Feb 5, 2024, 11:35 AM - I’ve been sealed in rubber since 11:00 last night. I am wearing two heavy weight rubber suits, one is shoulder entry, the second suit is a heavy suit designed after a drysuit with waterproof zippers. Even now sweat and piss are sloshing around in the lower part of the suits but there is no leakage.
The shifting fluid provides an amazing erotic feeling. It is a cross between a light massage and the water jets of a spa. I know many rubberists prefer caths or some sort of collection bag but for some weird reason, I really get off on knowing I have no control of my body fluids and the rubber seals it all safely inside my rubber world.
The kitchen safe reads 1 day, 2 hours. That time marks when I have access to the keys of the locks. The timer lock confirms the rubbery sentence – 26 hours and some minutes. Barring an emergency, I can do nothing but revel in the feel of hot rubber – not all that bad an experience for a lifelong rubberist, especially one who loves heavy rub total enclosure.
This adventure into rubberized depravity two weeks ago when the wife announced she needed to take a trip to California and help a cousin. I knew my first chance at a long-term rubber session in two years was coming. I fantasized in bed of how I would complete the task of sealing in rubber bliss.
The two suits from Knight rubber had waited much too long for a session. The shoulder entry suit is snug. It was quite hard to dress but after forty-five minutes, I completed the task. The suit slid over my heated body as I rested before getting into the heavier water proof suit. I bubbled with excitement pulling the heavy rubber slowly onto my eager body. The hot sweat inside the first suit was beginning to seep out. This second suit handled the issue with ease. Nothing has come out of the final rubber barrier. Getting into that was also challenging. My prothest leg had to be inserted; pulling it up and keeping it up to work the suit to the shoulders took effort. I put a lanyard through the hood opening to aid with getting the upper part properly settled. It worked and I was fairly quickly closing the front zipper completing the seal.
Getting the bondage system correctly connected as a single unit of interlocking rubber straps - making escape from the suits impossible - took four hours. I designed it as a self-bondage system of rubber bungee cords and D-rings. I didn’t expect that the hood I had on would make seeing the rings to feed the cords pretty much impossible. Three hours of frustration and I was no closer to linking the three separate sections of cord into a single binding harness requiring only three locks.
Briefly, the system has a collar, a waist belt with through crotch straps and a central long length of cord that connects through rings at the collar and belt and crisscrosses the torso. Finally everything locked after six hours and the stomach butterflies were raging as I set timers for 30 hours and pushed the engage buttons.
I’ve been posting some videos, did two live feeds on FB and just zoned out, letting the rubber carry my thoughts and dreams wherever it desired. It’s 12:30 PM, I think I’ll drink a protein shake.
Feb 4 – 6:00 PM: More on the suits and my developing dilemma. The inner suit is a snug fitting shoulder entry suit. I added latex strips to the crotch zip, creating a watertight seal on that opening. Sweat quickly lubricated the inside of the suit. The suit slips and slides over my skin, but it has almost no stretch and movement restricted. Unlike the Hydroglove suits that I used in the past, the limited stretch of this suit makes every movement an exhausting exercise. I’m loving the feel of the enclosing suit but it’s getting very tiring. I wonder now if I will make the full term of the timed session.
I start by lubricating the right leg and foot of the first suit. I slide my right leg into the depths of the rubber suit. I work the leg down. The foot, even with amputated toes, is still very tight and difficult to feed into the attached sock. A shortened foot will often get a little wider to accommodate weight and balance. The rubber stretches over the foot and it slides into place. The outer suit is twice as heavy as the inner suit.
I slide the left stump into the leg. The leg has its foot cut off and the sleeve glued closed. The stump fits snugly and allows me to pull both legs right to my crotch. Sliding off the wheelchair, I pull and tug the waist over my hips and the lower half of the suit slips into place.
I run my hands over my rubber legs. Finally, I feel the beginnings of a long-awaited surrender to rubber. I start working my arms into the upper half of the suit. Each wiggle of an arm, each pull on a sleeve slowly gets the suit over the orange rubber gloves on my hands. Lubricating gel helps with the pulling on the sleeves. The wrist pops out of the sleeve and I adjust the rubber, smooth it over my arm. I put my effort into getting the other arm in place. I pull and push the rubber on the skin. I see the shoulders slipping into place over my wet skin. I tug the zippers closed and am sealed to my neck in rubber. I add a hood for complete total enclosure from head to toe.
