I'm Back... to Black.

Well, it's been some time since I've posted anything to my blog... I sort of had a vague sense I was neglecting it, but I'm a bit incredulous at how long it's actually been. There really hasn't been much going on fetish-wise until recently, so that probably contributed somewhat. So, all that said, I'm going to try to get back onto the rubber-horse, so to speak. (Yes, it's a thing.)

I've just gotten back from Rubbout 22, which is the longest-running annual rubber event in North America. The experience was, as always, something to remember. A full write-up can be read at Rubber Canuck's blog, and I recommend you take a look. It's quite interesting to see the sheer level of effort and dedication that is required to pull off a weekend party of this size. Certainly something to consider for any person with ambitions to start a similar event in their own neck of the woods.

I met some new faces (and muzzles) and had an all-around good time. Certainly, the highlight of the event for me was the puppy party. I'm not into puppy play myself, but it's a ton of fun just being around the action. Particularly when you get to see the reactions of all the "normies" on the street. A dog hood might be a bit pricey for some at about $200, but the reactions are absolutely priceless!

Out in tactical gear with the K9 Unit

On Davie Street. With the K9 Unit.

Unit 69, respond to a 3-11 at the Junction Pub.

Also, a fellow by the name of rubCAD showed off an absolutely jaw-dropping super heavy inflatable rubber suit. The thing is quite the monster! Made by MD Latex, it's essentially a full suit with gloves and socks inside of another suit with heavier gloves and boots attached, all mated to a gas mask. It makes an Aquala look like n00b gear! It wouldn't have fit me, and I didn't get to try it on, but I got hard just being near it. The only downside is that this fantastic rubber encapsulation comes with a hefty price tag. But, if you've recently been made partner at your law firm, it can be yours for a mere $2000. Act now, there's only 2 left!

Wow. Just wow.

Speaking for myself, I find its the social aspect of the event that I enjoy the most. Being able to interact with like-minded guys; to talk, and play all weekend is a welcome indulgence for me. I find myself already thinking about Rubbout 23. Alas, sadly, Rubbout comes but once a year.

(I shall update with more photos as I get them.)

Incidentally kinky #02

Some army boys in MOPP 4 gear get musical. If this were a show, I'd pay to see it.

Rubbout 21 - After Action Report

Another Rubbout is over. I think I speak for all the attendees in saying that it comes too infrequently and is over too soon. That's what she said! Ohhh! Ahem. Sorry.

Actually, Rubbout 21 was longer than ones of the past. If you include the Thursday "Invasion" and the Monday dive expedition, the event was actually FIVE DAYS. That's pretty awesome. I shall relate that awesomeness to you, as well as the aspects that could have been better. Yes, Rubbout is still a work in progress.

This year, the theme was a sort of sci-fi/alien invasion. This seemed to be right up that alley of my roommate, Longshot, who dressed as Master Chief from the Halo video games for nearly the entire time.

Please note that this is an expression of my own experiences and opinions, and of some of the attendees that I spoke with at the event.

Regardless, a HUGE thank you to Rob, Reid (aka Rubbercanuck), and Doug M. (also Doug S.) for all their hard work. And, of course, thank you to the volunteers!

Thursday - Invasion Night


Rubber Invasion

The invasion of 1181 Davie Street.

The night started with a rendezvous at the Pumpjack Pub, a traditional Rubbout venue. The turnout was quite impressive, with a number of rubbered guys filling out the ranks of regular patrons. A group of guys, whom I shall now refer to as "the pups" were in attendance, displaying their usual playful personalities. After some time enjoying drinks and good conversation, the decision was made to commence the "invasion". Our first stop was a posh gay bar down Davie Street called 1181. It was certainly an interesting contrast, as the Pumpjack has a dark slightly industrial feel with brick, leather, and woodgrains. 1181, however, is all clean lines, glossy finishes, and contemporary designs. Everyone enjoyed a suitably pricey drink, pics were taken, and then it was off to the next venue.

The Oasis Ultra Lounge is more restauranty than either the Pumpjack or 1181. Arriving unannounced, our rubber army proved too much for the poor cook in the kitchen, when some of our group ordered food. The bar, similarly, was backed up for some time as they attempted to serve around 2 or 3 dozen of us. Walking down the street in a mass of rubber and costumes was an exhilarating experience.

