Rubber Wader Submission Pete waited for the attendant to lookup from the desk in front of the entrance to the dressing room, glancing up at the "Limit 2 items per person" sign over the doorway. He gripped the pair of heavy black hip waders in his hands, trying not to notice how the sweat was building up between their thick rubber and his nervous palms. Tucked under the crook of his arm were a pair of black rubber industrial gauntlets, easily longer than his forearm. The attendant was busily flipping through a stack of inventory print-outs, making notes with a ball-point pen. Pete rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, wondering at his luck at finding this place. Driving along the main strip in a run-down industrial section of town, he had nearly broken his neck craning backwards in a double take at the grey and blue sign he had glimpsed: "Industrial and Safety Clothing Warehouse: Open to Public". Making a U-turn at the first cross street, he had driven back, driving slowly by the store-front, to make sure his eyes hadn't been playing tricks on him. Sure enough, it was an industrial clothing warehouse! Heart thumping with excitement, Pete found the entrance to the back parking lot, and pulled into one of the many empty parking spaces. The building was a tall dingy tilt-up of grey concrete, with graffiti markings covering the lower portion in bold strips of neon spray paint. Taking a breath and then getting out of his car, Pete stared at the windowless double doors squarely centered in the back of the building. A sign hung above it, "Industrial and Safety Clothing Warehouse." Well, no mistaking it, this was the entrance matching the sign he had seen from the front. Pete paused, and thought about his limited cash, then about the boots, gloves, and protective gear that must be inside this place. His cock stiffening in his jeans, Pete sighed and strode towards the doors. He could at least see what they had. Even if he didn't buy anything this time. An hour later, he was breathless from pawing through the mounds of surplus rubber boots and gloves inside the huge warehouse. Finally settling on a pair of hip- high wader boots of heavy black rubber, and a set of thick rubber gauntlets, Pete had screwed up his courage, and was now ready to try this gear on. The attendant on station at the front of the dressing rooms seemed determined to ignore him, however. "Hhhem, Excuse me?" Pete choked out, his voice breaking with nervousness and his excitement at the heavy rubber gear he held in his hands. The attendant made a final flourish with his pen, threw it down on the print-outs and turned an irritated gaze at Pete. "Yes, What do you want?" The attendant's eyes narrowed and he scanned Pete from head to toe, his gaze lingering on the bulge at Pete's crotch. "Well, I'd like to try these on, if I could. Are any dressing rooms open?" Pete shifted the heavy waders between his hands, trying not to loose the gauntlets from under the crook of his arm. "Oh, they're all available, Sir. Business sucks!" The attendant waved brusquely at the dressing room entrance behind him, and returned to his inventory papers. Pete stood for a moment, stunned at the attendant's outburst, then hurried by into the dim interior of the dressing rooms. Ducking into the first open door, Pete dropped the waders and gauntlets and turned to lock the door behind him. Closing it with a click, Pete blinked as bright overhead lights came on, illuminating the interior of the dressing cube. He stared into the full length mirror covering one entire wall of the the tiny room. Looking up and down, his eyes focused on his crotch, bulged out from his stiff dick. He flushed and hoped the attendant hadn't noticed. Rubber gear always had this effect on him. And he couldn't wait to get this stuff on. Pete shucked his shoes off, and quickly stripped till he was wearing only his tight white underwear. He sat down on the bare wooden bench and grabbed one long black wader boot. Taking a breath, he pointed his bare foot and plunged his leg into the unlined rubber boot. It sucked his foot in with a slick rubbery grip, and he stood up, holding the top of it, yanking it up till it covered the top of his thigh. His dick twitched as he felt the cool rubber of the tall wader slap against his inner thigh, just across from his balls. Sitting down again, Pete quickly pulled on the other wader, standing and stamping his feet deep into them, and then looked into the mirror. The waders covered his legs almost completely in a column of dully shining black rubber. His cock stood framed by the black boots reaching to his upper thigh, straining against the thin white cloth of his briefs. Pete stroked the top of the waders, fingers slipping and sliding along the sensuous rubber, and his breath quickened. As he reached down and picked up the heavy rubber gauntlets, glimpses of his rubber booted body made his dick stiffer and stiffer under the tight briefs. Then he noticed, Damn! The gloves were attached together at the wrists by one of those antitheft magnetic tags! He couldn't get them apart without ruining them. Pete swore, and held the tag up close to his eyes, trying to find some way he could remove it. "Shit!" Beside himself with the intense feelings the rubber waders evoked in him, he shook his head and jammed his hands into the gauntlets anyway. Sliding