I found it difficult to distinguish between the pumping music and the thunderous pounding in my chest. My spine tingled with exhilaration and anticipation. I wasn’t exactly sure what made me feel so nervous. I’d attended many fetish events in the past. Folsom EU, Darklands, and MIR, to name a few. This would surely be along the same lines? I had originally thought this would be the case. I don’t anymore.
I wouldn’t go so far as to say I’m particularly well-travelled. I’ve never flown business class. My passport is pristine and unblemished, with only two visas stamped on its pages. Saying that, I continue to be intensely lucky to attend some of the biggest and best fetish events around the world. To say these events haven’t had an enormous impact on my life would be a lie. But after journeying the furthest distance I’d ever travelled to come to the Bangkok Fetish Ball, I felt like I’d arrived at something worthy to be labelled as ‘life-changing’.
This thought dawned on me pretty early on this trip. I could tell quite quickly that my perspective on so many things had already shifted. Being a gearhead was often a lonely road, but that’s just a matter of how you look at it.
You might be keen to hear why I came to this conclusion so quickly. I’ve spent the entire flight home thinking about how to define it. It’s a complicated statement and one that takes some context to fully understand. Without laying too heavy into the personal side of my life, 2025 has been one of the most difficult years for me, both in and out of fetish. It’s been a heavy, rough, life-altering year and one that I’ve had to experience mostly alone. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not looking for any sympathy, but just to clarify how strange life can be to throw you a lifeline when you didn’t realise you needed.
It’s obviously worth saying before we continue that you don’t need to visit events to be a kinkster. Whether it’s an enormous event hall or your own bedroom, fetish is fetish.
But if you do happen to find yourself in need of a reminder that the fetish world embodies the two cliche statements both, ‘we’re stronger together’ and ‘it’s a small world’, I’d openly suggest racking up the air-miles on a visit to the Bangkok Fetish Ball.
It’s probably better to rewind a few days and focus on the build-up to the Fetish Ball. How did I find myself halfway across the world, snacking on seaweed-flavoured Pringles, while chilling in the epic bondage playrooms at Red Studio? Simple. I took a chance. I started moving. I said yes.
PRELUDE TO THE TRIP
As I said already, it felt like a lifeline was thrown when I didn’t expect it. I was asked to join a group of exceptionally lovely fetishists (all tagged below) as they travelled from various points across the world to meet in Bangkok during the Fetish Ball. At first, I was apprehensive. It was a long journey, relatively expensive, and during a busy time at work. But sometimes you need to take the chance. In this case, I couldn’t be happier that I did.
After weeks, even months, of prep, I was finally on my way. The aeroplane food was bland and uninspiring, but I suffered through. Knowing that once I’d arrived at my destination, my palette would be saturated with flavour, in more ways than one.
VISITING RED STUDIO
After recovering, somewhat, from jet lag, our loose plan was to visit the For Fun district which housed the For Fun Store, Red Studio and 500 Cafe. Without needing much debate, we headed out into the hot Bangkok morning sun.
We arrived at the end of an unassuming laneway. It felt like a picturesque cul-de-sac in the Bang Phlat district of Bangkok. Some office buildings, shopfronts and restaurants surrounded the narrow street. I found it amusing how passersby had no idea what lay beyond the facades of these quaint buildings. That within was short of a fetish paradise.
We arrived in the early morning for a tour of the incredible space at Red Studio. Standing outside, I psyched myself up for the fetish-filled wonders that lay inside. Outside, a rack of paw-shaped slippers lay neatly on purpose-fitted shelves. Sometimes in life, it’s the simple things. The door opened, and I got my first glimpse of the labyrinth within. A sex maze that I wished I could get lost in. I wanted it to consume me whole.
A friendly face met us at the door, the owner and creator of For Fun, Mr S. His eagerness, excitement and passion for kink is unparalleled, and it felt like he was as excited to tour his own creation as we were to explore it. I had to scoop my jaw off the floor to give a polite introduction.
The ground floor mainly acted as a lobby and reception area for guests. One step in the door, and an enormous bondage bed came into view. Whether its purpose was for decoration or for play, it was just the tip of the kinky iceberg. The decor inside felt like a cyberpunk fever dream. Everything appeared deliberate, curated and deeply perverted. I shuffled my feet firmly against the cold, black tiles before I was handed a pair of black paw slippers. Fun fact I purchased too many of these on the trip.
