March 2004
To JOHN STRICKLAND

Hi John,
Thought you'd like to know that your stories continue to spark the imaginations of other people.

A couple of bikers from the wilds of Cheshire, after reading two of your PVC stories, tried to find a source of custom-made heavy duty PVC gear as described by you. Having had no luck on the Internet, they phoned me to ask if the gear in your stories is reality or fantasy. Because I'd also written about ‘oilskins' in several autobiographical stories, we exchanged a few mutually stimulating e-mails before they came to visit.

One, an ex-copper, the other a bike courier, they certainly shared my/your enthusiasm for game-playing in heavy gear. With them they brought two ex-British Navy ‘Foul weather' suits and other kinky kit to augment my collection for the weekend, and together we explored the physical realities of your fantasy-based-on-experience stories.
The photos that resulted speak for themselves (see end of this page for more).

Building on scenarios other people have written is another topic we discussed. They had played some heavy games together, and in your story Further Adventures of a Motorcycle Messenger one sentence had particularly excited the biker called Terry:
“Completely waterproof, their heavy gear was practically impossible to get on and off without assistance.”

As we rolled around in the heavy British Naval waterproofs they speculated on possibilities your story suggested to them. Experiencing the physical realities of layering in the ‘skins' again after several years prompted me to write the following fantasy.

John, I trust you won't be offended by my building onto your original scenario. I'd like to talk more with you about the general subject of expanding on what other people have written to ‘personalise' the appeal. (More on this in the Topics Index under ‘Scenario Adaptation'). The character names are changed but the source of inspiration is obvious - but for some reason the biker and his mate are now called Terry and Len.

AUTHOR'S WARNING:
THIS 6500 WORD STORY IS SUITABLE ONLY FOR PEOPLE WITH A SERIOUS ENTHUSIASM FOR
LAYERING IN RESTRAINT AND INDUSTRIAL-WEIGHT WATERPROOF CLOTHING.
© Copyright protected March 2004 Jim Stewart

The custom-made oilskins were delivered on a Thursday. Because this was Terry's day off, the manufacturer on the other side of Europe had agreed to ship them to arrive on that day; special delivery. The e-mailed ordering and planning seemed to have worked. Terry was home to answer the door when a sexy foreign-looking van driver arrived.

Resisting the temptation to invite the guy in, Terry was eager to inspect their long-planned and long awaited purchases. His partner Len was on late shift at the factory where he headed the security team. Their shared enthusiasm for high powered bikes had first brought them together four years earlier when Len had left the police and temporarily joined the bike courier firm that Terry had worked for since he'd left school.

Len often teased his partner for being locked into his tearaway phase - but he knew Terry enjoyed spending his days in his beat-up leathers, sometimes sweating his bollocks off bundled up in wet weather gear in the stink and grime of London traffic. Terry's fuck-buddy play-partner gave him a hard time about being a masochist, but Terry could give as good as he got. When they first met, the ex-copper was keen to enjoy his new freedom to play the sort of games which had been too risky to play when he was on The Force. Len had soon sensed that the mad biker kid Terry was an ideal partner for the sort of games that had always turned him on.

The ex-copper knew all the tricks when it came to a bit of rough-and-tumble. He and Terry had developed some challenging, highly competitive physical games together over the years. They were a good match for each other on many levels.

It was mid-afternoon when the packages arrived. Terry was sorry Len wasn't home to share the excitement of opening them, but the two bulky bundles, one to each name, were too tempting to resist. Their orders had been identical. Terry couldn't wait to open the package with his name on it.

He discovered it was seriously heavy when he decided to take it through to their bedroom. The packaging was efficiently tough because the bundles were so weighty. Terry wondered what sort of person had done the strapping; the whole surface totally wrapped around with what turned out to be unusually strong reinforced adhesive tape. Having fetched the kitchen scissors, Terry absently wondered where he could get some of this tape, as he tried to find his way into the almost impregnable package. It could have interesting uses he mused - specially in the hands of somebody who wrapped packages with such thoroughness every day.

He speculated on what sort of person at the manufacturers did this wrapping. Terry had to drag his mind back from some interesting imaginative flights of fancy.
The firm's web site was exclusively heavy duty bike waterproofs, but not a fetish site on the face of it.

