The Wetsuit part 1

Author: indisciplined
Title: The Wetsuit, part 1
Date: 23 January 2007

When something looks like a bargain, there is probably a catch. Something I should have thought of when I saw the newspaper classified add for a new wetsuit. I was planning to visit Cornwall for some surfing fun in the summer, and needed a new one. So, being young (22) and dumb at the time, I called the advertiser and agreed to go round to his house to try it on. Big mistake.

The guy’s house was on the far side of town, and it took a while to find, but I got there just as it was getting dark. The guy who greeted me at his door with a firm handshake, and ushered me in quickly, didn’t look much like a surfer. Late 30’s, not particularly athletic I thought, but a distinguished-looking guy in black Levis, black boots, and a crisp white shirt. I introduced myself with my first name, but he insisted I call him ‘Dr. Smith’. He ushered me upstairs excitedly, through his stylish-looking house, and into a plain, windowless bedroom, with a large mirror on one wall. There on the bed, lay the black all-in-one wetsuit. “This is it” he said, handing it to me. “It’s a cool new fabric, moulds itself to your body for a …snug fit” he said, grinning in my direction. That made me feel a little uncomfortable. “I’ll leave you to try it on, son”, he said closing the door behind him firmly “Shout if you need anything”.

Bit odd, I thought. Nevertheless, the wetsuit looked good. Pure black, the fabric warm, and could be pretty sexy, I imagined. Hey, I was a young guy, fit, and not bad looking. Can you blame me for wanting to look good? I quickly stripped down (all the way, another big mistake), and tried it on. It was heavy, but slid on easily and felt warm and comfortable. I viewed myself in the mirror on the wall as I zipped myself up. No, I looked nice, if I said so myself. The suit was pretty snug, and showed of my legs and arse nicely. Hey I might even pull in this, I thought.

It was as I was admiring myself, that I weirdly, but distinctly, felt the wetsuit tighten around my thighs. Just as I thought I must have imagined it, the suit tightened across my pecs. Then my biceps. Well, the guy did say it would mould to my body. The suddenly, I felt the seam down the back tighten and pull itself sharply between my ass cheeks. Then snugly through my legs, and around my cock & balls. That was a bit too snug; you could see the outline of my cock and balls too clearly. I decided I’d had enough, this weird wetsuit wasn’t for me, so I started to take it off. Only it wouldn’t come off. This thing was stuck to my skin. I tried prying it off my skin at the cuffs and collar, as the thing continued to tighten. But it was stuck down, tight, all over. This was getting a bit freaky. Looking in the mirror, I saw the damn thing mould itself to every curve of my body. Skin tight, I could feel it pressing gently on every inch of my skin.

“Hey Mate. Could you give me a hand”, I shouted. “Hey mate?” I moved to the door only to find it locked. “Mate. Dr. Smith? I need a hand here. The door seems to be locked….Hey”. I began banging on the door, my mind racing. The guy had locked me into this windowless room, and I was beginning to feel trapped. Had I been lured here by that ad? I suddenly realised that no-one knew where I was. “HELP. HELP ME SOMEBODY!!!”

It was at that moment that I felt a slight, strange, sensation under the suit, just around my ribs. A brief tingle that whisped it’s way down my side. Then again. Then a tingle on each side. And around my stomach. And under my armpits. Then more clearly, snaking along my ribs. Almost like being tickled.