It takes almost two hours to seal into the first rubber suit. I am breathing hard. I slowly get my breath and concentrate on breathing. The sweat flows freely under the suit. The suit slips and slides over my sweat-lubricated skin. A first urge to pee, first of many to be sure, sends a hot gush of piss into the suit. I let the liquid spread down my legs and cool. This is just the first piss and I will be securely locked inside the outer suit with its watertight zipper before enough piss and sweat might threaten my escape. Now I am ready to start putting on the heavy rubber drysuit.
I roll my prosthetic leg sleeve onto the rubber-sheathed stump of my left leg.
The first step in getting into the heavier outer suit is fitting my left prosthetic leg inside. This suit is really big and hard to get sorted out. A suit made for a 6’ 7”, 280-pound body is heavy and big. The suit seems to have a mind of its own. It takes three tries to get the leg into the right leg opening and with the foot facing in proper alignment to work it down the thick rubber and into the attached sock. I pull the left hip boot over the rubber-clad prosthetic and prepare to pull the suit on.
I push my right leg into the suit. The thick rubber is a little loose on the leg but I feel the suit’s cool presence pressing against the inner suit’s rubber. The thrill of the heavier rubber speeds my heart rate and anticipation. I push the left leg stump into the prosthetic leg. The sleeve is a tight fit as the rubber leg inside it makes the sleeve slightly wider than its normal fit directly on my skin. Sometimes the sleeve lock pin doesn’t align with the mating hole of the leg. That requires resetting the sleeve when it happens and is a real pain to reset everything but this time I am lucky that the pin hits the mating hole and slides into the lock mechanism.
The heavy suit lays on my lap and spills onto the floor around my chair. I let my breathing settle down as even this little exertion, combined with increased anticipation, accelerates my sexual arousal and desire for long hours in rubbery meditation and passion. I stand up and carefully pull at the sides of the suit. I work the suit over my hips and snug the rubber against the crotch. I pull the rubber as far up my torso as I can and sit hard into my chair, breathing hard again.
Now I slip each arm through the opening at the chest and push the arms into their sleeves. The heavy rubber and gloves fit loosely on my arms and the thick gloves restrict my feel, touch and use of my hands. Not quite as restrictive as a pair of ball mittens but restrictive enough to make use of the computer keyboard extremely hard, especially when vision is restricted by an added gas mask.
I fumble behind my back to find the lanyard that is looped through the hood opening to the watertight zipper. It takes three tries with the thick gloves to get the cord to the front of the suit. Holding the lanyard in hand. From previous trials and errors while donning the suit, I drop off the chair to the floor and brace my upper body against the bed. Stretching out over the bed with outstretched arms (hands up look) allows me to pull the lanyard, and the shoulders of the suit, over my upper body allowing me to grasp the upper zipper runner and finish pulling the suit over my head. The heavy rubber settles on my body. I pull myself back onto the chair and take another rest break. This is a short break as I am anxious to get the suit completely closed, sealing me in two wonderfully sleek heavy rubber layers! The lanyard does double duty as a pull since I learned that getting the zipper completely closed is almost impossible without the extra leverage of an almost fully extended arm pulling the zipper tongue. It is short work to finish the sealing and another deserved rest to enjoy and explore the rubber skin a while before adding the bondage system and locks.
Mmmmmmmm….it is so good to feel my gloved hands rubbing through two rubber layers. I shiver to the touch as I surrender to the massage of the suits! The rubber is alive under my touch. Rubber is such an exquisite material.
The heavy outer suit is a looser fitting suit so it does not restrict movement like the inner suit. Still the weight of rubber adds to the difficulty of movement. I find myself quietly sitting, allowing the thick latex to take control of my innermost being. I feel the inner suit slipping and sliding, massaging and caressing as I move under the rubber spell. I pull the open-face hood on the dry suit back and add a full hood to my head. I feel the rubber pressing my cheeks. Rubber fills my ears and seals my entire head in rubbery ecstasy. Pulling the suit hood back over my head effectively locks the rubber to my face.
