Gromet's PlazaLatex Stories

Institute for Complete Rubber Immersion

by Jane D'oh

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© Copyright 2020 - Jane D'oh - Used by permission

Storycodes: F+/f+; bond; latex; slave; prison; breathplay; catheter; drug; catsuit; sleepsack; gloves; hood; gag; cuffs; scuba; cons; X

Continues from


Warden 10 minced rapidly into the room, her little strides making staccato explosions as she disappeared behind me. "We will start her off with the simplest and lightest gear today, Forty-Three," her commands unquestionable. "This, and these, this one...that will do," she must have been pointing out to 043 the items which would constitute my first foray into the underwater realm - which as far as I could tell, didn't exist in this building.

She continued and I heard some cabinet doors shutting. "And this will suffice, and four of these," she finished and flashed again into my view. "Once she's suited up, walk her to my office and I will inspect your work," and with that she was gone. After the heavy door re-closed it completely blocked the sound of her footfalls, making her brief appearance seem somehow unreal. Then I realized that my ankles and right wrist had been released from the wheelchair's restraints. Perhaps she had used a remote control device.

I had no time to consider it for 043 had grabbed the aforementioned wrist none too lightly and was directing me to stand and follow her to a high rubber covered bench along the wall beneath the shelf containing the mesmerizing helmets. She almost pushed me down to seat me, our communication being hampered by her inability to speak and the fact that I had been staring at the ominous beasts beckoning and frightening me from above. Then she set to work gathering the articles of my ensemble. Teetering in her crotch-high heavy pink rubber boots which barely allowed her to bend at the knees, 043 made surprisingly quick work of assembling the items, many of which were quite heavy, onto the bench to either side of me. 

I have worn many a rubber suit in my time, particularly of late, but never one quite like what my dressing assistant was guiding me into now. It was all black and appeared to be brand new - I later learned that it was a Viking Protech. Its smooth vulcanized rubber gleamed enticingly. The big zipper, unlike most drysuits, ran diagonally down the front rather than across the shoulder blades in back. It had tapering latex wrist seals and an attached open-face hood. Despite Warden 10's remarks I found it very heavy and we had a bit of trouble getting me in, owing to my inexperience and my helper's condition. Soon, though, I was standing in its attached booties and getting the internal suspenders in place and then pushing one arm after the other into the sleeves and through the tight seals. Next came the trickiest bit but eventually with my pink head lowered forward we were able to get me through the neck seal and into the hood(although not without a brief airless panic). Now I was really beginning to enjoy things.

The inherent sexiness of the suit combined with the fact that I wasn't sure if I would be able to get out of it without help had my heart thumping. 043's firm pink rubber breasts weren't hurting matters either. I noticed, a little to my chagrin, that I had been staring at them almost as much as I had the gear. She took hold of my right hand and raised it to the zipper-pull at my left shoulder and indicated that I was to seal myself into my new air-tight home. I couldn't move it at first but my assistant gripped the suit behind the zipper and vocalized an exhortation. With the extra leverage and a bit more effort I was able to get it moving smoothly. Halfway through I added my left hand to the procedure and the big water-tight thing soon reached its goal with a satisfyingly snug conclusion.

I hadn't expected to be quite so stimulated simply from donning a drysuit but my pulse quickened further. I felt isolated and trapped in its powerful clutches. I still distrusted the owner of the rubber boobs dancing in front of me but my dislike had vanished. A rubber belt with six attached leaden weights appeared and was soon hugging my waist snugly. A large black metal cylinder with chrome fittings was hoisted unto my back and its wide rubber harness straps tightened over my shoulders, below my breasts and firmly through my appreciative crotch.

043 guided me slowly backwards and I was allowed to sit on the front edge of the bench, all but panting from the excessive exertions. She raised a pair of long black fins in front of me and demonstrated how the heel strap worked before lifting my leg and pushing the fin onto my foot, almost losing her balance in the process. Snapping the rubber strap in place she pulled it tight then repeated the procedure with my other appendage. I found wearing the long fins to be a unique sensation and flipped my rubbery extensions up and down in the air enjoying the odd effect: it was as though they were a part of me and my body-consciousness had grown two feet longer. A pair of black, medium weight rubber gloves fell into my lap and with yet more effort I was able to get them on, their tight wrists merging with those of my suit. Meanwhile, the increasingly desirous dressing assistant had added four ankle weights to my outfit: these were padded black rubber donuts that snapped on easily but added significantly to my growing burden.