However, during exchanges of e-mails when fixing details of their custom-order, the owner of the small firm had happily accommodated their every requirement. Terry and Len had decided they weren't the first PVC perverts to be ordering from this specialist company.

The autumn afternoon was warm, but Terry was shivering slightly when he first sat and tried to force his feet down into the shiny black tubes of the PVC suit legs. The thick fabric resisted because folding and packing had caused them to stick together inside. His bare feet pushed and the layers gradually parted to allow his legs to extend. Terry's shivering was more excitement than the cold clinging feel of the slightly rigid double-thickness material. As soon as both feet were freed from the plastic tubes, he stood up. As he stooped to haul the crumpled suit further up his legs his cock was rigid. When the back of the suit touched his arse, his cock twitched even more and his breath was laboured. The end of the long zip at the front was now under his balls but the weight of the top was dragging everything down again at the back.

Anybody who has tried to climb into a one-piece suit or tight coveralls knows that getting both arms into the sleeves behind your back can be difficult. With thick PVC, cold and inflexible - over naked skin - with the insides of the sleeves stuck together Terry had to put up something of a fight. He made fists to force their way into the tops of the sleeves and felt the fabric part reluctantly. The uncomfortable angle of his arms while trying to drive both sleeves open resulted in him squatting with bent knees to get 'under' the armhole entrances.

He'd had the same problem with the neoprene wet suit he'd bought long ago (but still occasionally wore secretly under his bike leathers just for the hell of it). Now, his shoulders hunched as he tried to drag what would eventually be the neck of the suit upwards. He wished Len was here to help him. The lovers often had to help one another out of their one-piece leathers after a cold ride, when fingers were numb. Or rather, Len might hinder by springing some surprise which would soon have Terry helpless in an unexpected way. Terry's cock grew even stiffer as he remembered some of the devilish tricks Len liked to play. Here with his arms almost immobilised behind him in the sleeves, he was suddenly glad Len wasn't there to take advantage.

*****

The zipper was grating against the back of his naked shoulders as he tried to squeeze/drag/force the zipper edge forwards on either one shoulder or the other. Eventually he managed it and his brawny shoulders slid into the void. His arms travelled the final distance into the sleeves and as he straightened his legs his shoulders forced their way up into the stiff-with-cold PVC interior of the suit. He reached to free the collar which was trapped inside, behind his neck. He was conscious that raising his arms in the thick suit was not easy, but he freed the collar and wriggled his shoulders to more comfortably fill out the top of the suit.

Suddenly aware of his cock sticking out of the front of the PVC, Terry was glad to see that their instructions to make the front zip long enough to reach under his crotch had been carried out. Even so, closing the zip up past his rampant cock demanded all his attention if he wasn't going to trap the skin or at least some hair in the zip. Luckily, they'd asked for generous backing strips behind all zips to keep water out - plus strips to Velcro over the outside of each zip as a double seal. Terry drew the sturdy front zip tight up to his neck, smoothing the double flaps to close them. As his hand pressed the zip-cover shut Terry flexed his shoulders, bent his knees slightly as his body explored the all-over feeling of the suit. The cold rigidity of the PVC was already beginning to warm, and his shivering had become a pleasant tingle of good-feeling.

Measurements they'd supplied to the firm had allowed for their suits to fit over bike leathers, but Terry was delighted to discover that although roomy, the heavy and double thickness plastic had some elasticity. Over his tingling naked skin he was surprised how snug it felt. He wondered if he should have worn his bulky bike leathers to confirm the suit would fit over … but the PVC felt great clinging against his skin.

He looked out of the window at the bright sky, hoping for a rain cloud, but there were none in sight. He wanted to go out on his bike and get the feel of the new gear - but in the sunshine he would have looked ridiculous however good it felt.

He occupied himself, carefully closing the waterproof covers across the long zips on his lower-legs. Wide enough to get a boot down, the legs had full vent PVC backing panels to make them totally waterproof but the heavy-duty zips when closed, brought the legs of the suit tight down around his ankles above his bare feet. He checked to make sure that the cuffs also expand to fit over bike boots. Bending forward tightened the PVC around his arse and shoulders, sticking slightly but feeling wonderful.

