CHAPTER 1

In The Beginning

My enclosure is made of a two mm thick, stainless steel, moulded from a cast made of my head, limbs and body.

It is called an Immobilization, Discipline and Training Encasement and is impossible to cut off, even if my Owner wishes to free me. Of course, I am powerless to do anything myself to regain my freedom, although at first, I had no desire to be removed from my encasement, but it is the final step of a journey that began with my earliest memories. As long as I can recall, I was totally fascinated by anything that enclosed, or limited and controlled the human body, particularly my own.

I’d always dreamt of what it would feel like to wear a suit of armour, a space suit or a diving suit, and as well, I wondered what the sensations of limitation would be if I was required to wear leg, neck, and back braces. I suppose this too is part of the reason that corsets, girdles, and bras fascinated me, for they were all tight and restricting in some manner or another. As a child I had foolishly but fervently wished I would get Polio and would then have to be put in an Iron Lung, and as a necessity after the fact always have to use leg braces. At the age of nine part of my dream came true when I contracted Spinal Meningitis and at first they didn’t know if I had it or Polio when I heard the doctors discussing it with my parents. I just knew that I had Polio and every time I heard someone coming down the hall, I prayed they were bringing my Iron Lung. No one knew the real reason for the tears I shed when they announced I had Meningitis.

Later in my years of puberty, I used to sneak into my mother’s underwear drawers and put on her corsets, girdles and bras as a way of experimenting with the sensations they evoked and I was the only teenaged boy on the block who did a lot of babysitting, because then I got other chances to try on the underwear of most of the mothers in our neighbourhood. At the time I was growing up, firm and heavily-boned foundation garments were still very common and I loved the feeling of them holding and squeezing my body. I actually made leg braces from my Erector Set and curtain rods and devoured any pictures I could find of braces, armour, diving suits or pilot’s pressure suits. The Sears catalogue became my favourite reading material, thanks to the incredible array of foundation garments shown in it.

Of course, this meant that I had strong transvestite inclinations, although I didn’t have any idea what to call them, but I loved to dress in the restrictive underwear that women accepted as a normal part of their everyday lives, and that too meant that I could not help but imagine myself as a woman who ‘had’ to wear these garments whenever she dressed. The sight of even false breasts on my chest sent shivers up and down my body and I could only dream of the sensations that a woman felt when she moved, feeling her breasts also move as a part of her. I secretly and desperately wanted to have breasts and to feel a tight bra hold and confine me, but the idea of actuallybecoming a woman was an impossible dream back in the 50's. That didn’t stop me from wishing though. My ultimate dream was to be a female Polio victim and be kept in an Iron Lung at night, while during the day, I’d have to wear leg and body braces. At the time, I’d never heard the word transvestite and thought I was the only person in the world who’d ever thought such things.

I also found myself fascinated by another sensation I didn’t have a name for. I liked to have my genitals trapped and inaccessible, usually under a tight panty girdle, and so over the years, bought several and would wear two or three at a time to get the tightness and security I desired. To enhance this sensation of entrapment and inaccessibility, I bought a small protective athletic cup and wore it under the layered girdles, effectively denying any touching. There wasn’t room for an erection once all the garments were fitted and I was encased, and the feeling was very exciting, even though I was not locked in. Any sort of access for bathroom needs was time consuming and required privacy.

At about 16, I got up the nerve to go into a shop that sold corsets and told them that my mother had insisted I pick one up for her, as she was unable to get out. You can imagine my nervousness, but I’d done my homework and had a note, supposedly from her, giving the style and size ’she’ wanted. I purchased a heavily-boned, front-lacing garment, then once I got it home, found that it fitted me well and so wore it over the panty girdles and underlying cup, adding tautly-gartered stockings as well. I loved the tightness and rigidity of the cor