Raincoating (M/M) - *15.12.24 part 4*

[Straitjacketed]

Everyone knows I enjoy collaborative stories - tales co-created with another writer, where we take turns in advancing the narrative - but, previously, those have been for the pleasure of myself and my collaborator rather than for posting here.

Y'all have responded so well, however, to the two Tales from the Richardverse stories - Stuart meeting Kaiden and Mateo meeting Julian - that, now those are both approaching natural pauses in the narrative, I'm encouraged to post other tales, including those that don't share the same universe.

Think of them as the bondage equivalent of stand-alone short stories. One-off oddities. Christmas stocking fillers.

These two-handers are not for everyone. Sometimes, the other guy takes a little while to settle into his stride as a co-writer (that's one reason I edit the finished tale, very lightly, to make it more generally readable). Sometimes, the subject matter is a kink that others may not share and, for some, that can be a turn-off. Sometimes, the tone becomes darker or lighter or more fantastical than either of us expected - but that's part of the attraction.

Both of these newer stories are experimental, inspired by different pulp genres from the early 20th century. other is a fantasy pastiche with my regular collaborator @DeeperThanRed in the overwritten style of Robert E Howard. This one, however, was loosely prompted by me thinking about those anecdotal Edwardian ghost/horror fictions where the wretched protagonist explains how he ended up in the dire straits in which the reader meets him - and trying to transpose that form into modern-day fetish.

As ever, please do comment. Feedback is our lifeblood, a primary reason those of us who post our creations here keep posting.

This time around, my collaborator was a friend from other websites: Meroving. As far as I'm aware, he isn't on this site (yet - if he joins, I'll tag him). He and I both enjoy bondage and the wearing of heavy PVC or rubber raingear, especially in the context of a public challenge or dare...

My parts of the narrative are in default font, Meroving's are, characteristically enough, in retina-searing dayglo orange!


Raincoating

(Co-written with Meroving)

Gaslighting.

These days, most people know the term: it refers to the process of manipulating someone, usually subtly, usually emotionally, to the extent that they end up doubting their own perception of reality, their own sanity.

I wonder, sometimes, whether there’s an equivalent term for what’s been done to me: my reality has been manipulated – really fucking unsubtly – to the point where the rest of the world considers me insane, feeble-minded, and I’ve been put into the situation where I can’t convince them otherwise. The handful of people who know my true circumstances are effectively my captors, they’re the ones who put me here. They’re the reason I’m confined down here, a prisoner in the bowels of the house I used to inhabit; the reason I have no privacy; the reason I’ve almost forgotten the sensation of sunlight, of breathable fabric against my skin…

If I had to invent a term for the way my own life has been stolen from me, the super-ironic part of me would go with “raincoating”.

Let me explain.

It all began with a message, a message whose wording succeeded in engaging my attention…


You can only really call it bondage if you truly really want to escape but you aren't able to. Why trust a stranger that keeps you in bondage in your own place? It could be an outfit that you get locked into and released, and it is the outfit that keeps you trapped... your rainwear for example. Surely your rainwear has no malicious plan against you. It's not planning to ransack your house or hurt you; it is designed to keep you safe and dry! Why not just be a prisoner in it? You could get locked into it even outside your home and go home as a prisoner and stay in it until it's time to release you. That way your home is safe, you are safe (definitely from rain) in your own space.

You consider the odd email. A period of voluntary imprisonment surely wouldn't be an issue unless the kidnapper plans not to not show up to release you from the rainwear… but that seems paranoid.

You give thought to the scenario of being trapped longer than expected. Supposing the end of the weekend comes, you have to go to work tomorrow, and you still look like a bloody kinky fisherman all done up in yellow PVC! What would you do?! I guess you’d have to tell work you are on sick leave and either call the guy back or get yourself out of the gear. At worst, you might have to destroy some of it (which would be a shame), but your home has plenty of equipment – knives, scissors – that would do the job.

Finally you regain a sense of perspective and call him. He offers to come to your place, or to somewhere nearby.


Yep, the key to my downfall was fetish. Specifically, my fetish for raingear.

Your message arrived via a website I use from time to time, for chat and jerk-off material. Sometimes, before pleasuring myself, I get dressed up in my favourite gear: waterproof clothing, hooded raincoat or jacket with matching trousers, sometimes boots, even gloves (although those can get in the way of my fun). Once, I jerked off wearing a rainhat, strings tied under my chin.

