on the cards, but a break with a difference. I had decided that this was to be a fetish weekend. I planned to go out of my way to explore the fetish scene in another city, as exploring the scene on my own doorstep had always worried me. You never know who you might meet, and a confrontation with work colleagues would prove uneasy. In a new city would be completely different. I could do as I pleased, go where I wanted and dress how I liked without the fear of bumping into somebody I know. I know it would be a long way to go for one weekend, but figured it would be worth it. To ensure that I couldn’t back out of the fetish weekend once I had started, I was going to pack and dress accordingly. Therefore, only fetish and bondage items would be worn and packed, meaning that the only way I could change my mind once out in San Francisco would be to go and buy a completely new wardrobe.
Plucking up the courage to go through with this, I decided to get ready. I got out of the bath and dried myself off. Walking out of the bathroom and into my bedroom, I was met with the beautiful sight of various items of black rubber and PVC stretched out over the bed. The light shimmered off various parts of the clothing as I moved towards it. To start with, I had decided to subject myself to some rubber bondage for the duration of the flight, but in a mild sort of way. I pulled on some black rubber shorts with a sheath at the front. Greasing it slightly, I guided my cock into its position; a position it would have to remain in for the next eleven hours or so. Realizing that all was not right, I picked up the butt plug from the bed, greased that, and inserted it into place beneath the shorts, finding its home inside my ass.

The shorts were then pulled back into position before I pulled on my tee-shirt. This was a long sleeve affair which closed with a small zip at the back of the neck. The coldness of the rubber sent a shiver down my spine as I smoothed out the wrinkles in the rubber over my chest. I knew that the coldness would be short-lived, and that sooner, rather than later, the heat would be the main problem. Next I pulled on some black rubber leggings which would encase my legs. I stood back for a moment to admire myself in the mirror, feeling a sense of apprehension as well as unease as the realization that I was going to go through with this started to sink home.

Next came the bondage item, if you can call it that. It was a full catsuit, made from the finest rubber. It fitted from the ankles up to the neck, with full length sleeves. It closed via two zips on the shoulders. This meant that as there were no zips around the crotch area that I would have to remove the suit if I wanted to use the bathroom. If I didn’t remove the suit, then from this point on, I would be subjecting myself to the next eleven hours sealed into layers of black rubber.

I eased my already rubber clad legs into the legs of the suit, and then eased up the bulk of the suit around my body. Pulling the zips closed, I once again stood back to admire my new rubber clad figure in the mirror. It would have been very easy to shoot my load at this sight, but I held back, knowing that what lay ahead would be worth waiting for.

My penis was already rock hard, and I started to doubt even at this point whether I could stand the next eleven hours sealed into this rubber prison. Could I really stand to go that long without the toilet?

To lessen the shock of my appearance for the general public, I then dressed in my club gear. This consisted of black PVC jeans and jacket. These items were my pride and joy, as more and more PVC clothes had become street wear with the introduction of club wear and fetish icons into everyday human life. The PVC jeans were first, sealing my legs behind their third layer. The jacket hid the rest of my rubber appearance, and I checked my appearance again in the mirror.

I looked very presentable, and felt a great deal hotter. The suit was warming up, and my mind stated to question whether I would stand the heat build-up for the next eleven hours.

I then packed a small PVC bag with my other essentials for the trip. The usual toiletries, some extra rubber clothing, more catsuits, some bondage items and some reading material. Even though I was setting out on a fetish break, my serious side told me that I would probably chicken out of finding any real action and have to be content with some magazines, some rubber clothing and my own company in my hotel room. With everything packed, and my tickets and passport in my hand, I set off for the front door. No turning back no I thought! This was it!

As I moved towards the front door, I once again caught my reflection in one of the mirrors on the wall. I started to have severe doubts about setting foot outside my flat in broad daylight dressed as I was. I almost turned back. But it was too late; I was opening the door, stepping outside and closing the door shut behind me. A few people stared, a few made comments, but rather than run back to the safety of the flat, I walked on, towards the road where I could hail a cab. This proved to be slightly more problematic than I thought. Perhaps it was my appearance which frightened off some of the drivers. I was just about to turn back to the flat to phone for a taxi when a black cab pulled up alongside me.

A young man, aged around twenty-eight years old pulled the window down to ask me where I was off to. Straight away I felt easier as I spotted the driver was wearing a stunning black leather shirt which must have cost a fortune. I told him I was heading for the airport, and boarded the taxi.

It didn’t take long before the usual taxi driver conversation started up. But this conversation was slightly different. He asked me where I was going. I told him my destination to which he added that I was dressed perfectly for the city. I played ignorance and asked him what he meant. “Sorry, I just thought that dressed as you were that you were going across for the fetish scene” he replied.

I was completely shocked. Could my cover be blown within the first two minutes of my trip? To try and diffuse the situation, I added that the clothes I was wearing were merely comfortable clothes for such a long trip. “What about the rubber top?” came the answer from the driver I wasn’t prepared for.

I was stunned to silence. How could he possible have known? As I glanced to catch my reflection in the driver’s mirror, I spotted to my horror that you could just make out my rubber catsuit underneath the collar of the jacket. I sat back in my seat, waiting for the ridicule and comments from the driver. What I heard instead changed the course of my weekend.

The taxi driver saw my unease, and tried to relax me by telling me his name was Paul, and that he had been across in San Francisco only three weeks ago. He went on to explain that he really enjoyed the fetish scene over there, and that was where he had bought his leather jeans and shirt from. At this I jumped up to take a look. I had noticed the shirt, but not the jeans as well. They looked stunning also.

With this, I relaxed, realizing that here was somebody who I could rely upon not to ridicule me. We talked at some length about San Francisco, where to go, what to see, what to be seen in! Before long, Paul knew everything about my likes and dislikes, and my plans for the fetish holiday.