Suddenly a feeling like a thousand fingertips running up and down my skin shot in all directions around my body. Involuntarily I let out a giggle. “HELP (UGH)… help… me…” my shouts gave way to laughter as every inch of my body was tickled remorselessly, and with ever-increasing intensity. I’d never been particularly ticklish, but the intense sensations darting all over my body were just too much. My ribs and armpits, my thighs and legs, and worst of all, my exposed cock and balls. My cock was the worst. Having already moulded itself skin-tight around every detail of my gonads, the material now tortured them remorselessly. The shaft, head, and balls, over and over again, like there were actual fingers doing it. With every passing second the intensity racked up, the sensations shooting in every conceivable direction. Wherever the suit clung tight to my helpless skin. Overlapping, overpowering. And all I could do was laugh, harder than I’d ever laughed in my life. Unable to prise the suit of my skin, I felt myself caving in, hugging myself tight in desperation, dropping to my knees. I couldn’t speak, as the hysterical, desperate, paralysing, laughter took over my entire body, choking out any attempt at words. Faster and faster, more and more intense, there was nothing I could do. I literally crumpled up on the floor. Curling up into a foetal position on my left side, I hugged myself helplessly. I could no longer move, and the laughing, though overpowering, quietened pathetically, as I ran out of energy to fight. I lay, shaking, unable to move or make much noise, and unable to stop this overpowering torture. It had happened so quickly, and never in my young life could I remember feeling so powerless.

The door opened, and Dr Smith strolled in, smiling. “Well, someone looks like he’s enjoying himself”, he sneered, closing the door behind him. “In fact, you look very happy there, young man. You clearly love the suit so much; you’re actually laughing with joy.” He was clearly enjoying himself. I wanted to beg for mercy, but the intense laughter prevented me speaking. “Well, as you love it so much, please keep it on! I do love to see a nice, handsome, young lad like you enjoying yourself”. The tears were running down my face should have told him how much I wasn’t enjoying myself.

“Yes, It’s a very special suit” he continued as he knelt down beside me. “It’s filled with tiny little fibre optic pads. Well…you needn’t worry that pretty little head with the science” he said running his fingers through my hair, while his other hand patted my helpless, quivering arse, “but let’s just say they’re stuck firm to your skin. And won’t come off until their instructed to. And they have other uses, as you’re finding out.”

He stood up, looking down on me. The black shininess of his expensive-looking boot almost touching my face. He towered over me, relaxed, and totally in control. Eyeing my body up and down, and clearly liking what hew saw. I lay quivering, and by this point, very afraid. If I’d thought he looked unimpressive when I first met him, he was certainly impressing me now. “Those little fibre optics can do all sorts of things. Like tickle you, for instance.” He unclipped something from his black leather belt, a little black plastic box. “Remote control”, he announced, pointing it at me, “I can adjust the settings at any time”. Unbelievably I felt the tickling motion become even more intense. Dr Smith clearly saw my shocked expression, “Oh yeah, you’re nowhere near the highest setting, Sonshine”, as the bastard turned it up still further “have a little more on me”. I thought my whole body was going to explode “No, don’t thank me. It’s my pleasure, son. Just the slightest touch of a keypad, for me. No bother at all. It’s my little weakness: I’m always generous to sexy boys.” He stood there, resting his thumbs in the front pockets of his jet-black 501s, laughing at me (but not laughing anywhere near as hard as me). “And you’re a very sexy boy, aren’t you? And very sexy boys like you can expect a lot of my …generosity”. He waved the remote at me, laughing. Any moment, he could rack the intensity up ever further (hard as it was to imagine it feeling any stronger than it already was). I lay, shaking, aching, giggling like a little girl, and totally helpless.

“But that level will be more than enough for you now” he said, clipping the remote back on his belt “More than enough to render you motionless and immobile for my purposes. I don’t permit my boys to be able to struggle, you see. It would be rude, considering my...generosity”. Instead, he pulled something heavy from the back pocket of his Levis. What looked like a large, heavy pair of handcuffs. “Getting the message?” he said, brandishing the heavy, solid cuffs at me. “There’s nothing you can do boy. You and that fit little body of yours belong to me now. So just accept it. You’re under my control. You’re going to find out that there’s a hell of a lot more that this suit can do than make you laugh”, he chuckled as he bent down, and started to cuff my trembling wrists, “And I’ve got a feeling I’m going to enjoy myself a lot more than you”.