I read your message again, intrigued but not 100% sure what you’re proposing.

We’re in the midst of a conversation about meeting up and I’m doing my usual thing of making encouraging noises but never actually committing. I’m wary about actually meeting other guys into the same kinks as I am, especially about inviting them to my place.

You make a compelling argument, though, and the phrase “outfit that you get locked into and released” intrigues me. It doesn’t sound possible: what kind of outfit could keep someone prisoner?! I generally put my raingear on, jerk off and then remove it. I try to imagine a situation where I couldn’t do that. How would that feel?

No, I can’t envisage it. Surely I could just remove the gear myself when I got too hot? There's no way you can lock me in it so I can't remove it at all.

My curiosity gets the better of me. I message you back, agreeing to the idea – for a weekend – and asking for more details:

1. What’s the outfit? Is it something of mine or are you providing it?
2. We’re going to meet up somewhere outside the house, right? Where?
3. You’re going to lock the gear on to me in some way?
4. At the end of the weekend, we meet again and if I haven't escaped, you release me, right?


You receive a response within the hour:

1 – You can choose to wear one layer of your favourite raingear. On top will be the gear I provide myself.
2 – We can meet up in a commonly agreed spot that doesn't have people. It will just be a quiet spot to put on raingear.
3 – The raingear provided on top will be lockable.
4 – Correct. We meet again on Sunday evening, and you will be released from your raingear layers. Unless you escape, in which case, we can swap the fun and you can lock me in the next weekend (bait).

Everything is designed to make you feel like this can be customised for your fetish enjoyment, but in the background, there are plans brewing...


“Bait”! I smile at that: even the wording makes me think of fishing.

It all sounds like fun, and I'm immediately distracted by thinking about your answer to the first question, wondering which piece (or pieces) of raingear I'd choose.

I agree, and we make arrangements to meet in a local park, a few streets away from my home. I figure it won't be too busy on the day and time we're talking about. That’s if you turn up; a lot of guys don’t.

When the day arrives, I almost chicken out. There's a cloud or two in the sky but no actual rain and I feel hugely self-conscious leaving the house in waterproof clothing. In the end, though, I decide to go through with it but to wear something not too conspicuous.

I choose a suit that's not too heavy, in a mid-weight dark green PVC that's a little bit shiny but, I hope, not enough to really stand out (your line about being "done up in yellow PVC" reminding me to be a little cautious). It consists of a pair of dungaree-type trousers and a smock-style jacket with a hood (which I wear down, since it's not actually raining).

A pair of matching boots goes on my feet. I have dark green PVC mitts too but thrust those in a pocket rather than wearing them.

I make the decision not to wear anything other than the raingear. I don't worry too much about toilet functions because I’m not 100% convinced you’ll show up, but I am convinced there's no way clothing alone can keep me prisoner.

The walk to the park isn't too bad, although I'm very aware of the PVC against my skin. I tell myself I likely “pass” to onlookers as a dog-walker or similar, practically dressed for maybe-rain.

I arrive and look for you.


I am waiting in a park that is not very far from your house but is quite deserted most of the time. Not many onlookers come that way, so it was easy to convince you to gear up there. It's an old gazebo, surrounded by tall shrubs, very private.

I don't look conspicuous at all, wearing just sports track pants, hoodie and baseball cap. I also have a large black travel bag waiting on the ground...


Well, this isn't too bad.

This park used to be on my way to work (before I started working from home, via Zoom) so I would sometimes walk through it in early morning and evening. I rarely, if ever, saw another person.

I’m pleased you’ve turned up and I feel reassured by your choices so far: it's all very inconspicuous and I convince myself that my dark green PVC blends in with the shrubs almost enough to camouflage me. I put up the hood of my jacket and am almost tempted to take out and wear the mitts, just to complete the effect.

"You didn't feel like getting dressed up yourself?" I ask, seeing your everyday attire.

The privacy of the secluded gazebo and the fact that you're only in track pants and hoodie makes me feel like I'm the courageous one here - I've been braver than you - and that makes me feel cocky.

Hell, let's even do the mitts!