The conversation was going so well that I didn’t notice we had deviated from the normal route to the airport. As we pulled around a bend in the road and into a small housing estate, I finally twigged, and asked what was going on. Paul pulled the taxi to a standstill and turned the engine off. Turning around he told me that he had plenty of friends in San Francisco and that if I wanted he could make some phone calls from his house. These phone calls would set up meetings with people who would look after me and show me the sights. The real sights! But to do this, it would be total indulgence or none at all. The weekend would have to start here with complete trust in the plan, otherwise it wouldn’t work.

As good as the offer was, I felt I had to explain to Paul that I was not gay and looking for male sex. I was merely looking for a good fetish break. Paul again put me at ease and explained that this would not be a problem. With this reassurance, I accepted the offer and asked what would happen now. Paul told me that he was going to pop inside to make a few phone calls and also to make some adjustments to my outfit, which he would explain later. With that, I followed him into his house to make the necessary calls and changes.

Paul’s house was a very nice semi-detached, perfectly looking from the outside, but inside was a completely different matter. The hallway was lined with photographs of men in all sorts of rubber bondage. Quite breathtaking!

As I walked up the stairs, following Paul, the light started to dim. At first I was puzzled, then became highly aroused, as I realized that all the walls and the ceiling was covered with black rubber sheeting. The small amount of light in the hallway was almost all absorbed by the matt finish of the rubber.

Paul opened the door on a massive room. One wall was completely covered in floor to ceiling mirrors which hid lots of cupboards. The rest of the room was empty, allowing plenty of space to play. As one of the mirrors slid open, I gasped with amazement. Racks and racks of hangers were revealed each containing a piece of rubber clothing. One of the hangers was picked out from the cupboard and held out by Paul. At first all I could see was a mass of straps, but on closer inspection I realized it was one of the best looking straight jackets I had ever seen in my life. Made up of soft, but thick black rubber, the jacket had a variety of straps hanging from it. There was also an attached hood, which gave the jacket an incredibly powerful image.

Paul explained that once I was sealed into the jacket, he would go off and make the necessary phone calls for the trip. Once that was done, we’d carry on to the airport. I didn’t even give the thought of traveling to the airport wearing such a jacket, but instead stepped forward as Paul held the jacket invitingly towards me. My arms disappeared down into the sleeves and found there resting place at the sealed ends. It was strange not to see my hands pop out from the sleeves as they would do with normal jackets. The body of the jacket was then pulled around me, and Paul stepped behind me to pull the hood up over my head. Darkness followed as the hood was placed into position, and before I could do anything about it, the fitted gag was placed into my mouth.

When the hood was seated into position, and the long back zip pulled down, the whole hood and jacket took on a tightness which ensured my muffled cries could not be heard. I felt the straps being pulled tight across the back of the jacket. One around the neck and five down the back which gave the jacket even more restrictive powers. The crotch straps were pulled between my legs and fastened into position. To finish things off, my arms were crossed in front of my chest and secured behind my back – tightly.

Various other straps were then secured; one at the front of the jacket to hold my crossed arms in position, and another which threaded around my biceps and across my back. There was no way that with these straps fastened that I would be able to escape from the jacket. If I had wanted to – which I didn’t. The jacket was a stunning fit, and felt extremely good on. I was so busy enjoying the feel of it that I completely forgot the position I had been placed in.

Suddenly I stopped enjoying the jacket. My heart almost missed a few beats as my mind caught up with the situation. Here I was, standing in somebody’s home, somebody I didn’t know just one hour ago, gagged, plugged, wearing multiple layers of black rubber and PVC clothing and sealed into a thick black rubber straight jacket which was strapped completely, holding its rubber prisoner inside. The thought sent shivers down my spine for a moment as I thought of the possible danger I had placed myself in.

The kind of bondage I had experienced so far had always been self applied, so there had to be a way out. Sure I’d ventured to the usual shops in London and even tried on a straight jacket. But it wasn’t a straight jacket then. It was only a terrific looking rubber jacket with straps and a few modifications. It would only become a straight jacket if I had wanted to get out. After all bondage is only bondage if you can’t control your way out or what’s done to you – and when.

Almost perfectly on cue, Paul returned to talk into my ear. He told me that I was a very lucky person, and that all the arrangements had been made for the trip. I was to be well looked after. With that, I started to relax again, though I still felt a great deal of trepidation. At the end of the day though, there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about the situation now – I had gone past the point of return.

I was then guided down the stairs, through the front door and eased onto the back seat of the taxi. It was one of the strangest experiences I had bee in. I was completely blinded to the outside world. Who knows, there could be a big group of people stood watching. Who knows what they would think. Probably brand me as a complete pervert. Perhaps they were right! The engine started up, and we continued our trip to the airport. Hang on – the airport! How the hell was I going to get through an airport dressed like this? I’d surely be arrested. Either that or we had no intention of going to the airport? But then where we going? No, we must be going to the airport, Paul said we were. Paul! I’d only known him for an hour or so. There was no way I could trust him – could I?

My train of thought was shattered by the sound of a plane just overhead. We must be arriving at the airport. Perhaps I could trust Paul after all. But what about all the people at the airport. . . With the tightness of the latex hood on the straight jacket all I could here was my heart beat racing faster and faster.

My mind was already racing through the countless problems and comments my appearance would cause when we came to a stop. Could people see me? Were we at the front of the building – by departures? Suddenly Paul spoke. He explained that we were parked at the back of the airport, outside a deserted building. We would be entering the airport through a deserted section of the airport. I felt slightly easier about my predicament, though I wasn’t sure why. I was still strapped into layers of latex bondage. I was eased out of the back of the taxi and into the building, where I was met by a snigger from someone I didn’t know. Paul continued to chat to this stranger. By the way the conversation was going, I don’t think the stranger had believed Paul when he had phoned through earlier to make arrangements.

The stranger continued to laugh, almost in disbelief for what seemed to be an eternity. Then he ushered Paul and me into another room. Paul started to laugh in disbelief now. Even though the stranger had doubted Paul when he phoned through earlier, explaining that he needed a rubber bondage victim transporting to San Francisco, he had made the necessary arrangements, just in case.
I was addressed by the stranger, who explained that I was going to be placed into “storage” ready for the flight. Once at the other end, I would be met by another stranger, who would ‘entertain’ me for the duration of the weekend. The word “storage” stuck in my mind, but being gagged I couldn’t ask what was meant by the term. I couldn’t even see my fate as the hood blinded me completely. As it turned out, the stranger did a pretty good job of explaining it in graphic detail to me.