Against one wall, a massive metal platform jutted out like a stage built for sinners and show-offs. Its edges were wrapped in dazzling LEDs pulsing seductively. A cinematic halo, kinksters travelled halfway across the world just to photograph themselves inside. On the opposite side, a towering black-metal cage dominated the room. It felt like something scavenged from a kinky playroom. I imagined, if it could talk, it probably had many stories to tell.
At the back, tucked beneath a canopy of soft red glow, sat a compact bar area. It’s sleek black counter just as alluring as the cage-like cabinets that surrounded it. It was somewhere to get comfortable before engaging in some sinful behaviour upstairs.
We took the stairs to the second floor, arriving at the main attraction. The Red Room. As the name might suggest, everything was simply black and red. All sharp lines and moody shadows within the dimly lit room, as if designed with luxury and mischief in mind. More black flooring, this time rubber-coated, covered the floor and was glossy enough to reflect the soft red ambient lighting within the room.
Stocked beyond my kinky imagination, the room contained an enormous red leather bed. A ceiling mirror provided the occupants with a lust-filled view of their activities below. A leather sling lay awaiting an eager occupant. A bondage chair of the likes I’d only viewed online was ready for use. A floor-to-ceiling lightbox was switched on to demonstrate that the room was perfect for photos involving rubber. I was eager to test this theory later on.
We crossed the hallway to the white room, a space mainly used for bondage, themed with plenty of wood in mind. It felt like a calmer space in contrast to the Red Room next door, with the gentle austerity of a Japanese design. Everything felt organic, impossibly clean and minimalist. In such a serene space, I imagined being strung up in firm rope bondage, writhing for all I was worth. HEHE!
Following the stairs up further led to the Black Room. It’s purely monochrome theme holding true with a very clean aesthetic in black, grey and white. The room was stocked to the rafters with all kind of perverted delights. Cages, wall mounted restraints, bondage benches, and ceiling winches. Everywhere my eyes landed was pure and utter fetish perfection. I did my best to take in the guided tour, but honestly, my brain was in overdrive. The air-conditioning whirred pleasantly adding to such a domineering and futuristic space.
Across the hallway lay the Green Room. A clinical tiled room mainly used for things that were deemed messy. Compared to the well-stocked nature of the Red and Black Room, there was a simplicity about this space. There was a faint trace of antiseptic cleaner in the air although I knew by the end of our time at Red Studio it would be replaced with sweat, rubber and utter perversion.
With the tour concluded, we stood in the Black Room. Almost waiting for the first person to speak. A friend who’d visited the Red Room prior turned to me with a shit-eating grin. Knowing exactly what I was going to say.
“Fucking pinch me.”
Reluctantly, I thought it best to take my time and not dive into being locked up in a very appealing bondage cage. Although it did take some heavy internal debating. We decided to take a look at the store across the street and grab some lunch before the debauchery would begin later that evening. It took every fibre of my being to tear myself away from this fetishistic paradise.
EXPLORING FOR FUN STORE
We crossed the street, leaving the pleasant air-conditioned playrooms to explore the For Fun store. The first thing which caught my eye was the glowing signage of the flagship shopfront. Almost like a beacon at the end of an epic pilgrimage. The exterior was decorated with a large poster plastered with rubber-clad pups, flapping in the gentle morning breeze. The entrance alone, with its trickling water feature and dark-tinted windows, felt like I’d arrived at a fetish haven.
Once I entered the store, the sweet stench of latex flooded my airways. All of my senses were stimulated at once. Every inch of the space was decorated to look like a passionate gearhead’s extensive wardrobe. I’d seen many photos online, but the reality of the store literally took my breath away. My eyes immediately landed on arrays of rubber headgear, latex suits, plush suits and the drool-worthy heavy, rubber sargophagus. My first instinct beckoned me towards a rack loaded with rubber suits. My hand dug through the array of colours, designs and sizes. While my fetish brain was in overload, I did my best to keep it under control. I could have spent hours, maybe even days, exploring the extensive collection. No doubt my wallet would take a hit if I did!
