17.0104-0900 Thalia reveals her fetish history
@25.0526-0939.38 by atx orig.
Dear Marla,
"When did you first notice your fetish, Thalia?' Asked Lorraine, reaching across the table for the mashed potatoes at dinner last night.
"Oh, it goes back as far as I can remember. I even had a 'rubber dream' at a very early age that I vaguely remember to this day. I learned to masturbate with rubber gloves on at an early age. They were ridiculously large on my small hands."
I also liked some of the new, post-war plastics back then - anything shiny, smooth and sweaty. I vaguely remember absconding with an old vinyl shower curtain my mother had discarded. I cut the nasty parts out and kept it under my bed all folded up. Occasionally I would wrap myself up in it in the middle of the night. The tighter, the better.
In my teens I became more sophisticated. Except for rubber gloves, other kinds of wearable rubber garments became scarce. The world was transitioning from latex to plastics then. I could no longer get the latex baby pants of my infancy.
I found I could make a simple 'loin cloth' sort of garment using a 2 x 3 foot piece of vinyl shower curtain with a belt. I slipped the piece between my legs and then held it up with a tightly buckled belt. I'd pull the vinyl up tightly against my sensitive parts and masturbate. It was kool because I could wear it out and about under my clothes and no one would know.
That's when I discovered the joys of inserting penis-shaped things into myself. The next step was to start wearing them while I had my vinyl loincloth on. It held them. The result was a constant, ongoing background level of ambient horniness while I did other things. I think I even went to school wearing the loincloth once.
When I was, maybe, 10-11 years old I vaguely remember wearing the combination of them out to dinner with my parents one evening. My mom repeatedly asked my why I was so 'squirmy and unsettled'. She knew something was going on. I also remember that it was a pain in the ass to undo the thing so that I could pee.
When my mom eventually discovered my loincloth-dildo thing and reported it to my father, I expected to be grounded 'forever'. Instead, my stoic parents told me to keep this secret and sent me off to see a psychiatrist because something was wrong with me.
Apparently, my parents sensed that this was not just some 'childhood quirk'. Once a week for months I went to lay on the psychiatrist's expensive leather couch while he told me to do all the talking. Once I even wore my dildo-loincloth to a session. I was going to show him but chickened out at the last minute. His diagnosis was that I had, ahem, a 'rubber fetish' and that I would probably outgrow it. (The world did not know much sexual anomalies such as this back then. We still don't.) It must have been very expensive. My dad had really good insurance.
The psychiatrist didn't do much, of course. For one thing, they really didn't know much about fetish then. This 'captivation with rubber' looked like some sort of deep-doodoo-voodoo to them, I suspect.
One of the best metaphors to describe the effect of fetish is that of a magic spell cast by a fairytale witch or god-mother, such as in Cinderella or Beauty and the Beast. Abracadabra. Hocus pocus. Thwack! Your first-born child will be attracted to rubber like a moth is to the light.
It wasn't until I became 18 that I ordered my first catsuit.