I draw them out of my pocket and pull them on nonchalantly. They're almost elbow-length and I tuck them under the sleeves of my jacket, watching from the corner of my eye to see if you're impressed.

"Can you even see me against the greenery?" I joke.

I eye the black travel bag, wondering what you've got in there. Whatever it is, I'm in it until Sunday unless I manage to escape. The thought of a fun, kinky weekend stirs my cock a little. The whole "raingear in public" thing isn't nearly as bad as I thought it'd be - I'm actually really getting into it - so I'm feeling confident I'll either find a way of escaping or enjoy it anyway.

I cross my rain-jacketed arms and surreptitiously press my mitted hands against the smooth surface, enjoying the squeak of PVC against PVC.

"What's in the bag, then?"

To be continued...

[blackbound]

Going back to your origins, I see

What is in the bag??

[gag1195]

If he can manage to work the remote, maybe he can put on the classic, Gaslight, as a fun and totally not foreshadowing, ironic treat!

[DeeperThanRed]

How mysterious...

I must commend the writing style of the authors here: even though two people meeting up for kink play is a mundane scenario (for this forum!), there's something eerie and unsettling about this story.

[Straitjacketed]

I must commend the writing style of the authors here: even though two people meeting up for kink play is a mundane scenario (for this forum!), there's something eerie and unsettling about this story.

Hahah yeah, there was something a little mysterious about the dynamic as we collaborated - my co-writer much more to-the-point than me - that gave the whole thing an interesting tension.

Next part coming in a few moments...

[Straitjacketed]

Thanks to @blackbound and @gag1195 for your comments!


Raincoating - part 2

(Co-written with Meroving)

"Let's get you into it."

The bag unzips, revealing two coloured garments: one a suit in bright orange, similar to what is worn in prison and something one-piece in yellow, a typical eye-catching fisherman raincoat colour.

The orange gear is somewhat larger, as it unfolds, not just a waist-length rain jacket but one that is also altered. It is a sort of straitjacket, perfectly constructed, heavy, thick and glossy shiny on the outside...it looks new almost (as if it was manufactured just for you).

It was at one point a raincoat, but with some craftsmanship, it went through a transformation. It includes sleeves that finish in double-sewn and glued ends, strong woven nylon straps leading out from them at the ends.

Matching the jacket is an identical coloured pair of bib pants. Though they have seen alterations too: a lockable thick nylon waist belt is built into rubberised loops that seem to be welded into the glossy PVC material. Similar but smaller straps and loops are added at the bottom of each leg, along with the usual under-boot straps that are normally used to stop the pants from riding up at the ankle.

As the second garment – the yellow rain protection gear – is unfolded, two more small shiny, orange-coloured objects fall on the ground: the thickest rubber gloves you have ever seen in your life.

"You probably should take your mitts off and put those gloves on first. Mitts go back on once that’s done."

The yellow garment is probably getting unfolded for the first time since it was manufactured: a thick, glossy, heavy raincape with similar adjustments to the orange strait-coat: lockable nylon straps all around the waist and a strap carefully worked into the collar of the cape, making sure the hood can still be up and functioning.

Lots of rustling... you’re eyeing the distance to check whether people see us doing all this raingear business...


Whooaaahhhh...

My first reaction, even before I see them unfolded, is to cringe at the colour of the garments. I'm still feeling self-conscious wearing dark green PVC on a day with no rain, and the gear you've brought is citrus-bright!

"I can't wear that in public!" I gasp.

These waterproofs do scream for attention. Not only do their hues etch themselves on my retinas, the fabric of which they’re constructed is visibly thicker and heavier than the suit I'm wearing, obviously completely unnecessary for the weather. The sight alone is making me sweat.

And it’s not like you’re going out of your way to reassure me. Your sentences are clipped and abrupt, not exactly commands but not too far off.

And yet…

And yet, I find myself doing what you tell me: slowly pulling the dark green mitts off my hands and picking up the heavy orange gloves. I turn them over in my hands, noticing they narrow at the wrists then long gauntlets extend most of the way up each forearm. The bright rubber is even thicker than I thought.

"Could I even use keys with these on?" I ask, semi-rhetorically, "I'm not sure how I'd let myself into the house..."

There's something mesmerising and magnetic, though, about this rain gear. I wriggle my fingers inside one glove, telling myself I just want to try it, see how it feels against my skin.