The final piece to our puzzle was the full-face mask that remained beside me on the bench to my right. 043 seemed to be resting and composing herself after all her exertions, leaning backwards to my left to ease the weight from her poor toes. Her undeniably attractive face glimmered slightly with perspiration and her heavenly bust rose and fell in unison with her quickened breaths. I wondered hopefully that perchance my misgivings about her were in error and could somehow be explained. With a grunt of self-encouragement through the big pink phallus filling her mouth, she set back to work.

I wasn't at all startled when I heard another little beep and the driver's door unlock. I knew that my Chauffeuse had returned to hasten me along to my intended destiny. Nor was I remotely interested in the fact that she had buckled me tightly into the left front seat and now entered from the right. Whether we were still in Japan or not was irrelevant: the pink goo now decided what was important to me. Besides, I didn't have a clue as to which countries in this part of the world drove on the left side of the road.

"Did you miss me, slut?" her condescending voice had my juices flowing before she'd even strapped herself into her domain. "Is your pretty little head all full of goo?" she queried slowly, demeaning and arousing me at the same time. The car came to life with a distinctly high-end purr. I envisioned 727 pulling on tight black leather driving gloves and gripping the gearstick mercilessly.

I thought I was in heaven until the seat of my chair began to vibrate softly and my already ripe libido rose even further. Somehow my handbag seemed to amplify the sensation and helped it spread, jiggling towards my privates. "Oh!" I gasped, now in an even higher realm.

"I shan't count that as speaking out of turn minx, but try to keep it down over there: I've got to concentrate on driving." Our Chauffeuse shifted us into gear with authority.

Well, I thought, if my first day with ICRI is any indication of the future, then all the years of searching will have been more than worth it. In fact, the first day alone all but justifies my efforts. Warden 6 the Nurse, and 727 the Chauffeuse are both dreamy-good new friends. The Elixir is melting my resistance and tingling my senses. This seat is stimulating me further and further onward towards my fate. And on top of all that I'm feeling the need to pee again and my new lovers have even managed to turn that simple bodily function into a strangely erotic one. A little sigh of joy rose through my gooey-pink throat and drifted skyward. "I can't imagine how much noise you'll make when I actually get to have my way with you," my driver laughed at me and the vibrations stopped. "I think you've had enough for now dear, we can't have you screaming like a porn star, it could distract me." I smiled towards Chauffeuse and somehow the echoes of her magic seat continued to seduce me, as did her glorious foreshadowing.

Befitting her name, her driving was excellent. She eased us smoothly and seamlessly along our way. I realized that the car had a manual transmission and had visions of her black leather hand piteously manipulating the stick. It wasn't long before we began to accelerate very rapidly and the power of the engine became even more apparent as we continued upon what must have been an expressway. I floated airily. My passions had moderated somewhat and I was more than content just to sit in peace, enjoying the moment without wondering about our destination or how long it would take to get there.

I must have dozed off at some point for we were now travelling at a chastened pace and making a sharp turn to the left. The centrifugal force pushed me towards 727 and I wanted to take advantage of it to touch her but thought it prudent to defer, lest I startle her. As if sensing my feelings Chauffeuse spoke, "We're almost there now, my sweet, and sadly that means we must part for an extended time. Your first weeks at the Institute will be very busy and I shall have no part in them."

We continued on our way, stopping and starting several times as though in an urban area. "I know that you were destined to join us and that someday we will be together again," she spoke as though there could be no possible doubt of her truths. I started to tear up listening to her words and felt again the all-encompassing rightness of my path. Another turn and steep downward descent ensued as she slowed us markedly before proceeding anew and coming to a final halt. The engine switched off and the luxurious lips of my sweet conveyor embraced the edge of my mouth for a timeless moment. "Welcome home," she whispered.