I was talked through each stage of my storage in great detail. How I wished I could have seen myself. The image would have been worth savoring. The storage device was a large box, inside of which were various attachments. The box was stood upright, and I was guided inside with my back up against the back wall of the box. I felt tightness around my feet and ankles, and I found out that I had stepped into a black rubber sack which was fixed to the inside of the box. As the zip was pulled up over my legs, a new tightness kicked in, as my legs were forced together. The zip continued up over my chest, and before I knew it, the zip stopped under my chin. My body was sealed into a new tightness, which pressed into my body with extreme pressure. On top of that, I felt straps being fastened at various points from my ankles, thighs, waist, chest and neck which further pressed and constricted me.

Escape from this prison would be impossible. Even if I hadn’t been straight jacketed, plugged and gagged, I was now held immobile by this body hugging bondage rubber sack. The sensations pressing into different parts of my body only heightened the feeling swelling inside my cock, and exploded inside my rubber bondage, a fact which was recognized by Paul and the stranger, who seemed delighted that I had taken to my surroundings so well.

The lid to the box was then sealed into place, trapping my inside it. There were holes for breathing at various points on the box. I was to be stored with some animals that were being transported to San Francisco. The final insult! Not only sealed into layers of my own doing, I was sealed into rubber bondage at the hands of two strangers, and now sealed into a box for transportation with animals.

A variety of noises became evident to me, albeit very faintly through the box. I guessed that I was being transported through to the plane. After about ten minutes of movement, I came to a rest and heard a large door slam shut. I guessed that this was it. This was to be my new resting home until I got to my destination. A sudden worry haunted me. What if I was not met at the other end? I would be found dead inside this prison! That would be one for the papers. After the roar of the plane which indicated take off, I was met with a stabilizing noise which would be my only accompaniment for the next eleven hours. With that thought, I surprised myself by drifting asleep. The dreams experienced during my rubber bondage sleep were some of the most vivid I had experienced for some time.

I awoke when I heard the lid being rised off from the box. I was amazed that I had slept for so long. When the lid finally came off, I found that the air temperature rose. I must have arrived in San Francisco.

Paul’s friend, Andrew identified himself to me, though as I was still sealed into various layers of rubber bondage I only heard his voice. After checking that I was still alive, he said that in about ten minutes, when we get to his house, I would be released and be able to use the toilet, shower and take on some food and liquids before continuing my holiday. The thought of the toilet and shower were most welcome. I was by now bursting for the toilet, and was also slightly concerned that I wasn’t dehydrating from my bondage ordeal.

Upon arrival, Andrew and his two helpers wasted no time in releasing me from my bonds. I was able to stand and use mussels I’d almost forgotten I’d got. With the straight jacket removed, my lips almost had to force themselves back together, as my jaws had locked into position around the gag. Light hit my eyes, and I found myself squinting for some time. When my eyes finally adjusted to the surroundings, they were amazed to discover that I was standing in the middle of a room, lit by strip lights all over the ceiling. The walls were covered with black liquid latex. With this black rubber covering, the look and feel for the room was magnificent.

Andrew stood before me. Approximately mid thirties, over six foot tall and reasonably good looks. He greeted me, eyeing me up and down in my rubber clothing, which by now had bee pressed to my skin, and was almost unnoticed to me. Andrew wore a very simple outfit of PVC jeans and shirt. As the transition from arrival from the airport to being realized had been a smooth one, I assumed that he had been to the airport dressed like that. In broad daylight, in the middle of a busy airport, wearing PVC clothing. What a city. He reassured me after my flight, told me to have a shower, get dressed using the clothing prepared and laid out in the bathroom for me, after which time there would be a light snack and then we would continue to explore my fantasies and make this a weekend to remember.

The shower was incredible, and much needed. I started by just stepping right into the shower, and simply washing off the various layers of rubber and PVC clothing I had on. I was near to finishing drying myself off before I noticed the clothing laid out over the rail for me to dress in. It appeared to be a black rubber catsuit, but closer inspection revealed more to it than I had first thought.

It was made of a fairly heavy black rubber, had attached feet, mitts, hood with plastic eye coverings and a zip mouth opening. The crotch area was quite complex. There was a black sheath ready for my penis, and a variety of straps fixed to the body of the suit which would secure the penis once inside the sheath. Inside the suit there was something that made me swallow hard with fright. It was a butt plug, but of enormous proportions.

The talk and gel on the side helped greatly with me getting into the suit. The lower half of the body was straightforward. Easing my feet into their socks and smoothing the black rubber over my legs was easy. Impaling myself on the butt plug took my breath a few times, but was none the less seated into position. Inserting my penis into position felt good, and with the straps securing it against my body, it felt like my penis was going to explode. I did my best however to resist, knowing that there was probably even more exciting things to come.

The upper part of the suit was slightly more tricky. Getting my arms down into the sleeves was OK, but my hands suddenly became almost useless to me as they found there homes in the mitts. I managed to fumble the hood up and over my head eventually, but the zip which sealed up the back seemed to take forever. After much sweating, the zip was finally pulled up and I was finally sealed in.

The suit fitted like a glove, and boy it felt god. It was almost as if it had been designed to fit me. A perfect suit!

I emerged from the bathroom to find Andrew standing, waiting for me. After checking that I was suitably sealed in, he handed me a drink. It contained a very high protein drink, which would replenish all those lost minerals I had sweated off in the last ten hours or so. Andrew told me that it would also allow me to go up to twenty hours without the need for refreshments! That thought sent shivers down my spine. Surely Andrew wouldn’t subject me to twenty hours of rubber bondage, nobody could be that cruel. Could they?