It is a little before 11:00 pm, five hours since starting to seal in rubber. I drift in my thoughts, remembering the long rubber journey so central to my life. A collage of images fills my head, pink raincoat, black rubber hip boots, rainwear, wetsuits, chest waders, gloves, more wetsuits, my first rubber clothing – leggings, long sleeve top, hood and gloves, first catsuits – many catsuits of different thicknesses, zipper locations and style. Some with attached gloves, all with socks. Modifying zipper openings to permanently seal them, especially the crotch zips. The quest to obtain a watertight seal in my rubbery layers. My first Hydroglove suits and more Hydroglove suits. Finally achieving a tight seal with the Hydrogloves and that wonderful feeling of sweat and piss slowly rising inside the inner suit. My search for replacement suits after Hydroglove founder and owner passed and finally settled on the two suits I now own, wonderful and fulfilling rubber suits that seal me inside a private world of isolating rubber!
I hydrate regularly and soon hot piss gushes into the inner suit. The pee spreads beyond my crotch, running down the legs and pooling around my right foot. The left leg stump collects very little because the neoprene sleeve and prosthetic leg socket hold the stump tightly. More pee fills the inner suit. The Lasix is working, flushing any excess fluid from me. I’m not sure how there could be excess fluid considering how much sweat is flowing but I’m glad for the piss indicating I’m maintaining needed hydration.
I rest and savor my rubber encasement for about thirty minutes before admitting time is passing and I need to add my bondage and locks. My bondage system is my own design. I have refined the system for over five years. I often looked to buy something but my final bondage system is better than any bondage I have seen available. Maybe a custom-made bondage harness could equal my simple system using bungee tiedown straps. Three components lock together to form an inescapable bondage harness which locks the suits to my body. The simple collar with rig locks to my neck. The second is a double-bungee wide belt with a center ring and attached double crotch strap. The third piece is a long strap with a center ring that is fitted under the arms, over the shoulders across the back then through the neck rings to the center ring at the chest. From the ring, the straps are looped behind the back through rings on the waist belt and back to a ring hanging from the center ring to the belly. Once locked, this system is inescapable without damaging straps. Keys to two locks get the kitchen safe lock box, a third lock is on a timer of its own.
12:15 AM, Feb 5, 2024: Finally, most of my rubber incarceration is complete. The final acts are setting the timers on the box and lock, and pulling on a gas mask to finish the total enclosure. I have been in rubber for six hours already. I have made occasional reports during the dressing process on line and have posted a couple of live videos. Some likes have registered and I take a quick snapshot with a caption, “How long should I remain locked in rubber?”
There are actually one or two watching my progress, even though it is early morning in Europe and only mid-day in the sparse regions of Asia and the Pacific. Still, I get some comments…24 hours from the current time seems a popular request. Admittedly the responses are not overwhelming but then at the time of day, what to expect.
I point out that 24 hours will end my confinement at around 1:00 AM, on Feb 6. Someone - Heavy Rubber Master by name – suggests staying locked until 6:00 AM on the sixth. Even under the influence of heavy rubber, I can calculate the timers would be set for 29 hours added to the six plus hours already in rubber for a total of 34 hours, not including removal time.
My steely clear calculations are so right but my desire to be locked in rubber is so strong I pass on logic for passion and set the timers at 29 hours. I have one last check but commitment to this action is controlled by the rubber suits…I press the button on the safe and complete the locking sequence of the timer lock and am now sealed for 29 more hours.
My breathing quickens as I see the lock mechanism on the Kitchen Safe slowly extend into the lid, sealing my fate in rubber for at least 29 hours. I suck air greedily. My quickened breathing causes the mask to collapse to my face with each inhale. I feel it drawing air out of the outer suit with each breath, the rubber tube locked inside the suit at the crotch zipper is working perfectly. The tube with an attached rubber sheet creates a near complete seal of the crotch opening. Each breath sucks air from the suit, moist and rubber scented air. As my encasement continues and piss enters my suits, the added odor of stale piss will mingle with hot rubber forming a very erotic elixir as I stew in my predicament.
Another pee spreads from my crotch. The pee pills I take are working to perfection. I have been awake for sixteen hours, since 9:00 AM the previous morning. but rubber casts a spell that blocks any chance of sleep. I think of the next five hours of rubber embrace alone. The chance of a fellow rubberist dropping in on my enclosure and chatting briefly in support seems remote.
