Variations in Life

Trying to remember despite the huge hangover...

Passing through this city during my hitchhiking trip across this country, seeing the posters everywhere, i got lucky to find a huge gay parade happening that afternoon, so stayed for it.

I remember running into those two guys, that hunk in his full leathers and on a leash that guy in full red rubber head to toe. Even though i was just in my jeans, tee and sneaks, once i told them that i was hitchhiking and lucky to pass just this weekend here, they stuck with me, celebrating that parade, drinking a lot throughout. Loved the hospitality aspect of it, but also remember i jokingly told the hunk that i envy his boy locked into that rubber, despite it definitely being way too hot that day.

I do remember the parade ending but also having trouble to stand up, too drunk by that time, remember them staying with me and us having more drinks... but that is it then... i likely must have blacked out then.

and when i came to... i found myself here, tied, helpless, wearing that same full red rubber stuff that guy wore at the parade...

Finally after having struggled all day here, futile of course, they both entered that room i was kept in. The hunk then:

'I guess the hangover is settling slowly, no worries you'll get plenty water soon, ut certainly you also exauted yourself trying to get free, but must have realized i's not going to be possible.

Not sure how much of yesterday you remember, but i am Mike, and this (pointing at his boy next to him) is Colin, but for you it's 'Master' for both of us from here on permanently.

You see, i am Dom Top only, my husband and boy here is submissive only to me, but primarily also Dom and Top.

You were drunk yesterday, but still you kept talking about how much you envy my boy on the leash rubbered up completely, asked multiple times if you would be allowed to take his place.

Qell, after you passed out, we could not just let you lay there out in the park on your own, so we chose to take you home with us. Things kind of ran their ways then, even if initially we had not planned on it.

My boy got out of that rubber, but when he came cack from the shower, seeing you lay fully out there on the couch, he joked how much fun it would be to have you wake up in his rubber at some point, not knowing how it happened.

I liked that idea and together we stripped you, but i also insisted, if it was my boys rubber, it also has to be his locked on nub chastity and his lockable plug. We got you locked into those first and then worked you into the rubber, i had no idea how difficult it is even for two persons to fully ruber up a limp body.

We didn't want to couch to get wet from the sweat you clearly would build, so transferred you to this bed then, holding a plastic sheet under the bedding for just that reason. Buit again then, having you lay here on this bed, all the chains and restraints connected permanent to it already, my boy suggested to make use of all of them, add to the surprise when you wake up.

Well... all that was yesterday evening. Since then we had a lot of time, not just to watch you lay here as now captide and helpless having to accept what comes, we coth, almost simultaneously came up with that idea suddenly... what if we would not let you go... we always talked about maybe getting our own permanent gimp slave here and seeing you all rubbered and chained.... why not check if there woudl be an option to make it happen...

You told us enough, so we knew you were passing through, had no hotel or other connections in the city, were 1 month into a 3 months hitchhiking trip across multiple countries here. Your mobile, facial ublock needed a brief removal of the hood, but worked well, did not hold any reservations or other connections for that trip, other than the mobile you only had your wallet, house keys and clothing in the backpack.

In yesterday mass of people, nobody would register you or us, just people amongst massive amounts of people and by the time we carried you to our car, the others were gone already, most of them too drunk to even care about anything also. So basically... nobody is really aware of you being here with us, 'here' by the way a couple hours away from that city with the parade and somewhere outside an actual town.

So we discussed quite intensely, but the decision i think was made when we both had that same thought at the same tie intiially already.

We planted your backpack with everything including your mobile inside onto a truck at a truckstop, so from a GPS tracking perspective, you hitchhiked to that truck stop here and after a few hours 'waiting' for the next one taking ou, hitchhiked further, we deliberately chose a truck traveling a few thousand miles ahead. At some point during his rip, that backpack may be found, but nobody will know when you placed it there or when you got off that truck.

