Classic Bondage Story: The Experimental Diving Suit Parts 1-6

My Fellow Inmates,


In the continuing efforts of sharing some of the best on the net with you, here is another one of my favorite rubber stories. The author used real people or, well, real online names to torment his character.


It still makes for a great story. 


...And One of Asylum's favorites.




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The Experimental Diving Suit Parts 1-6
by BoyRubber




The following is a true story of the future! It is dedicated to all those kinky perverted guys of the “Lone Star Rubber Corps.”

West Coast Rubber 2006 was over, and boyrubber returned home as spent as an empty repeating rifle, and as dry as Desert Hot Springs in July. So many rubbermen, so little time! Among the hottest, of course, was Aqualaboy, 6 foot 4 inches of latex covered heaven.

Throwing his suitcases filled with gear on the bed, boyrubber attacked his mound of e-mail (mostly spam and invoices), when he came across one unexpected but not unwelcome message from none other than Aqualaboy. The subject line read, “The Experimental Diving Suit.” It was an invitation by Aqualaboy to join his kinky perverted gay diving group, the “Lone Star Rubber Corps,” for a weekend of diving fun, and inquired whether boyrubber would have any interest in evaluating their new experimental diving suit.

boyrubber replied immediately, excited by the prospect of manflesh encased in Viking and Aquala, but admitted to Aqualaboy that boyrubber had no experience diving. Aqualaboy’s reply was direct and to the point, the invitation was being made specifically because of boyrubber’s lack of experience. The Corp felt that only someone with no experience could give a truly objective appraisal. boyrubber wrote back excitedly accepting the invitation, agreeing to evaluate the suit and asking what he needed to bring with him. Aqualaboy replied to bring only the clothes he needed to travel because the Corp had plenty of spare suits, and besides, boyrubber would be wearing the experimental suit for much of the weekend anyway. There was, however, an odd postscript. Aqualaboy requested that boyrubber have all of his hair waxed off for the evaluation, as the suit could be hot to wear, so fur removal was required. The instruction seemed strange, but boyrubber was so excited by the offer that he complied without questioning it further. Four weeks and several very painful hours at the local aesthetician later, a smooth boyrubber was off the plane and heading to a secluded spot on the coast of Texas.

The excitement of anticipation showed on boyrubber’s jeans as he drove his rented car to the wharf where he was to meet Aqualaboy and his gang. It wasn’t hard to spot them, a large crowd all encased in various drysuits, wetsuits, hardhat suits and a few suits that defied description, but which boyrubber was sure were made of rubber too.

boyrubber practically threw himself out of the car, not even sure he had turned the thing off, and made a bee-line for Aqualaboy whom he recognized from his handsome photographs on Rubberzone.com! boyrubber was obviously expected, but his welcome was unexpected...

“I thought I told you to get rid of ALL of your hair,” stated Aqualaboy sternly, as he reached to shake boyrubber’s outstretched hand.

“I DID,” protested boyrubber, “had every hair waxed, and it hurt like a son-of-a-bitch!”

“What do you call THIS,” yelled Aqualaboy as he tugged on some of the fine black fur making up boyrubber’s neat flattop. “I suppose this is imaginary hair!”

“Surely, you didn’t want me to have my head waxed?”

“Look,” declared Aqualaboy, “either you take this test seriously, or you shouldn’t have come. I thought I was quite clear in my instructions. The suit will be hot. No fur allowed. Heat retention, highly dangerous!”

“but, but...” stammered boyrubber.

“No problem, Bob here, is a barber by trade. Ain’t that right Bob?”

“Yup,” replied a tall man in a black rubber apron and matching industrial gloves standing a few feet away, “Got my equipment in my bag here for just such an emergency.”

“Right then,” answered Aqualaboy quickly, “that’s all settled.” It may have been settled in Aqualaboy’s mind and in Bob’s mind, but it was not at all clear in boyrubber’s mind. Nevertheless, boyrubber thought it was better to let the matter rest for the time being. “Time to get our subject suited up, men,” announced Aqualaboy to the gathered crowd. “Take off all of your clothes, boyrubber.”

“Here?” replied a confused boyrubber, “Out in the open, in front of everyone?”

“Don’t be shy,” smiled Aqualaboy, “we’ve seen it before. Just place your clothes in that bag.” Aqualaboy motioned to a black bag begin held by Jason who was wearing a black beaver-tail wetsuit complete with flippers, and holding a plastic bag that looked remarkably like a garbage bag. boyrubber complied slowly, neatly folding his clothes in a stack on the pier. Jason scooped them up, bagged them, and to boyrubber’s surprise, tied the end of the bag and deposited it in a black metal barrel labeled ‘trash.’ Seeing boyrubber’s perplexed face, Aqualaboy explained that the barrel was the Corp’s storage container for their guests’ valuables.

“Now,” uttered Aqualaboy to the Corp, “Who’s got the security device?”

A man stepped forward from the crowd. He was wearing a one piece yellow rubber suit with attached gloves and boots, with no apparent way of entering the suit. Hanging down from the front of the suit was the distinct outline of male genitalia, apparently housing the man’s family jewels. The significance was lost on boyrubber for the moment. The man identified himself as Alan and boyrubber now saw that he was carrying some small metal object.

“Alan, would you do the honors?” asked Aqualaboy, and turning to boyrubber, stated nonchalantly, “we’ve had some problem with previous test suits, where the subject soiled the suit.” Looking at boyrubber’s uncomprehending face, he continued, “soiled...do I have to spell it out for you?” Several chuckles and a few outright laughs emitted from the men. “This device makes sure that this expensive suit is in the same condition when we finish, as when we start.”

“What does it do,” boyrubber inquired innocently, hoping the answer was not what he suspected.

“Keeps you from getting over excited, and creaming the suit. Please proceed, Alan, time is wasting.” And with that, Alan came forward as did two rather large men in identical green frogmen suits complete with flippers and snorkel masks. The frogmen stood close on either side of boyrubber, as if to handle any trouble. The intimidation worked perfectly, and boyrubber held still as his man parts were handled without the least dignity. Fortunately, boyrubber was shy and the attention caused his manhood to shrivel up, making the procedure go more smoothly. Quickly, boyrubber was fitted with a steel tube attached to a rather tight matching steel cockring. The tube has a small opening in the tip, and a short stub of a tube with threading for mating with some unknown instrument. The cockring was fixed in place with two small screws that were countersunk into the rim of the cockring. Unbeknownst to boyrubber, Alan added a drop of epoxy to the screw holes before he implanted the screw ready to answer the question as to why with his stock answer, ‘so that the screws don’t come out accidentally,’ but never receiving the usual question. At the moment, boyrubber had more to worry about for, as his manhood recovered in size, suddenly, sharp, piercing pain emanated from the enlarging head of his cock. A loud protest followed, whereby the two frogmen moved in for support and Alan explained that the end of the tube was lined with small spikes to discourage suit soiling. All routine really, nothing to worry about. The pain subsided as boyrubber’s cock inevitably shrunk back, and Alan and Aqualaboy nodded to each other confirming that the procedure was completed.

“The suit is designed for extremely cold water dives,” explained Aqualaboy to boyrubber who was still examining the steel prison on his manhood, “so you need to fitted up with glove liners for the gloves that are attached to the suit.” With that, a member of the Corp stepped forward and presented Aqualaboy with a pair of black rubber items that seems to boyrubber to be very strange gloves indeed. First they had no visible fingers, and second, they seemed to have a locking strap around the wrist band. “Here,” offered Aqualaboy holding out the first glove to boyrubber, “there’s no right and left, either hand will do.” boyrubber held out his right hand and, before he could withdraw it, found his hand encased in a sheath of thick black rubber, fingers and thumb together, the glove zippered from knuckles to wrist, and the zipper locked to a wrist band around the wrist with a small padlock.

