Rainwear Central Rainwear Forum

If any of you have come across my previous writings and responses you'll know I'm a bit obsessed with ladies raincoats and bondage.

I have written a few tales with the help of chatbots on this subject. They are very intense, quite elaborate, and certainly feature sex. I will not publish them on here as they are too pornographic and I do not want to offend or undermine everyone's enjoyment. If you would like to read them please message me and I'll provide private copies.

Boundinmac

boundinmac wrote: July 9th, 2026, 12:31 pm If any of you have come across my previous writings and responses you'll know I'm a bit obsessed with ladies raincoats and bondage.

I have written a few tales with the help of chatbots on this subject. They are very intense, quite elaborate, and certainly feature sex. I will not publish them on here as they are too pornographic and I do not want to offend or undermine everyone's enjoyment. If you would like to read them please message me and I'll provide private copies.

Boundinmac

Its absolutely OK to post them here. This is not Facebook where you get banned for the smallest things.

The only things we do NOT allow are child s*x or vore

Thank you Mason.

It's not so much I'm worried about being banned, and I agree nothing should feature children. My concern is personal, I like this site and have followed it for many many years. What I don't want to do is offend anyone with my very specific tastes or lower the high standards of the site that you, the moderators, have maintained.

I will publish the first part of one of the tales, but if it offends or you don't approve I will delete it.

Thanks

Boundinmac

With the help of a chatbot.

The setting, 1958 autumn cold and wet. David is just starting college. He has a passion for rainwear with bondage and is seeking help from the only person who knows about his desires.

Good afternoon, Uncle Harold. It's... it's really good to see you again, especially on a day like this. The rain's been hammering down all morning here in South East London, that proper autumn chill that gets right into your bones. I came straight over after helping Mum with some shopping, still wearing my old school mac – you know the one, the navy gabardine with the thick, smooth rubber lining. It's a bit tight now that I've filled out a bit since leaving school, but I couldn't bear to leave it behind. The cold wet fabric clings to my trousers as I walk, and when I move... that faint rustle and the way the lining slides against my shirt... it does things to me I can't explain properly to anyone else.

I’ve been thinking about our last talk a lot. You know how it is with me. Ever since I first started noticing things – the way the ladies in the neighbourhood would pull their rubber-lined macs tight around themselves in the fog and rain, the glossy sheen when they moved under the streetlamps – I’ve been hooked. And then the stories on the wireless, or in those detective magazines I hide under my bed... women bound hand and foot, gagged so they can only make muffled little sounds, helpless in their nice macs while the rain patters against the windows. It excites me something fierce. I’ve even started collecting a few pictures and those special little books when I can scrape together the money. Nothing too bold yet, but enough to fuel the fantasies.

College is looming, Uncle. In a few months I’ll be up there mixing with all those girls, expected to chat them up, take them to dances... and all I can think about is what it would be like to see one of them in a smart rubber-lined raincoat, wrists tied behind her back with soft rope, a proper gag filling her mouth, eyes wide above it. Or... well... sometimes I imagine myself in their place. Like when you’ve helped me before.

I shift uncomfortably on the chair in your front room, the rubber lining of my mac making that quiet, intimate creak against the wooden seat. The room feels colder than usual with the damp seeping in. I glance at you, a bit nervous but trusting.

“You’ve always been straight with me about this stuff, Uncle Harold. I don’t know who else I could talk to. Last time you tied me up in this very mac... the way the ropes bit in over the rubber, the ball gag you used... it was intense. Scary, but in a good way. Made everything feel more real. I keep thinking about it at night.”

I swallow, cheeks a little flushed despite the chill. “What should I do? How do I handle this when I’m away? And... if you’ve got time today, maybe we could... talk more. Or you could show me again? Just so I understand it better before I go off to university.”
I look at you hopefully, the rain lashing the windows behind me, my fingers unconsciously stroking the cold rubber cuff of my sleeve.

David, it is good to see you again and of course I can help you. You do look good in that mac though but I have a special treat for you now you're here. I ordered a couple of macs from the catalogue and they arrived last week. Would you like to see them?
One is a fawn trench-coat style with all the little fittings. It's made from very lightweight canvas like fabric with a lovely pale fawn rubber lining. The other is a smart brown mac made from rubberised sattinette. They both look, feel and smell wonderful. Come upstairs and see.

Yes, Uncle Harold... I’d like that very much.
My heart gives a little jump at your words. A couple of new macs from the catalogue? The thought alone makes my mouth go dry. I stand up quickly, the rubber lining of my school mac sliding cool and smooth against my shirt and trousers as I move. That familiar faint rubbery smell rises up around me in the chilly hallway, mixing with the damp air coming under the front door.

“They sound... perfect,” I say, my voice a bit higher than usual with excitement. “A fawn trench style with proper fittings, and a rubberised satinette one? I can already imagine how they’d feel.”

I follow you up the narrow stairs, the old wooden treads creaking under our feet. The rain is still drumming steadily on the roof and against the landing window, making the house feel even colder and more closed-in. My school mac rustles softly with every step, the lining clinging to my thighs. I can feel myself starting to stiffen a little inside my trousers just from the anticipation.

When we reach your bedroom, I hover in the doorway, eyes wide as you show me the new macs laid out. The fawn trench one looks so elegant – all those buckles and straps, the lightweight fabric that I know will drape beautifully, but it’s the pale fawn rubber lining that draws my gaze. It gleams faintly in the grey afternoon light filtering through the net curtains. The brown rubberised satinette one beside it looks heavier, shinier on the outside, with that rich, deep rubber smell already reaching me.

“Blimey, Uncle... they’re beautiful,” I breathe, stepping closer. My fingers reach out almost on their own, brushing the edge of the fawn one. The rubber lining is cold and silky-smooth to the touch, slightly tacky. A little shiver runs through me. “The lining on this fawn one feels even nicer than my school mac. So smooth and cool... I bet it would cling really tightly if you were... wearing it for a while.”

I glance at you, a flush creeping up my neck. “Can I... try one on? Just to see how they feel? Please? The brown one looks really substantial, like it would trap the cold and the smell against you properly.”

I’m already unbuttoning my school mac, letting it hang open so the navy rubber lining shows, my breathing a little quicker. The rain outside seems louder now, and the room feels smaller, more intimate. I wait for your lead, hoping you’ll do more than just let me try them on – remembering how things escalated last time you “helped” me.

Of course you can try them both on but first we need to talk about you going to college.
I discovered a possible solution when I first left home, I was about your age. 'Self-bondage', tying myself up. At first it was a bit disappointing because it was too easy to get free but I developed several ways of tying myself up helplessly with no hope of release until my 'mechanisms' released me. It is a wonderful feeling but you must be absolutely sure it's safe.

Would you like to try it?

It is a private method of satisfying your urges that will then allow you to enjoy college life and female company without the frustration.

Please let me know if I should continue.

Of course you should continue, don't just leave us all hanging in mid air

Being a fan of selfbondage wearing rainwear I'm all in favour of you continuing with your story, I could learn a lot from uncle Harold.