I later learned that the full-face rubber mask that my dressing assistant held in front of me was a Scubapro design. In front of the mouth area a respirator was attached with its dangling hose; in the rear, five rubber straps converged into a broad rubber cradle that nursed the back of the head. She gave it to me to hold, indicating that I keep it in the area in front of my face whilst she attached its hose to my air-tank and connected another hose to the intake valve of my suit, which was centred just above my - heaving - bosom.

The thought of being strapped into this thing and dependent upon its air supply via the tank on my back had me on the verge of taking pleasure. I might have been imagining it, but I sensed that my helper might be getting some vicarious pleasure from the proceedings also. The moment came and she carefully fitted the thing into place over my head. She adjusted a knob and I felt a flow of air in front of me. The interior of the mask has a triangular oral-nasal mask, not unlike the one that Nurse loves to use to anaesthetize us. 043 tightened the straps one by one, tighter and tighter, until I was sealed off in my own world. The sound of the valves and the airflow was the final element of my immersion into a new realm. It was as though I had been waiting to hear just such rhythms my whole life or that I had heard them before in a different life. I teetered on the brink of ecstasy and revelled in the wonder of this new completion. Gradually I was able to calm myself somewhat and rejoin the denizens of Earth.

Having my weight partially supported by my rubbery bum upon the edge of the bench greatly alleviated the load that I bore. Once my assistant pulled me to my flippered feet however, the true gravity of my situation became readily apparent. I had no idea what a scale might read if I stepped upon one but it felt as if I had doubled my former self. My respiration was heavy again as the exertion of standing still took its toll upon me. 043 was circling about me with a wet cloth, dabbing and wiping here and there in search of imperfections in my appearance.

Once the initial shock of my tonnage had subsided, along with the fear it produced, I became more confident and assured in my posture. Eventually I was breathing almost normally again - if being turned on by the hissing and clicking of valves is normal - and feeling much better about our impending trip. There was something intrinsically exciting yet mysterious about my increased mass. It was like bondage without quite being so. There were no cuffs or chains yet my mobility was restrained and my freedom checked. I imagined having been abducted to another planet where gravity was stronger than on Earth and being isolated in layers of heavy rubber to protect against contamination, toiling endlessly beneath their cold moons in leaden drudgery...but I digress.

Her task complete, my dressing assistant took me almost amicably by the hand and we began our journey.

I wasn't thinking about my future after Chauffeuse had departed, I was luxuriating in her final goodbye and the treatment she and Nurse had bestowed upon me on my first meeting with ICRI. When the car door beside me was opened some time later the tone of my initial immersion changed dramatically. Someone - none too delicately - lifted the handbag between my legs and unclamped my growing need. Once I was drained my catheter tube must have been disconnected from the bladder in my handbag for I never saw it or my bag again.

I was unstrapped and pulled from the car and to my feet, then stripped naked in cursory fashion, the blackened sunglasses and the red rubber tube dangling between my legs being my only accessories. Smooth, inhuman hands held both my upper arms and walked me forward some distance then pushed me down onto a very low stool and continued to hold me. The whir of a small motor was startling but I wasn't surprised or upset when I realized that my short hair was being sheared to my scalp and then meticulously shaved away altogether. I had done the same to every other offending follicle on my body before embarking on this journey, and now only my brows and lashes remained. The hands lifted me again and guided me a few steps further until my bare feet were on a cold metal surface with gaps like a drain. Another pair of hands attached my wrists together with what felt like rubber cuffs and raised them over my head before hooking them to something. My handlers released their grip and a metallic rattle raised me to my toes. I felt the hands brush my face and remove my blinding glasses.

Although it wasn't overly bright I had to squint and refocus a bit after being in the dark for so long. I was in an underground parking garage and before me were three creatures in what appeared to be full hazmat suits, all in lustrous gleaming orange rubber. They had huge humps upon their backs which I eventually realized contained their breathing apparatus. The large visors in the front of their exaggerated heads allowed me glimpses of their eyes behind the internal gas-masks they wore. The figure in the centre was manipulating a large coil of ominous looking black rubber hose with a metal device on one end that resembled a pistol, the other end hidden behind a closed door which the hose snaked beneath.