Longshot aka Master Chief and Collector2 at the Oasis.

I'm not 100% sure if another bar was crashed afterwards, but as we waited for our food, the momentum seemed to be lost. Many of us called it a night, and retired back to the host hotel for more socializing and cocktails. One of my roommates, RbbrWizrd, took great pride in his mysterious cocktail, known as The Rubb. Although it was a big hit, we're all still in the dark as to the milky greenish-yellow mixer that was the focal point of the drink. And no, its not what you may be thinking. Seriously, that's just gross.

Ruff Party

After the Invasion, there was a bear/cub party. I did not attend, as I am neither a bear, nor especially interested in them. There was some discussion among our group, some of whom are bears, as to the validity of such an party at a rubber-oriented event. The party did not appear to be fetish oriented in any way, as far as I can tell. They are a sponsor, so one can hazard a guess as to how it came to be included on the official schedule. By one account, however, it was a fun night in its own right.



Friday - Rubber Night

Registration

Our room opted to stay in the hotel and host our own little cocktail party, instead of attending the early registration at the Pumpjack. The package can be picked up at the Meat & Greet later on, and consists of a goodie bag with lube, polish, various pamphlets and cards, and a RubberZone 30-day membership!

Meat & Greet

Longshot says Happy Easter!

Hosted at the Junction Pub, the Meat & Greet is a great way to catch up with old friends and meet up with new ones. This year, they played matchmaker and handed out playing cards to which you would seek out the duplicate and engage in conversation. My match was a drag queen from the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence, who were there to support the event by selling raffle tickets. The conversation was pretty short, as drag isn't my thing, and I suspect that rubber wasn't high on his list either.

Rubber Party

After a while, we began to migrate back to the Pumpjack for the exclusive Mr. S Leather Rubber Party. I'm told that this is the first time that the Pumpjack has voluntarily closed its doors to the public. Suffice to say, rubber was in high abundance without the regular patrons in the mix. The music was very loud, but not too intense off the dance floor. And there was plenty of eye candy. In the back a few lucky devils were subjected to turns in a rubber sleepsack and a shrinkwrap bondage contraption. I met up with a few friends from the Seattle area, whom I hadn't even known were coming until the last minute. You know who you are!


Saturday - Fetish Night


Puppy Play Party

The Pups next door.

The Puppy Play Party, a hit last year, was hosted at the Junction. It was quite entertaining, featuring a Best in Show competition not unlike the Westminster Dog Show. Handlers allowed their pups to romp and roam on a large padded play area. Attendees enjoyed the cute antics of the rubber or leather pups, and were delighted and thrilled by some impressive puppy maneuvers. Puppies were graded on aspects such as ability to fight for a toy, "loping", and jumping though a hoop. They were also commanded to display their best tricks, which, amongst other things, included doing "the worm". A pup by the name of Roscoe won "Best New Puppy", and Gadget won "Best in Show". It was a great woofy way to spend the afternoon.

Slick: Invasion

Enjoying the night air.

Investigating a noise complaint.

Returning for a second time, this is a "Fetish-Fantasy Party", this time located at Performance Works on Granville Island. Initially, I was impressed. The event volunteers greeted us in a decontamination setting. Dressed in scrubs and surgical masks, they ushered us into an airlock to be polished. The night started off gradually, but quickly, the music became so incredibly loud that all you could do was dance. And I did dance, grinding my crotch into Master Chief's armored codpiece.*grin* But eventually, the noise became intolerable. I had talked to one of the organizers (I forget which one) beforehand and told him of that the previous dance had been criticized for the music volume, and, apparently, my advice was not heeded. Some of us sought refuge in the building's lobby, while others simply left. The organizers provided a shuttle bus service to and from the hotel, and, eventually, complimentary cab service for those that wanted to head out. I don't know how many chose to leave and how many were driven out. The gear levels were also disappointing, as many of the guys seemed to be wearing minimal latex. A few go-go boys in skimpy latex danced on stage (yawn) but otherwise not much happened. Talk of a rubber scene on stage did not appear to pan out. I did not stay the complete night, as the better prospect of vac rack bondage back at the hotel awaited me.

I honestly don't know who is in there...