Taking back the glass from me, Andrew took a large rubber gag from his pocket and placed it into my mouth. Securing the zip, he then locked it to a small locking post which was on the side of the mouth. He then added another padlock to the back zip of the suit, thus ensuring I couldn’t remove the suit – even if I had wanted to – which I certainly didn’t. I was once again sealed into my rubber bondage I had asked for – and completely at the mercy of another.

The heat in the suit was already building, and the more excited I got from my situation, the tighter I felt my bonds around my penis, fighting as it was to expand out fully.

Andrew locked a strap around my neck, attached to which was a lead, and he led me like a dog out of the main room. He stopped suddenly, looked me up and down, and decided that I looked incomplete. A nearby leather suitcase provided the finishing touches, as he removed a single arm binder from it.
Moving behind me, he eased both of my arms together and into the binder, located the shoulder straps into their position and finished me off by securing the strap from the bottom of the binder to a strap which went around my waist. The other straps were then tightened off, and my arms started to feel the pressure as they were pulled tightly together.

Feeling much more in control of the situation, we resumed where we had left off, with Andrew leading me forward. To my horror – we headed straight for the front door! What was he doing? It was broad daylight! People would see! My heart raced faster and faster at the thought of being seen in public, dressed in `unsuitable attire’

As my heart beat faster, I started to sweat more, and soon the plastic eye coverings started to mist up, meaning I could barely see through them.

Andrew led me straight down the main street. There were people walking their dogs, couples out walking. I was shocked! – To be out on the street in broad daylight! It was brilliant. Nobody even battered an eyelid -they just went along with their normal business – as if what was happening was an everyday occurrence!

After walking a couple of hundred yards and waiting to be arrested, finding that prospect was the last thing that was going to happen eased me completely and I started to enjoy every step. Being walked down the street dressed in full rubber bondage without a chance of escape is something to be savored.

We walked about three quarters of a mile, under mid afternoon heat. The sweat built up and up inside the suit until the line between where my skin finished and where the rubber suit started began to vanish. Had it not been for the hood, which gagged me and obscured my vision then the suit would have been almost undetectable. And if it hadn’t been for the fullness in my butt and the bondage around my penis and the tightness around my arms . . .

After walking in rubber bondage heaven for around twenty minutes, we arrived at a mate of Andrew’s. Simon met us at the front door, wearing a stunning rubber outfit. He led us into the garage where the next stage of my adventure was explained to me. I was to be made into a local attraction. The local business centre needed a new statue outside its main building, and to test people’s reaction, I was to be made into the statue where I would stay until midnight tonight. This would be part of a poll to gauge the reaction of local businessmen.

To enable this plan to work, I was to be sprayed with a new version of liquid latex. To get me ready, Simon inserted two small rubber tubes into the nose openings on the hood. These would help me breathe as the liquid was to be sprayed over me. The spray was then turned on – and I was led to the middle of the back room. The floor and walls had been covered in clear plastic, to make the cleanup process easier.

I was told to stand perfectly still, but before starting with the spray, Simon fetched another item from the other room. It was a rubber straight jacket. He removed the single arm glove and pulled my arms down into the waiting sleeves on the jacket. For a fleeting moment, my arms filled with blood again, and started to feel like useful limbs. The jacket was then pulled up but not fastened. Instead the jacket was left loose on me. The back straps weren’t even fastened – they didn’t even meet! I wasn’t quite sure why it was left this way – but it would become obvious later.

The spray started – and Simon moved around me, spraying me from every possible angle, until the warmth of the spray could be felt through the suit and hood. I was really starting to sweat now, but I remained static. After around ten minutes of building heat, the spray stopped. Still I stood static. I caught my reflection in the mirror at the end of the room, and with the jacket hanging loosely around me; it certainly provided an erotic image. The next sound to emerge was that of hairdryers! Hairdryers?

Simon explained that the spray was now being cooled by the hairdryers. When the liquid latex is in spray form, it is heated to ten degrees above body temperature, but when it cools it sets solid. As those words finally sank into my brain, I tried to move, but found that all my bodily movements were not responding. I was indeed a statue. Completely unable to move and encased in black liquid latex. Simon smiled, and then removed the two tubes from my nose. I could still easily breathe through the small openings in the hood.

I relaxed, standing up! But still I couldn’t move. I couldn’t even topple forward, as I found it impossible to throw my weight forward. I realized that I was now ready to be put on display, and I wouldn’t be able to do a damn thing about it. With this, Andrew and Simon picked me up and carried me through to the car where I was eased onto the back seat. We then drove to the office centre of San Francisco. Streets of built up offices lined each side of the road. The streets seemed to be fairly deserted, and as it was mid afternoon, this didn’t seem unusual as everybody would be at work.

We stopped by a large opening which was the square surrounded by some of the tallest of the office blocks. There was a huge fountain and a variety of carefully planted trees to brighten up the area. To my horror I was led up the steps to the centre of this square where a concrete block was positioned. With the help of my two friends, I was eased into position on top of this block which would be my resting place for the next ten hours. Simon and Andrew would return at midnight to pick my up again. What horror – ten hours as a statue, enduring a mixture of mid afternoon heat and no doubt countless stairs and taunts from a mass of office workers.

With a wave, my friends were gone, and I was left to bake. And boy did I bake. Under the afternoon heat, the sweat started to find a way of trickling down my body, forcing its way between my skin and the latex of the suit. I couldn’t move! The sweat started to tickle over my body but even though I wanted to scratch the area in question, I couldn’t move. All I could do is stand, stand and watch through by now very misty clear plastic eyes in the hood. My mouth was stuffed full, and my ass knew it was still heavily invaded. But I couldn’t move.

I just wished I could see myself at that moment, for if I had seen somebody in my situation, I would have been just as hot as I was now.

