O’Melissokomos
The Bee Keeper

Dancin' Waderboy (mm mc fet)

by Purplebootsgywr

In the Lab

Billy Kincaid had always had a thing for rubber waders. The taller, the better. The touch, even the anticipation of the touch of chest waders, especially rubber ones, got him excited in a way that was almost apoplectic. Which is why at present he was staring vapidly ahead, a dollop of drool collecting on his shirt collar.

"Yo, Billy. Didn't see you come in--Billy, what the hell??" Billy's friend Ted worked at the large research facility that took up nearly all of the block at Summit and Fifth. It was in the lab where he and his partner, Owen, were hard at work on a project that Billy stood staring wide-eyed and rock hard, the package he was meant to deliver hanging limply in his hand.

Ted walked up to Billy, shifting the safety glasses he'd been wearing up to the top of his head. "Billy, did you know you were drooling?" Billy didn't answer. Ted nudged the delivery boy's shoulder. "Yo, Bill! You okay or what?" Billy simply pointed behind Ted to what Owen was working on.

"Wh-whuh--", he began, then swallowed hard. "What is that??"

Ted stepped aside to look, realizing what had caught Billy's attention. Standing upon a raised circular platform under a concentrated blue light was a pair of rubber chest waders. Billy's eyes practically watered at the sight of them. Most chest waders, those designed for fishermen, usually came in an assortment of ugly browns and greens and had all the shape and form of gigantic clown pants. These were definitely different.

Shining, sleek, trim, they looked as if they'd been custom-made specifically for someone slender who kept in shape. The chest's bib portion rose quite high, easily to the wearer's clavicle, and the shoulder straps were thick and wide, at least three inches across, clasped tightly to enormous and formidable silver buckles that sparkled under the laboratory lighting.

The waders were clearly being studied, for whatever reason, and the lab partner Owen shrugged at Billy's fascination and flipped a toggle on his work station, causing the platform upon which the waders stood to rotate. The back of the waders rose high as well, up to the shoulder blades, where the broad shoulder straps met in a "V" pattern. Billy could see that the boots and the pant legs were one, smooth piece. No abrupt trim lines at the twelve-inch mark as in most waders. These babies were beautiful. And as Billy swallowed again, and clenched his groin muscles to ease his growing erection (which didn't help), he knew that he wanted them.

"What are you guys doing?", Billy asked, still mesmerized by the extraordinary waders.

"Secret scientist stuff", Owen snorted, jotting down calculations, then nodding at them approvingly.

Ted waved a hand in front of Billy's eyes. "Hello, delivery boy. Don't you have a package to drop off??"

Billy still couldn't take his eyes off those glorious black waders. "Uh, yeah, think so, it's around here somewhere..." Irritated, Ted yanked the small parcel from Billy's hand and blithely tossed it over on top of a desk. He then reached into Billy's left shirt pocket and removed the palm-sized order pilot and deftly scribbled out his signature with the attached stylus, tapping the "Save" option after signing for the delivery.

Dropping the pilot back into Billy's pocket, Ted clicked his tongue condescendingly and then patted Billy on the shoulder. "You can go now."

Instead of going, Billy stepped forward to get a closer look. Ted held his palm against Billy's chest, halting his progess as he approached the edge of the safety rail surrounding the platform. "So what are you guys working on?", Billy asked. "What are you gonna do with those waders?"

Owen kept staring at his readings which he had already double- and triple-checked. "That's none of your concern, Bobby. You gave us the delivery, run along now and congratulations on a fine day's work."

Billy frowned at him. "It's Billy." Then his eyes fell upon the gleaming black waders again. "Can--can I try them on?"

Owen looked up at him as if he'd just asked for a Slurpee of hydrochloric acid. Owen looked at Ted, who was slowly shaking his head. "Billy has a thing for clothing made from rubber", Ted commented. Owen rolled his eyes, going back to his calculations. "In fact, it's odd you're not wearing your pair of big black rubber knee boots today, Bill."

Billy's face went red. He hadn't realized that his passion for rubber had become so apparent. He wore his wellies whenever he could, using even the slightest hint of possible rainfall as an excuse to don them. "They come with the uniform", Billy insisted.

Ted shared a knowing smirk with Owen. "Sure they do."

"When's it's snowing or gonna rain, yeah they do!", Billy said.

Ted picked up a small computer pad and joined Owen at the console. "Go on, Billy. Don't you have a ballet, or ballroom class to get to?"