As it was early hours in the morning, the shop was relatively quiet. This meant the changing room was mostly free, and we all stacked our arms high with different outfits to try on. I picked up a black rubber suit and accessories, which were almost iridescent against the store’s coloured lighting. To the right of the rubber suits, a rack was piled with adorable plush suits in different thicknesses. One in yellow, black and white caught my eye, and a soft tail gently wagged as I removed it from the rack. The changing room was a modest space with a floor-to-ceiling mirror. I had a perfect view of the outfits I would soon don. It was a cunning sales tactic that I’m sure was highly effective.
To my bank balance’s relief, the suit wasn’t an exact fit, so I decided to return it. The plush suit, however, fit snugly against my body. My soft paws caressed the fluffy fabric. Staring at the transformed creature in the mirror, I knew my mind was already made up. It had to be MINE! I took some more time while waiting for friends to extensively explore the store’s collection. Every so often, I’d discover another item which, when fixed in place on my body, would make it extremely hard to return to the shelf. I was starting to suspect my rational brain wasn’t in control anymore.
Without realising it, roughly two hours had passed, and it was now the afternoon. The store became more lively with customers, and my friends were growing hungry, so we decided to head to lunch nearby. It was bittersweet to bid the store farewell. But I knew it wouldn’t be my only visit during this exciting trip.
RETURNING TO RED STUDIO
Having filled our stomachs, before we filled other things. As the evening dawned, we gathered our gear from the hotel and headed back to the Red Studio. Fun fact: near the For Fun store, that’s never a problem with decisions on what to eat. Within a stone’s throw lay the best grilled pork I’d ever eaten. Of course, it’s known in Bangkok, excellence isn’t rare. It’s ambient.
With full access to the entire space, it felt right to christen with a night in full rubber, beer to stock in the fridge, and minds focused on one thing. A fucking terrific time.
With my rubber slicked up, I donned my outfit for the night. Full coverage rubber with a moulded pup hood to complete it all. I headed down to the foyer, where a cold beverage was waiting in a plastic cup. I sipped on the cold liquid, taking in the labyrinth with great excitement.
One by one, our group descended the pulsing LED stairs, each dressed in delicious rubber ensembles. Black rubber was the unspoken dress code for the evening. Our forms reflected the soft LED glow of the lobby’s lighting. Mine, a solid shiny black, reflected a mirror-like shine whenever I moved, laughed or got too excited, which, honestly, was often. Everyone gathered around the back bar, laughing, snapping photos and living in the moment. What struck me right away (as it always did) was how we vibrated off each other.
The highlight came when we decided to explore the playrooms housed above the lobby. Behind the closed door of the Red Room, bodies became entangled on the large leather bed. The outside world became so distant that I almost forgot it existed.
With a shy request to try some of the bondage equipment, my friends were more than eager to help bind me to the extreme bondage chair. My rubber-coated erection firmly pressed against my chest as I bent down to lie against the cold, black leather. Each strap was carefully positioned in place. One by one, I felt each limb restricted until I could barely move. My legs were splayed, not uncomfortably and after some difficult manoeuvring, my head was fixed in place. I wished I could get a glimpse of my bound state. My rubber cock felt like it was near bursting point.
Various hands smoothed across my shiny rubber-coated frame. I could do little to hold back the moans of pleasure as a hand came into contact with my hard cock. Through my horny fever, I heard someone crack a joke that I wouldn’t last long. They were right.
My moans mixed with the sounds of squeaking latex, the shuddering of the bondage bench, the shuffling of my rubberised captors. I felt the impending sense of climax come over me as I was roughly jerked off. Completely stuck in place, I had no choice. I was going to be milked.
With a loud grunt and stars in my eyes, I came. Wearing a sheath meant all the fluids were contained. Otherwise, I worried I’d have shot halfway across the room. Coming down from my intense fetish high, I gazed through the pinholed hood at the group of shiny creatures enjoying my torment. Did I really have to be released?
By the end of the night, my cheeks hurt from smiling, my body exhausted from debauchery. I slipped from my sweaty gear and entered the now quiet lobby downstairs. The strong smell of all things perverted clung in the air. The cascading LED colours shone in my tired eyes.
It had been chaotic, ridiculous, and absolutely perfect.