It feels strangely good.

Tentatively, I don the other glove, the rubber snapping around each wrist. I have to work to clench the fingers of one hand against the resistant material, making a fist that I punch into the other palm.

"I feel kind of like a superhero," I confide, a bit embarrassed.

The array of eye-searing colour seems dizzying, so much so that I can barely take in the other construction details. I don't immediately understand the straps - at most, I'd expected a jacket or coat with a lock at the top of the zip and it isn't clear to me how everything fits together, how it all works - but I can't pretend the unfolded garments aren't doing something to me. It feels overwhelming, like I'm in over my head, but I can't seem to look away.

"What..." I ask, throat suddenly dry, "... what did you say goes on next?"


The green mitts you brought look like they’ll just fit back on your gloved hands. I help you yank those over your fingers, with squeaks of fabric.

Next goes on the orange strait-raincoat. I hold it up and shake gently, indicating the two sleeve holes where your arms are supposed to go.


With the dark green mitts on my hands, over the rubber gloves, it's not quite as much like being a superhero, but the less bright colour calms me a little.

"I read something once," my nervousness makes me babble, "about how the colour green makes us relax because of, well, trees and nature and stuff. And brighter colours put us on edge a bit because, because..."

I trail off. Focusing on the jacket you're holding derails my train of thought. I've never seen a restraint jacket in real life before and I don't immediately recognise what this is but I know the colour is alarming.

Yet I can't seem to resist.

"This way?" I ask, aiming my gloved-and-mitted hands at the sleeve holes, "hang on, does it fasten in front or behind?"

As you're fastening it up and I realise the sleeves are closed, I have second thoughts. "Is this going to be okay? To wear in public, I mean?"

I laugh nervously.

"You said it was going to be lockable. I was expecting, I dunno, a jacket with a padlock at the neck or something. Not closed sleeves and these weird, uh, straps..."

To be continued...

[blackbound]

I rather think these second thoughts would've already been too late when he put on the orange gloves, much less the mitts.

[Straitjacketed]

I rather think these second thoughts would've already been too late when he put on the orange gloves, much less the mitts.

As Confucius said: the lump in the trousers is the enemy of wisdom.

[Straitjacketed]

Thanks to @blackbound, @gag1195 and @DeeperThanRed for your comments!


Raincoating - part 3

(Co-written with Meroving)

"There are different ways to make sure jackets cannot be removed" I’m talking while I am strapping the modified smock type raincoat in place.

"This was designed well so it cannot slide off before it’s time for release".

The heavily layered hands and arms are pulled in front of you, crossed. Buckle is tightened and a small padlock is produced to trap your arms in position already. In the back, the sleeves straps are connected to each other and also to the back of the raincoat to prevent any sliding taking place.

The sleeves are bulging quite bit from all those gloves and mitts, thickly enclosed in the sleeves.

"Time for your bib pants!"


"H-hang on," I say, realising only once my arms are in the sleeve-holes (and not managing to find their way out) and the body of the orange garment is over my head, "this feels like a... a straitjacket! Y'know, for insane people?!"

I laugh, because this doesn't seem real.

I tug at the sleeves, already secured in front with a buckle and padlock and you're in the process of fastening them behind. I tug harder, only now seeing that my arms actually are stuck in a kind of self-hug and you've done something at the back of me that prevents un-hugging.

You explain the way the design of the garment stops me being able to "slide off" the raincoat. I wrestle with it again, trying to grip at the fabric from inside to aid its removal. My fingers, inside the gloves and mitts, are harder to bend and don't seem able to find any purchase.

I jiggle my arms then make a more serious attempt at pulling them apart, trying to unsnag the straps, testing the strength of the orange fabric.

“Shit,” I mutter, the PVC suddenly seeming like it actually could keep me prisoner. I hadn't expected anything this robust. Can I somehow lift the smock-like garment up and over my head like a sweater, pull it off the way it went on?

My forehead starts to prickle with anxiety and I struggle to keep the panicked grimace off my face.

"Wait, no! People will... I can't... I won't be able to get into my house! My... my keys..."

Frantically, I try to indicate that my house keys are in the side pocket of my green rain pants. You seem pretty reasonable: I'm confident that once you understand the problem, you'll take the orange jacket off me.