I pull up some of my favorite rubber enclosure videos. All feature total enclosure in rubber and bondage. Some add breath control, many include teasing, orgasm denial and edging and hard multiple climaxes. Both women and men are subjects of the videos. I love them all as long as total enclosure is foremost. Arousal stirs deep inside my suits. I rub with the gloves, I push at my cock, I rub and push and suck hot air as I imprint images of hardcore rubber sex in my mind. Tonight is a denial time. I have the Equalizer near me but refuse to use this powerful mechanical massage tool to find orgasmic ecstasy. I resolve to last at least twenty hours before any orgasm. This is a period of edging, commitment to rubber worship at the carnal altar.
The minutes stretch to an hour and I feel my skin absorbing the rubber. Rubber becomes a constant presence on every square inch of skin, from head to toe the press of rubber is so consistent that it almost fades into an afterthought, just a part of my environment, like breathing hot rubber-scented air. I barely hear through the earplugs and rubber pressing my head. Three senses, dulled by rubber, the other two influenced by gas mask, and when drinking, a rubber tube from bottle to mouth. In this closed rubber world, I easily slip into daydreams of rubber bliss. The bliss turns to lust and desire as I touch my rubberized body, pinch my nipples, suck in the hot air and view the videos. The edging and forced chastity in rubber fills me with desire. Arousal remains constant and unfulfilled but I lust for the rubber foreplay stroking every part of me as I move in my chair and lean to see the computer better. Each keystroke sends shocks of rubbery bliss from fingers to elbows to shoulders. Rubber over all else. Rubber surrounds. Rubber dominates. Rubber completes me. I am rubber and rubber is me.
I play some computer games. I can’t concentrate on the games; rubber fills my mind. I check emails and some favorite sites; but RUBBER dominates. I’ve been awake since mid-morning Saturday – over 30 hours, with half that time sealed in rubber…Rubber…RUBBER.
It’s 3:00 AM. I roll to the bed. I struggle to stand and pivot with a heavy flop into the bed. My “zoning” gas mask is in easy reach. This mask has covered lenses that filter light down to a very low-level gray. I touch my crotch area and have stirrings of erotic desire. Two thick rubber layers make any relief with gloved hands impossible. After several attempts and cramping wrists impeding any relief, I give up my frustrating effort and lay quietly. Some strength returns as if the rubber has rejuvenating properties. I lay unmoving in a rubber prison. I call it zoning since I never actually reach sleep but my mind is blank save RUBBER and I float just above the surface of sleep but under the surface of wakeful consciousness. I coined a new phrase for this event – weightless rest. How better to describe floating in semi consciousness of an enclosed rubber cocoon. I made a recording of the two hours I lay in this position. I barely moved an inch, no muscle twitches, my arms just fractionally moving – just a rubber mannequin – living inside a heavy rubber skin. The whoosh of my breathing is the only proof of life and perhaps the minor rise and fall of the chest with each breath, so minor as to be nearly invisible.
Maybe I dozed off, maybe not. Being one with rubber does that. Reality fades into a distorted and faded vision that has no focus. The time seems like one of those filmed dreams of soft edges, impossible to grasp. The constant rubber clouds everything around me. However, the altar of lust is clearly visible behind a rubbery curtain, demanding worship.
I feel thirst. I struggle to a sitting position. I am stiff from the long immobility in rubber. I look at a clock. It is 6:30, three plus hours of not moving more than a few times, no wonder I am stiff. The time also means pill and liquid protein time.
I slip off the bed onto my wheelchair and roll to pills, food and hydration. I pull the gas mask off. It has been on for over six hours and the relaxing of its grip is annoying but necessary. I want to finish the logistics of need quickly and get the mask back on my head. Even with the mask off, a tube fit through the hood allows me to feed the pills one at a time into my mouth. After each pill I push a drinking tube into the mouth tube and suck down water diluted sports drink. Eight pills fed through the mouth tube and eight swigs of drink. Next I shift the drinking tube to a bottle of Soylent Green (sorry just couldn’t help picking that brand of protein drink) and greedily suck down breakfast.
I swig more hydration and gush more pee into my suits. My right lower leg is feeling heavy with fluid. I dimly hear sloshing and squishing of the stuff inside. Sitting in my chair, I can tell the fluid is above my knee. I guess three more pisses will bring the level to my crotch. I check the timer. It reads 23 hrs. 07 mins.
