Note: This story originally appeared on the RubberZone site. It is reposted here with permission.
The door shut firmly behind Matt as he knelt on the cold tile floor. Matt quickly pulled the rubber hood from his head and glanced over at the laundry for an indication of the day that lay in store for him. No rubber suit sat waiting for him to squeeze into and fill with piss today. No massive cock-shaped butt plug sat waiting to invade his hungry ass. Instead, a new pair of slacks and a nice shirt hung on hangers. No rubber. Nothing out of the ordinary for Matt to wear today – except for the cock cage that already bound his genitals in plastic. And while the car key sat in its usual place on the laundry, no lunch money sat next to it. Matt wondered how he would eat lunch that day, then noticed the clock on the wall. It was a half hour earlier than the usual time he was commanded to “work” each morning, but he quickly deduced that it was to give him time to add the enemas to his morning routine.
As Matt carried out his preparations for a day at the office his mind was startlingly calm compared to each prior morning that week. For while Matt’s mind was still filled with unanswered questions, he seemed calmed by the knowledge that everything that was happening to him was according to plan – whose plan, he wasn’t sure, but somebody’s plan. The fear of someone noticing the cock cage beneath his dress slacks was gone, since anyone likely to notice it probably already knew that it was there. The fear that colleagues would realize that the shaved head was matched by a hairless body was similarly gone. And the lust that Matt had wrestled with each time his hunky colleagues would pass by his trailer over the previous two months, looking hot in their industrial rubber clothing – well, that wasn’t gone, but it was at least being addressed.
As Matt left for work that morning, it was with a feeling remarkably similar to the one he had felt each morning before his roommate arrived – as if he was heading off to a job where he served a purpose. And as Matt arrived at the refinery and walked from his car to the trailer office, he felt a sense of pride, as if he were more of an integral part of the operations of the refinery than he had ever felt while processing paper – even if he was just processing cum and piss instead of paper.
Matt entered the trailer office and closed the door behind him, intending to immediately look to his desk to see what clothing awaited him. But instead, his eyes were instantly drawn across the trailer to the plywood that sealed one wall of the trailer. A large panel of the plywood had been removed, revealing the wall of the building that sat immediately behind the trailer. It was the large, old, masonry building where workers changed into their industrial gear, showered to remove the grime and chemicals from each day at work, and ate lunch on the days when the weather prevented them from eating outdoors. Matt’s trailer office sat against a bare wall of the building, with the trailer’s plywood siding hidden against the concrete wall.
But Matt had never realized until now that the wall was not simply a bare masonry wall. His trailer had been hiding a door all this time – a door that was now revealed with the removal of a sheet of plywood. A door that was open. The passageway.
Matt glanced over at his desk. The computer was gone. Even the in-basket was no longer there. The desk was completely bare except for several articles of rubber sitting on top. Matt obediently pulled off his clothing, noticing hangers on the nearby coat rack that he used to keep his clothes from wrinkling. Then, naked except for his cock cage, Matt picked up the rubber articles. The first article of clothing was a rubber jockstrap. It wasn’t like any Matt had seen before. This one seemed specially designed to be worn by someone wearing a chastity device, as it naturally molded around the plastic device and funneled into a hole below the tip of the device to allow the wearer to piss without removing the jock, as long as he was in a seated or squatting position.
Matt pulled the jock in place and smoothed the rubber until it fit him perfectly. Then he reached over for the next article of rubber clothing – a rubber hood. Unlike the hood he wore at home, this one was intended for a slave who needed the use of his senses. A wide hole over the mouth permitted full use of Matt’s receptacle hole while small tubes reached into his nostrils to ensure clear breathing. Tiny pinprick holes over his eyes permitted Matt to see without exposing his eyes to be seen by the outside world. And while the hood completely covered Matt’s ears, there were no earplugs waiting to seal them off. Matt pulled the tight-fitting hood over his head, adjusted it to place each hole over the correct orifice, then zipped it shut.
Matt then picked up a pair of boots. At first he thought they were like the hipwaders that he occasionally saw some of the clean-up crew wearing around the refinery, but then he began to notice the custom details. Whereas most boots have the soles on the bottom of the boot, these boots had a thick sole that ran along the top of the foot, right up to the padded knee. And whereas most boots were shaped like Italy, these were shaped backwards. There was no bend at the ankle, forcing the foot to stretch out like a ballerina on her toes, while the bend in the boot was at the knee, making it extremely difficult for the wearer of the boots to stand.