Billy was getting angry at their snide comments. "I do tap", Billy said, his voice gaining an edge. "I don't do ballet--"

Ted smacked Owen on the arm. "Oh, yeah! There was this one show Billy was in where he played this farmer boy, right? And he wore these big rubber stable boots and he did this whole tap dance number in 'em. It was hilarious! He had the bib overalls, the plaid shirt, the whole nine yards, he looked fucking adorable!"

Owen raised one eyebrow. "How the hell do you tap dance in rubber boots?"

Ted pointed to Billy, whose face was now crimson. "He had these little steel plates fastened to the bottoms of them. God, it was precious!"

Emboldened by enduring their ridicule, Billy stepped up to their console. "So, can I try them on, or what?"

Owen leaned forward. "Go to scientist school, learn to be a scientist, then you can wear them...when you understand what they're for."

"You have enough rubber at home you can wear, I bet", Ted added. "You have on some rubber boxer briefs or some such today, maybe?"

Billy had had enough. He turned and stomped out of the lab, thinking that such obnoxious, pompous assholes didn't deserve a pair of awesome rubber waders like that.

Billy waited in the empty hallway outside the lab. Ted's package had been his last delivery for the day, and Billy had intended to invite his friend out for a drink. Not anymore. Billy knew that Ted was under some kind of deadline pressure to complete something important, which was the only time his humor became caustic. But Billy didn't care at this point. He didn't appreciate being ridiculed in front of that other arrogant scientist. What he wanted was to get inside those waders.

Ted's remarks, made under the influence of deadline pressure or not, still burned. Billy hated to be referred to as "adorable" for the simple reason that that's exactly what he was. Billy was 5'11", with a gymnast's tight build and a baby face topped with thick wavy black hair. In fact, that was just about the only part of his body that had any hair to speak of. He was naturally smooth, something else he'd always hated. It made him feel like an infant. He was also gay, which made him feel like a complete twink, since as a man in his mid-twenties he looked like he was still 16. And the real irritation was that Billy actually was wearing a pair or rubber briefs that day, and the fact that Ted's joking had hit the bull's-eye chafed with him.

Billy stood leaning against the wall around the corner from the lab door. He gently tapped his right foot upon the polished tile floor in a makeshift dance routine as he waited for Ted and Owen to depart their lab. He didn't have long to wait.

The door to the lab swept open with a soft hiss. From his concealed spot around the corner, Billy heard Ted's voice first. "You got everything?"

"Yeah, I'd say we're all set. Meeting's set to start upstairs in like five minutes, so we'd better get a move on."

"Won't be sorry to say goodbye to this room until after the weekend", Ted remarked.

"Or until first thing tomorrow morning, depending on tonight", Owen added.

"Hmm." There was a series of five distinctive beeping tones as Ted entered a locking code on the small keypad beside the door. It was followed by a high-pitched whine as the door was secured. "Let's go."

Billy listened as their footsteps faded down the hallway and then entered the elevator. After the doors to the lift slid shut, Billy ran down the hallway to their lab and skidded to a stop at the door. Billy had made enough early morning and late afternoon deliveries here to catch the code when it was entered by Ted, who never bothered to shield it from Billy. That, and Billy's proclivity for music and dance gave him an excellent ear. His fingers lightly danced across the keypad, replaying those five distinct tones. The high-pitched whine sounded again and a tiny light atop the pad changed from red to green.

Billy dashed inside the lab and stopped before the glorious black rubber waders. They were beautiful. He hopped up on the circular platform, now stationary, and ran his fingers over the surface of the sleek, slick rubber. They looked to be made to fit Ted, for whatever reason. Which made them...Billy set his foot upon the platform, right beside the waders' boots. Billy grinned devilishly. "Just my size."

In the Rec Room

Billy locked all the doors and pulled the blinds. He set the telephone for voice mail pickup and muted the ringer. He dashed into his rec room with his rubber bundle in hand. It wasn't really theft, he decided, not in the strictest sense. He hadn't stolen it so much as borrowed it. Yeah, that's what it was. This was an unofficial loan. As soon as he'd had a good play in it, he'd return it straight away. No harm done.

He closed the door of his rec room, which was his favorite room, as it's thicker walls allowed him to really blast his stereo with club music without disturbing his next-door neighbors. The room had a few full-length mirrors for posing, plenty of "art" photos of naked and incredibly well-endowed men, as well as posters he'd made himself featuring cute, lean boys in waders. The stereo sat upon an old dresser he'd converted into an entertainment center, and in the far corner was a nightstand and a small bed for boy-on-boy playtime. To Billy's regret, in three years, he'd yet to use the bed for that purpose.