I scoot back to my computer and pull my mask back over the head. The comforting seal of the mask and the whoosh, whoosh fills me with renewed desire to carry on with my rubber bliss. The slight hint of stale pee is finally mixing with the rubber taste with each inhale. I wonder if fluid might be seeping out of the inner suit. It is only a thought as I have no way of checking. All I know is a lot more pee, sweat, (and maybe other stuff) will be inside the suits before the timers hit “zero”.
I have a message from Heavy Rubber Master.
0615, HRM: Good morning. Sleep well?
0630, HRM: Where are U?
0640, HRM: Where are U? I’m waiting.
0650, Me: Hello, I am here.
0651, HRM: How long have U been up?
0651, Me: Woke up at 0620.
0652, HRM: What took U so long to answer?
0652, Me: Hydrating, pills, food.
0655, HRM: U did not ask permission. This is a punishment offense. Do U have any exercise ability?
0657, Me: I have an exercise bike.
0658, HRM: Ride the bike in full gear for the next fifteen minutes. Record all for me. Start at 0700.
0658, Me: Yes, Master.
Pull myself up and using my rollator, I walk through the house to the bicycle. I start my Smart Phone recorder, climb on the bike and begin a slow peddle. I feel my rubber resisting my muscles as I pedal a bit faster. I’m getting in a stride now and sweat is flowing freely under the suits. It’s not too long before I’m breathing faster. Sucking hard in the mask, I feel my entire body getting a stress test in rubber. This is not erotic rubber bliss, it is hard rubber punishment with no future reward except complete exhaustion.
As the punishment proceeds, I feel my legs, both thighs and my lower right leg feeling as rubbery as the rubber surrounding them. I begin to think the final minute and attempted dismount may be a rubbery collapse on the floor. Even my arms are getting weak from stretching out to the handlebars.
FAST BREATHING, GAS MASK COLLAPSING TO FACE WITH EACH INHALE, POUNDING HEART, LOCKED IN RUBBER and no hope of respite without failing rubber and Rubber Master.
The legs pedal rhythmically in the cycling loop. It’s almost automatic to keep pumping the legs. The human is transformed into a rubber machine with legs for pistons. The desire to finish the task for the unseen Master is supreme in my rubberized brain. I must complete this rubber ritual for the altar of rubber obedience.
Fifteen minutes and I quickly pull the mask and shove the drinking tube into my mouth. I suck the fluid greedily; I drain the bottle in seconds. I’m still thirsty, sweat runs under my hood and spills from the mouth opening. Dripping sweat and drool runs down my chest. I struggle, shakily to my feet and push to the bathroom. I fill the sports bottle with water and suck down a second full drink. I reach for a full sports drink, suck out half of it then fill the bottle to its top with water. I settle into my chair.
0725, Me: Done.
0728, HRM: U went more than fifteen minutes?
0730, Me; No. I hydrated with water and sports drink, maybe 48 ounces. Had to do it; was exhausted and shaking with thirst.
0735, HRM: That should elicit more punishment as U did not ask permission to hydrate. But I am magnanimous. U will hold pee for 30 minutes after the next urge. U will hold it! Tell me when the urge hits then hold until I tell U to pee. Go computer live during the 30 minutes. I want to see U squirming, squeezing U-r legs and panting in torment as U hold the piss. It will be easy to see the computer image should U fail.
The one consolation is I have lost a lot of fluid during the bicycle ride. Maybe the excess might slowly fill my bladder – a really big maybe.
0740, Me: I understand, Master.
I pull up my pages and get my updates from various friends. Being nearly 8:00 AM in Texas means it is afternoon in Europe, this is prime viewing time in that part of the world. I change my gas mask to my rebreathing mask. Hitting the live feed, I start a slow rebreathing session. The small opening at the bag neck allows some air in as the bag fills and collapses from air becoming staler. After about three minutes I put one good exhale into the bag before covering the hole. I am soon panting rapidly as the stale air starves my oxygen. I pull the mask panting hard. The short interlude of rebreathing passed maybe five minutes. I wait with serious trepidation for my bladder to demand relief.
0815, HRM: That rebreathing exercise must cause heavy sweat. Better drink more of your fluids and let me see.
0816, Me: Not really, Master.
0817, HRM: DO IT, No argument!
I pull the mask, launch the video feed and start drinking. It is hard to keep the water down. My stomach must be full. I gag on the water and spit up.
