Into the Rubber Grave

Your name is Clingfilm1. Well, not exactly. That's the name you go by when you're online.

It's also the name that led to your grave.

It all happened on an unassuming Monday morning. It was a typical, sunny day, full of birds singing, people on their way to work, along with the occasional happy shout of children playing in the local park.

But by the end of the day, there would be no laughter.

At first, things were normal. But it didn't take long for word to spread throughout the offices in the nation, and throughout the world for that matter, that the government that we had known it was no more. Overnight, an impossibly huge coup had taken place, upstaging virtually every high office in the government. Those in charge had been overthrown and disposed of, leaving in it's wake a power hungry group determined to take control and conform the nation to its own vision. And yet, you found that, impossibly, all over the country, mini-coups had taken place, filling local governments and offices with those loyal to the group, who identified themselves only as "01"

At exactly 12:00 Noon, every single television in the nation showed an announcement by this group, explaining their intentions. The nation, the shadowed figure explained, had gone soft. Morality was on the decline, replaced with a never ending stream of corruption, vice, and an indulgence of the flesh. The nation had fallen into the evils of the flesh, and it was time to take charge, and ensure that this was reversed, that the nation be steered back to its original course. And to ensure that would happen, a new branch of the government had been created, designed to ensure that this corruption would be cleansed and cut away.

About five minutes later, the internet was shut down. Perhaps not the entire internet, but all the servers in the nation. Little did you, or anyone else, know that now only the government could see the internet, and how they were using it to find those who were 'of the flesh' as they put it.

Those who would not contribute to the cleansing of the nation, you were told over the television, would be buried, along with all the other immorals who had led the country to where it was today. And those who had done so had no chance now. There would be no second changes, no pardons. They would, the smug man said, be buried along with all the filth.

Watching the news broadcast, you weren’t sure what to make of it. Oh yes, you were scared, but who wasn't? But what confused you was this morality and filth they were talking about. Just who were they talking about? It seemed that despite all their talk of morality, they hadn't specified who they thought were bad. Most likely politicians, you thought. That was who they were going to go after.

Looking out the window at the police cars driving through the street, you thought about how horrible it would be to be in their shoes right about now.

***

They came for you in the dead of night.

It was quite an unwelcome surprise. You were lying in bed, in a fitful sleep brought on by worries about what changes the new day would bring. You were brought out of that slumber from the sound of your doors being broken down, of men in riot gear running into your room and grabbing you out of bed, throwing you onto the ground and handcuffing you, then dragging you out towards a waiting van, where you're tossed in and taken away into the night.

All the while you couldn't do a thing, couldn't protest. Not with the thick black tape they wrapped around your mouth, silencing you. And with arms and legs shackled, you were physically helpless as well. Nothing to do except go fearfully along with the ride, wondering what on earth was going on.

When you arrived at the station, you were booked and tossed into a cell with a few dozen other people of all ages and races, all of them confused and terrified, and all of them locked up and gagged just like you. About half of them were in pajamas, but the other half were dressed in all manner of outlandish, kinky clothing, ranging from frilly underwear to latex body suits…much like the one you were wearing in fact (in retrospect, it probably wasn't a good idea to wear it to bed). They were the ones who looked the most humiliated.

It didn't take long for you to realize that with everyone in here, and the clothing they have, they were most likely kinky people, just like yourself. But what were they all doing there along with you? That's one thing that couldn't be answered…except you had a horrible gut feeling that it has something to do with all the morality talk the new government had been going on and on about.

Turns out you were right.

When morning comes, all of you were herded out of the cells and into a courtroom, where a judge wearing the symbol of the new regime was reigning over. And he wasn't very friendly towards ay of you, relishing his new position of power. And he was so cheerful as he explained, in meticulous detail, the new laws that had been enacted by those in power to identify those who were a danger to the morality of society. Among them…those with bizarre sexual deviants. And as it turned out, the government had gone through the browsing history of the entire country, identifying those who were too 'weird' or 'out there' and had identified them as hazards.