Billy flipped on the lights and unrolled the shining black waders. God, they were perfect. Sleek, smooth, rubber inside and out. Billy stripped off all his clothes and tossed them onto the bed. Though not as buff as his ideal poster boys, Billy did his best to keep in shape. He was lean and trim, though saw himself as a bit skinny. Right now all he could see were the waders. Eagerly, he climbed inside, letting out a gasping, "Oh-oh-oh-oh-oohhhh--!" as he felt the cool rubber against his bare skin.

Billy attempted to pull the suspender straps over his shoulders, but noticed a considerable bulk in the chest piece. Billy looked down to where most fishing waders had a large interior pocket for lures and such. It was stuffed full. He reached inside and pulled out a tightly-packed rubber bundle, as much gleaming black as the waders themselves. Billy unfurled the parcel to reveal a thick rubber top, not unlike a sweatshirt, which ended in an open-faced hood, and two thick industrial rubber gloves. This was too perfect. Billy was fit to burst with excitement.

Quickly, he peeled the waders down past his waist, his hungry erection sticking out like a flagpole, and he pulled on the rubber shirt. He heard something flop onto the floor, which he assumed was the gloves. The suit fit snugly, and the hood clamped down upon his head nice and tight. He'd really have to blast his music to hear it through this hood. Goody. Billy strapped the waders on good and tight before looking down for the gloves. there they were, at his feet, but so was something else. The thing he heard flop against the floor hadn't been the gloves. Billy stooped down and picked it up.

It was a gasmask.

Absently, Billy tugged on the gloves, staring at the mask. Then he picked it up and looked at it in his gloved hands. He had never been much for masks and hoods, but this thing looked pretty damn cool. It was simple, basic. Two separate circular lenses and one round grate-thingy over the nose and mouth. No huge visors, no dangling hoses. It was almost futuristic. Or very old-fashioned, whichever.

Billy walked over to one of the mirrors to get a good look at himself, mask in hand. He stopped short, caught off guard by how good he looked. The suit was so much sleeker than his usual horde of wader gear. Arguably, it looked better on him than it did in the lab, and it looked slicker than shit back there. The hooded sweatshirt and gloves blended perfectly with the sleek waders, and if Billy hadn't pulled them on himself, he'd have sworn the suit was made as one piece. Slowly, Billy slid the gasmask on over his face, only just realizing that there were no fastening straps on the sides to secure it to his head. But once the mask had made contact with the cuff of the hood, the two pieces seemed to fit together as if by magic. Billy wasn't sure if the edge of the mask had been coated with a kind of spirit gum or something as common place as Velcro, but whatever it was, it was stuck fast now. He ran his gloved fingertips over the mask and hood and couldn't even feel the seam. Slick. In fact, he ran his fingers over the cuffs of his gloves and the top of his wader bib, finding it equally secure. If not for the line still visible from one section of the outfit to the other, it would appear to be one seamless piece.

Billy moved about a bit in his waders ensemble. He looked so fucking cool. He strutted in front of the mirror, striking poses and hopping about. The waders felt incredible. he had never experienced total rubber enclosure before, and he was loving it. All he needed now was music.

Billy sped to put in his favorite homemade mix CD, filled to bursting with all his favorite dance tracks. He leapt back before the mirror as the beat began to pound, and wrapped in rubber, he began to dance. The music filled the room and filled his ears so that he couldn't detect the soft whine coming from an unseen source. It didn't matter, since within a matter of seconds, it was gone.

As the beat began to pound throughout the room, Billy stood stock still and stared at his reflection in the mirror. He took a deep breath, relishing the echoing sound it made within his gasmask. Then he began to pump one leg. His toe gently tapped and his knee bent in time with the music. He grinned as he saw the rubber of his leg gleam in the light. He rolled his shoulders in an easy arc and then began to sway his hips. Unconsciously, he lightly tapped his gloved fingers against his thigh, getting a feel for the rhythm. Then as the stereo blared out the first chorus of "(Someday) Love Will Make Sense To Me", he was off.

Billy truly was an incredible dancer. He had been going to dance classes since he was old enough to walk. He could tap, he knew jazz, he could even breakdance (heaven help him). Billy's chief pursuit, when not searching online for new places to buy rubber gear, was steady employment as a professional dancer. If there was one thing he knew, it was how to dance. And dance he did. Moving as if he wore nothing more cumbersome than a leotard, Billy bounced and glided around his rec room entranced by both the incredible waders and the music. he stepped lightly, gliding and weaving, the soles of his boots skipping across the hardwood to land him lithely on the far side of the room, then spinning on the balls of his feet to dance back the way he came.