“Why are you locking the glove?” ask boyrubber, “and why doesn’t it have any fingers? Hell, I can’t even bend my fingers. How am I supposed to function under water?”

“Novice,” stated one Corp member. “Where did you get him, Aqualaboy?” asked another.

“There, there, guys,” answered Aqualaboy, “boyrubber’s here to learn.” And then, turning to boyrubber, Aqualaboy explained that the hand ends of the diving suit were made for swimming and keeping the fingers together helped displace water, kind of like fins for the hands. The locks were necessary to prevent accidental slippage of the gloves during diving. In any case, while Aqualaboy was soothing boyrubber’s fears, the second glove was placed and locked and the issue became academic anyway.

“Who’s got the list?” Aqualaboy yelled to the Corp members. An unseen voice from behind read out ‘drainage!’ “Right ‘o,” replied Aqualaboy, “Loren, aren’t you in charge of plumbing today?” A Corp member dressed in an all black diving suit but wearing a gasmask with a hose extending two foot down came forward with what appeared to boyrubber to be a nearly foot long dildo in the shape of an erect penis with black tubing coming out of the bottom. boyrubber did NOT like the look of this, and turned his head a little to see if the frogmen were still at his side. They were.

Loren took the end of the tubing and, using a screw connector, attached it to the fitting on the tip of boyrubber’s security device. Then, Loren motioned for boyrubber to turn around. “Why,” questioned boyrubber, “what do you intend to do with that monster?”

“You may be in the suit for awhile, boyrubber,” explained Aqualaboy, “can’t have you peeing in the suit. We members of the Lone Star Rubber Corps are very environmentally conscious. We strongly believe in recycling. RIGHT boys?” ‘Right!’ and ‘You betcha!’ came several replies. “Anyway, we’ve found that the most practical solution is for the diver to hold his own piss, that is of course, IF he needs to go during the dive.” There were more chuckles from the Corp members. The foreshadowing was entirely lost on boyrubber.

“Why can’t I just use a leg bag,” pleaded boyrubber, becoming too aware of what the ‘boys’ had in mind.

“tsk, tsk,” replied Aqualaboy, “the suit won’t fit right with a leg bag. We can’t have any drag in the water!” ‘Not unless you count that episode with the tutu last year’ whispered someone behind boyrubber.

Without further discussion, Loren motioned for boyrubber to turn around. Not complying fast enough, the frogmen lifted poor boyrubber up and placed him in the proper orientation, and then bent him over holding him by the neck. boyrubber felt the cool wetness of lube being injected into his hole in great quantities, and then, with a warning ‘take a deep breath’ felt the monster push open his sphincter and snake its way in farther and farther. Finally, boyrubber took the whole thing in, and Loren proceeded to wipe off the excess lube around boyrubber’s stretched hole. What boyrubber didn’t witness was Loren’s application of some waterproof glue around the hole and Loren’s firm pressing of the flange of the invader against boyrubber’s butt until it was sealed in place. What boyrubber also didn’t appreciate was that the invader had a second channel, then not attached to anything, but not to be long unattached.

“Let’s see now,” declared Aqualaboy, “secured, gloved and replumbed. Yup, who’s got the anti-bends vest?” An odd looking garment of rubber covered canvas was put into his hands and he passed it to boyrubber telling him to put it on. “This device is our Corp’s own invention, an ‘anti-bends vest.’ We had quite a bit of trouble with diver’s getting back trouble from bending too much, hence the vest. It should stop unnecessary bending and solve the problem!” Even with his hand now fixed into closed mitts by the glove liners, boyrubber could tell that there were closely spaced steel stays between the layers of rubber and canvas. boyrubber tried to put his mitts through the arm holes, but Alex immediately stopped him and turned around the vest so that the opening was in the back. “Alex here is an investment counselor,” mentioned Aqualaboy motioning to the man handling the vest, “so we put him in charge of investments!” boyrubber did not find any humor in this though some members of the Corp snickered. Once in the vest, Alex produced a thick strand of wire several feet long and proceeded to lace it through the eyelets lining the opening at the back of the vest starting with the bottom of the vest. Every couple of eyelets, Alex gave a tug on the wire drawing it tight around boyrubber’s body, and continued to lace until he reached the eyelets at the top of the neck.

“Hey,” complained boyrubber, “what the hell are you doing? You’re going to break my bones. Not so tight!” Alex stopped tightening the vest, apparently waiting for that reaction to gauge when his first job was completed. Alex’s second job would come soon enough. Alex carefully bent the excess wire backward and cut off all but about 6 inches of the excess.

“Time to get suited up,” declared Aqualaboy, “I’ll bet you can’t wait boyrubber!” Actually, at this point boyrubber could have waited. He was beyond second thoughts and having third thoughts. But for the ever presence of the two frogmen, and the Corp crowd surrounding poor boyrubber, he might have made a break for it. Still, if the truth be told, boyrubber was a little curious to see the suit he had come so far to try on.

boyrubber didn’t have to wait long. With great ceremony, a Corp member in an orange hazmat suit complete with a radiation danger warning sign on the front, made his way through the parting crowd carrying the experimental diving suit all folded up into a neat small package. boyrubber was SHOCKED by what he saw!

Part 2

boyrubber did not at first recognize that this was the suit which he was to analyze as it did not appear to be a diving suit at all. Aqualaboy took the suit from the hazmat man and carefully unfolded it revealing a strange garment of alternating black and white stripes and smelling pungently of cured rubber.

“I can see you are wondering about our choice of colors,” Aqualaboy addressed boyrubber. “We found that this choice of alternating black and white stripes decreases the incidence of man-eating octopus attacks!” Be that as it may, boyrubber did get a first impression that the suit reminded him of an old-fashioned prisoner’s uniform. Further, boyrubber was a little disconcerted to see large “D” rings attached to the end of the mitts, on each shoulder and at the sides of the waist of the suit. The suit had a back entry shoulder to shoulder zipper, a high neck seal and a metal ring above the shoulders for attachment of an, as yet unseen, diving helmet. Aqualaboy held open the suit, but instead of asking boyrubber to come forward, he turned the hazmat man and nodding. At that signal, a couple of members of the Corp began pouring one bucket of a clear substance into another bucket ominously labeled “silicone synthetic rubber” and proceeded to stir the mixture with large wooden paddles. “The suit tends to get a little tight over time,” Aqualaboy stated now turning to boyrubber, “we use some industrial grade lubricant to overcome the problem.” This seemed odd to boyrubber because the suit looked a size too large for him, if anything, and boyrubber did not see how the suit could get that tight. While boyrubber was contemplating this information, the two Corp members finished their stirring and together carried the heavy load to the diving suit. At the direction of the hazmat man, the Corp members poured their mixture into the suit causing the two legs to expand fully up to the knees under their load of poured rubber. “That looks fine to start,” pronounced Aqualaboy, “step right this way boyrubber!”

boyrubber made no move to comply, instead stepping a little back from the suit. At that, and with another nod from Aqualaboy, the frogmen lifted boyrubber up by the armpits and frogmarched him to the suit. By now, boyrubber was fully petrified and only wanted to call the whole thing off. His suspicions that this was not what he was expecting originally had now turned into near total panic! Seeing that boyrubber would not be “cooperating” further, Aqualaboy did not even try with gain boyrubber’s cooperation but directed the frogmen to lift boyrubber up and place his legs into the suit. As boyrubber’s naked legs came in contact with the smooth thick rubber of the insides of the suit, he relaxed slightly, only to be reawaken when he feet made contact with the pools of liquid silicone rubber. Deeper and deeper, his legs were forced into the legs of the suit and, as they went in, the pools of silicone rubber expanded upward until they completely surrounded him to the upper thighs. Deftly, Aqualaboy went around the back of the suit pushed a rubber tube through a one-way valve in the crotch of the suit. Using a Christmas-tree connector, Aqualaboy connected one end of the tube to the heretofore unused second opening in boyrubber’s butt invader. Next, boyrubber’s gloved hands were pushed into the sleeves of the suit and his head was squeezed through the tight rubber neck seal and metal ring. The two Corp members came forward again and poured additional silicone rubber into the back of the suit, filling it to the waist.