As for you though... obviously it will need time before you may be roaming about freely here with us, but we'll take care of you well, no worries. this clean white walled empty room is your home for the next couple months, those chains and that rubber will be 'you' for that duration also. Meanwhile we will use hypnotic tracks and if need be brainwashing techniques also, but sooner or later you WILL be our rubber gimp willingly, you can be sure of that, how much of your current self is left by then, time will tell, but that's less relevant, the target of an obedient gimp is waht matters.

NOw enjoy the rest of the eveneing and night, tomorrow we'll start with the hypnotracks.

(and on their way out) Oh, before i forget, shout and scream all you want, this room is soundproof for a reason... you're not the first one staying here long time, you're just the first that won't be leaving us anymore.'

Then they left, i hear the door shut and lock, perplex of what i heard, still trying to get a grip on all that, this cannot be real.... this is not....

Well... it's i have no idea how much later, i am at the moment scrubbing the bathroom, just one of the usual chores i have, i still am head to toe in red rubber, though the suit changed a while ago, it's much thicker rubber, it's a one piece neck to toe, for the hood, they got this large thing, a hood with just the upper torso extension, like the top of a tank top from chest upwards, arms though the sleeveless holes.

I had been thoroughly undergoing depilation, not a hair on me at all anymore, the inside of the hood held embedded those tubes and gag, i had received two nose tubes into the lung pipe, a feeding tube extending that massive mouth filling gag, all the way down into the stomach, flat tubing extensions embedded in the almost one cm thick rubber hoodpart, ending at the top of my head, one end to feed,two to breathe and one more to flush the inside with water for cleaning. This way that hood no longer needed mouth, nose or eyes, instead it is a plain surface. no facial contours at all, pinhole eyes only giving the impression it did not have any opening at all either.

once i was hairless, that construction was mounted on my head wit my arms in the extended chest part, because of it's thickness initially two halves were connected by a thinner membrane to allow the stretch needed to get it over the head, but as soon as it was in place and all tubes confirmed, that seam between the two halves was hotglued, sealed into one piece.

What's left is this red egg-shaped thing as a head, matching the red of the suit i wear 72 hours at a time before thorough rinsing off and getting locked back inside again.

I am at this time wearing an inverted chastity cage, but they already mentioned that i should undergo a full penectomy, no use keeping something that will never have any use at all again, my butt however is filled with this massive dildo that is embedded into the suit also.

They made it clear, i never was or would be a play toy, i was their rubber gimp, no face to indicate the human being i once was been. I am working on the set of chores i have permanently assigned, i am tanding, kneeling, crawling around if oir when they order, hang, lay, sit or stand around tied up as decoration or more often, remain stored away when not wanted around, occasionally i even am allowed out with them to attend some fetish bars or events, not that anything happens there for me, but the mere being out there is a welcome change.

I still remember who i was, at least parts of it, i do not remember much of how i got here, but i do know that i am exactly where i was destined to be and have not a spark of doubt on that or on their authority over me... i guess that permanent noise in my ears may help with that, every time i wake u in the morning i am so absiolutely certain about everything.

Occasionally though i wonder, all those memories of my previous self, none of them included rubber, bondage or any M/s related matters, and all those other people in those memories, who were they, how did i know them at the time...

You often read and see photos about car and truck wash centres on here from guys who like wet weather protection gear.  Well in the late 1960′s/70′s this was the car wash in the town where I lived.  You drove in through the right hand doors, down the ramp into the car washing area and out of the main garage entrance. (The place is empty now 08/2022, ready for demolition)

There were eight guys washing cars by hand, nothing mechanical in those days.

The gear they gave you to wear was this yellow gear, a smock and a pair of bib and brace trousers all made by MacBean in Scotland. It was heavy duty pvc called ‘Vinco 27′….. and of course a pair of wellies.

It was hard work and cold in the winter……….but how do I know all this……… because I worked there at weekends and in the student holidays. My love of gear did not start here ……… but it sure fuelled my love of it.

So were there any of my co-workers interested in the gear we wore…….. if there was they never showed it.

The question is are there any out there reading this……… if they are they would know the name of the company who ran the car wash …..which I know.

It holds good memories for me.

Sad thing is the top two floors have gone now, but the ground floor and the basement where the car wash was are still standing.

refuses to hang President Obamas' Presidential Portrait in the White House

Literal Neo-Nazi trash.