This was an intoxicating new sensation for Billy. He'd danced his energetic routines countless times before, but never while encased head to toe in rubber. As he moved, thrusting arms and darting legs, Billy relished the feel of the rubber as it rubbed against his body, first puffing out slightly as he contracted his body in one movement, then feeling the rubber cling tight to his skin as he stretched his body upward and out with a grand spin and lunge. Every step was a massage, every move a caress.

Soon Billy was spinning about the room, arms stretched wide and legs lifting him up and around. Upon landing, his feet jetted back and forth with quick tap steps, then darted here and there in a hiphop movement just for fun. About halfway through the first song, rather than feeling the thickness of the heavy rubber weighing him down, Billy's movements seemed easier, his steps lighter. The thick boot soles landed lithely on the hardwood and kept his legs moving, constantly rubbing the waders against his increasingly warm crotch.

"Damn", thought Billy, as he felt the stickiness of precum from his aroused member leak against the interior rubber, "I should've lubed myself up before I got started." As if his wish were the waders' command, Billy felt a cooling gel seep from an unknown source inside the waders and coat his penis and spread over his balls. The feeling was intoxicating. Billy's dancing slowed as the cooling lubricant oozed over his privates, making him shiver slightly. The gel allowed him to hump the inside of the waders more smoothly and easily. Billy picked up the pace again, whirling around his rec room, relishing the feel of the cool rubber, the cooling gel, and the sensation of himself getting harder and harder.

Back at the Labs

At the laboratory's meeting boardroom, Billy's pal Ted & coworker Owen met with their department's bigwig, Mr. Ganthwaite. The department head sat sullenly at the head of the table while Ted & Owen set up some hastily-drafted schematics for, of all things, the same pair of waders Billy had been drooling over, and their accompanying shirt, hood, and gloves. The duo showed the plans for their wadersuit which had been specially designed to clean up a disastrous spill that occurred in one of their labs. The lab in question was immediately sealed kept top secret so no one take the fall for the fuck-up. Meaning that the department head wouldn't take the fall for authorizing the hazardous experiment in the first place.

The plan had been to create a substance that could be released into contaminated waters to evaporate oil, toxic spills, whatever, and devour the contaminates, leaving the environment cleaner than it was before. That's not what they got.

The experiment went awry and unleashed a thick, deadly substance that filled the lab to capacity. The experimental goo stymied their best cleanup crews and clogged all sterilization systems. For now, the stuff is contained temporarily behind thick lead lockdown shields, but it's slowly and steadily eating through them. Mr. Ganthwaite is desperate for a solution. His boys Ted and Owen say they've got it.

Ted explained, indicating his charts with a pointer. "You put on the suit, and it seals you from the corrosive effects of the substance. You're then free to work on administering the solvent we've whipped up to dissolve it."

Ganthwaite frowned. "How do you move? The stuff's so thick it held all robotic cleanup equipment at a standstill."

Owen jumped in. "The suit's lined with micro circuitry. Lots of things can't move through the goo, but one thing can-- sound." Owen moved to a mobile control board and flipped on a recording of a steady pounding beat.

Ganthwaite leaned forward in his chair. "What is that, Congo drums?"

"Actually", Owen answered, "it's recording of Ted's natural footsteps. The circuitry picks up the beat after a few minutes, then helps move the suit under its pilot's--that'd be Ted's--direction. Taking small steps, walking becomes easier, soon you can move normally as you direct it. But movement is key. As long as you remain in motion, our substance isn't able to eat through the suit."

Mr. Ganthwaite leaned back again, interlacing his fingers over his chest. "Nice."

Back in the Rec Room

Billy' movements had become so much more fluid and natural in the wadersuit than in anything he'd ever worn in dance class or on the civic theater stage. He was so into it he could hardly stand it. "I'm a dancin' waderboy!", he cried, his voice echoing inside his gas mask.

Billy strut his stuff with reserved flair as the CD played "It's Rainin' Men" and then "Hot Stuff". he soon began to feel as if he'd shot his load, only he never experienced the orgasm. Then Billy realized what he was feeling was an increase in the output of the waders' gel. It was now covering not only his crotch but his entire pelvic region, smothering his ass and dribbling down his legs. The gel felt cool and soothing, a strong contrast to the heat coming off of Billy's body.

Billy danced even more frantically, his erection throbbing, but he wasn't ready to fire quite yet. One track after another, from "Love Machine" to "He's The Greatest Dancer", Billy's booted feet pounded the floorboards. The gel continued to run freely, coming from God knows where, so that as he marched his way through "In The Navy", it was coating his legs and ankles, making him feel as if he'd been spattered with pancake syrup. By "Gimme, Gimme, Gimme (A Man After Midnight)", Billy could feel the gel spreading over his torso as he thrust his hips. When the first beats of "Spunk" began, Billy felt as if that was what he was covered in, with the gel now running over his shoulders and down his arms to collect in the fingertips of his gloves.