Slick: Official After Party

This is another event that I had reservations about, and so chose not to attend. Hot steamy bathhouses are not conductive to rubber gear, and almost guarantees that anything you are wearing is taken off. If anyone did go to Steamworks after the dance, please let me know how it went.


Sunday - Recovery

Brunch

We returned to the Junction, this time for brunch. The food was decent and satisfying, consisting of standard breakfast fare including pancakes. The highlight was easily the much anticipated raffle draw. There was a healthy selection of prizes to be won. I am now the proud owner of a Violet Wand. Another of our group won a free massage, and my friends from Washington state won Rubberzone DVDs and some rubber gear.

Kegger

Pretty much just a normal get-together for beers. Rubber gear optional. Did not attend this year, but it's usually a non-affair. We opted to return to the hotel for more cocktails and conversations, and gear play.

Truckerdisco

Truthfully, I have no f-ing clue what this was. Even reading the Rubbout pamphlet doesn't really help. As far as I can tell, it's a dance. Again, without any rubber association. *Sigh*. Did. Not. Attend.

Monday - Dive Deep


Commercial Dive Excursion

Now that's how you collect clams.

Those boots are awesome.

Frogman friends! Smile for the camera!

 As a way to end Rubbout, this was just awesome! The attendance was comparatively tiny, 12, but they were all there because of their love for rubber and diving. Porteau Cove Provincial Park is absolutely beautiful fjord, with scenic mountains and shimmering water. Collector2 took the extraordinary step of bringing everything required to conduct a surface-supplied dive. We are talking majorly big and expensive equipment, which most people never see first-hand, never mind experience. The gear used in the dive was a red Viking HD and a black Gates ProAm, both with Kirby Morgan Superlites. As a lover of frogmen, I must say... uber-hotness. As of yet, I am not a certified diver, and therefore contented myself tending the umbilical lines and assisting the divers in suiting up. But just to be close to men in this kind of gear gave me an instant boner. Rubcop dived his custom black Aquala drysuit, which was a sight to see. I brought my own drysuit along with the intention of simply wearing it and perhaps testing it in the water. We dived until the tide began to threaten our position on shore, but had gotten six divers in the water by then. It was enlightening and exciting, and a great way to spend the day. We dubbed the event DiveOUT, with the intention of doing it again. Afterwards, our dive group met up for dinner and farewell cocktails.

Rubcop's black Aquala with mitts. *drool*

Closing Thoughts

It should be noted that Rubbout is under new management for the first time in years, and so a period of adjustment is completely understandable. Every event has hiccups and its ups and downs. Experience is an asset that previous organizers acquired during their tenure, and given time, the committee should find its comfort zone and greater success should follow. The bar has continually been raised from year to year, and you can only fly so high before you burn up in the sun.

(Edit: For the record, Doug, Reid, and Rob have been integral to the success of Rubbout for many years. They are fully capable and qualified in their roles. This was a factually inaccurate assumption on my part.)

The Mr. S. Leather Rubber Party was definitely enjoyable. Bill, aka RbbrWizrd, the founder of Rubbout, said it had a "European factory party" feel to it. I'm not entirely sure what that is, but it sounds good to me! The Invasion was good fun, as well. And as always, the people you meet and friends you make are well worth the price of admission.

The low point was definitely the Slick party. The music was too loud, and if its really a party, then there should be socializing. How do you socialize when you have to yell to be heard from a foot away? The dance suffered the same volume problem as last year. But it did not feature the really hot bondage and rubber scenes that had been a redeeming quality during the first Slick.

For the most part, I still had a great time, and I will most likely attend next year.

Another for the collection.

But not the kitchen sink.

I'm currently in the painstaking process of selecting my equipment, as it were. Rubbout is tomorrow, if you count the Thursday invasion. I'm probably not the only rubberguy out there still packing. Actually, I know for a fact!

So far, I've packed my tactical gear, which includes pads, vest, and BDU's should I decided to forgo outwardly visible rubber (for whatever reason). My standard outfit includes a gasmask, because, well, they're fucking awesome, and I love 'em. This year, I plan on combining it with a heavy rubber suit, either my Hydroglove or my military Viking. The basic idea is sort of a Hazmat SWAT unit. I got the necessary shoulder patches and everything. If ever there was a time to show off my military gear, it is this year.

