Gromet's PlazaTrashcan Stories

Each Part Bagged

by Lckdnrbbr

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© Copyright 2020 - Lckdnrbbr - Used by permission

Storycodes: Sbm; latex; enclosure; bagged; object; stuck; toys; cons; X

He looked at the rubber bondage mitt in his hand and wondered. Could this be a sort of loose chastity device?

It didn't take long before he was roughly trying to stuff his (now quite rigid) cock into the thing, struggling to get his balls past the wrist buckle.

He took a breath and contemplated what he was doing. If he managed to get this on a buckled, he could even feed a lock through the hole in the buckle, and lock it on. He could still play with himself, but only through the thick latex which muted the sensation.

His member would be trapped in there, bagged up like trash. The thought made him instantly hard again and he had to distract himself and flick his balls painfully a few times to get himself down to a reasonable size to try again.

Finally, his member had gone flaccid and he went for it again, pushing his balls and skin forward into the slippery rubber mitt, and pulling until...


It was on. The base of the mitt was firmly against his pelvis, and his head was suddenly straining against the outside edge of the rubber mitt and it felt amazing. He was hard as a rock again, but he wasted no time, he didn't want to slip out.

He buckled the attached rubber cuff around the base of his shaft and pulled on the mitt. It didn't go anywhere, and it pulled on his balls in a way that was both unpleasant and exciting. It was really on there.

"That's it. I've bagged myself up like trash. Oh god. This feels amazing. Time for the rest of me"

Months passed, and the experience had woken up something new in him.

He'd been thinking about this for as long as he could remember. His fetish play had gone from exploratory bondage and latex dabbling to a deep consuming obsession. He wanted to be trash, and to be thrown away, but not just in some plastic that was easy to escape from. He wanted to be well and truly stuck in stretchy, shiny rubber that he couldn't rip.

He'd gotten his hand on some thick, soft black latex sheeting, and started on his project, making the items that he would trap himself in. He wanted to be bagged up completely, and unable to get out, and the more overkill he invented, the more it excited him.

Tonight was the night.

First would come his penis. He once again pulled the rubber ball-mitt over, and with a practiced roughness slide his balls in and snugged it down around the base. With a click, he locked the buckle shut. That wasn't coming off until he got back to his keys.

Next came the leotard. Like a straitjacket or rubber body bag, this had two holes for his legs, but otherwise would bind him tightly up to his neck, trapping his arms inside. He stepped into it and he pulled it up over his rubber bagged cock. The rest would have to wait for now, as he got the other items in place.

Next his legs. As he sat down on the mattress in the dark room, he pulled over a mid-size black latex balloon, and started working his legs into it. It swallowed them in its thick slippery blackness, and he folded his legs criss-cross style so he could pull the rubber up to his stomach, over the bottom of the leotard, sealing it over his stomach. He found the rubber belt and tightened it around his waist, and then locked that buckle shut too. It was now impossible for him to get his hands inside and down to his cock and his legs were trapped bound up in the lower bag.

The next steps were trickier. He wanted every part of him bagged, but he had to do it all in a specific order or he'd get blocked before getting it all shut.

On the mattress, he shimmied over to the larger bag, and reached down to grab its neck. He pushed one bound knee into the opening and pulled, and then finally plopped the other in, and the bag slid up as he pulled. He left it just below his armpits and got his final pieces ready.

Next the hood. He'd be blind after this, so he'd have to do the rest by feel.

He pulled the hood over his head, feeling it conform to his face and suck in slightly as he breathed since it had only two small holes for his nose. He zipped it shut and got his nostrils aligned and felt the pressure ebb and flow with his breath. It was delicious.

He pulled the soft leather collar around his neck, and buckled it shut and then felt for one of the small black locks near him. Finding one with his fingers, he threaded it through the locking buckle, and then through the pull of his hoods zipper.

This was a big step. If he closed this lock, he'd have to at least feel his way to his upstairs keys blind to get the hood off.


Well shit.

He could feel his cock straining it it's bag, under its layers of rubber. He longed to touch it and enjoy this, but he'd planned too long and knew that he would kick himself if he didn't finally see this through.

He was almost there. Almost bagged up, completely inescapably, left as trash.

Now came the final steps. He pulled the large outer bag up around him, and fished his arm back out one final time to zip up the back zipper. With some effort he got it up most of the way, and then looped the string on it through the d-ring at the back of his collar. With some grunting and pulling and tugging, it eventually zipped up the rest of the way, sealing nicely around his neck at the base of his locked collar, but not too tight. He could still fish his hand out with effort to unzip it, but he'd be taking care of that in a moment.

At this point he was getting sweaty. He was totally encased in rubber, with only his nose holes exposed. He had done it.

But that wasn't nearly enough. Now he had to get stuck.

Inside the bag, he worked the leotard up. This was a much tighter fit, and he had to fish his arms down in and start shimmy-sliding it over his shoulders. When it finally plopped over them, he felt it continue to constrict and slither up his shoulders to his neck, binding his arms flat down against his chest. He stretched against the rubber and it held him firm. As the air escaped, it formed a vacuum around him and held him even tighter.

Now, the stupid part.

Inside the leotard with him were two ball mitts, a pair of industrial rubber-lined handcuffs, and one of those timer locking devices you can buy on the internet. He wasn't thinking anymore, or if he was, he was hearing the voice of some unseen mistress.

"That's it. You're my trash, and you've thrown yourself away. There's no way out of this, and you know you don't want out anyway. You know the deal. If you want out of that rubber chastity bag this month, you need to prove your devotion to me. If you can prove that you're my rubber trash slut by sleeping bagged up every night, maybe I'll let you out of chastity and give you a nice treat. Now, be a good boy and finish the job.

He looped the locking timer device through the d-ring well secured on the inside of the rubber body-bag leotard near his navel, and then through one of the links of the handcuffs chain. He pressed the button and heard its warning beeps and then a click. The handcuffs were now secured to the bag for hours. He had pressed the button a bunch randomly, but it was at least 8 hours. Then he sank one hand into the rubber mitt, and then another. His hands, now semi-useless, were just able to swing one handcuff closed around the base of a mitt. With a few clicks, he tightened it down. His heart started to race. He might be stuck now. Maybe with one hand he could still get out. Why was he still pushing his free hand into the last open handcuff?

He moved fast, scared that he might lose his nerve. His bound and locked hand fumbled against the open handcuff and it slipped. He pushed his free wrist into the crook of the cuff, and finally was able to get it to swing shut around it.

This is it. I don't have to do this. I..

"click click"

"Stupid. Maybe it's still loose, maybe I could..."

"click click click" His left hand, as if acting unbidden, closed the cuff firmly on his right. It was locked.

He pulled on the cuffs, and the rubber stretched against the D-ring, but only an inch. He flexed his legs, but could barely bend them against the rubber.

He pushed his arms and elbows out but could barely flex the tight inner leotard bagging his arms in enough to touch the outer bag.

He breathed in deep, and the mask stuck closer to his face. He smelled the rubber surrounding him, that he was trapped in. There was absolutely no way out.

He'd done it. He was 100% bound up in rubber as a piece of trash. Anyone looking in would see a large black bag with a hooded head sticking out.

He got comfortable and tried to slow his breathing. He was in for a long night.

He slid his hips forward and felt his member slide forward and back inside it's lubed rubber bag. It felt amazing but he could only tease himself. It wasn't enough to bring himself over the edge.

He remembered how excited he'd been when pressing the button on the timer as he prepared. He hoped he hadn't over-done it.


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