As Matt pulled the boots up his hairless legs, he quickly realized that the only comfortable way to wear the boots was down on one’s knees, that the “sole” of the boot along the top of the foot and shin up to the padded knee, was meant to be on the floor at all times, and that the bottom of his foot was meant to point upwards, unprotected by any type of sole. Matt felt a sense of appreciation when he comprehended the design of the boots, as if somebody cared that his knees not be ruined by a life of servitude.
Finally, where most hip waders are wide at the top, these boots had a lace-up section from the knee to the top of the thigh which pulled the boots in tight against Matt’s legs, making it all the more difficult to ever bend his legs and stand. Rubber flaps at the top of each boot covered the lacing and prevented easy removal of the boots. Matt realized that the boots would keep him from standing and force him to remain on his knees, but the fact that they seemed made just for someone in his position made him appreciate wearing them in the same way that a dog appreciates his collar.
Matt reached up for the final articles of rubber on the desk – fist mitts. These fist mitts were padded, like paws, making it easier for Matt to maneuver on his hands and knees. He pulled them in place and discovered that, with his mouth ungagged, he was able to pull the straps through the buckles and secure each mitt in place.
With no more rubber sitting on the desk, Matt realized that he had completed his work uniform for the day. He could just see a reflection of himself in the cracked bathroom mirror across the office, partly visible through the open door to the bathroom. His cock swelled inside the confines of the chastity device as Matt gazed at his perverted reflection, registering its approval for the new uniform.
Matt looked over at the doorway into the building behind the trailer, nervous about where it might lead. But he also knew that he had no choice. On his hands and knees, Matt moved over to the doorway and peered inside. The doorway seemed to be some sort of fire exit for the building, as it immediately led to a set of stairs reaching down into the lower level. Matt had heard that the lower level of the building was the old changing facilities – basically abandoned when the refinery had renovated the main floor with more modern facilities. A nervous twist in Matt’s stomach caused him to hesitate, but then he slowly put one mitted hand forward on the top stair and carefully navigated his way to the bottom of the stairway.
Matt looked up when he reached the last stair. Ahead of him was a dark passageway past walls of bare cement blocks. Matt could see a turn in the passageway about twenty feet down and could see a dim light coming from around the corner. Knowing that there was no turning back, Matt crawled down the passageway, turned the corner, and crawled towards the light.
He found himself entering the old changing facilities. They were straight out of the 1950’s. All tile. A massive communal shower. A row of toilets, perhaps once shielded with dividers, but now all sitting bare. A wide tiled urinal trough that reached down to the floor. A wall of lockers with worn wooden benches. And then, the additions. A leather bench sat in the middle of the room – Matt recognized it as a “fuck bench” – next to where a leather sling hung from the ceiling. A St. Andrews Cross sat against the far wall, and the room was filled with other devices that Matt didn’t recognize, but soon would come to know well. And then, on the far wall above the St. Andrews Cross, Matt noticed the banner with the now-familiar slogan – “Empty balls means less accidents and falls.” And in tiny letters on the bottom of the banner, the phrase “brought to you by the Beau Mec Workers Compensation Insurance Corp.”
Oddly, the very thing that Matt should have noticed first was what he didn’t notice until he had already taken in the rest of the room. Three masculine studs in industrial rubber gear stood in the middle of the room with their hands on their crotches. They weren’t workers that Matt knew, but he recognized them as workers from the night shift – men he would see each morning leaving the changing facilities shortly after Matt arrived at work. And now, it appeared that they were looking for a little satisfaction before changing back into their street clothes and heading home for the day. One of the workers pulled down the zipper on his heavy rubber coveralls and hauled out a large and growing circumcised cock. He approached Matt and pushed the head of his cock against Matt’s widening lips.
Matt knew that his immediate response was supposed to be to open his mouth wide and take the cock inside. But he couldn’t help himself. As he looked around at his surroundings and at the men he was about to satisfy, he couldn’t help but smile.
Matt pulled off the rubber hood and obediently began his preparations for another day at work. Three months had passed since the arrival of his roommate, but Matt would have been unable to tell that to anyone with any measure of precision. Whereas once he had enjoyed weekends, Matt now worked seven days a week, unable to tell whether he was going to the office on a Monday, a Thursday or a Saturday, and unable to calculate just how many months it had been since his roommate had arrived. But it only made sense to work seven days a week, Matt figured. The refinery operated around the clock, men worked there around the clock, and their balls needed emptying around the clock.