0819, HRM: Stop now, slave. Put the gas mask back on. I tire of seeing your hooded head.
I’m starting to feel the pressure on my body, my bladder is signaling the need to go. I squirm. I pinch my legs together.
0821, HRM: You need to go?
I nod.
0822, HRM: Good just hold there. I’m watching.
The next 15 minutes are hell. At first the urge hits then fades before pushing again. Each push gets more urgent. I rock in my chair, I squeeze my legs, I squirm, I pant and roll my head. There is a sense of erotic torture. As hard as I try to hold, I feel a dribble of hot piss pushing into the suit. I still try to hold but the dribble continues. I groan and grunt with effort to slow the pee but it continues the dribble. Well, I’m trying. I decide to keep the leak quiet.
0840, HRM: Stand and walk around in your video frame.
0841, Me: I stand, I pee.
0841, HRM: Hold and Suffer. I want you squatting and dancing in your discomfort.
I struggle up and grab my Rollator and start stepping around. As expected, I start to squirt pee. I squeeze my legs, I bend and squirm as more pee pushes into the suit. It is no use, the flow blasts out and the hot gush flows. It mixes with the stuff already inside and I know it has reached the buttocks. Had I not sealed the inner suit crotch zip, the stuff would be flowing between the two suits. As it is, the inner suit contains everything. The sloshing of piss inside the suit is audible as I step. I am standing butt deep in a pee and sweat filled rubber world.
0847, HRM: You peed.
I reply: Yes, Master.
HRM: Drink again. Drink until you replace what you peed.
This drinking game is getting serious for me. I have an almost half-filled suit of piss and sweat and I have been locked in rubber only eight hours with 21 hours before the locks release ending confinement.
HRM: I want you to be an obedient rubber piss pig before you finish, begging to stay inside your filth in the end! I want a heavy rubber piss pig telling everyone watching you how you love being a filthy heavy rubber piss pig slut and want nothing more than serving them as a heavy rubber piss pig slut!
Me: Yes, Master
HRM: Tell me what U are!
Me: A rubber piss pig.
HRM: Wrong! Drink then tell me again.
I swallow more fluid.
Me; A heavy rubber piss pig.
HRM: WRONG!! Finish the bottle then get it right!
I’m swimming in piss and rubber fills my very soul, I struggle to finish the bottle then search to remember what was the last thing he said I was.
Me: A heavy rubber piss pig slut.
HRM: Very good and don’t forget it, HRPPS (pronounced “herpiss”).
HRM: Herpiss, describe your inner suit. Is it watertight? When will it leak? How thick is it? Please detail.
HRPPS: Shoulder entry, 0.7 mm thick, not watertight, has feet but no attached gloves. Crotch opening sealed shut. Sweat from shoulders up already running down arms and out zippers and sleeves. When piss reaches arm openings will also leak into outer suit.
HRM: What level piss now?
HRPPS: Reaching the waist after last gush.
HRM: Nice, herpiss swimming in piss soon. I like that. Keep drinking, keep pissing! I want herpiss happy and full before noon. Outer suit watertight?
HRPPS: Yes. Watertight closures at crotch and chest. If stuff reaches the crotch will remove gas mask tube and close the zip completely. Fairly loose fitting.
HRM: It should be safe to keep the GM tube in for quite a while. With the opening in front so if laying down on back, no leaks. Sitting up everything runs into legs?
HRPPS: Probably. Prosthetic will get wet and need cleaning/rinsing afterward but nothing serious.
HRM: Your protein drink cause any issues with waste?
HRPPS: Once I had cramps and very watery movement into the suit. That was first time but none since.
HRM: I see. Maybe herpiss needs some more of the protein drink too.
HRPPS: Have one more bottle. Planned drinking it tonight with my evening medicine.
HRM: OK, next time have more protein drink.
I can’t help but feel I’ve dodged a bullet this time. I’m pretty sure three or more protein drinks would cause cramps and poop. Maybe even the second one will but that is something to not consider unless it happens.
Feb 5, 11:00: I’ve been awake 26 hours with the exception of the few hours of zoning early this morning. My head nods under the rubber. I stretch and squirm in my seat. I’ve shot more hot piss into my suit. I feel complete wetness, up to mid-chest. I actually hear the sloshing stuff as I shift in the chair. As the slurry cools inside, I feel the stark contrast between my fully covered legs and lower torso from the upper area still relatively dry.