The sleeves also closed snug, he discovered, with fully waterproof zips down to the wrists. Under gauntlets or mitts the double cuffs would be totally proof against driving rain. More strips of Velcro-ed closed to cover the outside of each zip. He closed them all.

Next he turned his attention to the suit collar which was exactly as ordered. Tall and upstanding, it fitted unusually high and snug around the neck. Velcro allowed this to adjust comfortably across the throat, the plastic lining feeling particularly good against his neck. The outside of the collar front was totally covered by a generous Velcro patch. This they'd asked for, for the attachment of a specially designed cover for the chin and lower face ... which would fit under a crash helmet.

Len and Terry had experimented with leather hoods and face covers under their helmets but these had impeded vision; which was OK in their bedroom games, but not when biking (Although, Terry had experienced some precarious moments as a sightless and gagged pillion passenger behind Len).

The specially commissioned PVC mouth cover was designed to extended down around the chin and throat, but also up over the nose. The idea was that in cold weather they'd be breathing warmer air and the PVC would smell great. This attachment sealed itself to the suit's upright collar so rain couldn't possibly drive under it and down inside the suit. To add to the efficiency, the helmet chin strap would fit tight over the face-cover and press it tight against the face. Len and Sam, having designed it, were confident that in future they'd be totally weatherproof in the worst rainstorm - and they often rode in the rain just for the hell of it.

Terry fiddled to position the special cover onto the heavy-duty Velcro at the front of the collar, and then closed it behind his neck. His mouth and nose now totally encased in pungent new PVC, he sampled the air flow. He was tempted to get his crash helmet there and then to try it on over the new face protector. He also remembered they'd each ordered new extra-long waterproof mitts to replace standard ones which they used to cover bike gloves in really shitty weather. Perhaps he should try the new mitts next - would they fit over his thick leather bike gloves? ... perhaps with his old waterproof mitts on, too. Perhaps he should check … but suddenly Terry remembered that he wasn't even wearing any boots!

His excited mind turned back to the anorak and bib-and-brace over-trousers which still lay on the leather-covered bed looking so inviting. Encased as he already was and breathing heavily behind the face-cover, Terry couldn't help pawing over the remaining pile of pungent PVC. He wished Len was at home so they could try it all on together. The sun was still shining so no chance of going out, and Len wouldn't be back before midnight to share his enthusiasm.

The full-length sealed suit was beginning to warm up from his body heat. He liked the way it stuck to his naked skin as he moved. The fabric rubbed together inside it's double layers, dragging slightly giving a nice feeling. The sensation of being totally encased was even more intense than in his leathers. This was different. It was almost a tough PVC prison, he mused - and his cock surged at the thought.

He rubbed his arms against his body and they also clung sensuously. When he walked around experimentally, the fabric between his legs stuck slightly and squeaked. The overall effect was getting him really horny. He felt for his stiff dick through the clinging fabric - and discovered that the PVC was softening and clinging even tighter as the body heat increased. He loved it.

Picking up the bib-and-brace trousers he was tempted to take the suit off and try the anorak and pants to feel the difference. Then, he had an irresistible urge to add the bib-and-brace trousers over the suit. That would intensify the feeling, he reasoned. Before doing this he decided it would be logical to add a pair of heavy duty weather-proof boots (just to get the full effect).

Often, when passing a fire station he'd seen the waiting boots with trousers already on them, left ready to step into in an emergency. Terry had a sturdy pair of totally waterproof tall heavy-duty rubber wellies with steel toe-caps. He dragged them from the back of the wardrobe and decided, as an experiment, to carefully thread the bulky new PVC over-trousers onto the boots where they stood.

• Still wearing the suit complete with face-cover, bending down was problematical, so he stood the boots side by side on the bed before starting to manoeuvre the legs of the over-trousers down around each boot . This took time - and he enjoyed every minute of it , cramming the stiff PVC around each boot. For good measure, he tightened the bottom of each over-trouser leg around the boot ankles - and then he stood the seriously heavy tangle of PVC and rubber (and steel toe-protectors) on the floor.