I was just starting to cross the line from enjoyment to discomfort when the emptiness of the square was shattered. People started to appear out of almost every door in every building all around me. Soon the whole square was full of people leaving work. Some people didn’t even notice that I was there – but there were plenty of people who did. Of those, the general opinion seemed to be puzzlement, as to my `deeper meaning’. There was however, a more than healthy percentage of people who were almost delighted to see me there. I wonder if they knew that I wasn’t a statue, but a grown male underneath layers of inescapable bondage. There for their amusement. I must admit that I did get a more than healthy kick from the situation. My only wish was that my bonds hadn’t been as severe so that I could have exploded with delight inside my latex wrappings.

Once the main hub of people had left, everything started to go very quite, and before I knew what was going on darkness started to descend over the office blocks. It wouldn’t be long before my creative captors would be returning to take me home and release me from my predicament. It was impossible to imagine that the latest episode had lasted for anything longer than a couple of hours. Time flies when you’re on show as a rubber bondage statue. I can strongly advise it.

It was dark when my captors returned to pick me up – literally! As I still couldn’t move, it was left to the others to lift me and guide me into the back of the car. It felt like an eternity traveling back, probably because I was starting to ache from being in one position for so long. I was beginning to think that I was never going to get out of my permanent statue pose.

My fears were not realized though, as upon our arrival back home, another spray soon washed over me. By reacting with the hardened casing which engulfed me, a chemical reaction ate away at my rigid outer casing. At last, bodily movements returned to me. The straight jacket fell away from me, and I was left standing there, just encased from head to toe in my suit.

The return of most of my senses felt great. It’s amazing how much enjoyment you can get from feeling normal again. If that’s how you can describe standing wearing a full rubber suit, hooded, gagged, plugged, your penis strapped into rubber bondage, looking through clear plastic eye holes, sweating like a pig and having been dressed up like that for some twelve hours.

Easing open the zip at the back of the suit just enough, Andrew squirted some cold lubricant inside the suit. Plenty was inserted, around my neck, down my back and enough to seep down my chest. The coldness of the liquid sent shivers throughout my body. As the liquid followed the laws of gravity and slid downwards, it found its way between the suit and my skin. The sensation was superb. Closing the zip back up I was told it was bedtime.

I was led into my bedroom for the night, if that was the right description for it. It was a small room, with a chair in the middle and a horizontal bar about shoulder height. I was told to sit on the chair whilst my captors set about strapping my ankles to the legs of the chair. When this was done, the horizontal bar was lowered to be level with my shoulders, and holding my arms out horizontally, they were strapped tightly to bar. Straps around my wrists, biceps and shoulders secured me tight, with a final strap around my neck fixing me to the bar. Andrew then undid the straps around my penis. The relief was incredible. Through all the highs of the day whilst being enclosed in this suit, my penis had nowhere to go. It stopped short of climaxing every time by its tight bondage, but now it was free again. and sprung to attention at its relief and my situation.

In this position, the liquid started to flow down my chest and settle around my ass and crotch area. Knowing this, Andrew rubbed my crotch. The rubber of the suit moved across my crotch as the liquid provided a perfect lubricant. Trickles of the cold liquid eased its way into the rubber sheath which engulfed my penis. Before being left for the night, I was relieved with a strong hand caressing the lubricated rubber around my penis until I finally added to the lubrication myself. It was time to sleep.

The night wasn’t too bad. I thought that in that position, I would have a real problem dropping off, but no such worry. All in all it was quite relaxing.

Saturday bought a new day, and I wondered what Simon and Andrew had in store for me. Could it possible better the events of yesterday? In the space of one day, having met a stranger in a taxi, I had been taken from a rubber fetishist who had always stood on the outsides looking in to somebody who had already experienced so much.

After being released from my attire, I showered and met the others for breakfast. This was probably the first and only time of the weekend when we were all together not wearing rubber. Only because we were all sat around the breakfast table naked.

As I ate, the next installment was explained to me. It seemed quite simple. I was to be dressed in rubber, placed in a straight jacket, strapped to a log and told to walk from one end of the garden to another. Depending on how long that took dictated the next part of the fun weekend. Did I say sounded simple.

After finishing eating I was led into the lounge to dress and get ready. The rubber suit looked straightforward enough. It was a full length catsuit attached feet, gloves and open face hood. As I eased my legs down into position, I realized that a cold gel had been coated inside the legs and feet of the suit. I just assumed that it would assist in me getting the suit on, as it did. It didn’t take long to get the rest of the suit pulled up and closed into position. It was a good fit. I was surprised that there were no hidden surprises – such as a butt plug, or full hood with gag, or even some sort of genital bondage.

Next came the straight jacket. It doesn’t matter how many times I see a straight jacket, it always fills me with a great sense of awe. To have such a lifeless object with its array of straps and zips looking so limp and useless transform itself into an object of shear frustration, containing its victim in rubber bondage heaven – or hell for as long as is decided by others.

This straight jacket had an attached hood, which I found out did have a gag already fitted. The jacket fitted well, and really tightened well when the straps were pulled tight. With the crotch straps fastened, the whole suit was pulled down and felt even tighter. With the hood in place and the gag fitted I was then told to stand like a scarecrow, arms out to my sides horizontally. Through the plastic eye holes of the hood, I saw Andrew step forward carrying a log. A log of all things! It didn’t look too heavy, around six inches in diameter, but I guessed that it wouldn’t feel as light as it looked. With Simian’s help it was fastened along the length of my arms and across my shoulders. Various straps were attached along my arms to keep the log firmly in place.

As they stood away I was left to feel the weight of the log for the first time. It didn’t feel too bad, but I didn’t fancy lugging it around for long. I imagined that it would be ten times as heavy in a couple of hours. But I had no intention of being strapped to it for that long.

I was then led out into the back garden. That was difficult enough, as I had to walk through the door side on so the log wound fit through. Added to that I know felt a bigger problem coming on. The gel around the feet of the suit made it very difficult to get a solid grip as I walked.

Andrew explained that all I had to was to walk to the end of the garden, which was around thirty feet away, and then walk back to the house. It sounded far too easy. It sounded too good to be true. It was. As I set off it didn’t seem too much of a problem, but I was walking on the concrete at the start of the garden. Two feet later, when the concrete disappeared and the grass started, I felt less sure on my feet, and I struggled to get a grip on the grass through the gelled feet of the suit. If I was going to do this, I’d have to be slow and careful, but even with that it shouldn’t take that long to complete the task.