HRM: Tired of typing. Open the voice link of Messenger.
I comply and hear a deep voice over the speaker, “Speak herpiss.”
HRPPS: I need a rest break.
HRM: herpiss wants out?
HRPPS: No, Master. Just lay down a while, zoning mask on, stretch out a little. Be one with rubber.
HRM: Record it. Announce to the watchers “Heavy Rubber Piss Pig Slut will now sleep in his piss.”
I set up the recording and place the comment title.
I go to swing out into the chair. Rubber fights my body but I make it. Stuff sloshes around as I plop my butt and backside on the bed. My head and neck fit nicely on the elevated pillow. I swing my right leg over the chair arm onto the slightly lower seat. I lift my left leg onto the seat. As I lifted the legs, piss/sweat surged from the legs onto my body like a rising tide. Once the legs are settled, the tide recedes back into the legs, leaving my upper body only half covered in stale piss. As if I’m not full of enough piss, my bladder sends another hot shot into the suit. I feel the slight rise of fluid and note the hot addition slowly blending with the accumulated and cooler elixir. I figure another two pisses will reach the arm holes of the inner suit.
I can still see the computer screen from this angle.
HRM: What is that electric thing next to U?
I struggle to a side-sitting position and type in: It is the equalizer, a deep muscle massage device.
HRM: Use?
HRPPS: Use to stimulate and orgasm.
HRM: Do it once now then U can rest.
I fire up the Equalizer and put it to my crotch. I shift the device around feeling for the sweet spot. This is the first time I’ve used the device with so much stuff in the suit. The Equalizer stimulates rubber, stale piss and crotch pretty much equally. My exhausted state makes it hard to get enough stimulation to reach orgasm. I thrust and squirm under the pulsating device. I watch live feed. I am making quite a show and word must be getting out as I see view numbers and comments start. I cannot read the comments but the various “like’, ‘love” and “wow” symbols scrolling on the screen indicate my popularity. The support sends an erotic surge into me and I thrust harder against the device. I am verging, rapid breathing, almost there….ARRRGGGGG thrust, push and CUMMMMMING!
HRM: Nice show. Do it again then U rest.
I wait for a reset. My body is aching from the effort and the tension is slow to recede. There was a time the cum would signal my desire to strip off the rubber and get clean, an impossibility in my current locked imprisonment. I can only suffer that initial tight rush of heat and a slow cooldown before trying to have a second cum. I am weak, completely rubber drained. I put the equalizer under the waist strap to hold it to the crotch. I fire the device up.
HRM: I like that. Keep the massager there until you cum. I will add some additional stimulus and messaging for herpiss to enjoy.
Soon I hear HRM on a recorded message, “Rubber. You love rubber. You live for rubber. You want nothing but rubber. You are a heavy rubber piss pig slut. You are nothing but a filthy heavy rubber piss pig slut. You want nothing else but sealed and soaking inside a rubber suit full of piss and sweat. You want to cum for me while sealed in rubber. You will surrender to rubber and cum for me and anyone watching. Rubber. You love rubber. You want nothing but rubber. You are a heavy rubber piss pig slut…”
The message continues repeating. I feel my body becoming rubber. My mind focuses on rubber. Master’s hypnotic voice purrs its message over and over. I almost feel I’m dissolving into a mass of rubber. I have one desire, surrender in rubber to my carnal desire and cum, cum, cum!
I push and struggle under the massage. The message continues unabated, increasing my rubber desire. I am nothing but a living rubber prisoner to a rubber master and being nothing more than his heavy rubber piss pig slut.
I see unreadable comments flowing down the side of the live feed. The likes, loves, wows are pouring in. I am a popular hit in the FB fetish world.
“AARRRRGGGG”, I moan again but in anguish as I hover just at the edge of carnal bliss but cannot take that last leap into rubber lust oblivion. I shudder where I lay.
I lift a leg and let piss flow into my body. I still cannot cum, even with the massager but I can pee. More hot pee flows into the suit. This release seems to trigger the internal lust anew and I thrust at the massage device, feel my cock, now swimming in waste, jerk with anticipation. The rubber piss pig message continues, maybe even grows louder. I hear HRM in a low voice behind the repeating message, “Cum…be a rubber whore and cum…fulfill your rubber destiny as a piss pig and cum…cum for me, cum for us.”