They looked great just standing there. Even better was the feeling when he plunged his bare feet into the wellies, carefully feeding the suit-legs down inside them. Then began the process of hauling the over-trousers up over the one-piece suit legs. The PVC surfaces dragged against one another and made it a satisfying tussle.
The chest-high front panel had straps loosly connected to straps from the back. These tightened satisfyingly over his shoulders and closed with heavy snap-fasteners. They felt tight over the one-piece suit but as he flexed his shoulder to test them, the snaps didn't break away. The connecting straps added pressure on the suit and made his skin tingle as he deliberately hunched his shoulders and raised his arms experimentally The bulk and dragging of PVC against PVC made this quite difficult. A wonderful feeling and it looked sensational in the big bedroom mirror.

*****

The sun was still shining and it wouldn't be dark for a couple of hours. Because breathing into the face mask was heating him up even more, Terry was tempted to take the suit off and try the anorak which was designed to be worn with the bib-and-brace. But then he decided it would be something of a challenge to try the anorak over the top of what he already had on.

The design of the anorak was very similar to government surplus foul weather suits he and Len had bought when they first got together - and often played around in. These had hoods with storm peaks (or beaks as the Americans called them). Closed-fronted and belted at the waist, there were draw-strings at neck and hips to keep even the worst 'foul weather' out.

Getting the heavy anorak over the top of everything was more of a struggle than he'd anticipated, mainly because the closed special face-cover he was already wearing restricted his breathing - quite pleasurably. Terry was determined to achieve the goal he'd set himself. Forcing his arms deep inside the still cold solid PVC tube, the sleeves of his one-piece dragged against the inside of the double thickness anorak arms. Deep inside the one-piece suit the warmed-up plastic dragged against his skin. It was just the sort of situation that turned him on. His nose and mouth, already covered by PVC, was soon buried in the black void of the anorak interior. For what seemed like several minutes, he was trapped half-way in and halfway out until he thought the air was going to run out. But with some wriggling he managed to force his head the final distance and it emerged through the neck column into the peaked hood of the anorak. This was tailored satisfyingly snug, unlike many waterproof hoods. It felt great. The layers of plastic clinging together and creaking … and the smell was fantastic.

Now, in addition to the face cover of the one-piece suit, the anorak hood was deep enough to really wall in his face as well as the back of his head. Terry's eager fingers found the draw-string which tightened the hood against wind and weather. Then the flap to pull the bulk of fabric in closer around his throat could be closed with snap fasteners somewhere at the side of his neck. In combination with everything underneath, the anorak neck flap took some closing. His heavily layered arms were getting tired by the time the four heavy-duty snaps were forced home. Giving his arms a rest he panted for breath behind the PVC cover which was now pressing tighter against his face. Next, making a determined effort, he secured the substantial flap which was designed to cover the mouth and nose of the anorak hood.

As the reluctant snaps clunked into their spring sockets, this added two more layers to the coverings already across his lower face, leaving only his eyes visible. Terry lowered his aching arms in their multi-layers of heavy PVC and his breath grew even more laboured as he now surveyed himself in the big mirrored wardrobe. Peering out of the limited space in the hood, only his eyes showed above the tightly stretched PVC lower face covers, and were shaded by the substantial storm peak. It all looked fantastic, and the smell of so much new PVC across his nose and mouth was intoxicating.

Terry found it was now almost impossible to look downwards. The hood opening was reduced to a slot and around his neck the draw-string, tight flaps and many layers reduced his mobility considerably. In the mirror he saw that there was still the waist belt of the anorak to fasten and the draw-string around the bottom hem of the bulky garment to tighten. He was determined to go all the way now.

After a struggle the efficient belt was cinched as tight as it would go, the row of heavy snaps they'd asked for, ensuring it wouldn't pop open. The lower draw-string wasn't so easy to pull taught and knot, it being somewhere down around his thighs. He could see it only in the mirror as he fiddled to tighten it all.

This achieved, he now relaxed to survey the intensified effect. His waist was gathered in so tightly, light bounced off the many folds in the shiny fabric and looked magnificent … but he suddenly remembered the anorak was supposed to have a through-crotch flap. Designed to keep the anorak pulled well down around the hips while working outdoors in 'foul wind and weather', he remembered seeing this flap tucked up out-of the-way inside the back of the anorak when he first inspected it. At this stage it might be difficult to reach and release. In spite of the bulk - he was determined to find and add the final flap to get the full effect - but could this be achieved?

