Gromet's PlazaLatex Stories

Institute for Complete Rubber Immersion

by Jane D'oh

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© Copyright 2021 - Jane D'oh - Used by permission

Storycodes: F/f; latex; rubber; prison; naked; straps; depilation; dream; cons; X

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Dear reader, I must apologize again. My writing has withered in both quantity and quality since my recent time away from the keyboard. The free flow of words has been supplanted by the pulling of proverbial teeth, every sentence a painful chore. Worse yet, I'm becoming tempted to spend one of my weekly three hour sessions of 'freedom' doing something else for a change, rather than trying to hack through the jungle of my mangled wordplay. A strange craving for french fries has beset me and I picture myself watching some mindless sitcom or comforting old movie whilst idly nibbling on the crispy, greasy fingers of umami.

I love how I've changed since my weeks away. I feel even better than before if that's possible but question the value of my efforts here typing and deleting, retyping and deleting again. Perhaps my insistence to continue this endeavor is preventing me from moving forward in my journey at the ICRI and becoming more immersed in its wonderful world. Who is ever going to read this anyway? Perhaps it's always been a pointless task, even when the words were flowing smoothly. For now I shall persist but my will is weakening. At the very least I must attempt to describe the weeks that led me to this juncture.


I lay quietly in my heavy rubber womb. I knew morning had arrived from the muffled sounds coming from the cellblock of Sublevel 2 and the fact that I felt well rested and ready to begin a new day. Just as I remembered Warden's unintentional intimation of changes afoot I heard my deadbolt open, and I knew that it wasn't she that had done so.

My heart fluttered as I wondered who had entered my space, the bolt having been thrown with a speed and clatter uncharacteristic of our Matron's style. "Are you awake, 123?" the voice of Warden 6, our Nurse, quelled my angst and I 'mmphed' in the affirmative. "Good, the Doctor needs to see you this morning and I've come to get you ready," her voice was pleasing and reassuring somehow, as she began to free me from my many bonds, "have a quick shower while I set up my equipment and we'll have you prepped in time for your appointment."

She took my hand and helped me out of bed and guided me towards the corner stall. As I stood under the spray, rinsing and removing my nightsuit I watched through the glass as she exited briefly only to return with a large gurney that barely fit into my humble abode. Cleaning my now naked body I saw that below the upper level of the wheeled contraption there was a second level upon which rested a fairly large apparatus of some kind and some other equipment. The glass had begun to fog and I reluctantly left the warm stream of water for the cold chill of my cell.

As I rushed to dry myself with my small pink towel I shivered and looked more closely at the gurney before me. Its thin mattress was covered with a light green rubber sheet which had multiple heavy white rubber straps running crossways the length of it. These straps disappeared beneath the platform on either side. The one nearest me had two loops that could be further adjusted and locked, presumably for the ankles. Farther along there were two larger ones on the next strap which were meant for one's thighs, a large one on the next, intended for the waist was partly covered by another with two loops of its own for wrists. Finally, near the far end was a wide more complex configuration of heavy white rubber strapping destined to surround the patient's head. All five of these menacing looking devices must have been locked to the underside of the bed on either side where they disappeared from my view. As I removed the last bits of moisture from my skin I shook with cold and fear: there was something almost sinister in the utter inescapability of my next conveyor, as though it had been designed for a raging madwoman... or perhaps devised by one.

Warden 6 stood up from the equipment she'd been tinkering with and patted the bed gently, looking at me with an almost hesitant smile. She held her hand out for me again and helped me climb aboard. With her usual speed and efficiency I was utterly subjugated by the rolling bondage beast's belts in what seemed like just seconds. I trembled and tugged at the many loops of heavy and thick white rubber that held me completely immobile. My head was not only totally affixed in its current position but the harness under my chin precluded any movement of my jaw whatsoever, not that I had anything of importance to say to my latest captor.

I felt my new berth rise about a foot as our Nurse adjusted it. Then surprisingly, she released my left ankle. She produced an odd looking hand tool from which trailed a wire and a black rubber tube, presumably linking it to the apparatus beneath me. Beginning with my toes she began to minutely examine every square inch of my foot and leg with it. I strained to see from my bound position but the device seemed to have a small display screen and also emitted intermittent beeps of various tones and lengths. About a half dozen times on her journey upwards she stopped and I felt a brief and odd sensation in the area she was addressing. Finally, when she was nearing my exposed privates Warden 6 deigned to explain to me what she was up to.

"I love this new gizmo 123, it works so well," as she spoke the strange sensation occured again but was a little more vivid, coming from my inner thigh. "Despite all the electrolysis and laser treatment you've had there are always a small number of rebel follicles that just refuse to die. This instrument not only locates them but creates a mini-vacuum around each offending miscreant which removes them," she continued as her latex hand grazed my labia. "For some reason it's more effective at preventing regrowth than the traditional methods or even manual plucking, which of course is more painful. The vacuum does its work in milliseconds, barely long enough for the patient to notice." I felt her new toy proceed beyond just my legs.

