An old story off the web which you might enjoy and certainly goes with the dirty work gear theme above.
My friend Tony is only just twenty-one but knows and understands just what he wants – that is to be in rubber and to be a slave. I met him through an advert in a Rubber Contacts magazine and have now become good friends, but he still searches for his Rubber Master.
He was never very good at school and, things being what they are at present, he has been looking for a job ever since he left - until last week that is, when he saw an advertisement in the local paper for an anti-corrosion and underseal worker in a garage a few miles away. It looked as if it would be a dirty job, washing and applying anti-corrosion coating and underseal underneath cars, vans and trucks, but this suited Tony as he had always been interested in dirty work, particularly if it was connected with rubber or dirty gear.
So he rang up and was told to come over straight away to see about the job. When he got back, I have never seen him so excited and he could not stop talking about all the dirt, oil and gear he had seen. Apparently in the garage there was just one other man, a big hunk of a guy about 30/35 with a shaved head and an oil smeared face, wearing a dirty old boiler suit and rubber boots. He had asked Tony a lot of questions about why he wanted the job and told him that he would be working in dirt and filth all day. He was also told to stop in the next day when the guy would telephone him to tell him whether or not he had got the job.
Since then I have not seen him or heard from him, so yesterday I thought I would go over to the garage to see if he had got the job. The address, when I got there, was one of those places underneath the railway arches. I knew I must have the right place as, as soon as I got there, I smelt that wonderful, dirty, oily smell. The door into the garage was open and so I went in and found the shaven headed guy Tony had told me about sitting in a small office on an old broken down chair in his dirty boiler suit and turned down rubber boots and with oil and grease smeared all over his face. On the table beside him were a pair of long, heavy, rubber working gloves. It made me excited just to see him sitting there.
When I asked for Tony he grinned and said “You know the little punk?” I told him that Tony was a close friend of mine. “Not any more” he said. My heart sank, imagining I know not what.
“What do you mean by that?” I said. “I mean that he is no longer your friend or anybody else’s.” He paused for what seemed like forever, then said “He is just a piece of shit, a working machine. he is my slave, working in this garage and, when I want to, I can use him just as it pleases me.”
“How come?” I asked, somewhat relieved but confused.
“Because he has signed a contract saying that he has no right to a free life any more and that, among other things, he is my property.”
“No you can’t. You can see him working but he is not to be disturbed.”
“I will come back later when he has finished his work, if it’s more convenient.” I said.
He smiled. “That won’t work because I lock him up until morning.”
“But I only want to ask him a few questions. I can do that as he goes to your car.”
“He doesn’t go from here to any car. I keep him here all the time” was his reply.
“But…” I was totally confused by now. “He has to sleep, eat, piss, and relax. Doesn’t he?”
“A working machine has no such needs” was his reply.
“But he is a human being…”
“I know” he replied “I have taken care of that.”
“Why are you asking so many questions? He is my slave and that’s the end of it.”
“Oh shit, what the hell” said the guy and with that he walked to a door and opened it. It led into the garage and there on the other side of the room was someone working under a car which had been hoisted up on a ramp. He was washing away the dirt and the old underseal with a high pressure water hose and he was a beautiful sight - all wet and dirty. He was dressed completely in rubber - heavy chest-high waders, heavy rubber jacket and gloves.
His neck and head were covered with a rubber hood and over his face he wore a breathing mask which completely covered his eyes, nose and mouth.
Just as we entered, he was finishing cleaning the car with the high pressure hose. He then turned off the water and came towards us. He must have seen me, but his Master shouted to him as he got to the middle of the room that he was to start on the next car without delay. I saw him nod, then bend his head and walk back towards the other car. This car was hoisted high so that he could walk under it. He turned on the pump for the chemicals and then went back and stood underneath as he began to work spraying the underside of the car. As the heavy, black, oily stuff was applied to the underside, the residue that didn’t reach the bottom of the car or didn’t stick, fell on him and slowly covered him.
“Let’s go back to the office” said the man. “You wanted to know how he managed” It’s not all that difficult. As I told you, I keep him here the whole week when he is working and I keep him in his working gear all the time. He can’t take his gloves off anyway as they are padlocked on and he is not allowed to take his mask off except to eat and sleep. It’s much easier that way.”
“But he needs to eat and take care of his bodily functions. How does he do that?” I asked.
“Easy. He always wears a catheter up his cock which is connected to a rubber bag which collects his piss. I let him change the bag every 24 hours. He also wears an inflatable plug up his arse. When he has finished work he is allowed to remove the plug so as to have a shit and then I give him an enema to clean him out and maybe fuck him. After that he puts the plug back. Once a week I might allow him to take a shower, then I shave his head and his crutch, but as he is now shaved from head to toe, including his eyebrows and cock and balls, he does not get that dirty. I bring his food to him here and he sleeps on a rubber mattress in a room upstairs which I lock up every night.”
My cock was getting hard at the very thought of it.
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