I did exactly that today and they felt wonderful. They are the Suprima model 1286. The comfiest plastic pants I wore so far. They are even comfier than our custom ones. And they also look very nice. But thei rustling is slightly less attractive than that from our custom ones.
I will keep them on until I get to bed when I will slip into a very nice shiny PVC jumpsuit.
Plastic Pants humiliation
Re: Plastic Pants humiliation
Tim Raincoat: Consider yourself barraged.
Though if you did then us plastic pant pervs should consider it a challenge to go one step further and wear something like PVC bloomers or latex pants.

Re: Plastic Pants humiliation
Moi aussi j'aime porter mon boxer en Pvc à même la peau. Hmmmm !!rainwearinme wrote: ↑June 7th, 2019, 6:45 pm That is what I like to wear when relaxing ,lovely feeling....
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Re: Plastic Pants humiliation
I first came to wear plastic pants some 20 years ago in my early 60s when under the control of a much younger, assertive man. He first made me wear disposable nappies (Tena maxi) then later added plastic pants for extra security. Part of the humiliation was to make me buy both myself from a large chemist's shop in Wigmore Street London, first the plastic pants, when the male assistant helped me to choose the right size and then ushered me into a cubicle to try them on. Turning to the disposable nappies he asked discreet but very personal questions about my wetting habits to determine the capacity I needed. The nappies came in a large container that was fully open at the top so others in the check-out queue could view the contents, as could passengers on my journey home, when I had to place the bulky uncovered package in front of me for all to see.
Re: Plastic Pants humiliation
Very niceplasticpacamac wrote: ↑May 21st, 2024, 3:04 pm I first came to wear plastic pants some 20 years ago in my early 60s when under the control of a much younger, assertive man. He first made me wear disposable nappies (Tena maxi) then later added plastic pants for extra security. Part of the humiliation was to make me buy both myself from a large chemist's shop in Wigmore Street London, first the plastic pants, when the male assistant helped me to choose the right size and then ushered me into a cubicle to try them on. Turning to the disposable nappies he asked discreet but very personal questions about my wetting habits to determine the capacity I needed. The nappies came in a large container that was fully open at the top so others in the check-out queue could view the contents, as could passengers on my journey home, when I had to place the bulky uncovered package in front of me for all to see.