Turning, he forced his hooded and masked head around hoping, via the mirror, to locate the through-crotch flap behind the back hem of the long anorak. It was a strain on his neck and shoulders and his thickly layered arms wouldn't reach as far as necessary without considerable dragging of PVC against PVC against PVC. He was sweating and breathing heavily by the time he managed to yank the crotch strap free of the Velcro which held it out of the way when not in use.

Now the flap was hanging down behind him Terry took a deep breath inside his various face covers before straining forward so his hands could blindly grapple somewhere between his legs to find the crotch flap. Eventually he caught hold of it and wrenched it forwards through his bulky-with-PVC thighs. He knew there was a group of six strong press-studs at the lower front edge of the anorak. These were supposed to keep the flap firmly fastened. He and Len had discussed this design-point when they were ordering.

Would the snaps be strong enough to resist the stress when lifting a leg over a bike? The manufacturer had assured them they would be but he'd promised to add a couple more fasteners to be completely sure. Now the draw-string was tight and with the additional bulk, these snaps were being something of a struggle to close. Not being able to look down that far, getting the six snap-fasteners all rammed into place took some very determined tugging. This effort sapped the energy from Terry's rapidly over-heating body. It left him panting into the PVC wall which covered most of his face.

With a sharp snap, the last crotch-strap fastener forced it's way home. Because the whole anorak was now pulled down so much tighter, Terry experimented to find out if movement would pop them open again. The amount of leg movement was quite limited when he put the snaps to the test - but he was pleased to discover they held really firm.

Satisfied, Terry took more time to appreciate the look and feel of the stiff enclosing many layers of fabric. The elasticity really held everything together. Inside the layers, Terry began to be more aware of how his body was heating up. It felt sensational.

Again he walked over to the window, hopeful for some signs of clouds so he could get the bike out. The PVC dragged between his legs more than before because the anorak was now pulled tightly downwards by the crotch strap and in at the side of this thighs by the draw-string. The sun was still shining, damn it, so no way could he venture outside dressed like this. He decided he'd have to wait until it started to get dark - which would be at least two hours.

Two hours? Decision time. The gear felt so good - so he would set himself the challenge of keeping it on for two hours - including keeping the several layers of face covers closed. Terry liked challenges. Better when set by Len - but in the past he'd often set himself endurance challenges. And this gear felt so fantastic he decided to stick with it. Stick? His skin was certainly sticking to the now warm and supple PVC beneath all those layers. And the double fabric was sticking together.

Terry again looked himself over in the bedroom mirrors before flinging himself onto the bed to wait. Two hours - he could handle it.
Rolling around energetically, he concentrated on his naked flesh which was becoming sensitised by the fabric. The PVC was no longer so stiff, but the way the slick fabric was becoming progressively more 'clinging' was a real turn-on … but suddenly he realised he needed to piss.

Blindly, his hands explored the front of the anorak in search of a flies opening. There wasn't one, of course. But there was one in the over-trousers. Was there one in the suit beneath them? He tried to remember. His hands felt for the knot in the draw-string which, in combination with the through-crotch strap had pulled everything even tighter. Groping for the knot he'd tied, he was relieved to feel it loosen as an end of the lace came free. But then he discovered that pulling the lace had, in fact, turned the bow he'd tied into a serious knot. Also, his arms inside the thick coverings were sticking to the plastic more than ever. He tried to achieve more arm power, but the sticking together of internal layers was inhibiting movement quite drastically. As he struggled to stand up, layers of PVC around his legs stuck together like glue. He really had to force his way off the bed. Once upright he discovered that he could not raise his arms above his head. He'd have to drag the anorak off - but the draw-string was tight around his thighs. Breathing heavily, he hunched his shoulders to drag at the anorak to release the through-crotch flap … and the damn thing stayed fixed.

Behind the double face-covers his hot breath was wetting the inner PVC. He felt sweat trickle down inside his chin and collar, and the air he was getting tasted of warm plastic. His fingers ripped at the snaps holding the face-cover closed and somehow the snaps refused to open. Suddenly he remembered something the sales-blurb for the suits had said about the fasteners being a special type of safety snaps - and there was a trick to opening them - and he couldn't remember what it was. He couldn't breathe and he was dying for a piss.