his hands deep within the tight black confines of the gloves, he squirmed his hands and forearms until both gauntlets were seated tight on his hands, cuffs up and over his elbows, wrists tight against one another. Breathing hard, he pulled against the stout metal and plastic of the antitheft tag holding his wrists together, and turned back and forth, dick straining, unable to take his eyes off his reflection in the mirror. He stood, back arched, arms together in front of him, legs spread, admiring the gleam and smell of the thick rubber gear. Unable to resist any longer, Pete reached down with his gloved hands and began rubbing his cock through his tight whites. He closed his eyes and sucked in his breath at the pleasure of the touch. It felt like someone else was rubbing his balls and dick. The gloves were so thick that he could barely feel his cock with his fingers, although it was throbbing from the tight grip and slide of the gauntlets. There was a hard rapping on the dressing room door. Pete jerked his gloved hands away from his crotch and froze under the bright cubicle lights. "Excuse me! We're closing up in a few minutes." he heard the attendant say right outside the door of the cubical where he now stood, booted legs apart, stiff dick barely contained by his tight white underwear, gloved hands pinioned together by the frustrating anti-theft tag, chest sweat-slicked and heaving under the harsh overhead lights. "Ah...Sure, just a minute." Pete choked out. He waited a minute to give the attendant time to move out of earshot, and then tried to wriggle out of the long rubber gauntlets which now covered his arms up to his elbows. They refused to move an inch. Pete twisted his hands against the tight grip of the gloves, pulling against the tag binding them together. It stretched and then snapped back forcefully. He was stuck! Jerking against the gloves in panic, he yanked and pulled with all his might, even grabbing the fingers of one gauntlet between his teeth, trying in vain to get the damn things off before the attendant came back. Pushing his hands down on the wooden bench, he lifted a booted foot, the top cuff of the wader brushing against his still throbbing crotch, and stepped on the gloves, hoping the deep tread of the boots would catch and pull them off of his hands. It didn't work! Pete stood up and looked around with alarm. He couldn't get out of these things! Turning towards the door, he saw himself in the mirror. He was naked except for his tight briefs, hard dick glaringly obvious, wearing black thigh high waders, arms bound by these silly gloves in front of him. He just couldn't be found by the attendant this way! Turning around, he scanned the small cubicle, looking for anything that would help him out of this. He thought of the pocketknife in his pants, and then immediately thought of his nearly empty wallet. He couldn't afford to ruin these gloves! Glancing up at the back wall of the cubicle, he saw a thick bolt sticking out of the wall. It looked like it had been used to attach some kind of light fixture. Grey scratched metal, with white paint flecks, sticking out at an upward angle from the wall above his head. An idea popped into Pete's mind. Bending over, the heavy rubber of the wader tops sliding between his legs and against his balls, Pete grabbed the wooden bench in both hands and pushed it over till it was underneath the protruding bolt. Carefully, Pete stepped up onto the wobbly bench, leaning his gloved and fettered hands against the cubicle wall to steady himself. Looking up at the bolt he tried to gauge the distance. He should be able to reach it. Turning his back to the wall, and putting his legs together for maximum height, Pete slowly raised his rubber covered wrists towards the bolt overhead. If he could only hook them on, he could use his own weight to slide out of the damn things! Pete stared upward, lips pursed in concentration, stretching the gauntlets up over his head, legs pressed hard together, his cock and balls pushing out his tight whites, squeezed between the tops of the black rubber waders covering his legs. Almost...He almost had it. He stretched upward as far as he could, going up on his boot toes, his black rubber clad fingers straining upwards, until the anti-theft tag attached to both gauntlets slipped over the stout metal bolt. Pete jerked down on his hands, feeling the bolt snag the tag hard. Wiggling his fingers inside the gloves, he twisted on top of the wooden bench, knees bent, pulling down as hard as he could on the bolt. The stubborn gauntlets pulled at his wrists, and refused to budge. "Damn! Damn! Damn! This stupid gloves!" Pete hissed beneath his breath, bending his knees abruptly, rubber covered legs gleaming in the harsh light, he let his whole weight rest on the anti-theft tag. The gloves stretched and then seemed to cinch even tighter around his wrists. Pete jerked against them in frustration. Looking up at the offending rubber trapping his wrists and arms, he noticed the overbalancing bench a second too late. With a flail of legs, the bench toppled over away from the wall, and Pete slipped off, ass and boot heels slamming against the wall behind him, his arms yanked up by the bolt, the rubber gauntlets wrenched down tightly around his wrists, pulled tight by the tag. Pete hung against the wall in dumbfounded