The orange monster came towards me and I thought I detected a glint of sadistic pleasure it its largely hidden countenance. Its oversized rubber hands fixed the gun upon my now-quivering flesh from about six feet away, aiming towards my navel and squeezed the trigger. The force of the jet was stronger than I anticipated but at least it wasn't overly cold or hot. The stream rose up my body and I instinctively spun round to avoid it. A few seconds later it suddenly stopped and I cautiously turned back towards it. The gunman's helpers were almost upon me, each yielding a black spray bottle. They took up positions in on either side of me and, starting at my fingers and ending with my toes, proceeded to cover every inch of me with a dark green gel that smelt vaguely of lime. They put the spritzers down on the edge of the large drainage area near the waiting hose-bearer and re-approached my dangling helpless figure. Then the fun began.

The four large, smooth, orange rubber hands of my two assailants began the most wonderful and stimulating lathering in the history of hygiene. One of them started on my buttocks, the other on my boobs, both displayed the most perfect combination of gentle yet firm massage that could be dreamed of. They proceeded with their manipulations, one heading up and the other down, then changing roles until everything except my eyes and genitalia had been pleasantly frothed by their adorable coercion. My wrist cuffs were just loose enough that a bulbous finger could narrowly fit underneath to all but perfect my cleansing. Alas, my red rubber catheter hose swung between my legs untouched and my yearning privates remained coated in undisturbed green gel.

A final tweak of my sensitive nipples coincided with a playful slap on my slippery bum and the orange rubber creatures stood together behind me as we faced their reanimated cohort. Wielding the weapon even more enthusiastically than before, the beast fired without hesitation and the powerful jet struck me with force on my left side as I endeavoured to spin away from it. Her helpers attempted to thwart my evasion but I was slippery quarry in their bulbous hands and we were soon in a writhing dance of suds as the hose continued its assault. Soon their orange suits were besmirched with green accents which lubricated the already slick rubber further as they attempted to use their bodies to control me. The shooter seemed unconcerned with our exotic wrestling and seemed equally pleased to fire upon her own kind.

My eyes were shut now in self-defence and the rubbery attentions of my combatants were beginning to excite me. The more I squirmed against them the more sensations my needy body received but I began to realize that we were quickly becoming rinsed of the agent. Their grips were improving and my resistance ebbing as the tempo of our waltz diminished. Finally, they had me tamed and I hung limply in submission while the jet completed all but the most important area of its task. Eventually my desires were realized as I felt the force of the spray alter as it moved downwards between my breasts, its strength slightly lessening as the area of contact grew from a point to a horizontal line of perhaps two inches. I blinked open my eyes and watched as the creature knelt to one rubber knee, guiding the flow over my navel and further southwards. It peered up just before reaching the supreme target and our eyes met briefly in an odd moment of mutual awareness. At long last the downward journey continued and I was soon utterly cleansed.

I wish I had a picture of 043 and myself as we made our way towards Warden 10's office that day: the pink curvaceous tip-toeing guide with her heavy black frogwoman in tow must have cut quite the figure. Our progress was slow, needless to say, as my long finned feet and onerous burden defined our pace. I was becoming increasingly enamoured of my situation and of my guide as we proceeded. I silently gave thanks to the Universe that had brought about such a charmingly unlikely undertaking and began to relish every rubbery step and regulated breath of our path. 043 continued to hold my doubly rubbered hand the entire way, encouraging and chastening me along. The tenth floor didn't seem devoted to a single function as were most of those below it, although I believe it is where much of the wardrobe is held. At last we came to a stop in front of yet another heavy steel door and my partner released my hand after indicating that I was to enter first. The door swung inwards as if on cue and I proceeded, a little less assuredly without my aide who followed.

"Your timing is perfect Forty-Three, unlike your previous entrance. I've just completed my work here," Warden 10 seemed almost human for a moment as she spoke from behind the monitor on her desk but rising to her feet she again assumed a supernatural appearance in the bright light streaming from above her. A large window covered much of the wall beyond but blinds hid all but the upper quarter of it.