The metal snaps which held his neck so rigid were also resisting all attempts to open them. He hoped that by hunching his shoulders the anorak would force it's way upwards and so burst open the crotch flap in spite of the tight draw-string. He huffed and puffed but the layers of fabric remained as firmly glued together than ever. Even his legs were beginning to stick together and the energy was draining out of his rapidly over-heating body.

With the neck-flap stuck shut and the crotch flap jammed - and even if he got the anorak hem loose - he remembered the battle he'd had getting the anorak to slide down over the bib-and-brace and one piece suit which now seemed to be not only melting but welding the layered surfaces together. He was trapped and he knew it.

Resolutely he tried to calm himself. He lay on the bed to think - but he could only think ... he needed to piss so bad it hurt. If he had to piss himself - with all that waterproof it would, he decided, stay inside: just fill his boots.

Much more worrying; he could only imagine what might happen if he was still stuck (literally) in all this PVC when Len got home from work.
Terry loved Len for his extreme game-playing skills - his ability to challenge his partner to his endurance limits and beyond. Terry remembered several examples of Len's implacable nature when it came to forcing his play-partner to deal with a challenging predicament if he couldn't find a way out of it. If he was still in this PVC prison when Len got home - Terry would be in it until Len decided otherwise. Forget two hours - forget six hours - forty-eight hours was the record so far - a gruelling experience Terry would never forget. But also one he still jerked off over a couple of years after the event.

If Terry hadn't already been sweating buckets into the interior of all this PVC casing he would have broken out into a sweat at the thought of Len coming home around midnight to find his buddy totally PVC wrapped and helpless. What was worse, Terry realised, after Len's late shift tonight he would be off duty for four days straight. It would not be the first time Len had rung the bike courier firm Terry worked for to say that their employee was unavoidably unavailable for work for a couple of days.

*****

With renewed determination Terry set about solving the problem and beating this challenge he'd stumbled into. To escape from the clinging, steaming prison which seemed to be getting progressively more and more confining must be possible. He'd rise to it. That's what turned him on; challenge and fighting back. He kicked and struggled and swore. If there had been a video camera switched on it would have sold a million copies world wide, the squirming, writhing battle Terry put up.

Could he fill a bath with cold water, he wondered? Would a shower cool and unglue the PVC layers? It wouldn't open the heavy-duty 'trick snaps', the other side of his brain reasoned. It would make the draw-string of the anorak even more impossible to loosen. Even the snaps on the belt were impossible to open. Was there anybody in the flat downstairs, he asked himself? No, they were out at work - and anyway, the flats were well sound-insulated. Could he even ride his bike with so many layers of gear on? Where would he go if he could? And he couldn't get a crash helmet on. Might it be worth getting arrested rather than Len find him and have his wicked way with him? Could he cut the gear off if he was willing to sacrifice it?

Almost on the point of exhaustion, Terry's brain cleared. He lay on the leather-covered bed and with a sense of relief rather than defeat, peed into the depths of his multiple waterproof coverings. His hands massaged his cock through the now quite soft and flexible layers and he concentrated on getting his breath back to a more normal pace.

His hands were free and his fingers explored the special double cuffs of the anorak sleeves. He'd always been turned-on by the well designed two-layer cuffs of his old oilskins. The new firm had replicated them very well. The under cuff was designed to Velcro closed snugly OVER the wrists of thick bike gauntlets. Then, in rain, the outer cuff would accommodate waterproof mitts inside them before being securely snap-fasten closed over them, to seal them further. Inside padded gloves and thick waterproof mitts the fingers were almost rendered useless. Terry lay there wondering if the snaps on the anorak cuffs were the ones that wouldn't open once closed. He experimentally closed one of the snaps and then the second. He pulled and they opened again. Terry guessed this was because on cuffs, the single-direction safety snaps weren't necessary. He was somehow disappointed that once closed he could open them again. But, reasoned Sam, with his thick gloves and perhaps two pairs of waterproof mitts on, perhaps his fingers wouldn't be able to open them once he'd closed them.
Terry was arriving at a tempting set of new possibilities.

*****

Using what was left of his energy, he dragged himself off the bed and went to find his bike gloves and thickest waterproof mitts. Moving with deliberation he came back with them plus a few other items. Clearing the packaging from the bed he found the new, extra-long PVC over-mitts they'd ordered.