Fuck them, fuck Trump, Fuck RepubliKKKlans, and fuck all you cowards who support them.

Tom - Navydiver Part 2

The next morning, the sky was brilliant blue above the harbor, but the tension Tom felt came from within. His muscles had been tingling from the moment he got up—not from exhaustion, but from anticipation. Today he and Lars would be doing a practice dive together.

The locker room held the same smell as the day before: a mixture of rubber, salt, metal, and sweat. But now Tom sensed something extra—something personal. Perhaps it was memory. Or longing. He only knew that his breathing quickened when Lars walked in next to him. His cock began to grow again.

Lars said little. He just looked, briefly, with that same look as yesterday—warm, controlled, but with a gnawing intensity behind it. As if their bodies had already had the conversation, and words were unnecessary.

Tom took his Viking drysuit from the rack, still wet from the previous session. He held it for a moment, his fingers over the stiff rubber, the dried salt along the shoulders. He knew Lars had worn the suit before it reached him. The thought alone sent a shiver deep in his stomach.

He slid his body inside, slowly, paying attention to every part. The cold inside crept up his legs, the moisture clinging to his skin. His breath caught briefly as he slid his arms inside, his chest enveloped by the rubber. Everything felt tighter. Heavier. Closer. He was locked in again—and he loved it.

Lars stood opposite him, already halfway into his suit. Their eyes met. No shame. No distraction. Just that subliminal knowing. And Lars let his eyes roam over Tom's body for a moment—over the taut zipper, the trapped warmth, the shiny surface of the suit still clinging to drops from the previous dive.

Tom stood still, feeling Lars's hand on his chest, fingers sliding over the rubber, as he slowly pulled the zipper all the way closed. The sound—that heavy, slow one—cut through the room. It felt like Lars was sealing something.

Then Tom helped him, and their roles reversed. His hands slid over Lars's shoulders, down his back, pressing the suit firmly in place and slowly closing it.

He felt the warmth of Lars's body beneath the rubber. And he felt the tension—not just that of the suits, but also that of their breathing, their silences.

Then came the gear. Their harnesses, oxygen tanks, weight belts. Everything was donned with slow, muscular movements. Tom tightened Lars's mask strap, a little tighter than necessary. Lars turned, looked at him through the full-face mask. There was a smile in his eyes.

They walked together to the water's edge, heavy with weight, but light in their steps. Their suits squeaked softly against each other, the rubber glinting in the sun. With a shared step, they disappeared beneath the surface—into the blue, in silence, in connection.

They knew they had stayed too long.

When Lars tapped his dive computer and held it up, Tom saw the warning flashing: NO-DECO LIMIT EXCEEDED. He nodded briefly. They would have to go to the decompression chamber; in a way, that felt like a blessing. Because up there, in the open air, everything would suddenly be light and noisy again. Down here, it had been pure. Quiet. Deep.

They slowly aborted the dive, hand in hand on their way to the surface. The bubbles of their breath sounded like a long goodbye. At the diving platform, someone was already approaching them, gesticulating—a diving officer. "Too long, too deep," came a muffled voice over the radio. "Decompression chamber. Now."

They said nothing. Lars grabbed Tom's arm and pulled him along. No discussion. No explanation. They knew the protocol. But their gazes still held that slow, shared warmth. As if they already knew: this isn't over yet.

In the changing room leading to the decompression chamber, their suits remained on. The instructor was stern: “Keep your drysuits on, complete seal. Oxygen masks on as soon as the door closes.”

They stepped into the decompression chamber together—a metal cocoon, cramped, round, soundproof. The door closed with a dull thud.

On the hook above them hung the heavy oxygen masks—old-fashioned models, with rubber hoods, double-hose. They put them on. Tom helped Lars, his fingers pressing against the straps, firmly, almost possessively. Lars’s hands did the same for him. As the pressure began to rise, their breaths filled the chamber, loud and rhythmic. The mask filled their field of vision, the rubber pressing against their jaws. Tom felt the sweat on his temples, the mask pressing them back. He felt his heartbeat vibrating beneath the layer of latex. And across from him: Lars, breathing just as heavily, his chest rising and falling beneath the suit, hands on his thighs, fingers trembling slightly.