My treatment lasted perhaps an hour. Dutifully, Warden 6 examined me inch by inch, rebinding one limb to free another. At one point I was released completely, only to be flipped over and bound anew while she completed her job. In all she claimed over a hundred victims, many of which were concentrated in my pubes, underarms and on my head, and none of which I had known existed: I'd felt as smooth as a baby for months. She put her equipment away and after immobilizing me on my back raised the chrome rails of the gurney such that they surrounded me on all sides to a height of about eight inches...lest I accidentally roll off, I mused.

As our Nurse guided me to the elevator and my appointment on Level 6 she revealed some hints about my future. "The Doctor will make a thorough examination of you 123, to make sure you're ready for your time on Level 8. All inmates go there eventually but you have been deemed ready much sooner than most," she spoke casually as though I knew what she was talking about. "More often it occurs after perhaps eighteen or twenty-four months whereas you've been with us less than a year." She sounded impressed, like I had accomplished something of note. "How long you spend there, of course, is completely up to you. The minimum is ten days but no one has ever left that soon: most take at least a few weeks, sometimes longer." As she spoke I became more and more curious and increasingly frightened: my body strained of its own accord at the inescapable bondage of the gurney and I shivered as a thin sheen of perspiration formed on my cold and unaccustomed nakedness.

We arrived at the Infirmary and Warden 6 bade me farewell after leaving me in a large examination room. She had given my hand a squeeze and smiled gently into the gaping eyes of my immovable head before departing. The room was slightly warmer than the elevator and much warmer than Sublevel 2 and I soon managed to calm myself down and quit shaking. The good Doctor, true to the rituals of her profession, appeared to be in no hurry to see me and I waited for a long while without even the distraction of dog-eared old magazines to flip through. I recalled that I had stopped briefly on Level 8 on my day as a courier-cum-orange-monster. It had seemed deserted and I only saw a dark hallway where a makeshift sign instructed me to drop off my packages. What awaited me up there: now that it appeared I would be spending untold weeks away from the comfort of my cell? What about my daily feeding on Level 4 and my workouts in the Gymnasium? What of my cleaning duties and my bedtime story from our dear Matron who had taken me under her wing since the day I arrived? I began to gently cry as the thought of losing my beloved routines began to sink in.


The Doctor was her usual untalkative self during my examination. She left me bound to the gurney the whole time, occasionally releasing a strap or two to provide better access only to refasten them once she had moved on. Samples were taken, tests made, notes duly recorded but her bedside manner left something to be desired. I pined to ask her about the mysterious Level 8 but my jaw was strapped tight save for a brief few moments when all I could say was, “aww.”

Finally, at long last, she seemed to be finished with me and after making a few more notes on her tablet she headed for the door. "Congratulations 123, you've been cleared for takeoff. Good luck upstairs," she spoke with little emotion and left me alone again with my curiosity and fears festering.

As the time passed my mind settled and I came to an acceptance of my new situation. As was always the case, I realized that my superiors were far better judges of what was best for me and that my only role was to accede and obey. Whatever awaited me on Level 8 was a blessing; everything that had happened to me since the moment I'd buckled myself into the van in Tokyo had been more perfect than I could have ever imagined. My life had altered so dramatically that I could barely conceive of my former self and her world, though it had been less than a year since I was living it. I shuddered at the thought that I might very well have stayed there forever, slowly descending into bitter loneliness instead of finding and being accepted into this heavenly cult of Love. I smiled softly and pulled happily on the inexorable bonds of my enthrallment.

I was left waiting so long I must have dozed off, for the voice of Warden 6 startled me, "Wake up 123, it's time to go to sleep." My eyes flickered open long enough to see the smiling face of our Nurse beyond the approaching anaesthetic mask she held, its corrugated black rubber tubing stretching below and out of my view. Pushing its padded form to my immobile head she spoke, "Your fate is in your own hands prisoner," and before I had time to contemplate her enigmatic words the world slipped away.


The sun was setting among the distant peaks of the Alps, its askant rays making the most beautiful patterns on the surface of the pristine lake I was floating in. It didn't strike me as odd that the lake was filled with Elixir instead of water, nor that the goo was white instead of pink. I was so enchanted with the play of sunlight and the indescribable comfort of being buoyed so effortlessly on it that I simply indulged in the moment. The delightfully dense gloop held me high, such that I barely penetrated its dancing and oscillating surface.

At some point I realized that I was dreaming, and that realization almost caused me to awaken but I managed to hold the vision and relax again. I looked at the pink-tinged mountains then back to the mesmerizing milk surrounding me. One small scintillating vortex caught my attention and sucked me inside, pulling me deep into the wondrous white goo. I remembered again that I was dreaming but it was too late: the nectar squeezed every square millimetre of my body so tightly in its celestial embrace that I climaxed involuntarily and awoke.

Luxuriating in the afterglow of my wonderful experience I was in no hurry to open my eyes and let it slip away. I relived it in my mind, half succeeding in re-entering the magical place I had been. At length I was convinced that the dream was over but at least I had recorded it in my conscious memory such that it wouldn't disappear entirely. I opened my eyes without thinking, expecting to find myself in the darkness of the rubber womb of my cell. My new world however, was entirely white.

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