With the assistance of the frogmen, boyrubber was then turned around, and shown a “chair” of sorts that had mysteriously appeared in the middle of the pier. The “chair was a black metal affair, with a ladder back and four reinforced metal legs, but no armrests, and with a seat that resembled that of a toilet. boyrubber was half escorted, and half dragged to the waiting chair and made to sit down by the application of some firm pressure on his shoulders. The unused end of the rubber tubing hung down through the opening in the seat like a tail, but only for a moment.

“Now then,” said Aqualaboy, “time for Alex to finish his job.” Alex reached into the back opening of the suit and, using his pliers, began twisting the wires at the top of the anti-bends vest once more causing howls of protest from boyrubber. “Look, boyrubber,” scolded Aqualaboy more than a little miffed, “I need and I EXPECT your cooperation here. When I count three, I want you to suck in that gut of yours and to exhale as completely as possible. Got it!?! Here we go...one...two...three... Good, a little more... Get all of that air out of those lungs of yours... a little more...” Just then, Alex went for the gold, twisting the wires several more times, thereby taking every bit of slack out of the vest and fixing poor boyrubber’s sucked in stomach and collapsed lungs in place. “VERY good,” congratulated Aqualaboy, “now that’s much better!” boyrubber gasped as he tried to expand his air starved lungs only to find that no amount of effort could force his chest to expand. He began choking. “Small breaths...small breaths,” advised Aqualaboy, “you need to learn to breath under the dangerous conditions that you might find during a dive. That’s right, don’t move, moving requires more oxygen, just concentrate on taking those small breaths and you’ll get used to the vest in no time.” It wasn’t like boyrubber had an option anyway. While boyrubber was gasping for oxygen and trying to get ‘used to’ his compressed state, Alex clipped the excess wire and cold welded the ends together forming a nice neat knot of metal at the top of the vest closure.

“I think we’re ready for the final filling, eh boyrubber!” said Aqualaboy addressing the cheering Corps. “Cum’on boys, let’s have a full bucket this time.”

“Please...please...no more,” begged boyrubber to Aqualaboy, “this lubricant seems to be getting hard. I can’t move my legs. They’re stuck!”

“BOYS!” shouted Aqualaboy to the men mixing the next bucket, “I thought I told you ‘lubricant!’ Did you make that stupid error you made the LAST time again?” At that, the ‘boys’ doing the mixing looked at each other distinctly downcast and nodded. “WELL!” said Aqualaboy, “guess there’s no time for a redo, so we might as well proceed, right?!?” “RIGHT!!!!” came the shout from the assembled crowd.

At that, the boys finished their mixing, and heaving the huge bucket of liquid silicone rubber, came over to the opening in the back of the suit. “Please...please...” cried boyrubber, “no more lubricant, please....” Two members of the Corp stepped forward and, grabbing the “D” rings attached to the end of the mitts containing boyrubber’s immobilized fingers, pulled the sleeves of the suit straight out to boyrubber’s sides. The boys then began filling the remainder of the suit with ‘lubricant,’ higher and higher, to the ribs, to the tits, and then bending boyrubber slightly forward, filled the sleeves of the suit until only the small area around the zipper remained lax. Putting down the bucket, which still contained a little unused liquid silicone rubber (note the blatant foreshadowing here), the boys carefully closed the zipper making sure not to spill any of the contents out of the suit. Next, unseen by boyrubber, the boys applied a good bit of rubber solvent around the zipper and quickly pressed a strip of matching rubber over the zipper, holding the strip in place until it permanently bonded with the suit.

Then, several of the Corp members descended on boyrubber almost on cue, actually it was on cue, forcibly crossing his arms straightjacket style and securing the mitt rings around his back and to the chair, while other members secured the shoulder rings and the waist rings on the suit to the chair also. These actions compressed the suit sufficiently to push the liquid silicone right up to the neck seal causing a belch of rubber tainted air to expel from the neck seal. The Corp members then smoothed out the wrinkled in the suit, making sure that there was silicone rubber between boyrubber’s skin and the rubber encasement of the suit he found himself in at all points. Obviously, this was not the first time that the Corp members had undertaken such a challenge, as their expertise practically oozed.

Stepping back to examine their handiwork, the Corp members congratulated themselves on a job well done...but of course, it was only half done....

Part 3

boyrubber was allowed to set up properly for a few minutes, but the heat released from the molding compounds solidifying around every inch of skin below his neck did not contribute to a calm relaxed state. Also not helping the situation was realization that he was being entombed as surely as if given a cement overcoat. Even tiny movements were becoming impossible. This whole episode ceased to have any redeeming quality about it, and...it was about to get worse...MUCH worse.

“Now,” exclaimed Aqualaboy, “time to clear off that bush!” Before boyrubber could protest again, Bob appeared at his side with an ominous bag labeled ‘clear cutting.’ Bob withdrew a rubber barber’s cape and spread it over the suit, fastening it tightly around boyrubber neck. “Don’t want to get the suit messy, do we?” Aqualaboy explained.

Wasting no time, a pair of noisy clipper’s made a neat path down the center of boyrubber’s flattop, followed by strips on either side until only the barest of stubble was visible. Next, boyrubber felt the unmistakable sensation of hot shaving lather being liberally spread over his entire scalp.

“Is this really necessary?” boyrubber gasped.

“It wasn’t me who didn’t follow directions,” replied Aqualaboy in an accusatory tone. What poor boyrubber didn’t realize was that it was not ordinary shaving lather covering his clippered scalp, but heavy duty depilatory cream guaranteed to prevent regrowth for several weeks. boyrubber had other things on his mind at that moment, as well as on his scalp, for he became aware of the distinct sound of a straight razor being finely honed on a strop followed by the order to ‘stay still,’ and then Bob’s expert hand carefully removing the lather and stubble. In a few short minutes the procedure was completed, and several members of the Corps stepped forward to feel the results. ‘A little fuzz here, Bob,’ and ‘You’re getting sloppy, Bob,’ were heard from the crowd.

“No problem, be cool,” Bob replied, “I’m sure boyrubber, here, wouldn’t mind if we gave it another go. How about another go at it boyrubber?” There was no reply from an incredulous boyrubber, but the crowd roared with enthusiasm and it was settled. Poor boyrubber’s head was unceremoniously relathered with depilatory cream, this time enough to do the job for several months, and Bob let the cream do it’s job for an extended time so as to get each and every follicle treated, before proceeding to shave boyrubber’s already smooth scalp against the grain, leaving only pink glass smooth skin behind. When Bob was finished, there was not a trace of 5:00 o’clock shadow, nor would there be for a very long time. After another “inspection” by several members of the Corps, there arose overwhelming praise for Bob’s handiwork. boyrubber would have a special reminder of his time with the Corps for many months to come, as well as developing a strong fetish for Fedoras.