All was going well until I got about halfway down the garden. Underneath my right foot, instead of grass, I felt mud. Thick mud. I just balanced my right foot, but when my left foot found that the mud got deeper and even more slippery I feared the worst. Looking through the plastic eye holes, I couldn’t see where the mud started and the grass finished. Two steps further and I realized the complexity of the challenge. The swine’s had a section of the garden which was pure mud. Difficult to walk through at the best of times, never mind wearing a rubber suit. Now I realized the reason behind the gel in the feet of the suit. Ingenious! . . . . Bastards!

Counting the steps before the inevitable happened, I felt my right foot slide as I placed it down, and with the weight of the log around my shoulders, I struggled to get my balance, and down I fell. I landed on my back. My arms spread out and lying in around six inches of mud. Covered!

As I lay there my mind turned to how difficult it was going to be to right myself. Not only was I at a disadvantage with the log around my shoulders, but the mud was really slippery, I lay there for a few minutes to work out the best way to go about this. At the end of the thought process I decided that there wasn’t one – I’d just have to go for it. With that I tried to raise my shoulders of the ground and swing my legs around. All I did was slide in the mud.

It suddenly dawned on me that I hadn’t seen any rain around here since I came, only beautiful weather. So how come it was so muddy. The only conclusion I could come up with was that my captors had deliberately laid the trap, manufacturing the mud for the occasion.

As I lay there, I strained my head to look back at the house only to see Simon and Andrew laughing their heads off and moving inside the house. I was to be left, either to swim around in the mud for hours or to try and finish the task at hand.

I tried again to get up and right myself, but the more I tried the more mud I created and the worst it seemed to get. The more my legs thrashed around in the mud, trying to get a grip, the more mud was created. All I was managing to do was change my position in the mud, and get myself covered in yet more mud. I must have looked a real sight.

When Andrew popped out to check on me, I must have been laying there for at least an hour. Andrew just laughed and left. I tried to plead that I’d had enough, but with a gag firmly in place it’s difficult to make any sense. With that I tried once again to muster the energy to try to right myself again. I moved my shoulders down into the mud and bent my legs so they went under my body. Straightening my leg now, I managed to get some leverage and forced my body up slightly – but all came crashing down when my foot slipped again in the mud and I fell again. Only this time, because I was throwing so much of my weight forward I managed to slip forward and finished on my stomach. I was now laying face first in the mud. I started to panic, wondering if I would be able to breathe in the mud.

I shouldn’t have panicked so easily, as my nose was some three to four inches above the level of the mud, but still – I was now in a position where I wouldn’t be able to get up from. I resigned myself to lying where I was – until I was rescued from my predicament. It’s surprising how taxing it is on the body when you’re in such a position. I lay there exhausted. For another two hours – unable to right myself – covered completely in inches of mud. Great Fun!

I completely lost track of how long I spent in that position, but it was a few hours at least. It was with great relief that I greeted Andrew lifting me up, restoring my proper position to me. Still with the log attached to my arms, I was led over to the wall at the back of the house. A few comments were made as to my disgraceful appearance, before I felt spurts of cold water hit me full on. Simon was hosing me down, and even though I was covered in layers of latex, I could still feel the coldness of the water.

It did the trick though, as the mud washed off me quite easily.

Restored back to my gleaming black self, the water was shut off, and the log was released from my shoulders. As my arms fell down to my side, they ached more for returning back to their natural position than they had tied to the log. The rest bite did not last for long, as my arms were crossed in the usual straight jacket position and securely strapped together. With the aid of a few latex straps, I was then secured to a pole which I can only assume was part of a washing line. Straps around my ankles and thighs forced my legs together, and I felt as if I was going to topple forward. Further straps around my head, neck and upper torso firmly secured to the post and I guessed I wouldn’t be going anywhere for a while. I was right. Andrew informed me that both he and Simon had to pop down to the shops for an hour or so, so I was to stay here until they returned. In my current situation, I was in no position to either argue or embark on a short sightseeing trip while they were away.

Being on holiday for only a short space of time worked against me. Normally I keep a fairly good grasp of the time. Even if I can’t see a clock, I know roughly what time it is. But being bound as I was in a variety of positions, I was concentrating so much on the situation, the enjoyment and the best way to maintain my comfort, that I lost track of time completely. I didn’t know if it was mid morning, midday or late afternoon. I didn’t know whether to enjoy the moment, as time was running out, or enjoy the moment, as it would last for hours yet.

Strange sounds alerted my senses as I heard voices coming into the garden. My senses were right to be alerted as I heard voices which I couldn’t identify as either Andrew’s or Simon’s. The voices grew louder and then laughter. I had been spotted, and obviously amused somebody in my predicament. I started to worry about the situation. Two strangers had discovered me bound to a post wearing rubber clothing and a rubber straight jacket. A strange hand started to explore my groin area, and despite the situation I felt my penis harden even further. One of my tormentors made a humorous comment about this to his mate.

With this I was unstrapped from the post, and the straight jacket was unfastened. The hood was pulled away from my head. It was nice to have the full function of my mouth back again. I then noticed my new admirers for the first time. Two men, in their early thirties were standing alongside me wearing some amazing black rubber outfits. One wore an amazing black overall arrangement which looked brilliant. Black rubber came up to just under his chin, where two straps fastened over his shoulders and connected to the back of the overalls. The other wore a hooded one piece suit. Quite loose fitting, the whole suit looked oversized for the man. It had mittens, and a hood which had a large piece of clear plastic at the front. Straps closed the suit close at various parts of the body, with straps around the ankles, wrists and the neck. The whole effect of the suit was superb. You could see the sweat of the man inside the suit on the clear plastic of the hood.

The man in the overalls spoke to me, asking me rather jokingly if I liked being bound up whilst wearing rubber. I just smiled back – I think he got the idea.

