<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8" standalone="yes"?><rss version="2.0" xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:content="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/"><channel><title>Fetishwear on Gromet's Plaza Archive</title><link>/tags/fetishwear/</link><description>Recent content in Fetishwear on Gromet's Plaza Archive</description><generator>Hugo</generator><language>en-us</language><lastBuildDate>Sat, 30 May 2026 20:13:47 +0000</lastBuildDate><atom:link href="/tags/fetishwear/index.xml" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml"/><item><title>Almost Damsel in Almost Distress</title><link>/stories/2019/04/03/almost-damsel-in-almost-distress/</link><pubDate>Wed, 03 Apr 2019 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2019/04/03/almost-damsel-in-almost-distress/</guid><description>&lt;h3 id="part-1"&gt;Part 1&lt;/h3&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Finally! I had the day off from work and I planned to spend it indulging two of my favorite activities&amp;hellip; crossdressing and self-bondage! I’ve been dressing since I was 10 years old, and about the only thing that was more exciting than getting all femmed up&amp;hellip; was locking myself into some strict bondage and struggling to get free!&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;I lived in a small apartment complex on the edge of town. Being on the outskirts meant I was able to get a place on my own, finally! After college I got a nice job and was making some decent money, sure I was mostly paying my college loans, but I could afford to have my own apartment. After having roommates all through college, this was my first time really living on my own. So, I was able to get dressed whenever I wanted, which was just about any time I was home!&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Institutionalised 2: Caught!</title><link>/stories/2017/10/07/institutionalised-2-caught/</link><pubDate>Sat, 07 Oct 2017 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2017/10/07/institutionalised-2-caught/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;story continued from &lt;a href="institutionalised.html"&gt;part one&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Part 2: Caught!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Yep, all right, I’d seen enough, this was probably none of my business – although it did immediately cross my mind that it might make quite a story. I had to get the hell out, but at that precise moment the doctor turned, saw me, and shouted.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;“Shit, shit, get her, get her.” I recognised the voice immediately and that delayed me in turning on my heels as the two nurses leapt after me, the “patient” getting up from the bed clumsily. I was wearing the sandals, which didn’t give me good grip, and I had stupidly closed the two locked doors behind me. I approached the first, fumbling with the combination when the first, and then the second nurse grabbed and pulled me back. Shit! We fell over in a confusion of squeaking rubber bodies, arms and legs flailing. The “patient” then arrived and they turned me over on my front, my arms trapped underneath me. I realised immediately that three against one was not a fair fight, and I was buggered. I struggled but to no avail. Then I saw the doctor approach and throw a bundle of rubber on the floor beside by squirming body.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Cell Zero</title><link>/stories/2017/08/15/cell-zero/</link><pubDate>Tue, 15 Aug 2017 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2017/08/15/cell-zero/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;It would’ve been a bit too obvious to place the cell door at the end of a long hallway. Blueprints had originally called for heavy doors and extra security along the hallway - tripwires, security cameras, sensors, and more. They had been all thrown out. There was no need for such excessive force. Such measures mere enticed a breakout and added mystique.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Cell Zero was hidden in plain sight. It had no label and only a simple nine-digit keypad for entry. As an alternative, an ordinary metal key would do the trick. There was no need for obscene defensive measures when the cell could’ve been mistaken for a broom closet.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Electricity</title><link>/stories/2014/09/08/electricity/</link><pubDate>Mon, 08 Sep 2014 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2014/09/08/electricity/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;Sitting behind her large work station Janet dreamed of her new project, it was almost ready and soon she would be perpetually tormented and teased in her own creation, only the computer and the people using their keyboards at work would be determining how much she would enjoy her predicament, the duration and how much she would be tortured and none of them would even know they were secretly controlling her life of pleasure and pain.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>The Stand</title><link>/stories/2013/10/06/the-stand/</link><pubDate>Sun, 06 Oct 2013 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2013/10/06/the-stand/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;When it first arrived all Stephanie could do was look upon the object and wonder does that thing really work? She’d heard of these things on the Internet, but had never seen one, a real one, up close.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;It didn’t look all that different from a regular mannequin stand. It had a round, flat base surrounding a slightly curved metal pole that rose to just a little above a woman’s crotch. Then end of the stand was a little different from the blunt ends that made up most mannequin stands. This one was slender and terminated in a smooth, rounded tip. Directly behind the stand was a small contact switch that depressed flush into the base, only a few inches from the edge.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Celia's Pet Project</title><link>/stories/2001/09/05/celias-pet-project/</link><pubDate>Wed, 05 Sep 2001 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2001/09/05/celias-pet-project/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;Celia was a lab rat. At least that&amp;rsquo;s what she and the other scientists
and technicians called themselves; the Biotronics Corporation lab rats.
The name probably came from the anonymity and dehumanization that were
byproducts of their uniforms and the enormous size of the Biotronics facility.
Hundreds and hundreds of Biotronics staff milled around like ants, or perhaps
more like rats in a maze. Each looked much like the others, dressed in
his or her unisex white lab coat and scrubs. It was almost difficult to
tell the women from the men. The sterile environment was made even more
Orwellian by the countless stainless steel tables brimming with the equipment
and wires and tubes of science.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>The New House Rules 8</title><link>/stories/1/01/01/the-new-house-rules-8/</link><pubDate>Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/1/01/01/the-new-house-rules-8/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;(story continues from &lt;a href="newhouserules7.html"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The New House Rules 7&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Chapter 8&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Part 8a&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;By the middle of the week, the weather had hit an unseasonably warm spot, so I had agreed to meet the girls for lunch downtown. It is not eating outside weather, but warm enough that we can walk from lunch to an errand that we had been talking about. A very naughty errand.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;My walk up Broad Street challenges that warmer weather assumption. I pull my jacket closer to my neck every building awning I walk under. Then racing quickly to the next ray of sunshine I can find. Two joggers run past. I find myself checking out the girl as much as the guy. She has short shorts with a long sleeve tight shirt and a headband holding her brown hair back. I love fit couples. I resist the urge to turn and watch them run away, keeping my eyes forward.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item></channel></rss>