"Let's inspect your work then, shall we?" her tone introduced a note of fear to the room, as had her reminder of 043's previous crime. My heart and libido were really racing now as her magnificence strutted from behind the desk towards us. My peripheral vision was hampered by the mask and I daren't turn my head as she circled behind us. I felt something near the top of my tank and my air supply was soon noticeably diminished. "Well done 043, she looks wonderful, although this strap doesn't seem quite tight enough," and she promptly pulled my crotch strap tauter, ratcheting my emotions ever higher. She came into view again to my left then bent her knees daintily with her forearms and wrists raised slightly, almost like a curtsy and peered downward. I was admiring her astonishing grace when the world stopped.

"Oh dear!" with feigned shock she spoke and my dressing assistant was probably near fainting. "I instructed you to use the two-pound ankle rings and these are threes," she had risen to full height again and there was a subtle hint of disappointment in her calm voice. "A shame, I was just considering pardoning your earlier transgression and now you've committed four new ones." I wanted to look at her victim but was too afraid to move. Many in the Institute derive some pleasure from their punishments but I don't think 043 could be counted among them: she must have been shaking in her pink rubber boots.

"Alas, punishment is inevitable and you've given me the further burden of deciding what it will be...I think I'll count that as your sixth infraction," Warden 10's words further inflamed my lust. The reduced air supply and tightened rubber strap over my privates were adding to my already runaway libido: I began to fear that I might take pleasure right there and right then and that I would be punished for doing so, and the thought that I would be punished drove me on further, as the self-propagating cycle's positive feedback loop pushed me ever onward towards its inevitable conclusion. I knew I was lost.

The bizarre orange rubber creatures put little 'footies' of the type worn in clean-rooms on my pristine feet and lowered the overhead chain a few inches so I could stand normally. I watched the hose-wielder coiling her toy fondly as she moved towards its hidden origin. One of the others promptly reinstated my blackout sunglasses and they all disappeared literally and figuratively, for ever: though I was later told that I might, with good behaviour, be allowed to assume their role someday. I heard a heavy door close and that was it: I'd been hung out to dry. 

Although the underground was heated it wasn't exactly cozy and I began to shiver. I shook myself repeatedly to hurry along the drying process and eventually managed to control my shuddering. I was still cold though and my arms were getting sore. Finally I heard a little chime and what sounded like an elevator door opening not far away.

"Oh dear, oh my goodness, why must they treat the new ones so," the kind voice was getting closer. "Don't worry, my poor thing, I'll have you down and out of this nasty basement in no time," she continued to cheer me and awaken my gratitude. The chain rattled and my wrists were lowered in front of me. I sensed my deliverer's nearness and wasn't startled when I felt her removing my cuffs. "There now, come along and we'll get you warmed up downstairs," she took my hand and led me away from the car-wash and around a corner into the lift.

'Downstairs' had confused me since we were in the basement but I didn't give it much thought until the door shut and I felt our slow descent. "You don't need these anymore dear," she said as she removed my glasses. The large mass of gleaming whiteness was doubled by the mirrored door and I was shocked by the light, and by the sight, of Warden Sub2.

Blinking repeatedly my vision was restored and rewarded to find our Matron in all her sensual excellence. I had already fallen for her kind voice and much appreciated services but wasn't prepared for such a glorious dream of dominant rubber garb. Juxtaposed by her demeanour, she presented a most alluring and pleasurable personage. The door opened upon her domain and my eyes continued to devour her as she led me on, her waders squeaking occasionally on the shiny tiled floor. I was particularly struck by her imposing discipline helmet and its seven jingling padlocks.

She halted me in front of what I've come to think of as 'my' door, the impregnable steel barrier which has secured me in my little rubber cell each night since. I watched her shining white hand pull back the heavy deadbolt with a sensation of deja vu. "Raise your left foot dear," she spoke and removed the little footie covering it. "Lower it inside your cell please," the words exciting me. We repeated the action and my pristine self had entered its sublime new home for the first time. "You'll always be safe and secure down here as long as you behave, and I've got a strong premonition that you will do so, and that you were destined to be amongst us." Warden Sub2 spoke with conviction, echoing the words of Chauffeuse. "You must be exhausted so we'll get you fixed up for bed right away," she said cheerily, lightening the mood.