I gathered by the way the two men were dressed and by their mannerisms that the man in the overalls called the shots, and the man in the suit accepted the other mans instructions without much arguing.

Even though these people were complete strangers to me, I didn’t feel worried or threatened by them. Hard to imagine the same situation back in the UK. Two strange men finding me trussed to a post in a back garden wearing nothing but black rubber bondage items.

Then the man in the overalls told the other man to undress, then turned to me and told me to do the same. He wanted to see me in the hooded suit, and see his friend in the suit and straight jacket. I was game for a challenge. The thought of getting into the suit which was so obviously full of the other mans sweat was to be a new challenge. One worthy of a try I thought. Plus, although I didn’t feel threatened by the men, I wouldn’t want to provoke a situation where I would feel threatened by them.

Both of us got undressed fairly quickly. Then the stranger helped me into his suit he’d just taken off. It was a great feeling suit. The looseness of the suit was a great new sensation, and with the straps fastened around the ankles, wrists and neck, the bondage element was reinforced. The hood was so full of sweat, the initial odor was unsettling. I didn’t really have time to adjust to that when I realized why the suit was so sweaty. There were only two very small holes in the front of the hood to breathe through. This meant that every time I took a breathe, I sucked the clear plastic in to my face, and then blew the plastic away as I exhaled. It was quite a sensation, but provided comfortable breathing.

I then turned my attention to helping the stranger into the suit I had just taken off. After that, I helped him into the straight jacket. Now this was an experience and a half. Helping somebody else into a straight jacket whilst wearing a superb rubber suit. Fitting the gag inside the hood firmly into place. Tightening the straps all over the back of the jacket and finally securing the stranger into a position where he would hug himself tightly until one of us let him lose. The feeling of power at this situation was a first, and an enjoyable one at that.

When I had finished securing the stranger inside his rubber bondage, the other man started to remove the straps which were hanging around the post, which only minutes earlier had held me tightly to the pole. Instructing us both to lie down on the ground, the stranger then took the straps and proceeded to secure both the straight jacketed stranger and myself together. With our backs together, we were strapped around the neck, upper torso, ankles, thighs and waist, with extra straps fastening my hands to the side straps on the other guy’s straight jacket. We were bound together, unable to move much, with nowhere to go. The stranger looked happy with his work, and with that, left.

Back to being unable to move again, sealed inside one of the strangest sensation suits I had ever come across and strapped to a complete stranger who was wearing my suit and straight jacket which had held me only moments earlier.

Try as I did to remove my hands from the bonds, I was securely fastened. I was to be like this for the duration.

Some time past, lying there under the sun, sweating more and more with every breathe which bought the hood sucking into my face before the stranger returned. Only this time Simon and Andrew were with him. By the way they were all talking they were good friends. What a devious plan. They had organized all of this. It had been quite a thrill though. Having somebody you have never met before dictate the situation, with the end result being a completely new experience.

Before the three friends disappeared inside, we were told that we were going to stay like this until after they had eaten some tea. I found it hard to believe that so much time had past by. But what an afternoon it had been. Hours of bondage in various predicaments. Superb!

When Simon came out to release us both, I thought that the rubber bondage element would subside for me for a while so that I could take on some food and water. I assumed too much too soon.

Unstrapped from the straight jacketed stranger, I was led back into the house. I was told to undress and remove the suit. After doing so, Simon told me that I was going to enjoy some more bondage until it was time for bed. One long stint of rubber bondage without possibility of escape. Andrew appeared from the other room carrying various bits and pieces ready for my ordeal.

The first item was a butt plug. This was slightly different from the ones I had seen before. To start with it was an inflatable one. After lubricating it sufficiently I bent over and allowed it to be inserted. When I stood back up straight, I already felt full up, but I wasn’t finished yet. Andrew inflated the plug a couple of times, and I felt a huge swelling in my anus. A few more inflates later and I felt that it couldn’t go any further. Andrew stopped and then went behind me to remove the inflator valve. The butt plug did not move, did not deflate. Instead, it just stayed there, secure.

Next came a suit which looked slightly deformed in some way. It had long rubber legs, but no arms, and had a strange looking hood attached to it. With Simon and Andrew’s help I was eased into the suit. First my legs were seated into their rubbery confines. Next Andrew held up the top part of the suit to me. I looked for the sleeves for my arms, and there were no holes or openings. He told me to cross my arms straight jacket style, and then started to pull up the rest of the suit. When he got most of the suit pulled up, he explained the hood to me. It had no eye holes, two small nose holes and a gag, but the gag was attached to a small tube and a funnel which sat on top of the hood. I was told that once secured inside and strapped tightly to the chair, I was to be fed via the tube. Seamed fair enough. I get to enjoy myself sealed inside rubber bondage while somebody else feeds me. What more could a man ask for.

With that he pulled the hood up, and I felt the gag slip into my mouth. It was like a practice golf ball, a round ball which the tube went through the middle of. The rest of the hood was pulled up and into place, and I was sealed into darkness. The long zip from the top of the hood to the base of the spine was then closed and I felt the restrictive properties of the suit as it sealed my arms against my body. I was again captive in rubber bondage bliss.

I was then led to a chair in the corner of the room and forced to sit. Straps were fixed about my body and fastened to the chair. It must have been a high backed chair, as one of the straps circled my neck and held my head rigid to the chair. My legs, thighs, ankles and upper body were strapped in a similar way until I was bound completely to the chair. I was going nowhere.

I was comfortable, in fact very comfortable. It was then the I felt a cold liquid trickle in from the gag. I tasted the liquid, and it tasted like strawberries. A voice in my ear explained that it was a high concentration strawberry drink. There were enough proteins and minerals inside to keep me going for hours. With that I started to enjoy the drink more and more. The only problem was that it was coming into my mouth in a steady flow. The only way I could stop the flow and gulp down what I had in my mouth was to stick my tongue over the hole in the gag, thus stopping the flow temporarily but as soon as I removed my tongue, the liquid came gushing back into my mouth.