Lars leaned forward slightly, the mask heavy on his face, and rested his hand on Tom's thigh. Tom inhaled deeply. He felt everything. Every layer. Every tremor.

The silence wasn't empty—it was charged. Tom felt his cock harden again.

The sound of their breathing filled A soft hissing sound, regular, like a wordless conversation. Tom's eyes closed briefly. His back leaned against the wall. He was enclosed, both outside and inside. But instead of constriction, he felt only surrender.

The air pressure slowly dropped. A soft tap-tap-tap in the metal walls announced the end of their hyperbaric stay. Tom felt his breathing calm, the mask seeming to loosen its tightness. Or perhaps it was his own body surrendering, no longer tense, but carried.

A light turned green. The door opened.

The transition from the muted, warm interior of the decompression chamber to the cooler outer space felt like leaving a dream. Their bodies protested slightly against the sudden change in light, air, and temperature—but the worst of it was that their moment seemed to fade. As if it had remained underwater.

Slowly, without haste, they began to remove their gear.

The oxygen mask came first. Tom hooked his fingers into the rubber straps and pulled them loose. A hiss of air escaped, his face freed. He inhaled deeply—regular air. No helmet, no hose. And yet it felt strange… as if he'd lost something.

"Come on," Lars said, and together they walked to the changing room in their drysuits. "I want to show you something," Lars said. "Keep your suit on!" Tom was a little startled by the brute command, but actually found it rather exciting.

Back in the changing room, Lars picked up a similar type of oxygen mask as in the decompression chamber. Only, it had a corrugated black rubber hose attached to it, with a gas mask filter screwed onto the end. It was a black rubber oxygen mask with a set of head straps attached to it. Lars picked up a second, similar type of oxygen mask, also with the same rubber hose and gas mask filter attached to it. Tom felt his heart pounding in his throat. "What's this? What's this for?" he asked nervously. "You'll find out in a moment," Lars said. Again, he was startled by this brutal yet firm answer. "Put on the rubber hood of your drysuit." Lars did the same. "I'm going to put this mask on you now, but first I want you to take a deep breath and hold it." Tom did exactly as Lars asked. He took a deep breath and held it. Lars placed the mask over Tom's mouth and nose and tightened the head straps to secure the mask. "Now exhale and breathe in and out normally through the mask," Lars said. Again, Tom did exactly as Lars asked. Tom breathed normally into the mask. Immediately with the first breath, Tom noticed it. Fuck!! There were poppers in the mask's filter. Tom was familiar with this. He had snorted poppers before, but from a bottle, not with rubber oxygen mask. This was much more intense. He felt a slight tingling and a warm feeling inside. The poppers rose to his head, and he felt incredibly horny. His cock grew thicker and harder than ever before. He saw Lars do the same, and the poppers were starting to work on him too. "Just breathe easy, let that stuff do its thing," Lars said. He couldn't resist, he started touching Lars. He rubbed his hot rubber suit until he felt Lars's enormous hard cock. Fucking hell, this was so good. "Now, is this good or what?" Lars asked. "Fucking hot, man," Tom said. Lars rubbed Tom's rubber suit and touched his hard cock. So the two rubber divers sat facing each other, breathing through their oxygen masks. With every breath, the poppers became stronger and stronger. Both men were now incredibly horny. The strong smell of poppers mixed with rubber and sweat made both men incredibly horny. Rubbing each other's cocks, they came almost simultaneously in their rubber suits. A huge, incredibly horny orgasm, and both men pumped their enormous load in their suits. Still panting heavily, they removed the masks. "Hot, huh?" said Lars. "Fuck, man, that was intense," said Tom. "We all do that here from time to time," chuckled Lars. "And you're going to enjoy it even more. It's hard work, but it's also hot fun. Come on, let's get changed," said Lars. "The oxygen mask is yours now. Always keep it with your gear; we all have one, like I said."