I drop the heavy leg down and realize my inner suit is truly full. I feel liquid seeping from the back of the neck getting into the outer suit. I feel the edge is here; breathing quickens and I shake with release feeling relief washing over me. The old desire to get out hits but leaves quickly. Every muscle goes limp and my breathing slows.
HRM says, “Rest.” But he keeps the message running at a low volume.
I’m not sure when I drifted into rubber zone oblivion. Probably a little after noon but having not looked at a clock I am not certain how long the cum session took.
Hours later. I actually “slept”. At least I zoned to a point the repeating message faded into subconscious and I “dream” in rubber lust. The dream has me lost in a crowd. I am sealed in rubber and have no problem with my condition. No one seems to notice me as I wander aimlessly among the people. All I know is I am trying to find some unknown destination. It is urgent that I arrive on time and time is short but I have difficulty walking inside my sealed rubber world. I need rest every few minutes and the slurry inside the suits inhibits my progress.
No one sees me and when I try to ask directions, I find I am gagged and unable to ask any questions or even call out to someone to help. I am invisible in my rubber cocoon.
I “wake” (maybe just increased awareness) and check the clock. It is 6:00 PM; I’ve been zoning out and sleeping almost six hours. I actually feel better, refreshed, but am stiff from being in one position for so long. With a struggle to overcome stiff muscles, heavy rubber and a slurry of sweat and piss inside suits, I slowly pull myself to a sitting position. I’m panting hard and need to pause before trying to get into the wheelchair.
Each move has a corresponding sloshing inside the rubber prison. The mixture of body waste adds its own weight to my legs. I notify HRM that I must take my evening medications which require removing the gas mask.
HRM: Permission granted. Let me see you medicate then put the mask immediately on.
I go through the ritual that I have refined over several times. Mask off exposing the wide gag tube which has been under the mask. I struggle with heavy gloved hands and tweezers to push a pill onto a smaller rubber drinking tube that fits inside the gag. I carefully put the tube inside the gag then drop the other end into a water bottle, suck the water and pill into my mouth and swallow. I repeat the process for all four pills I take in the evening. I pull the mask back in place.
HRM: Very good pig-slut. You need to ride your bike a bit. That should loosen your muscles some and get your juices flowing again.
The hike to the bike room is somewhat harder than last time. I'm stiff, sore and still physically exhausted. My mind is clear and alert. I hear the sloshing fluid inside the suits, feel it splashing on my thighs and even swirling around my scrotum. The stuff is cold to my hot skin being about room temperature because rubber has little insulating value. I shiver in my suits.
I have my smartphone to record the ride and will download it when I'm back at the computer.
HRM set no time for the ride so I decide five minutes is enough. As I pedal, the slurry rides up and down my legs spilling into the seated crotch then running out only to slosh back up the suit. This is a very erotic ride and surprises me as I never rode the bike with so much stuff inside the suits. I really become quite aroused. My arousal has no relief as I ride but I piss hard and hot into the suit and feel the hot pee spread and mix with the cooler stuff already inside.
I pedal longer than five minutes. The simple act of arousal is so consuming, I totally forget the time. I finally collapse, breathing hard and slouching over the handlebars. Time to dismount the bike and time to swill more drink and add more piss in the suits.
HRM: Back to your room.
Once in the chair, “Surf, chat, tell everyone how consumed herpiss is with rubber lust. Download your videos, edit them and post them online. I want to view them in FB, Instagram and X. No cheating, gas mask on the entire time and video your work.”
This challenge almost finished me. I barely saw the keyboard and errors abounded. How many times I repaired word damage reminded me of the old saying, “Ten monkeys could type the encyclopedia given time.”
I seriously question if posting edited videos with captions by one heavy rubber sealed slut was really possible. My struggle to post ten video clips, with captions takes me to almost midnight. The end is actually nearer than the beginning. Six more hours and locks open.
HRM comes on the line: I’m bored. One more cum then sleep. I’ll come on line to see the locks open, then decide what to do with you.
The Equalizer works, I cum, then settle down in piss and sweat up to my upper chest and spilling into the outer suit. I worry about his last comment but roll over to the stereo and tune to the local classical music station.