“What’s next on the list,” Aqualaboy inquired. An unseen voice from behind read out ‘antisweat coating.’ “Oh yah,” responded Aqualaboy, “almost forgot the antisweat coating. See what you almost made me do with your failure to follow instructions,” chastised Aqualaboy shaking his finger at boyrubber. “WHO’S GOT THE POLISH?” called Aqualaboy. A man in a red and black Viking drysuit with a matching gas mask came to the front with a bottle, cloth and what appeared to boyrubber to be a buffing machine.

“WHAT are you doing?” sputtered boyrubber to Aqualaboy as the man spread a hefty layer of polish on boyrubber’s freshly shaven pate.

“The suit gets a little hot after awhile, and once the diving helmet is on, you won’t be able to stop any sweat from your head dripping into your eyes. Willi here is just sealing all of the skin pores on your head so you don’t sweat. No sweat, huh?!?” Aqualaboy laughed at his own humor but boyrubber didn’t find it amusing. Further, in his indignity at being treated this way, boyrubber was not aware of a slight pressing sensation before the first layer of polish was applied, where Willi had laid a stencil of indelible water-proof ink on boyrubber’s scalp labeling him number ‘69’ and with the test date below. In time, boyrubber would become aware of this souvenir of the test, but for now it was only important that the cameras recording the test could see the number and date clearly for future verification.

Once Willi began the polishing proper, he did not stop with polishing boyrubber’s depilitated scalp, but shined the entire rest of boyrubber’s head also, forehead, cheeks, jaw, ears lobes, and even sealing his tear ducts. At first, boyrubber tried to avoid the buffing pads as they were applied but, now firmly set-up in a coat of no-longer-liquid silicone rubber, boyrubber could not avoid the pads by the small movements of his head that were left to him, and gave up trying after a few halfhearted attempts. boyrubber might have put more effort into his attempts to evade the pads if he had known that the “polish” being used was really an industrial grade acrylic coating used for model show-room cars and designed for maximum sealing and shining. boyrubber could not, however, help noticing that his head and face were becoming very stiff, as the acrylic coating not only sealed his pores, but was drying to a marble-hard finish.

Willi continued to carefully buff poor boyrubber’s head until the shine was practically blinding, going over every spot several times, laying down two additional layers of polish and even changing the buffing pad once before he had satisfied the cheering crowd. Finally, everyone was satisfied, except boyrubber of course.

“Now then,” proclaimed Aqualaboy to boyrubber, “time to get your hydration tube put in place. Can’t have you getting dehydrated in the Suit, can we?” A small bundle was handed to Aqualaboy, who unfolded it to reveal what appeared to be a short, wide penis complete with veins attached to some kind of rubber strapping.

“WHAT are you going to do with that,” boyrubber asked afraid of the answer.

“I’ll show you,” responded Aqualaboy ominously. “Now now, boyrubber, open wide!” he requested of boyrubber bringing the head of the artificial phallus to caress boyrubber’s lips. boyrubber would have none of it. He shut his mouth tight and tried to turn away. Expecting trouble, however, a member of the Corps had positioned himself strategically behind boyrubber and, at a nod from Aqualaboy, performed a pinch maneuver behind boyrubber’s jaw, causing boyrubber to reflexly open his mouth. Without so much as two second delay, the phallus was shoved inside. “MMMMMMMMMPPPPPHHHH,” protested boyrubber jerking his head side to side. Ignoring the commotion, Aqualaboy carefully inserted the rubber pads extending off the base of the phallus into boyrubber’s cheek pockets, and then with another nod, the Corps member standing behind boyrubber connected the strap and buckle arrangements,and snugly fixed the hydration tube in position. “MUCH better,” exclaimed Aqualaboy smiling proudly at his handiwork. There was still garbled noise coming from boyrubber at this point, partly because a tube extended from the exterior of the teeth plate all the way through the phallus, opening into the back of his throat, and this rather small connection did allow some unintelligible sound through.

Next, Aqualaboy was handed a large syringe with most of the reminder of the liquid silicone rubber that was foreshadowed in our last part, and inserted the tip of the syringe into a mating valve in the front plate of the phallus adjacent the opening of the tube. Slowly, steadily, and with increasing difficulty, Aqualaboy injected the contents of the syringe. Slowly, steadily and most unwelcomely, boyrubber found that the phallus was getting an erection of sorts, mostly to the sides, filling his oral cavity more and more completely. boyrubber’s teeth became cradled in ridges at the base of the phallus creating a tight seal. Even the cheek pads expanded giving poor boyrubber the appearance of a chipmunk. None of the Corps members made fun of boyrubber’s rodenty appearance, however, as they were too polite to mention it, and of course, it was not wholly unexpected.

As the artificial phallus got more excited, boyrubber made more and more pitiful noises and then became rather silent, for you see, the entire bottom of the phallus expanded into shark tiny points skewering boyrubber’s tongue and fixing it into position. Any tongue movement now would result in painful reminders to keep his tongue absolutely still, and that lesson was quickly learned. boyrubber was quite lucky not to have a gag reflex, or there surely would have been trouble. Yes, how could the Corp members have known this ahead of time? Had boyrubber’s reputation preceded him?

Finally, the injection was complete and in a few minutes the liquid silicone rubber would set up creating a very secure and very fulfilling oral plug around the as-yet-unused tube in the center of the artificial erect phallus. “Well,” commented Aqualaboy, “silence is golden!”

Yes indeed, silence was golden but at this time, boyrubber was only 12 karat. Much more would have to be accomplished before boyrubber could be declared fully 24 karat! Fortunately, the Corps were up to the task!

Part 4

This part of the story is dedicated to Rubberblade.

While Aqualaboy was waiting for the oral plug to finish setting up, a small table was placed in front of boyrubber. On the table was a small mortar and pestle. boyrubber watched intently and with much trepidation while Aqualaboy placed a few small blue pills in the mortar, crushed the pills throughly and then added some liquid to the powder he had created. Next, Aqualaboy took an empty syringe and drew every drop of the now blue liquid into the syringe. Flicking the end of the syringe to remove trapped air, Aqualaboy commented nonchalantly, “yes, that dose will do to start.” Aqualaboy then came over to boyrubber with the syringe while the table was removed from sight. He caressed boyrubber’s puffed out cheeks pushing in slightly and thumped boyrubber’s teeth plate. “You’re doing very well, boyrubber,” complimented Aqualaboy, “you must have been a tuba player in the past. You took the filling to near full capacity. Well done! And it seems that things have solidified nicely so we can move forward. I’ll bet you’re just as anxious as we are, huh?” Actually, boyrubber wasn’t anxious at all but the question was rhetorical, and in any case, boyrubber wasn’t about to get into a philosophical discussion with a grapefruit-sized oral plug filling every crevice in his mouth and cheeks.
“I am now going to inject the liquid in this syringe through the hydration tube in your oral plug. You’re going to feel a little squirt in the back of your throat and you must swallow as soon as you feel it so the liquid goes down correctly. This will be good practice because once your hydration unit is hooked up and functioning, you will be doing a lot of swallowing. Alright, on the count of three, we’ll do a little squirt so that you get the feel of it. One...two...three...” And with that the first test run of the hydration tube was initiated. As soon as boyrubber felt the liquid, he tried to swallow but reflexly moved his tongue causing the spikes lining the bottom of the oral plug to dig it painfully. boyrubber jerked his head in response, but he did swallow the liquid. “Not bad for a first try, boyrubber,” commented Aqualaboy, “it takes a little practice to swallow without moving your tongue, at least that’s what they tell me!!!!” Snickers rose from several members of the Corps standing nearby. “So, let’s try again, and concentrate on keeping your tongue steady while swallowing with your throat muscles...ana one...ana two...ana three...and WE’RE OFF!” The second squirt went in and boyrubber concentrated with all his might, managing to swallow with less tongue movement and only a shudder of his head. “Much better, right?” declared Aqualaboy admiringly, “I think we can get the rest in now, and here goes...!” The remaining contents of the syringe squirted into boyrubber’s hydration tube and hit the back of his throat. boyrubber swallowed quickly, this time keeping his tongue almost perfectly still and getting all of the liquid down without even a tiny movement of his head.