Circa Rubbout 2010. This year with 142% more rubber.

As far as other gear goes, its all up in the air. My tighter fitting Hydroglove is my suit of choice for general rubbering, but I do have a few fetishy items that I like to bring out for special occasions. I'm currently waiting for a pair of rubber overalls and a shirt I ordered from E7 Gear. I'm hoping it arrives on Friday, so I can wear it over the weekend. My wardrobe is surprisingly sparse in the casual rubber department. Such is life for a heavy rubber addict!

Other gear I'm planning on bringing is my firefighter turnout gear, which was a hit in years past. This year, I'm thinking about bringing my SCBA. The tank is expired and I have no method of recharging it, even if I wanted to, so its basically a huge prop. Not really sure if the mass to hotness ratio is sufficient to warrant lugging it around. Although, let me tell you, it's pretty funny making people nervous walking around in full fire gear. Went into a Chevron gas station to buy a lottery ticket once, and the guy behind the counter gave me the most hilarious nervous look. My turnout gear is black with yellow reflective stripes; the same as Vancouver's fire department. Ironically, I chose black and yellow so that it wouldn't be the same colours as my own local fire department! Luckily, people don't seem to be as strict about being mistaken as a firefighter, as opposed to a cop (a big no-no).

Hopefully, I'll see some of you at Rubbout!

I love Halloween. Tragically, I didn't win best costume.

Pups love crotch.

And knocking you right in the balls.

I had the fortune of meeting Rouki and his friends last year at Rubbout 20. I had a lot of fun watching their crazy puppy antics, and the equally amusing reactions of random spectators. You can imagine the hilarity of watching a busload of people gawk as they pass by.

I'm not really into puppy play, though it looks like a very fun and, perhaps, liberating experience. I'd like to give it a try. Can you say Rubber SWAT puppy? I think I'll start with a more anthropomorphic approach to begin with. Taking a page from Rubberdawg, I'll be of the two-legged, beer-drinking variety.

However, I think there's a mental disconnect in my brain. I'm trying to treat them like a dog, and yet they're as smart and independent as I am. If I remember correctly, there were two basic personalities that I witnessed the most: Horny, lovable Lassie. And horny, mischievous mirror universe Lassie. And I say Lassie because, just like the TV canine, the rubber pups can understand every word you say. "Timmy's stuck down the well?"

When confronted with Evil Lassie, during my brief time as handler, I wasn't sure what to do. Are you supposed to be the laid-back owner who can't control his dog, or the hard-ass trainer pulling on the choke chain? It probably really depends on the puppy. And that's probably something you should sort out beforehand. I suppose ultimately, its a little of both. The gracious master who allows his pup to playfully run amok, but lays down the law as soon as he becomes "displeased". I hope to learn more about the scene during this year's Rubbout.

I look forward to being around the pups again! See you all in April!

I drive the cruiser, he sniffs out the perps. We tried it the other way, but it didn't work.

Equipment check! Cock that weapon!

Faceless Goons: Subverting the Trope.

So, what's a trope, you ask? Well, its a literary device. More broadly, tropes are "devices and conventions that a writer can reasonably rely on as being present in the audience members' minds and expectations." They can be thought of as fictional stereotypes of people, places, things, pretty much anything.

Examples? When an evil villain takes the time to explain how his fiendish plot will work. That's a trope called "Evil Gloating", standard fare in any Bond movie. It's stupid, right? But it serves a purpose. It's a contrivance that allows the story to play out a certain way.

How about in every Steven Seagal and Jean-Claude Van Damme movie, the hero encounters death at every turn, but against all odds, is unhurt? That trope is called Plot Armor.

I'm sure you're wondering what this has to do with gear fetish. I'll bring your attention to one particular trope: Faceless Goons or more accurately, Gas Mask Mook. Star Wars' Stormtroopers and Halo's Spartans (such as Master Chief) are examples of the Faceless Goons trope. The British SAS, and their tinted S10 gas masks are a prime example of the Gas Mask Mook.