Billy was truly loving his wader dance, although he was running on pure adrenaline. In his rush to get home and try on his pilfered waders, he had skipped dinner and was starving. But his member throbbed and he felt so close to orgasm that he didn't dare stop now. By the time the CD reached the halfway mark with "You Think You're A Man", every fiber of Billy's body felt alive with sexual overstimulation. His cock and his head pounded , his body quivering from exhaustion and the tingle of the thick gel glazing his overheated frame.

Billy needed to pause to catch his breath. He was beginning to feel the strain of so much strenuous dance work while wrapped in industrial-thick rubber as well as the withdrawal from the adrenaline rush from his act of theft. He needed to hit the pause on the CD and take five. He had to get the now-smothering gasmask off his face, if nothing else.

But for some reason, Billy found he was unable to slacken his pace much. His legs slowed for a moment as he attempted to stop dancing, but then as if of their own accord, his legs began pumping as fiercely as ever, catching him totally off guard. His legs scrambled as if he were trapped on a high-speed treadmill, or if he had slipped on wet floor wax. His mind raced, imagining that the mysterious gel, whatever it was, had leaked out of the soles of his boots and was now coating the hardwood floor of his rec room, making it as slick as an ice rink. "Good luck stopping now", he grumbled. Rather then resist his sudden, jerky movements and risk hurting himself in a fall, Billy tried to ride out the motions until he could regain his footing.

Billy stumbled into his nightstand, and clambering for something to hold onto, absently grabbed one of his dildos. Rolling his eyes in irritation, Billy reached to put the sex toy back even as he continued to pivot and swing. But the dildo wasn't going anywhere. It was stuck to his hand. As baffled by this as by the mystery of his sudden case of "happy feet", Billy glanced at his gloved palm through the steamed lenses of his gasmask. Perhaps there was a leak in the gloves, too, causing the dildo to stick to his hand. Wide-eyed, he watched in awe as the dildo was absorbed into his glove.

"What the fuck--?", he whispered to himself.

Billy completely lost track of the fact that his feet were still dancing. He could feel the dildo rubbing against his arm. It remained there for a bit, then worked its way down to his torso, and around his backside. Like a giant latex caterpillar, the dildo inched its way along Billy's body, held snug between his slippery-wet skin and the rubber waders, making its way to Billy' crack. Once there, FWUP!, it shot through the slickening lube right into Billy's ass. "Holy cow", Billy thought, his breathing growing more labored. "How the Sam Hill--??" As Billy continued to bump and grind, his legs having taken over his movement completely, the dildo gently but steadily fucked him. "Whoa, Nellie...", he thought, dancing on.

Back at the Labs

Mr. Ganthwaite rubbed his chin. "What about your tools? That suit of yours looks great, but the goo will eat right through most of our cleanup tools. How do you deliver the solvent?"

Ted grinned. "It's genius."

Owen seemed to blush behind his control board. "Well, now, I wouldn't say it was genius exactly..."

"Oh, come on! I never would've thought of something as brilliant as this. Applying the whole solvent/absorption theory to the material itself--"

Owen waggled a finger. "Now, you're the one who came up with the whole sound to propel the suit thing, don't be so modes--"

"GENtlemen.", Ganthwaite stressed. "Accolades later." He waved an impatient hand to urge them on. "While we're young, if you please."

Ted pulled on a sample glove. "You reach for tools beforehand, or right after entering the contaminated area. At that point, the suit actually absorbs the tool inside to keep it wrapped inside its own protective layer." Ganthwaite's eyes bulged as the grappling wand Ted had picked up first sank into, and then disappeared within his glove, sealing itself behind it. "You can work with one set of tools from beginning to end. No corrosion whatsoever." Ted then tugged at the cuff of the thick rubber glove and the tool clattered out onto the table.

Ganthwaite reached for a Xeroxed sheet. "According to your specs, some of the solvent needs to be released close to ground so the stuff doesn't eat through the floor as it dissolves. Will you be able bend over in this thing? This toxic material filling the room is pretty thick. Shuffling forward is one thing, but bending down..."

Owen stepped forward. "That's part of the beauty of the suit's absorption capabilities. You grasp anything by way of your glove or whatnot. And as the suit absorbs it, its interior micro circuitry 'reads' where the tool is supposed to go. Whether the tool in question is a device that works by expelling solvent out of the soles of the boots--"

Ganthwaite interrupted. "So it'll actually be moved from your hand down to the boot, where it's meant to go?"

