By RbbrStorage
This story originally appeared on RubberZone. It is reposted here with permission.
Less than an hour later, Matt was again sweating in rubber, but this time for the added reason that he was running on his treadmill. Tonight he had returned home to find the rubber hood he had worn the night before waiting for him once again on the laundry, along with a wide tube gag, a rubber wrestling suit, running shoes and a pair of fist mitts. It was an outfit that told Matt that he was in for an evening of exercise.
The tube gag was not for piss, but to ensure that Matt could take the deep breaths that his body would crave while he worked out. But tonight it also served to effectively prevent Matt from questioning his roommate about the events of the day. Matt no longer had any doubt that the way in which his roommate had taken over Matt’s life was connected directly with the refinery. But he still had so many questions – questions he knew that he would probably never get to ask.
The workout was followed by the standard cold shower and the standard dinner – a protein shake poured down Matt’s throat – before the plug gag was secured once again around the rubber hood. And though Matt was then desperately ready to be put to bed and catch up on his desperately needed sleep, it became apparent that his evening with his roommate was far from over. One by one, Matt’s roommate took Matt’s hands, pushed them into a fist, then inserted each inside a rubber fist mitt. Then, carefully, and with a hand firmly on Matt’s shoulders, Matt’s roommate guided him down the old rickety stairs into the cellar.