And you were one of them.

You could only stand there and listen helplessly as your fate was decided. Under the law, for these kind of offenses, there was no trial, no due process. You were guilty, and that was that (all those steamy pictures on everyone's hard drives didn't help either).

You struggled against your cuffs, tried to work off the tape gag to speak, to try and get a word in for yourself. With what you were being told, it sounded very likely that you and everyone else were going to be taken to jail and locked up for life! While such things were exciting in fantasy, having the possibility of them happening in real life was something entirely different.

But you didn't need to worry about wearing handcuffs and staring at steel bars for the rest of your life. After all, prisons are too crowded anyway. These new laws will help clear them out. But for you, and everyone else who are like you, there's only one place to go.

With the judge glaring at you with a malicious look in his eye, he informed you that you had been found guilty due to overwhelming evidence, and had been sentenced to be buried alive.

You screamed into your gag as you were dragged out of the room.

***

After that rather unpleasant fact, you and about two dozen others were put on board a bus with darkened windows and driven out. Predictably, you all tried to escape, but your shackles were bolted to the floor of the bus. There was no way you could break free of these thick chains without a key. You could do nothing but sit in your seat and struggle fruitlessly as the bus continued on its journey.

But where it was going, nobody seemed to know.

There were no clocks on the bus, so you had no idea how long you were out and about, but it felt like hours before it finally came to a stop. Government agents, all wearing "01" badges, climbed on board, undid the heavy chains and forced you all off the bus into blindingly bright light. And when your eyes adjusted, you saw one of the most horrifying sights of your entire life.

You were in the desert, out in the middle of nowhere. Before you and the others was a mass grave the size of a football field and thirty feet deep, giant machines digging it even deeper and wider, all to accommodate the bodies about to be interred in it. Other buses were arriving and discharging their occupants, all of them chained and gagged prisoners, over a thousand of them…along with a few hundred guards armed with automatic assault rifles and a mean look in their eyes that say shoot to kill.

You and the others were struggling, panicking against your restraints, but the guards were keeping a close eye on you all, keeping their guns pointed and at the ready, bayonets aimed at the gut. There was no mistaking their message…this is the day of your execution, and this is where you're going to be buried. All these other people, they're going to be buried with you, all because according to this new moral government, you're different. And according to them, different is bad.

Almost an hour went by before the next part of this gruesome procedure began.

Hundreds of trucks arrive, all carrying crates upon crates upon crates of gear. But as they unloaded them, you were surprised to see that the items being unloaded are all fetish related. Leather hoods, handcuffs, all manner of rope and straightjackets. You wondered what this was about, and judging by the startled looks on the faces of your fellow condemned, so were they.

But a system, a pattern soon became evident. Though it appeared random, it looked like the items had been categorized and assigned to a person, each of whom was brought forward one by one and then had the items put on. A few people got away with just handcuffs, but others were forced into straightjackets and metal clamps that forced their mouths open.

It didn't take long before you realized that these items were the fetish gear each person owned. And when that realization came, you realized that they must have had your own playthings as well.

An hour later, and a very large crate appeared, and you were forced over to it. And sure enough, your toys lay there…and there were lots of them.

With guards at the ready and bayonets pointed at your stomach, your cuffs were unlocked and removed, and then your clothes were cut off with huge scissors. And then came the words you had been dreading.

"Put it on."

The head guard was referring to the clothing that they had taken from your house, three skin tight rubber suits. Clearly, they weren’t going to let you be buried naked, perhaps using some dramatic irony of some kind, making you wear the things that the government detested and despised.

You thought about fighting, about at least going out with a swing, rather then a whimper. But the sharp blades of the bayonets seem to sing, hoping for the chance to slice into flesh. And no matter how grim the fate before you is…you would rather not die bleeding and cut up.