Owen gave a curt nod, continuing. "Or if what you've grabbed is emergency medication that needs to be ingested if any harmful vapors somehow seep in during the absorption process."

Ganthwaite nodded, understanding. "Then that would travel up your arm to inside your mask so you could take it orally."

Ted pointed a finger at the boss. "Exactly. It's like a smart suit. It picks up on the wearer's thought impulses and reads where each tool is supposed to go, and how it's meant to be used."

Back in the Rec Room

Billy was still dancing, not even taking notice of the fact that he had more or less stopped consciously doing so a while ago. He was too high on being fucked by the ultimate pair of waders, or at least the dildo the waders had pushed into place. As Billy was made to dance and was pumped firmly from behind, a light bulb came on over his head. He danced himself (with a bit of difficulty, as he needed to move a bit outside of the pattern of steps he'd established) over to his nightstand. He pulled open the drawer with jerking and flaring arms to retrieve a rubber masturbator. The toy was soft pink, in a tubular shape just slightly larger than the size of his penis. It was made with an outer shell of hard rubber and an interior of soft, pliable latex. One end of it had a small opening identical to a man's asshole. It was designed for a tight fit.

Quickly, Billy slapped the toy against his abs, and looking down, watched it begin to fall away. But only just. Slowly, the suit absorbed the masturbator and held its rubber shell tight to his tummy. Then it worked its way down, and began to slip closely over his erection. His member squeezed tight into the masturbator, the snug soft rubber hugging his dick as if it were a firm virgin ass. Billy groaned with satisfaction, expecting the device to respond like the dildo had, and begin working of its own accord. But it did nothing. Billy stared down at the increased bulge beneath his waders, thinking, "Come on...come ON..."

After another moment of Billy tensing and relaxing his groin muscles, the toy, or the waders controlling the toy, started jerking him off. Billy threw his head back and smiled wide, letting out a little laugh of pleasure. The feeling was tremendous. Next he was dancing with abandon, adding his own conscious enthusiasm to the seemingly self-propelled waders. He felt higher than a kite.

Back at the Labs

Mr. Ganthwaite rose from his chair, what passed for a smile forming on his lips. "Looks like we have a winner. How soon can you start?"

"Right now."

"Don't you need to get back to your lab, pick up the suit, bring it back--?"

"Way ahead of you", Ted assured him. "We made three of them. Two are already outside the contaminated lab, ready to go. One of us can operate the sound machine--"

Owen waved a finger. "That'd be me."

"--the other can suit up and get crackin'. We were just running some last-minute tests on the third suit this afternoon to check how it holds up against the constant pressure." Ganthwaite inclined his head forward with eyebrows raised, as if to ask, "And?" Ted grinned, crossing his arms. "So far it works like a charm."

Ganthwaite led the way out of the board room. "Then let's get to it." At the door, he paused to remark in a confidential tone, "I promise you I won't forget this come time to approve department grants." Ted and Owen exchanged knowing glances, then all three of them made their way swiftly to the contaminated lab.

Back in the Rec Room

Billy was dancing like crazy, caught up in a daze of excitement. But on one level, he couldn't believe he was still moving, because he was so exhausted. He felt himself being plowed from behind, and jerked from in front. His dance mix music was pounding, its beat seeping into his veins, vibrating his bones, penetrating his marrow. Billy began to feel so hot, but no longer from an erotic heat. Now he felt as though he were burning up. His passion for the rubber, for any rubbersex, was increasing his body temperature markedly. He closed his eyes as he danced, focusing on the feel of the rubber, so supple, smooth and slick.

As his body heat rose, it seemed that more and more gel coated his frame in attempt to cool it. "That lube", Billy wondered, "What is up with that? It just keeps coming and coming..." The steady flow of the lube, somehow in endless supply even as much of it was worked into Billy's skin or evaporated from the heat, was increasing his arousal past the point of tolerance. "And why can't I stop dancing??", Billy thought, his mind a haze as he processed one pleasurable sensation after another. The music, the rubber, the heat, the moisture, the gelatinous lube, the movement, the steady push of the dildo, the gentle pulling of the masturbator, the dancing, the endless dancing, his legs moving, his boots stepping, clomping, lubed rubber pressing against his legs, his waist, his ass, his dick...

Finally, Billy's body froze in place as his every muscle stiffened, then contracted as he came. He shot his load. It was, by far, the biggest, baddest, most intense, riveting, and incapacitating orgasm of his life. His whole body seemed to freeze as he was wracked with wave upon wave of climactic pleasure. And at that moment, some thirty-five minutes after he'd begun, he at last stopped dancing.

Back at the Labs

Outside the contaminated lab, Ted was suiting up as Owen minded the sound system. Ted checked a tiny, flat tube of coolant which he then absorbed into his suit through the back.