Lars stood behind Tom, his hands sliding down the back of the rubber suit and finding the zipper at the top. Slowly, Lars opened the thick zipper that ran over Tom's shoulder, the sound sharp in the silence. Tom closed his eyes. He felt every inch of opening—the cool air on his warm back, the shiver it caused.

Lars whispered, his voice rough, close to Tom's ear:

"Are you okay?"

Tom nodded.

Tom - Navydiver Part 1

Tom felt his heart pound as he closed the heavy metal door behind him. This was the moment he'd been dreading for months: the night he'd joined the Navy divers. The room was small, filled with the clinking of equipment and the soft murmur of his new colleagues. Everywhere he looked, diving equipment was scattered about. Rubber suits, full-face masks, scuba tanks, regulators, and oxygen rebreathers. His teammates looked at him with a mix of camaraderie and a touch of teasing, as if they wanted to see how he would hold up in this close-knit group.

"Come on," said one of them, Lars, a broad man with deep blue eyes who had seen Tom practice in the pool a few times. Lars grabbed a Viking drysuit, made entirely of rubber, both inside and out. "Try this suit on first; we've all worn it," Lars said with a slight grin. "You're next."

"Take off all your clothes first," Lars said. Tom hesitated; after seeing the divers, the equipment, and the full-face masks, his cock had already become quite stiff.

Tom undressed anyway and instinctively covered his cock, afraid his now-gigantic erection would be noticed. It was. "Don't worry about that," Lars said, pointing to his stiff cock. "We all dive with a stiff cock when we're wearing that hot gear." Lars undressed as well, revealing his now-firm cock. Tom was surprised when he heard and saw this.

He hesitated again when he felt the suit in his hands. It was cold, and inside, it felt wet and damp, and the suit smelled of a mixture of rubber, sweat, and masculinity. He knew he had to put it on, and with a deep breath, he began to pull on the drysuit. The wet, cold interior clung briefly to his skin, a stark contrast to the warmth of the room he was in. Lars helped him put it on, his hands firm and experienced, making the dressing movements quick and precise.

As Lars pulled the suit up over Tom's shoulders, Tom felt a light pressure, almost as if he were being embraced by the weight of the suit—and the men who had already worn it. His breathing quickened, partly from the physical exertion, partly from Lars's proximity. The look they exchanged was charged; something that went beyond words. Tom felt that the suit was wetter around his crotch, sticky, warm and moist. Surely not, he thought. Lars looked him straight in the eye and suddenly realized it: the men had all come one by one in the suit; now it was Tom's turn. "Indeed," said Lars, "now it's your turn to come in that suit. You must have understood correctly." His cock had now grown to gigantic proportions.

When the drysuit was secure, the others joined him. They helped Tom strap the twin sets of scuba tanks onto his back, the straps taut across his torso and between his legs. The full-face mask was donned, and Tom could only hear his breathing. The heavy intake of compressed air. Tom felt the world outside fade away. Lars held the mask, his fingers lightly caressing Tom's jawline. Lars was now also in full scuba gear.

Lars leaned forward, their masks almost touching. The air between them thickened, their breath rising in small puffs between the glass. The silence wasn't emptiness—it was charged, like a diving torch underwater, slowly warming until it reveals everything.

Lars's hand slid down from Tom's shoulder, across his chest, slowly and firmly. His gloved hand gripped the buckle of Tom's harness strap and tugged gently—not to loosen him, but to pull him closer. The straps creaked softly. Tom felt their suits pressing against each other, body to body, encased in rubber, strapped in, brought together.

Tom knew for sure now. This was what he'd been longing for so long—not just the suit, not just the thrill. But the touch, the acknowledgement, the togetherness. And Lars had understood. Before Tom dared to admit it himself. Lars began rubbing Tom's stiff cock. He felt Tom's enormous erection behind the rubber. Tom, so incredibly aroused, couldn't contain himself any longer. All the pent-up tension and arousal that had been building came rushing out at once. He pumped the suit full in a tremendous and intense orgasm.

The latest 2026 summer heat wave has been great, if you're just wearing a jock and your waders.