“WELL DONE boyrubber!!!” congratulated Aqualaboy. “Now, I guess you’re wondering about the liquid you just swallowed.” boyrubber was wondering but at that moment he was feeling a strange but not unwelcome sensation. He was getting a hard-on! “The liquid,” continued Aqualaboy, “was a concentrated dose of Viagra in a special solvent for rapid absorption. I’ll bet your feeling a little giddy already!!” It was true, boyrubber was feeling a little pleasure BUT THEN ALL HELL BROKE LOOSE!!!! The most sensitive part of his manhood encounter the spikes that we previously dealt with in Part I of our story, only now, boyrubber couldn’t shrivel up again from the pain. In fact, boyrubber continued to get harder and harder and couldn’t stop the process anymore than he could effect anything else that was happening. As his dick continued to grow, it pushed past the spikes which turned out to be a ring and the tender head of his cock moved inexorably forward to meet its fate at the end of the tube. “I see you gotten past the ring of spikes,” noted Aqualaboy seeing boyrubber’s jerking head movements, “and have encountered the urethral tube...and ...yes, there we are, all the way to the end!” Aqualaboy based his assessment on the now frantic movements boyrubber was making with his head, the only part of his body not stiffly entombed. “Perhaps a little explanation is in order.” It may have been in order, but boyrubber’s only thought at that point was trying to communicate that something was terribly wrong. Some muffled screams could now be easily heard from boyrubber’s throat followed by involuntary tearing which, thanks to the plugged tear ducts, merely rolled down his acrylic covered cheeks, past the strapping of the oral plug and pooled in the creases of the neck seal of the experimental diving suit. “Just past the ring of spikes is a tube that has entered your urethra so that every drop of piss you produce will flow easily into the tube at the end of your security device and into your anal plug. Don’t want to spill a drop now, do we?!? Anyway, the lining of the end of the security device contains a few spikes, while actually a hundred spikes and they will make sure that the urethral tube stays in position during the test run of the suit.” What Aqualaboy didn’t ‘explain’ however, was that each of the hundred spikes was arrow tipped, so when they entered the flesh of poor boyrubber’s cockhead, the grabbed firmly and wouldn’t come out. Each tip has also been coated with an anticoagulant to prevent bleeding that might interfere with the test. And further, each spike in the ring of spikes pointed forward and was seated behind the fleshly corona of boyrubber’s cockhead, so that, the combination of the arrow tipped spikes and ring of spikes would have prevented retraction of boyrubber’s prick even if it became soft. Only the cruelest of sadistic perverts could have envisioned such a hideous device. But then, this was the Lone Star Rubber Corps after all.

Aqualaboy continued, “I know what you’re thinking boyrubber, what happens when the Viagra wears off, how is your urethral tube going to stay in place then? Don’t worry, your hydration fluid will contain additional doses of Viagra throughout the test period to keep your manhood erect as it should be....or as least as erect as your security device will permit!” And that was another thing, there was an unceasing battle between boyrubber’s cock shaft trying to expand and the metal prison which surrounded it. The metal prison won, of course, but boyrubber’s cock sure put up a good fight resulting in a feeling of continual compression that did not lessen in time. Still, as the minutes passed, the whimpering grew less even though tears continued to roll down.

As boyrubber struggled to keep his composure, a new character in our cast stepped forward into boyrubber’s line of sight. Aqualaboy brought him close and introduced him to boyrubber as ‘Sandy, the plumber.’ Sandy was wearing a full coverage Strak suit with zippered mouth and pinhole eyes, combined with very heavy industrial blue Le Chameau chest high sewer waders and matching blue shoulder length heavy duty acid proof gloves. A gas mask covered his face and a three foot tube extended from the inflow value with the end buried deep inside the chest waders. “Sandy here is our drain cleaning expert, a plumber by trade. No need to worry about making any mess. As you can see, Sandy is always ready for the worst spills!” boyrubber was actually less worried about spills at this point than he was about what insult Sandy intended to add to boyrubber’s already heavily abused body and soul. boyrubber was not left pondering the question for very long.

“It’s Sandy’s job to get you all cleaned out, so there are no messy-messies in the suit after you start testing it proper,” explained Aqualaboy. “You’ve already got some of your plumbing fixtures in place, so I guess we better get the compression and decompression units hooked-up and get started! ALRIGHT BOYS,” he called to the Corps, “GET THOSE UNITS UNPACKED! BOYRUBBER AIN’T GETTING ANY CLEANER BY YOU STANDING AROUND GABBING!” “Now,” advised Aqualaboy, “while we waiting for our slow-pokes to get a move-on, I guess I should get your ‘communicator’ in place. This here,” said Aqualaboy raising a small device that closely resembled a penny-whistle, “is a communicator especially made to mate with the hydration tube in your oral plug. We make them in several varieties. This-un here is called ‘veal’ because, well, it lets you make a sound like a young calf!” An unwelcome voice from behind boyrubber added “...being led to slaughter!!” “QUIET!” called Aqualaboy, “as I was saying, we just screw the end into the front of your hydration tube...thusly...and now anytime you want to get my attention, just suck air through the communicator. Go on, give it a try!!”

boyrubber did give it a try but nothing happened. “Com’on boyrubber,” just suck on the end of your oral plug, just give it some head, I know you can do it, I’ve heard the rumors, com’on.” With those directions, boyrubber went into action mode, and a very soft “mmmmmoooooooooo” issued forth from the communicator. “VERY GOOD, boyrubber!” congratulated Aqualaboy, “Anytime you want my attention from now on, you just call!! “And I see that the units are unpacked so we can proceed!!!!”

Part V

The compressor and decompressor units were indeed unpacked and strange units they most certainly were. Generally oblong casings, there were a variety of gauges and dials, hose extensions and fitting coming out at every apparent angle. Obviously, there were complex machines designed for a sinister purpose.

boyrubber did not have long to contemplate their odd appearance, however, and the units were immediately removed to the vicinity of the back of the chair on which he was so joined, and disappeared from site, but the boyrubber was aware from noises behind him that the two units were being firmly attached to the chair. Further, boyrubber felt a tug on his anal plug but could not see that the second tube that was previously hanging down under his seat was being connected by split connector to both the compressor and the decompressor. “mmmoooo...?” questioned boyrubber.