While much had changed in Matt’s life, much had also remained the same. For example, Matt still returned home every night, cleaned himself up, strapped the rubber hood to his head and waited at the door for his roommate to let him back inside his home. Matt had still not seen the face of his roommate since the night the handsome man had arrived three months before. And Matt was still returned to the laundry room each morning with the command to “Work.”
But whereas Matt used to shave his face and head each morning before work, that chore was no longer necessary. Only a week earlier, his roommate had completed the last of the many laser treatments that removed the last of Matt’s hair from his head to his toes, leaving Matt’s morning routine simplified to filling himself with several enemas, showering, brushing his teeth and getting dressed.
And whereas Matt had spent most of his nights in the first few weeks since his roommate’s arrival secured inside rubber and leather sleepsacks, with every hole plugged and controlled, either hanging in his old linen closet or strapped into a padded drawer underneath his old bed, Matt rarely spent the night in such bondage any more.
Now, Matt spent nearly every night in his cellar, completely immobilized in his rubber case. Shortly after his arrival, Matt’s roommate had encased Matt one night in fiberglass, standing like a mannequin with his arms and legs slightly separated from his body. The following morning, Matt’s roommate had then carefully cut the form from Matt’s body to preserve it as a form for a mold. Over the following weeks, as Matt was at work, Matt’s roommate had used the form to create a perfect mold of Matt’s body, and then had used that mold to create a storage case for Matt’s encasement each night.
From the outside, the case looked very much like the large speakers one might see on the stage of a traveling rock and roll band – a plastic-sided box held together by metal bands on the edges, providing a secure case that would survive travel and protect the contents inside. One might also describe the case as being similar to a large trumpet case – a rectangular box of plastic and metal, joined by large, heavy metal fasteners.
And like a trumpet case, Matt’s case opened on hinges to reveal two sides, each with an impression of one half of Matt’s body, with a few alterations. But while the inside of a trumpet case might be velvet stretched over a foam form, the inside of Matt’s case was solid rubber – not as hard as a tire, but not as soft as foam. If one pressed a thumb against the rubber surface, it would be easy to form an indentation. But if one pressed the side of one’s arm against the surface, it was unyielding.
And then there were the alterations. As Matt had learned a few months earlier, his roommate had made a similar form of his own cock, turning it into a life-size cock-shaped butt plug to use to train Matt’s ass in preparation for his massive hard-on. That same form of the beautiful cock had been used again to create a similar plug arching up from the inside of the form of Matt’s backside – obscenely inviting Matt to impale himself on the massive prick as he lowered his body into the waiting form each night.
The area around Matt’s head had been formed while Matt had been wearing his rubber hood – an intentional act, since Matt continued to wear the rubber hood at all times while in his house. And as Matt’s roommate would slowly close the lid of the case, lowering the form of the front of Matt’s body securely over Matt, a few other alternations fell into place. Whereas Matt had once worn a plastic chastity device on his cock, he now wore a permanent metal and rubber device that slipped into a waiting indentation in the case that had a drainage hole, allowing Matt’s piss to drain out of the case each night. Similar tubes slipped into place over the holes in Matt’s hood. The tubes leading into his nostrils ensured a continuous supply of oxygen, while the tube into Matt’s plug gag allowed Matt’s roommate to feed Matt his dinner each night after putting Matt to bed, and his breakfast each morning before releasing Matt from his night of storage.
Each night, after exercise and a cold shower, wearing only his confining rubber hood and equally confining metal and rubber chastity device, Matt would be guided by his roommate to the open case, helped onto a small stool, then guided backwards, impaling himself down onto the hard rubber prick and inserting himself into the form for the back half of his body. Once Matt was fully impaled on the hard cock, he would take each foot off the stool and insert each leg into the form until his body was resting against the back half of the case like a chocolate bon-bon in a box of assortments. Then, Matt’s roommate would carefully close the front half of the case over Matt’s body, carefully moving the heavy device into place. Although Matt was only vaguely aware of it, the two sides of the case had small indentations along the edges where each half met next to Matt’s skin, ensuring that the case would not painfully pinch Matt’s skin as it closed.