Slowly, trembling all the while, you take the first rubber suit and get into it, pulling the legs and sleeves on, stepping in all the way. It doesn't take long, only a minute or two. You've put the suit on many times before. You even reach down and bring the zipper up over your crotch, over the chest, and up to your neck. And when that's done, there's no skin showing, save your head. You've become a person made of shiny black rubber and tight zippers.

"Put it on."

They're holding another one of the rubber suits up. They expect you to put it on over the one you're wearing right now! But there's little you can do, then to take the suit and slip it on, watching and feeling it glide over the first one. When the second suit is on and zipped up, you had a much more difficult time moving, and breathing was becoming difficult.

Then, impossibly, they picked up the third and final suit.

"Put it on."

You were crying as you slipped it on, struggling to bend your legs, or even your arms for that matter, as you struggled into it. The other prisoners around you, they too were crying as they were laced up, sewn up, or locked into their own gear.

But worse is yet to come.

A heavy neoprene sleep sack was pulled out of the truck. This was your favorite item, this sack. So warm, so tight, and so luxuriously comfortable to wear, or even to spend all night in.

So, needless to say, you were going to be put in it…but you weren’t coming out.

When the guards grabbed you, your fear overcame the fear of the bayonets. You fought, struggled, and squirmed as you were carried to the sack and forced in, your legs and arms put into the internal sleeves, trapping them in place and making it impossible to remove them. You watched, horrified, struggling and screaming, as the suit was pulled together and the zipper pulled up, the sack squeezing so very tightly against you, welcoming you into its warm embrace. But there was no relaxation, no calmness or soothing feelings of peace. Only a sense of rising panic as they descended upon you with leather belts, slipping them around the sack.

Movement, and escape, was impossible at this point. There was no escaping the gruesome fate that awaited you, nor was there any escape from the sack.

The belts, ten in all, were buckled around you, cinched down to the point where the pressure was extremely tight, though not unbearable. Just enough to remind you that you were a prisoner with no say in how long you were going to be imprisoned.

The guards let you struggle for a little bit, amused at watching you squirm around, fighting helplessly. Their stares bore into you mercilessly, but you didn't care. You were beyond caring. All that was left were survival instincts, the desire to fight for life, no matter how futile it may be.

You pleaded. Begged. Offered the guards anything they wanted. But that was to no avail. As the judge had said, there were no appeals, no second chances. There was no escaping the punishment chosen for you.

When the guards tired of your pleas and begging, they ripped out the duct tape and wound it several times around your mouth, obviously taking pleasure in hearing your panicked screams fade into silence. And they had a blast watching you struggle, looking down at the silver gag in terror, knowing that this wasn't coming off either.

Most of the prisoners had been bound at this point. There were still many being locked up, but most were done and sealed into their gear. You still had a ways to go, but the guards picked you up and propped you against the truck so you could watch what was happening…so you would know what was going to happen to you.

When a prisoner was finished being bound, they were taken to the gravesite and simply chucked in. One by one people began to line the bottom of the mass grave, wiggling like worms as more and more people were shoved in. Soon the entire bottom of the grave was filled…and then that layer of squirming, struggling people was covered over with more bodies. Hundreds of people were being tossed into their grave.

Their screams were too horrible to listen too…but you couldn't turn away.

As it turned out, the sight of the mass grave was the last thing you ever saw before darkness claimed you, in the form of an incredibly thick, incredibly tight leather hood being forced down on your head. The shock of the sudden intrusion, of the sudden darkness, was too much for you to take. You struggled and screamed as never before, fighting to get the thing off your head even as it was laced down and sewn into place. There were only two small holes for you nostrils, so that you could breathe. Built in eye pads and a gag pressed themselves against your eyes and your taped mouth, forcing them closed even further.

You struggled and screamed as the guards forced a gasmask onto you. You couldn't see it, but in the midst of you panic, you recognized the feel of the straps and the heavy mouthpiece being applied and strapped down. This was for the guard's amusement. Their prisoner, a helpless man in a sleep sack tied down with belts and with a gasmask over his face. Quite a sight.