Terry now inspected the flat metal spreader bar he'd brought from the toy cupboard. He checked that the locks were open because he'd deliberately left the keys in the other room. Once locked, they wouldn't open again - and the solidly lockable ankle spreader had attachments which fixed it to the foot of their bed. It was a device both he and Len had put to strenuous test on many occasions.

Terry had decided to challenge himself to survive the six hours until Len got home - plus anything that his lover might enjoy subjecting him to after that. This, he convinced himself, was a present for the man who'd brought him so much pleasure in the past … a present they could both enjoy, even if Terry might only start to enjoy it once it was over and he'd survived it. Endurance and survival - two stimulating watchwords in their game-playing

Sitting on the edge of the bed Terry forced his body forward to fix his boot ankles into the sturdy metal bar. These clamped his feet well spread. When the second lock finally closed around his boot-ankle, Sam's crotch was pressurised by the layers of PVC, and he massaged himself tentatively - but changed his mind and continued with his deliberate commitment.

Positioning himself sitting in the middle of the leather-covered bed, it took him considerable effort to attach the clips on the ankle-spreader irrevocably to the foot of their sturdy, specially designed metal bed frame (the scene of many of their challenges and battles). His heart was now thumping, mainly because he'd passed the point of no return (the keys were in the next room), but also because of the strain to stay sitting upright while he assembled the rest of the equipment necessary to his plan. Breathing with some effort inside the tightly closed hood he placed the heavy bike gloves, the two pairs of waterproof mitts and two other straps, where he could grope for them.

Never having tried this before, Terry took things slowly - savouring the building suspense and breathing as steadily as the limiting PVC would allow. Pulling on one heavily padded leather glove he then closed the anorak inner cuff over it, to seal it in. He decided to complete one hand before attempting the other which, he knew, would be considerably more difficult. The first mitt (the old waterproof one with which he'd often struggled in the pouring rain when out on his bike) went on easily over his familiar bike gloves. The new PVC mitt was longer, and getting it up in between the double storm cuff of the anorak took time - but Terry enjoyed completing the process successfully. Then the coup-de-grass: because the snaps on the anorak cuff weren't the lockable kind, he'd brought out a pair of highly efficient locking wrist restraints. He was used to using these and having them used on him. They fitted well over the layers of glove and mitt - and the strap lock closed without any trouble. The next one would be more of a problem, he knew. But Terry enjoyed challenges.

His stomach muscles were getting tense, keeping himself sitting upright with ankles clamped rigid to the bed-end - but that was all part of the self-imposed challenge. Getting the bike glove onto his other hand was achieved with surprising ease, but closing the anorak cuff around it took a bit of fiddling. The first padded over-mitt slid on OK but getting the increasingly bulky hand into the newer and longer second mitt was a satisfyingly testing manoeuvre.

Now, with two hands thickly mitted, closing the outer snaps and adding the lockable wrist strap needed real concentration - especially because it was now getting dark. Terry realised he couldn't reach the light switch now he'd locked his ankles to the bed. He'd already accepted that he'd past the point of no return ... so, what the hell …

It took time, and eventually his stomach muscles gave out and he had to lie back. Feet well-spread and firmly anchored, he worked his body further up the leathered bed, his PVC back squeaking and dragging. Once his legs were straight, the spreader ensured he remained on his back. He could not roll. But his arms were free if somewhat impeded by the thick layering of the double-double sleeves. He held the remaining wrist strap up before his limited vision through the eye slot, and eventually achieved his goal. The strap-lock clicked with what to Terry was only a muffled clunk heard through the hood. The mitts were now locked on until the key-holder decided otherwise.

Being Terry, this was not the end of the elaborate process. From each wrist restraint a mountaineer's safety snap-hook dangled. These useful devices had been an inspiration to both Terry and Len when they first discovered them. They'd snap around a bar easily, but it then took two hands to pull back the guard before pressing the trigger to release the hook. Two hands to open, one could close them.

Breathing deeply, Terry groped for the edge of the metal bed frame where he located one of the many anchor-points. Through the much-padded mitt his thickly gloved fingers found the safety hook hanging from his wrist. The right hand one snapped onto the bed frame successfully. In order to attach the left, Terry needed to drag his body further across the bed to reach out his heavily encased arm to the far side of the frame. With layered fingers he fumbled and lost the snap-lock several times before, after a determined attempt he felt it click around the metal anchor point. The job was done.
Terry lay there and thought "Oh Fuck!"