Matt’s roommate would then secure the heavy metal fasteners that held the two sides of the case together, locking Matt into his hard rubber prison for the night. Dinner would then follow – a protein shake trickled down Matt’s throat through the tube that entered his mouth. On most nights, dinner would be washed down with dessert as Matt’s roommate would piss into the hole, ensuring that Matt was well-hydrated for the night. And finally, using a winch attached to the ceiling, Matt’s roommate would lower the case into a forward position until Matt was nearly face down. Although Matt didn’t know the reason, his roommate had concluded that this was the safest position for Matt to spend a night encased in hard rubber, both to ensure that gravity would take Matt’s piss from his caged cock, and in case the need to vomit ever arose, as Matt would be able to expel anything through the rubber tubing and still breathe through the tubes to his nostrils.
But such logic was entirely lost on Matt. Already rendered near-senseless inside the confining rubber hood, Matt felt a mixture of being both assaulted and caressed as he impaled himself each night on the hard rubber facsimile of his roommate’s prick and felt his body become enveloped in hard rubber bearing his exact shape. And even though Matt could not see the front half of the case closing over his body, he could feel its approach, covering the last of his exposed skin, locking his body inside a solid rubber case that prevented all movement.
Breathing – at least shallow breathing – remained possible, and Matt could swallow without pushing his Adam’s apple too painfully against the hard rubber. But any other movement was impossible. Nor did any sound enter the case. Although Matt learned early on that the case was wired for sound, in the event that additional command sessions were deemed necessary, he otherwise could not hear a thing. The lack of sound made time particularly impossible to calculate, making each night in the rubber enclosure feel like an endless experience of sensing nothing but the constant pressure of immovable rubber against his skin.
Each morning, Matt would awaken to the feeling of the case being righted once more – the prelude to breakfast being poured through the tube into Matt’s throat. Then, with no other fanfare, Matt would be carefully released from the rubber case, led upstairs to the main floor of the house, and deposited on the floor of the laundry room to prepare himself for another day at the office.
But whereas Matt’s nights at home had become incredibly routine, Matt’s days at the refinery were a mix of structure and uncertainty. Every day Matt would drive himself to the refinery and walk to his trailer office, just as he had done when he had worked as a lowly payroll clerk. And each day Matt would immediately strip upon entering his office and change into the rubber gear that lay waiting on his desk. But that was where the routine generally ended, for each day Matt found a different combination of rubber clothing and bondage gear to be strapped onto his body. Some days Matt found gear that completely covered his body, such as a catsuit with mitts and boots, and the ever-present hood. Other days, Matt’s body would be bare, bound only by rubber manacles. Still other days, Matt might find a gimp suit and puppy hood waiting for him. The only constants were that Matt’s head would be encased in some form of hood and his hands would be encased in some form of rubber mitt. Each morning was a surprise, and each morning Matt played a game with himself on the way to the refinery, trying to guess the combination of rubber gear that would be waiting for him. He was rarely, if ever, right.
Then, securely bound in some form of rubber clothing, Matt would walk or crawl through the passageway to the old changing facilities where he would usually find at least one, but usually several, horny refinery workers in need of a release before heading home or back to work.
At some point during the day – it usually seemed the halfway point – the mail guy who had once dropped envelopes into Matt’s in-box, would arrive with Matt’s lunch. It was always served in a bowl on the floor and the mail guy would always obtain some form of sexual relief from Matt before letting him eat.
The rest of Matt’s day was an everchanging stream of refinery workers – some at the end of their shifts, some about to start their shifts, and others on meal or coffee breaks – all demanding the release of sexual tension that would permit them to concentrate on their jobs. Matt soon came to have favorites – particular cocks that fit perfectly inside his ass, particular asses that were always clean but sweaty, particular piss that was not too bitter, and particular semen that was sweet and musky.
Whereas Matt had once worked eight-hour shifts as an office worker, he now served for twelve hours each day, serving for one half of the refinery’s time in operation. Indeed, it was several weeks before Matt discovered, one night when he had been kept late with a particularly long blowjob, that he was actually one of two refinery workers who kept down the company’s worker’s compensation insurance premiums by working opposite twelve-hour shifts. For that night, just as Matt finished putting on his clothes and reached for the door, another young man opened the door from the outside to enter the trailer office. They stared at each other for a moment, recognizing themselves in each other’s hairless bodies, loose slacks, dress shirt, and shoes without socks. Both were too shocked to say a word. Instead, with a slight smile of acknowledgement, they simply passed in the night, suddenly aware that they were part of a team.
Thank RbbrStorage for this story!
And extra special thanks to Squirm of RubberZone , where this story originally appeared, for granting permission to share here!
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