But there was still one last thing to add, to further enhance the visual masterpiece.

The last item applied to your bound body was rubber. A very long, very thick and heavy rubber strap. You had used it before in play, to have someone else wrapped up into a rubber mummy. Now it's used on you, wrapped around the sleep sack and the belts, wrapped tightly around your helplessly bound body, tightening it even more. Around and around it goes, the black rubber glistening in the hot sun, covering up the sleep sack, transforming it into a thick rubber cocoon.

The wrapping stops at your neck…and your body has been transformed into a thick, sealed rubber package.

The sealing of your body was complete. All that was left was to enclose it for good.

There was only one item left inside the truck, and it happens to be the largest of all…a custom built casket, built of solid black oak, complete with gold handles. But it's not the outside that's impressive, it's the inside. For this is no ordinary casket, but a fetish casket, custom built for a lover of rubber. Instead of frilly lace, the inside is lined with slick black rubber. The cushions are made out of rubber, the head pillow is rubber…everything inside is for a slave of rubber…you.

You couldn't hear it, but you felt it as you were picked up and placed inside the casket, the guards taking care to make sure you were tightly packed inside. When you recognized the shiny firmness underneath and around you, you realized how your time on this earth was going to end…locked inside your favorite casket until the end of time.

You screams were lost as the lid was closed down and locked, padlocks going through the rings and being clasped down.

The grave was all but filled at this point. Countless hundreds of people lay at the bottom, lost under layer after layer of people dumped on top of them. In an ironic twist, you're the last person to be interred, your casket being tossed down onto the topmost layer. It's fitting in a way…the last person to go into this grave is the one locked up the tightest, secured the most. And in that shiny black coffin, a symbol of all the new regime seeks to get rid of.

With the grave filled, all that was left to do was to cover it.

Giant bulldozers shoved a lethal mixture of mud and concrete into the grave. Hundreds were covered instantly, all screaming as they were buried. Those still alive near the bottom feel the mud and concrete trickling down next to them, and those not blinded see the light slowly fading as more and more is poured in.

Inside your coffin, you see none of this. You hear it, faintly, and you feel the casket moving as those underneath wiggle and squirm, even as they are buried. But you do hear the sound of liquid concrete piling around your casket, and then on top of it. But you cannot see it. For you, your world is now darkness. And when the concrete is finished being poured…it is completely and utterly silent.

Above ground, in the world of the living, dirt and mud are being poured on top of the rapidly hardening concrete, to disguise the site and keep it hidden from prying eyes. Perhaps a future archeologist will dig the site up and discover the remains of everyone buried there, will be baffled at how they all were buried in an unfathomable array of restraints…the reason for their internment lost to the sands of time. Or they won't. After all, the desert is a huge and lonely place.

But that is none of your concern…

***

Dawn breaks.

It has been a day since the burial. Where there were once a thousand people, hundreds of guards and hundreds of trucks, there is now nothing but sand and dust. The grave site is indistinguishable from the desert surrounding it.

Beneath the sand and underneath the concrete, you and a thousand others lie buried and interred. In an ironic twist, your casket provides you with air and protection against the crushing weight of the concrete, granting you life where others have none.

Inside your rubber grave, you wiggle. You squirm. You fight your bindings, your restraints. But there is nothing you can do. This is punishment for your 'misdeeds'. And it is too late to escape. There is nothing, absolutely nothing that you can do, except to accept your fate, to know that you will never experience a normal life again. That is closed off to you now, in an entire world. But here, you have a world all to yourself, a private, dark world. Perhaps in one way, it's sort of a blessing. You get to end your life in a way that few can even dream of…packed away and sealed inside your favorite bondage gear, locked inside this coffin, surrounded and cushioned by rubber.

But this comes at a price… you will never leave this grave. You will remain here for eternity, buried under the sands, locked away. This is your world, forever.

This is your rubber grave.

 

07.01.09