Sandy the plumber supervised the whole operation, including the filling of the various holding tanks in the compressor unit with the fluids and powders to be administered to an unsuspecting boyrubber. Once the preparations complete and the fittings tested for leaks, Sandy the plumber came around to the front of boyrubber and addressed him directly. “This here,” Sandy stated waiving a small object in his hand, “is a remote control for the compressor and decompressor units which are now hooked up and fully loaded. I will explain the cleaning process as things get underway, so you’re not left in the dark!” “... until the blinders go on...” came a voice from the back. “QUIET!” yelled Sandy, “I must concentrate to get everything correct. You remember the last fiasco when both units were accidentally started together!!” boyrubber didn’t like the sound of any of this. “mmooo...mmooo...” he cried plaintively.

“Anyway, as I was saying,” Sandy continued, “these units have been years in the making, and we of the Lone Star Rubber Corps are now reasonably sure that they will work with only the most minor problems that in any case should not effect the final goal all that significantly... which is of course getting you cleaned out for the long test of the experimental diving suit which you are about to undertake.” With that, Sandy flipped the power “on” switch on the top of the unit causing a light flash, and then pushed a button marked “Phase One” and rotated a knob a little clockwise. “And, we have lift off!!!!”

The compressor unit roared into life. “wwwwhhhhhiiiiiirrrrrrrrr....” it roared. A few seconds later, boyrubber felt a little puff of fluid being injected through the tube in his anal plug and coating his colon from the end of the plug to the juncture of the his transverse colon and even a little higher. “Phase One is now initiated. Your colon is now coated with heavy duty cleaning fluid,” declared Sandy gleefully, “and its time for the sprinkler probe!” A second button was pushed. At that, boyrubber felt a narrow flexible metal rod enter his colon through the tube in his anal plug and advance... and advance...and advance until it reached the entire length of his descending colon. It had a small diameter, and not particular uncomfortable but did rachet up boyrubber’s anxiety which was already highly racheted. “Now,” explained Sandy softly, coming quite close to boyrubber’s face, enjoying the expression of fear in boyrubber’s eyes, “your probe is in position...and...,” he turned the knob a little further, “time for some suds.”

With that, boyrubber felt thin jets of warm water rhythmically shoot out of the probe. At first, it was not unpleasant, actually, it might have been pleasant under other circumstances, but after several seconds, boyrubber began to feel some distinct discomfort. Sandy reversed the knob. “Sudsing is complete!” he declared, “now we suck out the soapy water.” Sandy pushed another button causing the decompressor to roar into life, and in second, all of the fluid was vacuumed out of boyrubber’s colon and into a discharge tank sitting on the pier besides the chair.

“HOW’S IT LOOK???” called Sandy to a Corps member monitoring the tank. “A little brackish” came the reply. “Guess, we’ll have to go again, eh, boyrubber?” Sandy addressed his victim. By now, boyrubber was beginning to feel some soreness in his heretofore virgin colon. What Sandy didn’t explain was that the cleaning fluid was a powerful degreaser, specifically selected to strip the lining of his colon of any protective coating it had, in preparation of the devious trial Sandy had in store for boyrubber.

Without any additional explanation, Sandy repeated the process, this time giving poor boyrubber a double dose of heavy duty cleaning fluid, and leaving the probe activated for three times the length of the first go ‘round. After being vacuumed dry by the decompressor, the Corps member called the ‘all clear’ and Phase One was complete. boyrubber, however, now experienced a distinct burning throughout the length of his colon, a potent of things to come!

“Now, boyrubber,” explained Sandy as the Corps guys set up the next trail for boyrubber, “it’s time for PHASE TWO!!!!” Phase two began almost immediately. First, Sandy directed the compressor to inject a can of Jolt soda pop that had been chilled to just below freezing and crushed into a slurry. Mixed with Jolt was a large dollop of baking soda. As the Jolt hit the raw lining of boyrubber’s colon, an indescribable pain ensured. The pain could be described as a hundred hot pokers seething even inch of his most intimate private parts. But for the solid structure holding poor boyrubber in place, he would have jumped ten feet off the pier. A series of horendous “MMMMMMMMMMOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooo’s...” bellowed from the end of the communicator. The high levels of caffeine in the soda pop increased boyrubber’s awareness of what was occurring, guaranteeing that he would be paying close attention. Sandy waited a few minutes for the soda pop to rise in temperature, making sure not to overstimulate boyrubber.

“I am getting a little bored with all that ‘mooing,’ boyrubber,” uttered Sandy. “How’s about we change your communicator.” Sandy unscrewed boyrubber’s communicator and replaced it with a new one. “QQQQUUUUUUAAACCCKKKK....” boyrubber cried as the new communicator went into action.

“And now, we’re ready for PHASE THREE!!!” Sandy declared turning more knobs on the remote control. The decompressor sucked out the, by now, liquid Jolt leaving a coating of baking soda lining the burning interior of boyrubber’s colon. The compressor unit again roared into life injecting a stream of vinegar. As the vinegar hit the baking soda, carbon dioxide gas was produced, expanding poor boyrubber’s innards like a blimp and stretching every pain receptor along his entire gut. The reaction was so fierce that both boyrubber and the chair shook visibly. If the Corps guys had not prepared boyrubber carefully, there would have been boyrubber on the moon at this point. Fortunately, the Corps guys were experts and boyrubber stayed put pretty much doing nothing more than imitating a bobbin’ head doll and making the most pitiful “quacks” imaginable.

After what seemed like years to boy rubber, the reaction begin to die away, and then the decompressor went into action again, removing the gas and giving a final washing, leaving boyrubber cleaned out completely.

“HOW’S IT LOOK NOW???” called Sandy to the Corps member monitoring the tank. “A-OK,” came the reply.

“Now,” declared Aqualaboy stepping forward to face boyrubber, “I would like to introduce you to your Dive Master! Here is...”

A man in a black rubber tuxedo stepped forward and finished the introduction.

“Bond,” the mysterious figure intoned, “James Bond!”

And here we leave our unfortunate boyrubber, left with the questions:

Who is this mysterious “James Bond”?
And why the rubber tuxedo, was he going to a fetish dinner party?
And why did boyrubber need such a thorough cleaning?

Part VI (Conclusion)

‘James Bond!’ thought boyrubber. Somehow the name sounded familiar. Something about fast cars... something about Marakesh... something about phlegm... NO, WAIT, that wasn’t it! boyrubber suddenly remembered that there was a rumor of the existence of a notorious rubber pervert named ‘James Bond’ who was supposed to be an expert in turning handsome and charming mobile guys into unseen, totally immobile, silent, sweating rubberboys. boyrubber wondered, “Could he be that ‘James Bond’?” “quuuuuaaaaccckkkk....?” questioned boyrubber, but he suspected the worst.

James Bond leaned forward and patted and rubbed boyrubber’s acrylic covered head, and poked boyrubber’s puffed out cheeks, carefully checking the preparations. “A little heavy on the acrylic this time,” James Bond commented, “and this one must have been a tuba player! Did ya put a whole liter into that oral plug?” Satisfied by the preparations, James Bond called to the Corps members, “BRING ME THE AUDIO UNITS!” Aqualaboy came forward and put something in James Bond’s hand which boyrubber could not make out. “These,” explained James Bond, “are yer audio units. We just insert them fully into yer ear canals, thusly...” A couple of shoves and twists molded and sealed the soft plastic units into each of boyrubber’s ear canals cutting off the sounds of activity on the pier. Next, James Bond put on a miniature radio microphone extending from over James Bond’s ear and toward his mouth. “Testing...testing...” stated James Bond, “have ya got this thing on?” boyrubber nodded, indicating that he could hear James Bond. “Good boy, boyrubber,” complimented boyrubber. “Always a pleasure to have cooperation. Nothing worse than an uncooperative rubberized statue.” boyrubber didn’t like the sound of this comment. “This here is an audio unit which will allows me to communicate with ya during the dive. Understand?”