Ganthwaite stared, still marveling at the technology. But then a question came to him. "Is that gonna be enough? It's hotter than hell in there, to say nothing of you being wrapped up inside a rubber spacesuit for God knows how long!"

Ted reached for the gasmask, unconcerned. "Another one of our devious little inventions. It's a recyclable coolant." He blew a piece of lint out of one of the mask's lenses. "It's not only released to whatever body part it senses is being overheated, but it mixes with the body's own oils and perspiration, keeping it in a constant state of circulation." Ted pulled his hood up tight around his head. "It not only keeps the body cool, but prevents dehydration. If you're in the suit, you're fully saturated with all the fluid you need." He tugged on his gloves, made sure they were sealed on tight, then applied his gasmask. The world took on a softer focus from behind the eyes of the mask, and Ted took a few deep breaths to get a feel for the sensation of taking in filtered air. he looked to Owen, giving him the thumbs-up. His voice reverberated inside the mask. "Ready for launch."

Back in the Rec Room

Billy began to collapse onto the floor, totally spent. He'd never felt so drained, so elated, so lightheaded. But as he dropped to his knees, his body was held up, somehow. He blinked his eyes, baffled. Billy knew he wasn't doing it.

Then the rubber wader suit hugged him tightly, especially around the legs and feet, and he kept dancing. "What the hell?" He began to move with the beat again, though he couldn't understand how, as he was so incredibly tired. His arms were pumping, his legs hopping, his hips thrusting. He felt the dildo begin to pound his sore ass again, the masturbator yank mercilessly on his limp member, forcing it back to erection. Billy's heart began to pound in an increasing state of panic. "What is going on here??"

Back at the Labs

Back outside the lab, Ganthwaite watched the proceedings via a view screen monitor on a laptop as Ted made his way ploddingly through the gunk, cleaning up. "By God, it's working!", the department head exclaimed. "Thank the Lord!" Then, in a moment of concern, "What if he gets too tired inside that thing? Amazing as your fancy cleanup suit is, the operator is still only human."

Owen only glanced up from his control board momentarily. "As long as the beat keeps playing and is registered by the suit's receptors, it'll keep moving. The suit's pilot just has to remember not to fight it, to simply let it carry him once it's got his movements recorded." Owen made a few minor adjustments, then rested one elbow atop his console. "In some ways, Mr. Ganthwaite , he's just along for the ride. The less he resists, the faster it'll go."

The boss began to chew his lower lip. It was his experience that when things did go wrong, this was usually the time, when it was most difficult to rectify. "This is a terrible time to ask about this, but what about the safety protocols?"

Owen didn't even flinch. He tapped the side of the sound board, which continued to hum away, sending out its almost-musical rhythm like a kind of robotic heartbeat. "It all depends on the sound. The beat goes on, so does the suit. It's that simple."

Back in the Rec Room

Billy kept on dancing, and the suit kept fucking him in furious time with the music. The masturbator pulled on his member, the lube now collecting inside it to create a tremendous wet suction. It seemed the waders were now actually sucking him off, on top of everything else. Billy couldn't breathe, at least not very well. His hands shot up to pull at the gasmask, eager to yank it off, to throw it away. He was desperate for fresh air, his nostrils having been so filled with the funk of his own perspiration mixed with the mild chemical scent of the lube gel. But the mask wasn't coming off. He dug furiously with his gloved fingers, trying to find the seam where the mask met the hood, but it was as if the seam had never existed. His furious clawing served only to fog his lenses and make him feel more suffocated. And the fact that his legs kept dancing so spastically wasn't helping matters any.

Billy began to realize that the suit was actually responding to the music. He would never get out of this mess as long as the CD was running. But that was okay, he decided. He could hold out until it was over. He'd just have to surrender to another 45 minutes of being screwed by his dream waders. Billy had suffered through tap shows on stage that called for longer bouts of physical exertion. He was physically beat, but there were worse fates, right? Then he looked through the fogged lenses of his gasmask and saw, to his horror, a small word projected upon the tiny status screen of his stereo. REPEAT.

Back at the Labs

"There's no chance that beatbox of yours is gonna run out of juice, is it?"

Owen looked at Ganthwaite, trying to hide his annoyance in reassuring tones. "Just relax, sir. Even if it did, there are backups built into the system. I could pull the plug, you could trip over a cord, we could even suffer a power outage and we'd still be in the clear." Ganthwaite raised a finger, as if to suggest another possible disaster scenario, but Owen held up a palm to stop him. "Trust me, sir, this is too important. We've thought of everything."