shock. His booted feet were a good foot from the floor. Craning his neck to try to see the bolt above him, he braced his feet against the wall, and pulled, but without any luck. The angle of the bolt was steep enough that he couldn't slide off. Pete cursed underneath his breath and tried to calm himself down. The warehouse was closing any minute, that damn attendant with an attitude would be back any time, and he was hung like a side of beef, naked except for his briefs, wearing thigh high black rubber waders and heavy industrial rubber gauntlets. He caught his image in the mirror to his side, and noticed with dismay that his erection was still pressed stiffly out against the tight white cotton of his underwear, obvious to the world. Click. Pete's gaze snapped to the knob of the dressing room door. The push in lock had just popped out! Pete held his breath, bracing for the humiliating discovery, as the knob turned and the door slowly swung open into the hall. Turning his head to the side, he waited for first snide comment from the attendant. After a moment of silence, he looked hesitantly up, and sucked in his breath in surprise. Standing in the doorway, was the attendant, but now he was wearing tight rubber jodhpurs tucked into deep black riding boots, a muscle T-shirt of shining black latex, and long rubber gauntlets against which he was stroking a long handled rubber whip. "Look's like you've been busy, boy. Did you think you could jack off in this gear for free!" The attendant stepped forward and stood in front of Pete's bulging crotch. Looking up at Pete with a sneer, the booted man slapped the whip across Pete's cock, and laughed. Pete jerked at the sudden smack to his already sensitive cock, and stared down at the man with wide eyes. "I got stuck, I wasn't going to steal anything!" Pete protested. The man reached up a gloved hand and grabbed a hold of Pete's left nipple. Squeezing it tightly between his thumb and forefinger, he smiled up at Pete. "Oh, I'm sure that's true, boy!" the man twisted and let go of Pete's nipple, turning away from him. Pete winced, and was mesmerized by the movement of the light shining from the tight rubber over the man's thighs and chest. He was struck speechless by the moment and his predicament. The man turned back to Pete, and looked down at the toppled wooden bench. "Do you want this, boy?" He picked it up in his gloved hands, righting it, and pushed it with his boot toe next to Pete's dangling heels. Reaching to his belt, he pulled off something made of dark black rubber with dangling straps. The man stepped up on the bench, and pushed the thick rubber between Pete's protesting lips, reaching around his head and tightly cinching the straps, forcing the gag tightly between Pete's clenching teeth. "Now, I think we need to reach an understanding, boy. You were abusing this gear, and you need to make amends for that." The man, still standing on the bench, reached over and grabbed Pete's cock and balls through his tight white briefs. Pete rolled his eyes at the feeling of the man's rubber gauntlets squeezing his package. His dick began throbbing from the stimulation. The man smiled and stepped down from the bench, standing once more in front of the suspended and sweating Pete. "I think you like this gear alot more than the normal industrial buyer, Am I right?" Stroking the rubber lashes of the whip across Pete's crotch and up and down his wadered thighs. "Yes, I think we may find some common ground pretty quickly." Pete jerked against the gloves binding his wrists, as the attendant reached out his free hand and yanked his underwear down, exposing his stiff dick and hanging balls. The man looked up at the gagged Pete, and smiled nastily, and then spit on his gloved hand. With a sudden grab, he captured Pete's throbbing cock tightly in his rubbered and spit-lubed fist. "Are you ready to become a rubber wader slave, boy!?" The man began jerking on Pete's dick, sliding his rubber covered fist up and down the shaft in a tight vise of lubed pleasure. Pete writhed against the wall, his butt cheeks leaving sweat smears as the man continued pumping his dick. Uncovered so quickly as the rubber boot pig he really was, Pete ramped up towards climax. The man laughed at Pete's situation, and pushed the rubber handled whip up underneath Pete's balls, pressing it against his tight asshole. Pete's eyes flew open, and he yelled as the attendant forced the rubber whip up his ass, and submitted to the vigorous stimulation of the man's lubed rubber fist over his cock shaft and head. Cock head twitching, his cum shot out in one of the strongest orgasms he had ever had, splashing against the black latex covered chest of the attendant, making Pete thrash against the wall, arch his back, his butt cheeks clenched around the whip handle, teeth biting down in ecstasy on the thick rubber gag strapped in his mouth. "Yes, welcome to the Warehouse, boy, it's always open to rubber pigs like you." The attendant laughed and milked the last of the cum from Pete's flagging dick, twisting the whip handle around in his bound ass. Pete twitched and hung submissively against the wall. It was the truth, he was a rubber pig, and he was helpless to escape that fact. His head dropped to his chest in exhaustion, ass still clenching around the whip, not daring to imagine what would come next...