“qquuaacckk!” confirmed boyrubber.

“And enough of that quacking. Really, guys,” he addressed the Corps. “Last time it was lambs’ ‘bleating’ and kittens’ ‘mewing.’ A sense of humor is one thing, but I have to concentrate.” James Bond chastised the Corps as he reached forward and unscrewed boyrubber’s communicator from the hydration tube in boyrubber’s oral plug, thereby silencing boyrubber once again.

“BRING ME MY GLOVES!” called James Bond. A pair of dull gray asbestos mitts were brought forward and placed onto James Bond’s hands, surgical style, as if an operation was about to begin. “BRING ME THE SHEATH!” he called next.

As boyrubber looked on helplessly, and now silently, a tube-like structure of shiny black about a foot and a half tall was placed into James Bond’s outstretched gloved hands. James Bond took the sheath and unceremoniously brought it down over boyrubber’s head, temporally blinding boyrubber as the sheath, when set on boyrubber’s neck seal, extended above his eyes. boyrubber could breath through the sheath, however, as the sheath had three holes about half way down that allowed the passage of air through his nose and the hydration tube in his oral plug.

“HEATING UNIT!” boyrubber heard James Bond call through the audio units. In less than 30 seconds, boyrubber became aware that the air inside the sheath was getting hotter and hotter. But even worse, the sheath was contracting both in height and in circumference, coming ever closer to his acrylic covered face and plugged mouth. In a few minutes, the sheath had shortened enough to so that boyrubber could peak out above and he could see that Aqualaboy was holding a yellow machine that resembled a hair dryer which he was pointing at the sheath while James Bond was using his asbestos covered hands to mold and shape the ever shrinking sheath closer and closer, pushing here and smoothing there. By five minutes, boyrubber realized that they intended to make the sheath cover his neck and most of his head like a second skin. And if that wasn’t bad enough, James Bond was pushing the sheath up under boyrubber’s chin causing boyrubber’s tongue to firmly engage the spikes underneath the oral plug, and slightly tilting boyrubber’s head back to prevent boyrubber from disengaging. Protest was out of the question, of course, but there were silent cries of alarm. Unavoidably, the process continued to it unavoidable conclusion. The heat was turned off and cooling ice applied to fix the shape of the plastic prison. Once cooled and hardened, the sheath created a form-fitting container for boyrubber’s neck and head extending from the neck seal of the experimental diving suit, ending just under boyrubber’s eyes in the front, covering his nose up the forehead, and extending around the sides of his head covering his ears completely and tightly forcing the audio units even deeper into boyrubber’s ear canals. The sheath did dip a bit in back so that boyrubber scalp numbering remained wholly visible to the camera recording the event. The shiny black surface highlighted ever curve of boyrubber’s face, distinctly showing the outline of his ears and his puffed out checks. boyrubber also found that the sheath did its nefarious job not only from tight contact with his neck and head but that the applied heat had softened the acrylic coating on boyrubber’s head as well as the rubber strap holding his oral plug in place. These tacky surfaces served to glue the sheath to his skin completely preventing even the smallest movement of his neck and head!

Two of the three small holes in the sheath had lined up with boyrubber’s nostrils and providing two openings for boyrubber to draw in the breath of life. The third hole lined up perfectly with boyrubber’s hydration tube, temporally leaving a small third opening into his otherwise sealed-up body. As the sheath was cooling, James Bond took two short tubes about 1 inch in length and pushed them through boyrubber’s nostril holes in his sheath, and into boyrubber’s nasal passages, until flanges on the end of the tubes prevented further movement of the tubes. The flanges sealed with the tacky surface of the sheath, finishing this phase of the suiting-up process.

boyrubber was now certain that the mythical James Bond come had indeed come to life.

“There we go,” explained James Bond proudly removing his gloves, “we’ll just let that sheath finish cooling off and we can move on.” Turning to boyrubber, he explained, “the sheath I just applied will stop all of that head wagging. Ya looked like a bobbin’ head doll a little while ago. Geeesh! Can’t have ya bumpin’ into the side of the diving helmet, now, can we.”

No, as a matter of fact we couldn’t. The head bobbing was now safely under control. Actually, at this point, the only thing on boyrubber that could move at all was his eyes and eyelids. Even his forehead had hardened into an acrylic covered unwrinkled surface. But, those eyes, ah yes, those eyes. Between blinks, they moved rhythmically back and forth trying to signal ‘SOS’ in Morse code. If any of the Corps guys knew Morse code, they weren’t letting on. In any case, judging from the hardons all around, the Corps guys were having too much fun to pay attention.

The Corps photographer stepped forward with an oversized camera and telescopic lens and, pointing it at boyrubber exclaimed, “time for some photos for the website, boyrubber.” boyrubber was indeed a sight for the site. From the front, there was the strange impression of a humanoid statue covered with horizontal black and white stripes, with a shiny black tube at the top and then eyes sitting beneath a shiny white cap. Only the eyes betrayed the living contents of the figure. “Can you open wide and give me that look of terror you did when your dick ran into the spikes in your security device awhile ago?” requested the photographer. “YAH, that’s it, open them baby blues a little wider...” boyrubber didn’t have to try hard as the look of terror came natural under the circumstances.

“OK, seems cool enough” declared James Bond touching the sheath without his gloves on. “Time to start the hydration!” With that, James Bond reached at the based of neck seal and pulled a heretofore unseen tube poking through the neck seal a short distance to the front. Then, using a small connector, he attached the tube to the hydration tube in boyrubber’s oral plug completing an as yet unknown circuit. “There we go,” exclaimed James Bond, “all hooked up! FILL THE RESERVOIR!!” he called to the Corps guys. boyrubber listened attentively though his audio units and could just barely make out some splashing noise coming from behind him. “All completed?” questioned James Bond. “Yup,” came the reply from some unseen source. “Now, we just turn this little knob,” James Bond indicated as he twisted a dial on the remote control unit, “and...” Suddenly, boyrubber felt the squirt of liquid in his hydration tube once more. Remembering his training, he swallowed quickly, ignoring the piercing pains in his tongue. The squirts of liquid did not stop, however, but continued rhythmically as James Bond explained the device. “What we have here is yer hydration circuit. The reservoir on the compression unit attached to the back of yer chair has been primed with four liters of electrolyte solution. The compression unit is now set to administer the electrolyte solution into yer oral plug and ya will have to work hard to keep swallowing, and yer bladder will start filling in no time. Yer anti-bends vest was designed to squeeze yer bladder so yer gunna to have to piss pretty soon. The piss exits the tube in yer security device which is hooked up to the incoming tube in yer anal plug, thereby filling up yer cleaned out colon with yer piss. Once the pressure in yer colon reaches a critical level, the pressure regulator in the outgoing tube of yer anal plug opens, and the decompressor unit sucks ya dry and dumps the contents of yer colon back in the reservoir of yer compressor unit to start the circuit again. Closed circuit, ya stay hydrated through the test period. Neat, huh?!?”