*****

Different people play different games. Terry had been tying himself up since he was a child. He'd discovered that waterproofs turned him on before he'd ever owned any leather. Since puberty he'd known that bundling up got him horny as well as hot. The inside of the government surplus sleeping bag he'd persuaded his parents to buy him for Scout camp was living proof of that. Most of the other lads had had colourful nylon gear at camp - and several young toughs had willingly accepted Terry's challenge that they couldn't keep him confined and unable to escape from his rugged ex-army hooded bag. The khaki waterproof covering could really generate some heat - and his progression towards today's self-challenge had been thoroughly enjoyable (but only after the event in a few cases).

Today, with a skilled and fiendishly creative play-partner, anything could happen. So, here he was, inescapably tied down, packaged head to boots in double-layers of double thickness PVC and already soggy beneath all of it. Terry tugged at the wrist restraints and knew they would not slide off in spite of the glove and mitts under them. He himself had made sure they could not slide. He humped upwards with his pelvis ... and regretted that he and Len had never got around to putting a mirror above their bed. He should have remembered to switch on the video surveillance camera they sometimes left running during their 'encounters' - but it was already getting dark - and he was there until midnight and beyond.

In the past Terry had spent hours in inescapable and often uncomfortable restraint wondering why he landed himself in these predicaments - but he knew why. They kept him rock hard and dribbling pre-cum most of the time. His cock was hard again now, deep under all the PVC and he'd already cum at least once. He wriggled to stimulate himself - but it would take a lot of effort to bring himself off again without the use of his hands. He writhed experimentally to see what he could achieve, but the restricted breathing soon had him panting. He'd have another shot at it later he thought - and then smiled behind the wall of PVC at the mental pun he'd just made. Would he shoot his load before Len came home in six hours time - or challenge himself to save it?

The mind trips Terry travelled out on when inescapably restrained took several forms. Most often he'd occupy the time dreaming up suitably punishing revenge for the predicament Len had manoeuvred him into. On this occasion he began by speculating on Len's response to getting home from a gruelling week of late shifts and finding this 'gift' Terry had contrived for him. Len was bloody-minded enough to express no surprise, make himself some supper and go sleep in the next room without comment, leaving Terry to "stew in his own juice" as this often caustic individual might put it. This idea suddenly turned Terry cold. He'd kill the bastard if he took that line.

The angle of his arms, anchored at thigh-level but wide to either side of the bed, was beginning to put a strain on his elbows. Terry tried to re-adjust - and the new thought in his mind urged him to rattle the attachments just in case they weren't as secure as he'd thought. Some tugging at his right hand did move the restraint strap against the new PVC, but inside this the other mitt and glove showed no sign of giving even an inch. Same with the left hand. Perhaps the safety-karabiner hadn't attached fully or not closed properly. But it had! Terry suddenly did some serious tugging against the bed frame - but he knew from long and bitter experience nothing would give there.

Breathing more heavily, Terry was suddenly seriously determined to find some loophole. That was the name of the game. Had he subconsciously left himself a get-out possibility? He rocked his head to try and loosen the clinging hood and face cover. Nothing budged there, except some sweat trickled into one eye and, angrily, he tried to shake it out again. His powerful legs yanked at the spreader bar but it and the bed-frame held firm. What else? Not a fucking thing.

All physical possibilities had been exhausted and now (once again) Terry only had the mental possibilities to explore in the long hours until midnight - and, after that, it would be a different story.

Jim Stewart - Feb. 2004

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FANTASY & REALITY IN PVC

FANTASY AND FICTION
This story cries out to be illustrated, so together with my like-minded playmates we simulated a few choice moments from the story. The photo session was hot in all senses of the word - and the results quite satisfying.

However, I like stylised images better than the harsh reality of photos. Follow the PVC PHOTOS link to see the results, and decide for yourself.

The topic of detailed 'visualising' or Theatre of the Mind's Eye
as jerk-off fantasy is explored in the Topics Index.
A similar range of possibilities is discussed in the workshop notes
GET CLOSER TO YOUR FANTASIES

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SELF-APPLIED BONDAGE INDEX
(under construction)