"Keys? These ones?"

I jiggle them in front of your face. I managed to sneak them out of your pocket before we made you an orange prisoner. Did I tell you, the strap of the straitjacket between the legs is also fixed tight? This jacket will stay on no matter how much struggling. Especially after the orange bib pants are put on you. I shake it open for you and looks like you will need an assistance.

"No, you weren't supposed to have the pants underneath like fishermen wear it. That's the whole point, mate."

As the pants go on, you become more and more stiff with restricted movement. You might think at least the pants part of the suit don't have any of the straps and buckles built in; you’d be wrong. I remind you the bib pants will be strapped shut around your waist and your ankles. Right after the shoulder straps are clipped in place.

To be continued...

[DeeperThanRed]

I like how the prospect of people stumbling on you in that helpless state can be an even bigger concern than realizing you can't break free from your bonds.

[gag1195]

Definitely already in too deep! But we know that he does end up back home, so I am interested to see how he makes it from here to there with all these restraints!

[Straitjacketed]

Thanks, as ever, to @blackbound, @gag1195 and @DeeperThanRed for your feedback.


Raincoating - part 4

(Co-written with Meroving)

"Oh!" I say, surprised to see my house keys in your hand, "yes, uh, okay."

And, with hindsight, that should’ve been the point at which I realised the danger of my situation.

At the time, though? No.

I'm relieved that they aren't going to be lost beneath a covering of orange PVC but a little nonplussed that I didn't notice you extracting them from my pocket - and still unsure how I'm going to be spending the rest of the weekend. You're going to be letting me in... and then what? Leaving and returning to release me on Sunday evening? If I don't manage to escape, could I even open the door to let you back in? Could I turn the handle using my elbow, maybe?

I'm distracted from such thoughts by you holding out the orange bib pants. I consider trying to refuse but already feel exposed and vulnerable with my arms tied up in this jacket you've tricked me into. Better that I go along with everything for now and then, once I'm home, find a way of getting myself out. Maybe a kitchen knife, maybe a sharp corner, there'll be something. I can check this whole arrangement out in a mirror, see how it works and come up with a means of freeing myself.

My exertions haven't shifted the orange PVC so far - attempting to lift it off like a sweater merely puts pressure on my crotch and I realise one of the nylon straps has been passed between my legs and fastened somehow.

Damn it, this thing is designed to frustrate me!

"All right," I finally concede, giving in, stepping into the pants and watching you pull them up past my waist.

"Shouldn't... shouldn't these have gone on first?" I ask, feeling confused when you answer that the point of these heavy pants is to wear them over the jacket.

They fit over the dark green rain trousers I was wearing in the conventional way, and the two layers of PVC together feel suddenly restrictive, oppressive - more so when you inform me that, as well as the small straps that fit under my boots (my own green suit has the same under-foot tetherings but those are under the soles of my feet, inside my boots), additional straps are going to be fitted around my ankles and waist.

And you're already clipping one set of straps over my shoulders, with a cross-connector of some sort to stop me just shrugging them off and down.

"All these straps!" I say weakly, "isn't it a bit... much? When you said I'd be locked into raingear, I thought maybe a padlock or two. This feels like overkill!"

I shake my head for emphasis, the hood of my dark green rainsuit up around my head but loose, the toggles on the drawstrings swinging with my movement.

I wonder what I must look like now, a fluorescent version of "prisoner orange" top and bottom except for a glimpse of green boots and green hood, poking up above the collar of the orange jacket.

The jacket collar! If I can't pull this horrible restraint jacket up over my head, could I work it down? I try to squint downward enough to see the fastening at my neck. Could I somehow work it open - enough to wriggle my shoulders then arms up and out?

It does seem that whoever designed this rain suit anticipated the ways someone might try to remove it and blocked off those avenues, one by one.

I feel suddenly annoyed - with myself for having been tricked into this gear and with you for tricking me - and I take my annoyance out on the clothing I'm strapped into, the orange suit itself. I wrench as hard as I can against the strapped arms, I scrape one boot against the other ankle (as if I could somehow push the leg strap down and off), I make another attempt to grip the insides of the sleeves with my gloved, mitted hands and I shake my head more furiously, to dislodge the loose hood of the green jacket.