What James Bond had accidentally failed to mention, however, was that the electrolyte solution in the reservoir was spiked with Viagra, and was also primed with a heavy dose of long-lasting Lasix, a powerful diuretic guaranteed to keep boyrubber flowing long after the test was completed. Further, James Bond had loaded the electrolyte solution with a strong dose of “No-Doze,” an amphetamine which would keep boyrubber completely awake throughout the test period, enjoying the experience, or not, it really didn’t matter.

boyrubber tried to make sense of James Bond’s explanation while concentrating on swallowing the seemingly endless infusion of hydration fluid. SUDDENLY, A LOOK OF HORROR SPREAD ACROSS HIS FACE as he realized that James Bond was informing him that boyrubber’s ‘hydration’ was going to be by recycling his own piss enema. The Corps photographer stepped forward to snap several photos of boyrubber’s wide-eyed terror!

James Bond was, of course, correct. boyrubber felt urine filling his squashed bladder almost immediately, and while boyrubber tried hard not to piss, it was no use in fighting the sensation. Piss broke through and began filling his colon within minutes.

“Now,” James Bond declared, “while the hydration cycle gets goin’, it’s time to be fitted with yer diving helmet. HELMET!!” yelled James Bond.

While trying to maintain what was left of his composure, and there wasn’t much, boyrubber watched as the ‘diving helmet’ was placed in James Bond’s outstretched hands. Swallowing all the time, boyrubber watched attentively as James Bond examined the strange item. It appeared to be made of clear plastic, cylindrical at the bottom, and a shallow, half spherical dome at the top. The diving helmet, open at the bottom, and had two tube connectors toward the bottom, but otherwise presented an unbroken surface to the world. It wasn’t like any diving helmet boyrubber had ever seen. In fact, it resembled a bell jar boyrubber had one used in a highschool physics class when experimenting with vacuums.

Without any ceremony, James Bond feed the opening at the bottom of the diving helmet over boyrubber’s plastic encased head, right onto the mating ring of the neck seal, and then twisted the helmet a quarter turn to lock it in place. Quickly several hands of the Corps member reached to engage the various hoses and connectors to the equipment at the back of the chair. Obviously, the air supply needed to be hooked up quickly for there was very little room in the helmet between boyrubber’s immobile head and the sides of the helmet, and therefore very little air. The Corps members, however, were experienced in their tasks and the air supply, and other connectors to the compressor and decompressor were hooked up in no time, causing fresh air to enter the helmet, or so it seemed to boyrubber.

“TESTING, TESTING,” called James Bond, “Can ya hear me? If ya can, boyrubber, squeeze yer lids closed! Good, good...we can proceed with the test dive! First, you are going to feel some increased pressure,” advised James Bond to boyrubber, “ as we load up yer lungs with pure oxygen. Gotta get ya nice ‘n ready for the next phase.” With that small warning, the atmosphere in diving helmet became more and more pressurized. boyrubber’s eyelids were pushed shut by the pressure and his lungs expanded to their maximum extend within the constrains of the anti-bends vest. The extreme pressure continued for a full five minutes, long after boyrubber had concluded that he could not stand this twisted compression any longer.

Then, James Bond made one final announcement, “now, boyrubber, its time for your depressurization. As your blood is now supersaturated with oxygen, there is no need for you to breathe for awhile, so the depressurization phase will now begin, and after a test depressurization, you will start your dive! Good luck, boyrubber.”

Suddenly, things went silent for boyrubber. James Bond had apparently turned off the speaker on the audio units leaving boyrubber nothing but restricted vision to see what was happening. Even more frightening, however, was the sudden decrease in pressure. The diving helmet was indeed a bell jar of sorts, designed to withstand high pressure and no pressure inside. Unfortunately, boyrubber’s head was not so designed. As the pressure decreased, boyrubber’s eyelids opened, and then opened further and further, until they were stuck maximally opened. Even then, the pressure drop continued and boyrubber’s eyes were sucked forward from their sockets, immobilizing them in a stare of extreme fright that mirrored his metal state at the time. The decrease in pressure also activated values in his nasal tubes sealing his lung from the vacuum of the diving helmet.

And so, it appeared that the evil Lone Star Rubber Corps had truly found a way to completely immobilize their victim as he tested the evil contraption they called “The Experimental Diving Suit.”

The pier became a beehive of activity. A small derrick was driving onto the pier and a crane hooked up to the chair to which boyrubber was attached. Boyrubber felt vibrations, then was lifted up off the pier, and chair and boyrubber were turned to the side of the pier. Once completed, boyrubber felt and himself being lowered into the water, deeper and deeper until boyrubber and chair hit the sea floor with a thud. Instantly, the large men in identical green frogmen suits for Part I were at his side bolting the chair to a concrete platform placed there for just this purpose. Then, they were gone leaving the chair with boyrubber attached, firmly fixed to the sea bottom.

The test dive began. Pressurized and then depressurized, over and over again without let up. Either squeezed or expanded, boyrubber had no choice in the matter. All he could do was continue to suck his hydration fluid and experience the multiple unpleasant sensations caused by the apparatus now fully controlling his every function. Time passed slowly for poor boyrubber, as it had for the readers of our little story...

Now that boyrubber was neatly tucked away in the experimental diving suit performing his evaluation, members of the Corps retired to the Corp’s bookie to place their bets. Generally, the test subject was suited up for a full 48 hours, but boyrubber seemed to take the suiting unusually well, so the Corps members agreed to extend the test period. The odds given were only 2 to 1 that boyrubber would last 50 hours in the suit, but increased to 6 to 1 for an 60 hour stay. Aqualaboy, however, placed his $100 on a record 72 hour stay at 50 to 1. The bets completed, the members then turned their attention to the last bet; would boyrubber be willing to evaluate the suit a second time? The only odds given were even money!

The beginning...

EPILOGUE

Several days latter, after being extracted from the Experimental Diving Suit with much difficulty, after filling out the requisite forms providing the Corps with the agreed upon feedback, and of course after being hypnotized to forget the more harrowing moments of the weekend, boyrubber found himself back in his rented car, baseball cap covering the telltale scalp inking, face still a little stiff with acrylic, penis head with dozens of telltale puncture wounds and butthole still a little stretched, but otherwise not much worse for wear. He headed toward the safety of California. Ah yes, the safety and security of home....

A short ways outside of Los Angeles, boyrubber decided to make an unexpected and unannounced stop at the clubhouse of the Southern California Rubber Corps, because he had to pee. Pulling up, he was glad to see the parking lot full. “Finally,” he thought to himself, which is how it is usually done, “friends...there must be some kind of meeting going on.”

Entering the clubhouse, boyrubber was surprised to find the front door unattended, but he heard many voices coming from within the rubber dungeon. Carefully...cautiously... he opened the door, and was SHOCKED to see at least 50 men in full rubber inside. There were drysuits, there were wetsuits, there were catsuits, there was even one man dressed like the Goodyear blimp (or so it seemed). As boyrubber appeared at the door, the room went silent. All snorkeling masks turned toward him. boyrubber felt himself pulled in the room by unseen hands and heard the door close and lock behind him.

Little did boyrubber suspect, nor could he have known, that he had stumbled on an unfortunate rubber play party, where only tops has shown up. Each top had his bag of toys, each top was an expert in some extreme rubber perversion but they were NOT happy with the lack of subjects, until of course our hero just happened to wonder in.

Things looked dark for boyrubber, very dark and very hot and very sweaty....


With That, Visiting Time Is Over. What Ever You Do Don't Scream Too Loud As Others Are Trying To Sleep. ~Rubberasylum