Latex Under Pressure
Here is an absolutely hilarious yet very true story sent to me by a dear friend, about his personal experience of wearing a latex suit on an airplane. I can only wish that I had photos or video to go with this story.
Latex Under Pressure -
by: gumbi
As the plane slowly left the ground, I relaxed into my seat and looked forward to the flight ahead. Although I had taken this San Francisco to Chicago flight dozens of times, this time would be special. For the first time, I had the courage to actually wear rubber under my clothes. I had long fantasized about indulging my kink in public while looking completely normal on the outside. Today, I had decided not to pack all the rubber in a suitcase, but instead put on a very tight fitting biking suit in medium grade latex before putting on the business suit.
As we slowly climbed, I squirmed in my seat slightly to feel the tight latex rub against my chest, thighs and upper arms. The biking outfit had sleeves down to near the elbows, and leg coverings down to just above the knee as well as a fairly high collar. However, all this was covered by the suit and tie, so the man next to me in the aisle seat would have no idea why I was sliding around in my seat.
At last I decided to get down to business and I reached forward towards the seat pocket to take out some work. Phppptttt. A loud gaseous sound escaped from just above my right elbow. I sat back quickly and saw the businessman next to me give me a disgusted look. I slowly moved my arm forward. Phppptttttttt!! A louder sound emerged and my seatmate shook his head.
In a flash, I figured it out. When I put on the biking suit, some air had gotten trapped between my skin and the rubber. The tight closures trapped it in the suit. Normally, this isn’t a problem, but as a plane rises, the air pressure drops and any trapped air expands as it tries to escape. I remembered laughing at how a bag of potato chips bought on the ground would become fat and swollen with air at cruising altitude and how a couple of bags had even popped. Well, I was now that bag of potato chips and I was swelling as we relentlessly climbed.
Soon I could feel the suit lifting from my skin and pressing against my business suit. I tried to stay totally still since every motion would release a little more air in an embarrassing phpptt. My eyes soon were glued to the seat belt sign. As soon as that light switched off, I would race to the bathroom and get the trapped air out. We climbed higher and higher, my suit was definitely starting to swell and I was sweating up a storm. Wouldn’t the plane ever level off?
DING. “The captain has now turned off the seat belt sign. You are now free to…..†Before her words were finished, I was up and out of my seat, mumbling something to the guy next to me and racing down the aisle to the back of the plane and the safety of the restroom. It was too late.
PHPPPPPTTTTT!! PHPPTTTTTT! PHHPPPPPPPTTTTTT!!! Every step released trapped air as the suit pulled away from my skin. It sounded like I was taking the world’s biggest dump. Every, and I do mean every, pair of eyes in coach turned to look at me as I raced down the aisle. One guy yelled in annoyance, “Geez man, can’t you hold it till you reach the john?†I finally reached the door, jerked it open and jumped into the tiny room.
Sweating frantically and red as a beet from embarrassment, I patted myself down. I slapped at every inch of my arms, legs and torso. I particularly patted down my ass and my crotch as several particularly embarrassing notes had escaped from near my rear. Finally, convinced that I had pushed out every last molecule of air, I washed up and then went back to my seat, trying to avoid looking at anyone on the long walk back to the front of coach.
The next three plus hours passed by uneventfully. I couldn’t wait for the plane to land. What had started out as an exciting realization of a fantasy had turned into an embarrassment. I couldn’t look my seatmate in the eye and I felt that everyone on the plane was looking at me. Oh well, it would be over soon.
The pilot came on and said that there were some storms in the Chicago area so he was turning on the seatbelt sign before our decent but that we would be landing in less than half and hour. “Good, I thought. It’s almost over.â€Â
It wasn’t. About 5 minutes into the decent, I started to feel a tightening around my throat. “It’s nothing,†I thought. A few minutes later, the tightening got worse and I started to feel my nuts being squeezed. I reached for my water bottle and saw that it was slightly crushed in. “OH NO!†I had forgotten that air pressure works both ways. On the ascent, it caused trapped air to try to escape. On the decent, it pressed hard trying to get into lower pressure areas. I had pressed OUT all of the air in my biking suit while up at 35,000 feet. Now the higher air pressure was slowly strangling me and crushing my nuts.
The neck problem was fairly easily dealt with. I reached up to my throat as if adjusting my tie and yanked at the collar. I was able to open it enough to let air in down to the base of my neck. I could repeat this as needed so at least I wouldn’t strangle myself (what a headline that would have been). My nuts were a different matter. No matter how much I tugged at my knees, I couldn’t get very much air under the rubber pants leg, let alone up to my crotch.
As we continued the decent, the Earth’s atmosphere had its way with me. Talk about non-consensual S&M! Slowly my balls were crushed more effectively than any ball vise ever could. I started to hunch over as the space at my armpits crunched inward due to the pressure. Trapped in my seat, I could do nothing to let air under the suit and relieve the pressure.
Finally, we landed. I clumsily gathered my stuff and limped down the aisle, crouched over like an old man into a position that put the least strain on my outraged balls. Once again everyone looked at me and I heard one woman say to her companion, “What the hell is wrong with that guy? He’s the one who farted the whole trip.â€Â
After what seemed hours, I limped into the first men’s room in the terminal and then into the first available stall. Without caring about the sounds, I took off my entire business suit and then started to slowly pull the rubber suit away from my body. You know that slurping noise you get when you peel moist rubber away from your body? Well make that 10 times longer and 10 times louder and you have the sound I made in that restroom. I didn’t care anymore. I picked my suit off the floor, slowly put it on and walked out the john without looking at anyone.
I still have that bicycle suit. I’ve lost weight so it is way too big for me now, but I’ve kept it as a reminder. Every time I get the urge to do something stupid and indulge in my fetishes alone or in public (like locking a chastity on and mailing myself the key), I look at the suit and remember the day Mother Nature topped me.