"Urrgghh," I grunt, unable to make any progress against my walking prison of PVC (except maybe shake the hood off).

Fine. For now, let's accept I'm trapped. Getting home in this stuff is going to be a nightmare - everyone is going to be looking at the orange freak overdressed for NO RAIN WHATSOEVER and continually hugging himself - but at least once I'm in the house and left to my own devices, I can work out a way to escape, to get myself out of all this crap.

When you unlock and unbuckle the nylon strap around my crossed-and-sleeved arms, I initially think you're coming to your senses and beginning to let me out of the jacket. Maybe all this overkill was just a joke?

"Oh, thank God," I say with relief, wriggling my still-strapped arms inside their orange PVC, in anticipation of having them unstrapped.

I shuffle around a little to let you get behind me to start undoing the straps at the back. I'm surprised when, instead, you carefully thread the bib front of the rain paints behind my crossed arms, only then moving behind to do what feels like a similar threading-through at the back.

I don't initially understand until you're fastening clips over my shoulders and the upper part of the bib pants is pulled taut beneath my sleeved arms.

You're not letting me out, you're fastening me more tightly in.

I frown in dismay as you take a handful of woven nylon straps from the bag - the kind I've seen ratcheted over tarpaulin-wrapped lorry loads - and feed them through loops on my ankles and around my waist. Each clicks in the same manner as the shoulder straps and I can only suppose every strap is now somehow locked.

Fuck. When I get home, I'm going to have to find a way to cut through these.

Your focus returns to the orange jacket itself. There are more loops on the bib front of the pants, and you thread the original nylon strap through those and back around my crossed arms. Now they're not only locked together but locked to the pants and, I think, to the waist strap of the pants.

You spend some time readjusting the back-straps and, I think, manage to pull my arms a little tighter into their hug. I hear more clicks and can only assume you're locking the fastenings of my jacket in a similarly permanent way.

"This is the most ridiculous overkill," I say, irritated by your thoroughness.

When you're finally done, I test my orange prison with little tugs and wrenches. It's no use; you seem to have pulled every strap to its optimal tightness. I wonder how easy they're going to be to cut through when I've got no way of gripping anything. Sure, I can try to wear through the nylon strapping on a sharp corner or something, but that's going to take me hours...

I suddenly hear the familiar sound of PVC unfolding and look up to see you holding the vast yellow cape.

"Oh shit, no," I protest, "haven't you got me in enough PVC?!"


"Well you aren't secured well enough yet to your rainwear prison.”

A quite large bright yellow PVC raincape is unfolding in front of you. Nobody even knows who wears such a thing casually, for fishing or anything else. It used to have arm holes at the sides, so the wearer would not end up like a sculpture in winter covered in plastic in the garden. But those arm holes have been glued and double sewn shut.

Without even saying a word, I am skilfully pulling it over your head, accompanied by squeaky plastic and rubber noises.

Two adjustments are seen on the yellow raincape: threads heat-seamed and sewn onto roughly the waist height of this cape to allow a wide nylon belt being ratcheted on the wearer. All that needs to happen is the wearer folding their arms in the chest (upper) section of this cape prison. How convenient that you are already secured like that! The second adjustment is almost a mini version of such a belt (more like a collar) around the neck area, trapping the victim's head into the raincape hood.

"You okay in there, mate?" I ask. I try to sound reassuring, so you don't get the slightest sense that something more sinister is planned after all this.

To be continued...

[blackbound]

Ah, so naive. Must be nice... for the captor, that is.

[Straitjacketed]

Ah, so naive. Must be nice... for the captor, that is.

Yeah, even among my protagonists, this one is particularly naive.

[gag1195]

Ah, so naive. Must be nice... for the captor, that is.

Yeah, even among my protagonists, this one is particularly naive.

Most of your protagonists so far have at least some experience/familiarity with their situation and plans. This one really did just run out into the street and allow a stranger to put him in a rubber straitjacket...

[Straitjacketed]

Ah, so naive. Must be nice... for the captor, that is.

Yeah, even among my protagonists, this one is particularly naive.

Most of your protagonists so far have at least some experience/familiarity with their situation and plans. This one really did just run out into the street and allow a stranger to put him in a rubber straitjacket...

Perhaps the steepest yet most belated of learning curves...