Gay rubber stories
The Gimp
He said he was going to fetch a pet, but he didn't utter what. I normally wouldn't like my friends bringing pets to my parties, but he assured me it would be no trouble.
The party was quite working when I heard his van appear. It was dusky, so I couldn't see clearly, but I saw him getting something out of the help. And it was big - perhaps a Doberman or Alsatian on a lead.
I heard the doorbell ring, and I knew it was John with his pet. I opened the door, and he said, "Hi Charlie, hope you don't mind me bringing my pet Gimp with me."
He walked in, pulling a lead, on the end of which was the... creature. It would be easy to speak that it was just a guy dressed head to foot in a rubber suit. It must have been that, but what a suit!
I could glimpse no human flesh at all. Every inch of him was shiny smooth black rubber. He sat squat on his haunches, with all four limbs on the floor. Each limb ended in what I guess you'd dial a hoof, with a round found and no fingers or toes I could see. His head looked nothing like a human head. His eyes were one of the few breaks from the smooth rubber surface - they had inky plastic or glass panels, w
Rubberasylum Story: “Of Humane Bondage Part 1: A Novice Idea…”
The internet can be a dangerous place; a double edged sword of epic proportions to those that seek captivity.
I seek out the cybers. Those who others ignore; Those who have immersed themselves in the fantasy yet never tasted the reality; Those that are too scared yet would give just about anything in hopes of making their dreams come true.
They are easy to find, and message me all the time. After reading my stories they blur the edges of safe and sane in order to get what their Dick craves. I am always happy to offer them a safe pathway into my inner sanctum.
Ahead lays the story of one of these boys. His restraints tethered to the table on either side of the keyboard. He has been given a set timeframe in request to write 3 chapters; the clock ticking away next to him. Failure is not an option, but an open door to a personal training session with me…
* * * * * * * * * * * *
I have been instructed to write, yet I don’t even know where to begin. This is the third time I have been given the opportunity to tell my story. The past two efforts were my failures, as Sir advised me. This
The Gimp
John was making coffee when the gimp suit arrived. It had been a normal day until then. The kids had gone off to university, as usual, followed by his wife, as usual. She had pulled on her tweed coat over her tweed dress. Then after finding her brown horn-rimmed glasses, she looked for her books. These she put into her leather satchel. John vaguely watched her over his newspaper while sitting with a cup of coffee at the tidy breakfast table.
“Goodbye, John,” she said in her usual understated voice.
“See you, Matilda.”
Then he was on his own. After washing his cup, he went through to the study and battled with his novel for an hour before deciding it was time for more caffeine. It was then that the deliveryman arrived and handed him the box.
. John signed anyway and once the dude had gone, he opened it up curiously, expecting a mail bomb or something, though he dismissed anyone to blow up a writer of little adult novels.And then, there it was, in all its ebony PVC glory. It made him feel funny. The zipped mouth grinned at him and the vacant eye sockets glared into his soul. What had made him lay the gimp suit out on the sofa
A Night in the Woods
A Night in the Woods
Copyright © c1988
(NOTE: This isn’t one of my stories, and I don’t know who the author is or when it was originally written, however I first came across it in a 1988 New World Rubber Men newsletter, but without an author’s credit; it may have been written by a member specifically for the newsletter. Pre-Internet it was difficult to find hot stories of this type, unless one had access to magazines like Drummer, Mach, etc., which were banned in Canada due to lesbian content. I’m posting it here to breathe some recent life into a long-forgotten bit of kink history.)
Part One
Menacingly dark clouds gathered and the forest grew steadily gloomier. All too fast the rain fell in torrents; much of its impact being lost on the umbrella consequence of the trees. Even so, I became very soaked . I trudged on from tree to tree for a hundred yards or so before I smelled it. It was unmistakeable: wood smoke. The burdensome rain had prevented it from rising and it swirled lazily thought the trees. My first thoughts were that a scout organization might be camping nearby, or some holiday makers had pushed further into the f