Inside the lab, Ted, secure in the protective wadersuit, moved steadily through the toxic foam, the soles of his boots emitting a steady flow of antitoxin to clear his path. He moved forward slowly with arms outstretched, the tubes concealed within his gloves jetting out a clear stream of acidic solvent which ate away at the deadly chemicals.

Back in the Rec Room

Billy tried desperately to dance his way over to the stereo. His body kept thrusting and grinding him in different directions. The harder he fought it, the more difficult it became. It was as if the wadersuit wanted to dance, wanted to suck his cock, wanted to fuck him. Billy tried to grab the remote off the bed, but his best lurch only managed to slap it away, causing it to slide across the hardwood floor and skitter to a stop under the dresser, well out of reach. Dammitt!! Billy flailed his arms, or tried to, as the suit kept him well within the parameters of his earlier dance moves. The dildo dug deep inside him, fast advancing from pleasurable to painful. His dick was being slurped on and tugged mercilessly. And his legs kept dancing, his heavy-soled, booted feet continued to boogie.

Back at the Labs

At lab, the last of the cleanup was under way. Ted got the last of the poisonous toxins clustered in the corners, clinging to the high walls, any spots he missed. Mission accomplished. At the sound board, Owen looked over to Ganthwaite, who silently applauded his approval.

Back in the Rec Room

Billy threw himself with what little might he had left and grabbed the plug of the stereo, yanking it brutally from the wall. The cord came away, tearing in the process. The music came to a stop and so did the dancing waders. Billy fell in an exhausted heap to the floor. The sudden stop in the erotic assault upon his body prompted another orgasm, so intense it left him quivering as he lay on his back, jerking as spurt after spurt of semen ejaculated from his penis, filling the masturbator which still hugged his member, causing his sphincter to clutch at the dildo up his ass.

Finally, the orgasms ceased and Billy's body twitched only slightly as he gasped for breath beneath the confining rubber hood. He was free, he was finished at last. the suit still felt fantastic, but he was most definitely ready to take it off. As soon as he could lift his arms, anyway.

Billy lay there, listening to the increased volume of his ragged breathing, augmented from within the clinging gas mask. Other than that, there was silence. Until Billy heard a tiny, high-pitched whine somewhere in the back of his head. No, not in the back of his head, at the back of his mask...

There was a slight crackle from the speakers behind him, and Billy's stereo flared to life once again. What the fuck--? Billy twisted his head around and saw the torn cord still lying unplugged on the floor nearby. How could the music have started again? However it happened, the music had indeed started again, sounding louder than before following the brief moment of quiet. Billy could feel the waders pull even tighter about his legs and chest, the sleeves of the hooded shirt tug at his arms. The dildo up his ass began to pulsate and the masturbator slurped once again at his shriveling dick, stopping its descent and coaxing it back to erection.

Oh no...

Back at the Labs

Back at lab, Ted stepped out of suit, satisfied with a job well done. Ganthwaite was elated, they'd truly saved his ass. "So tell me, fellas, do you have any vacation time coming?" The two geniuses exchanged contemplative looks. In all their time with the research facility, neither of them could recall having ever taken any time off. "Well, how does two weeks in the Cayman Islands sound??", Ganthwaite beamed.

The duo stared at him, open-mouthed. Ted began to stammer, "Um..W-we should double-check the readings, make sure we got it all. Maybe run a sweep of the perimeter."

Ganthwaite spread his arms, patting both scientists on the back. "Nonsense, nonsense, my team can handle all that rigmarole. You boys get the hell out of town, get yourselves rested up before you come back to increased funding and greater responsibility around here!"

Ted and Owen didn't need to be told twice. Owen flicked a switch on the control board, setting the suits in a "hold" mode. All the suits would be locked in their current status until their return. Ganthwaite was given the necessary directions, just in case he might need to have someone suit up for any additional cleanup, but all sensors indicated that wouldn't be necessary. Ted and Owen hustled out quickly, so they could go home and pack, then jet away to celebrate a job well done.

Back in the Rec Room

Back in Billy's room, he lay upon the floor, his legs and arms jerking and yanking about in time to the music. He had given up trying to find the seams of his suit in attempt to rip it off. The rubber hugged his body, slickened by the continual flow of lube (where was it coming from??), as he felt his penis pulled again and again, his ass probed and fucked, over and over and over.

He was Billy, the dancin' waderboy, now living his greatest fantasy, unable to stop it even if he tried. Absently, Billy smiled. As his rubbered body twitched and played upon the floor, he wondered aloud, "So...is this such a bad thing?"

---

If you liked this story, please write the author and let him know, so he'll be inspired to write more~ [email protected]

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