I didn’t expect that this would go on for long, but it did. It went on and on for ages. Eventually the liquid turned to water, as I must have had my fill of the strawberry drink. But the water flowed as constantly as the drink had. And it flowed and flowed. I got to the point very quickly where all I wanted to do was take a leek, but I couldn’t. The pressure inside my penis and my anus started to make me feel slightly uncomfortable. But still the liquid flowed and flowed. I don’t know how long this went on for. It wasn’t as if there was a gushing flow of water which I found hard to cope with. It was more that there was this trickle of constant water which forced its way into my mouth and then my stomach.

This went on and on. Trapped inside my rubber confines, and strapped to a chair, I was in no position to do anything about it. All I could do was concentrate on the water and repeating the process of inserting my tongue into the gag when my mouth got full to help me swallow the liquid more easily.

Still the pressure built. My stomach now felt very full. My penis stopped being hard from the rubbery confines and wanted to relive itself of some of the liquid which was in my bowels. My anus wanted to explode, although the fullness in there wasn’t helped by the huge inflated butt plug.

I don’t know how long this lasted for. But I reached a point where I was going to have to pee. Gagged, I couldn’t communicate the fact with the others, although I’m sure that was what they were aiming for. Instead I just held off peeing until I really really had to. Then, with great relief I peed. I felt the liquid come shooting out of my penis; cover my waist and groin area and then start trickling down my legs. As the suit had attached feet, all I was doing was peeing inside my suit with the pee having nowhere to go but build up around my ankles. The suit was quite a tight fit, so there wasn’t too much room for the pee to settle in, and after peeing again some time later, I felt the pee as high as my calf muscles. I was appalled at the situation. But what could I do, the water still flowed.

Laughter could be heard from my captors as they enjoyed the sight of a grown man having to pee inside his suit. Sadists!

When my head was released from the straps on the chair and the hood eased down, the pee was almost up to my knees. I was delighted that they were going to release me. God knows how many hours I’d been trussed, drinking and peeing. I was led into the bathroom, which wasn’t easy as with every step I took you could hear the slight gushing of liquid trapped inside the suit and slipping around my feet. I was helped into the shower, and then the rest of the suit was eased down so that I had my arms back in use. I grabbed hold of the suit and the shower was turned on. I showered myself and removed my suit at the same time. Washing the pee away as I did so. I felt a lot cleaner now, though the butt plug in my anus reminded me of what had happened. I peed quite a few more time until I felt that I was in charge of my bodily functions again.

Emerging from the shower a new person, I realized it was that time of the night to get some sleep. Andrew had promised me a good nights rest before traveling back tomorrow, and with that I was led into the bedroom for one last time. Stretched out on the bed was a lifeless piece of black rubber. It was about six foot long; with a rounded mound at one end which I guessed was the hood. Out of the hood protruded a short piece of tubing with a valve attached to it. I’d worked out that it was a sleep sack, but what a sight, what a joy to behold.

It had a long back zip, so I was helped into it. Still with the huge inflated butt plug inserted in my anus, I rested my feet into the foot sack at the bottom of the sack, and Andrew lifted the bulk of the sleep sack up until my legs were mostly covered. The coldness of the suit felt superb against my legs and groin. Inside the suit there were internal sleeves, and I inserted my arms into their waiting homes for the night as Andrew pulled the rest of the sack up. With a pull of the zip a new tightness surrounded my legs. Next my ass felt itself being encased and the pressure mounted on the plug which was now sealed inside once more. I was to be with this plug for some hours yet. Before easing the rest of the zip up my back, the hood was fitted. It had a small inflatable gag which was easily placed inside my mouth. Then the rest of the hood was pulled up over my head. There were no eye holes, and only two small holes for me to breathe through my nose.

With the hood in position, a zip was pulled down from the top of the hood, which met with the zip which had been zipped further up my back, both of them meeting by my neck. The tightness of the sleep sack was perfect. It was tight, yet not uncomfortably so.

With the zips locked in position with a small padlock, I was eased so that I was lying flat on the bed. Just as I was getting to know the confines of the sack further, the gag in my mouth was inflated. My cheeks were pushed out, increasing the tightness inside the hood. A couple of further inflates later, just when I thought I was going to explode, the stopper on the tube was tightened, and I was left, severely gagged and lying inside a completely inescapable rubber sleep sack. The feeling was superb. I wanted to enjoy this forever. I didn’t want the morning to arrive, which would signal the start of my trip home.

I relaxed inside my bonds, and looked forward to some superb dreams as well as the thought of waking up trapped as I was. The nights sleep was the best I’ve had in years. Strange dreams entered my mind, and all the time I felt as if I was floating inside a warm sanctuary, looking down upon this lifeless form held prisoner inside a rubber bondage heaven – namely myself.

Waking, it took time to fully awake and realize where I was and how much I relied upon others for my freedom. I was completely unable to move, scratch myself, speak or even hear and see whether it was still night time or a new morning.

With a hissing sound, the air in the gag escaped, and I realized that it must be morning and time for freedom. The hood of the sack was removed and I was helped out of the sack by Simon. The cold air against my skin made me wish that I’d been left inside the sack, where it was warm and dark. I left the bedroom to shower, and prepare for the breakfast and the day ahead.

Whilst eating breakfast, it dawned on me that it was now over, and the time of the weekend which I hadn’t want to arrive, had come around far too quickly. The time to get to the airport for the trip home. It had all happened so fast, I knew that I should have come across for at least one week. Too late now, I only had two hours before check in.

As I sat there finishing my food, I tried to imagine the coming weeks and months without bondage, back to normal. But before that was to happen, I hoped that maybe there was to be one last throw of the dice by my two new friends.

And what a last throw it was.

Andrew proceeded to explain the plan of action.

3 thoughts on “Story – ‘Flight of Fantasy’

  1. Loved the story. But since I live here in the San Francisco area, how can I get in touch with Andrew and Simon?

  2. Im looking for a partner to help me to be locked in a heaby bondage sack for a long rubber trip If you are interested drop me a mail “rubberlatexman@gmail.com” location france

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