Longshot as "The Chief"

I find this trope to often be very sexy, in the visual sense. Guys in gas masks, helmets, tinted goggles, etc. The examples of this trope are everywhere in the gear fetish scene. I love gas masks, and part of that is because of the bad-ass anonymity that it provides, as well as the alien and, indeed, dehumanizing quality that it imparts. There is a sense of dangerousness and a lack of limits. When I wear my full gear, I feel that I am, at least in part, role playing a character.

And although I enjoy this trope, I often hate this trope. Because when it's used, the hot gear wearing guys (usually) die. Why is it that in so many movies and video games, the cannon fodder are depicted as faceless masses? It's simple: so you don't feel bad when the hero (sometimes you) kills them all. That way, you don't think of them as people. And yet, this does not work on me. Perhaps it's because I find them so often sexy, that I can empathize with them, despite their dehumanization. They are still people, behind that armor, behind that mask. I know, I am one.

And so, as much as I love the liberating and powerful feeling of anonymity, I also love to subvert it. I buck the established norm for Gas Mask Mooks. Faceless Goons have a bad reputation, not that it's completely undeserved. But I'm different. I'm bad-ass, but I'm the good guy. I look cold, but I'm warm and fuzzy. I'll kick your ass, but I'd also like to fuck it.

It should come as no surprise to us perverts, that the perversion of this trope is equally as sexy as the trope itself.

The teddy bear, not so much.
 

Snuggable tactical decoy.

When I say rubber...

So, this is a blog primarily about rubber, and rubber gear. Now, when I say 'rubber' what I really mean, of course, is 'rubber fetish'. But what does that really mean?

Now, I'm going to assume you know what a rubber fetish is... and if you don't, you can Wikipedia it. What is it, in a more philosophical manner? I guess what I really mean, what does my rubber fetish mean to me?

Any serious rubberist has pondered this question before. Should a person arrive at an answer, it is a unique and personal understanding of one's sexuality.

What is my rubber fetish to me?

It is what defines my sexuality. Sexually, I'm a rubber fetishist, above all else. I have other fetishes that affect me, strongly, but rubber is the big one. Rubber, in nearly all its wearable forms, stirs within me a potent sexual desire. I sometimes wonder if a non-fetishist can truly appreciate the pure sexual attraction that is triggered within me.

I wonder, because I've know no other attraction. From my earliest sexual memories, rubber has been in my thoughts. Rubber boots on the playground. Rubber gloves in the kitchen sink. My memories of my first sexual acts of self-discovery have me staring at the rubber boots of classmates as I pleasured myself discreetly.

So, one can see why my rubber fetish means so much to me. It has been with me almost all my life. It is sometimes a hard companion to have, but it never fails to satisfy. As a teenager, I felt shame in my strange attraction. Being different and not conforming to the expectations of society and my parents. Compound upon this the realization that I considered myself gay. It seems a recipe for disaster, but I think I got off easy, to be honest.

Being attracted to rubber and accepting my attraction to men in rubber was eased by the knowledge that there were others around the world that shared my feelings. And as guy friends got girlfriends, I delved deeper into the fetish world available to me via the internet. I learned of catsuits, wetsuits, drysuits, hazmat suits, a smorgasbord of hot rubbery gear. It all looked so good, and it felt right for me.

Again, I think I got off easy. I was a nerd in high school, so it was a foregone conclusion that I wouldn't have a girlfriend. And here is where the potency of my rubber fetish became apparent. I wanted a boyfriend. But not only did no prospective gay males present themselves, I came to realize that to be sexually attracted to them, they had to be wearing rubber. Even the most sexually virile porn-star was a mere shade compared to a hairy, overweight, middle-aged rubberman. Although the same man, out of rubber wasn't particularly appealing, neither was the strapping young lad. Unless they were wearing rubber gear. Unfortunately, similarly aged rubberboys were not in high abundance. How much easier it would be to be attracted to a regular guy. The absurdity of wishing I was a regular homo, didn't change the fact that my boyfriend, lover, would have to be a rubberman like me.

So, here I am now, years later. And my rubber fetish is still going as strong as ever. I don't wish I was normal anymore. Not even a normal gay guy. I am what I am, and I accept, love, and celebrate that. Rubber brings me a happiness and fulfillment. To deny it, to circumvent it, is to ignore a defining part of me. I am a rubberman.

I hope you are too.

Tactical gear and rubber. A favourite!