The sight of my cell and the feel of its firm grey rubber flooring on my bare feet was delighting me. It seemed so perfect. I was still chilly though as this level didn't seem much warmer than the basement and I hoped my new caregiver would soon remedy the situation. She led me to the shower and asked that I spread my legs. Deflating the little bulb inside my bladder she smoothly slid the catheter out of me, a few dribbles landing near the drain, and dropped it on top of them. "I'll tend to that later after I've got you fixed up," she said as I watched her as though in a dream. 

I really was tired after my long day or days since beginning my indoctrination. Warden guided me to the inviting narrow bed. Its matte black rubber padding incorporated a permanent pillow at one end and a suit draped over heavy rubber sheeting at the other. She prompted me up onto its rather high berth and my feet dangled above the floor. "You'll like this I'm sure, nice and thick to keep you warm and loose enough to keep you comfy," she lifted a formidable looking full black rubber suit and arranged its legs to accommodate me as she spoke. As her sexy white rubber hands enshrouded me with black I took a deep breath and a little tear of joy slipped from my left eye splashing directly upon my nipple as if aimed.

The garment didn't seem to be talced or lubricated yet slid on ever so smoothly. Before long I was completely swallowed in its inky depths, save for the little holes at my nostrils and mouth. My guardian coaxed me to lie down and I felt her pulling the surprisingly heavy sheet into place. She seemed to be spending a lot of time adjusting it and as it began to tighten from my feet towards my head I realized that she was attaching it to the frame and was securing me beneath it. "I'll just get you covered up and you'll be set for the night dear," she spoke and continued along until I was pinned on four sides. "There now, all tucked in," she said her voice dampened by the heavy added layer.

I had to turn my head to one side to breathe properly but an adequate if significantly diminished supply seemed available. I already had full trust in this woman and knew she cared for her charge. I heard some noise from the shower area then her voice again. "I'm Warden Sub2 by the way dear, you won't be given a number for several weeks until your initiation," she said. "Oh, my how I ramble on, I'll let you rest now love, sweet dreams," and with that and a quick kiss to the top of my now hairless rubber head she was gone, closing the big door and engaging its deadbolt upon me for the first heart-fluttering time.

I knew that a great cataract lay just ahead, just as I knew that the overwhelming current that pushed me towards it could not be overcome. It pulled me further below the surface and inexorably forward, accelerating towards the awaiting falls. At least I was dressed properly for it. Warden 10 seemed to sense my peril and looked towards me as I attempted to close my eyes to her unearthly glory but I could not. The thought that she may dematerialize at any moment and that I would never see such a vision again overrode my better judgment. An odd smirk appeared for a brief second on her otherwise stoic countenance. The enormous force of the onrushing waters hurled me over the precipice headlong. I came and came and came and came, forgetting all efforts to head back upstream and relishing in the vertiginous plunge into the abyss.

During the freefall over Niagara I had no thoughts of Warden 10, I simply assumed that I wouldn't hit rocks at the bottom but sink into more luxurious depths. Had the idea occurred to me that she might punish me it would have only spurred me on, the thought of such a creature taking the time and effort to afford me justice making my descent even more titillating. I gasped whilst wave after wave of grandeur hurled me onward. Gravity must have somehow altered for when I finally reached the chasm's bottom there was no great shock, just a subtle deceleration and bobbing. That I managed to remain upright during the whole voyage was perchance the most astounding thing. I sucked mightily on the inadequate flow of air coming through the full-face mask strapped tightly to my rubbery head and very slowly began to realize where I was. At least I had had the decency not to have collapsed on the floor pawing at my groin like an animal. Begrudgingly the air supply began to meet my needs again and I realized that the alien and 043 were both staring at me: one slightly bemused, the other totally horrified.

"My, my Forty-Three, this just isn't your day, is it?" the exotic's non sequitur voice reached me through layers of rubber and wanton haze. "This is your seventh misdeed and the day has barely begun." My conscience roared as I understood that since I was in 043's charge as her dressing subject she was being held accountable for my actions. "You may soon wish that your seven sins had been deadly," she mused. "Go back to the dressing room and wait for us. You may pirouette to pass the time: count how many you can accomplish. I expect at least seven hundred and seventy seven." The terrified ballerina curtsied and flew with a 'pas de bourrée couru' from the room.

Continues in


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