ENJOYING THE FETISH MARKET
As for the weather in Bangkok, it couldn’t have been better. Mid-20s, scattered clouds and not too humid. I’d heard that there were two seasons in Thailand. Monsoon and non-monsoon. The day held the perfect conditions for outside rubber. I approached the now familiar laneway of the For Fun district. The market unfurled across the narrow street, each stall and banner adding its own vibrant thread packed with an assortment of gear, toys and apparel. Upbeat music poured onto the street, accompanied by the crowd’s ecstatic banter.
I took a moment to take it all in. The attendees wove through the vendors, dressed in puppy outfits, full rubber, casual attire, and, for the additional element of flair, full fursuit. I feel that what elevated the market beyond a typical Folsom, Market Days, or gear swap sale was the simplicity of its scale. Crowds were evenly dispersed. It felt effortless to make conversation with a stranger while browsing the stalls. There was an energy I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Maybe it was the casualness of it all. It was an experience that captured not just the communal element of fetish, but fetish-lifestyle as a feeling: expressive, joyful, and beautifully uncontainable beneath the open Bangkok sky.
Since my return baggage was already hitting capacity, I reluctantly had to tear myself away from purchasing even more gear on the trip. I caved pretty quickly, purchasing a mouth-watering Anubis hood with a price tag I couldn’t possibly say no to. In doing so, I may have influenced a few in our group to do the same.
As afternoon sunlight softened into a golden glow, we re-grouped, drinks in hand, outside the 500 cafe. There was an easy approachability between attendees. We shared compliments, small gestures and discussions about all things life and kink. I sipped through a straw on my fizzy cola pop, enjoying the sense of unity.
THE TIME OF MY LIFE; BANGKOK FETISH BALL
As the trip neared its finality. It was time for the final event of the jam-packed week. We gathered at the entrance to ‘Sin City’, the theme for this year’s Bangkok Fetish Ball. I joined the hordes of individuals who were now labelled as ‘sinners’. I joked that it was a badge of honour we wore loud and proud. At first, an enormous foyer was packed with rubber-clad attendees. Their outfits glistened intensely with the overhead lights of the large, airy space. Jackets, shorts and bags discarded, we revealed our true identities to the world. A simple but extremely powerful message filled the air—’we exist, and nobody can erase us’. My normie clothing was shoved to the bottom of my bag. My pup hood was fixed firmly in place. I was ready for what the night would sling in my rubber-coated face.
The opening to the main event came into view through the sea of shiny critters. It stood erect like a portal ready to transport attendees to a fetish paradise far from the mundane world. As I passed through it, a feeling overcame me. It was hard to pinpoint what it was. Pride? Fear? Love? I contemplated it for a few moments as I gathered among the spectators in the crowded room. The music grew louder, and the masses gyrated to the pulsing beats. I took in the bustling venue, noticing a few familiar faces before a gentle hush fell upon the audience.
An energy pulsed through the crowd as the first act began. Lights flashed intensely as dancers passed through the sea of onlookers, arriving at the centre stage. Their bodies, covered in rubber garments, flowed erotically with the music. Camera crew wizzed in all directions. I joked that this kind of production quality could give Eurovision a run for its money.
With each act’s conclusion, another one began shortly after. The schedule was jam-packed and we were constantly torn between our conversations to gaze, awe-stricken, at pole-dancing routines, singers, performance art pieces, and even sand dancing. Not the best suited when wearing full rubber, but still an extremely enjoyable spectacle.
In between the incredible shows, we danced, drank, and mingled with attendees. The energy in the room was electric, and I couldn’t hold back from joining the hive. We were one. An enormous fetish family from all walks of life, all reaches of the globe, all matters of perversion. And dare I say it, we were sinners. Your mom and dad may not approve, but we weren’t going to let that stop us.
The night drew to a close quicker than I wanted it to. Obviously it felt like a bittersweet ending. Adrenalin coursed through my veins as we gathered outside the main event hall to collect our belongings. Once appropriately dressed for the short walk home, I took one last look at the enormous canvas with the words ‘Sin City’ painted in solid red. I might as well have had the phrase below it tattooed on my body.
‘A night of shine, sin and surrender’
So what are my words of wisdom after all of this? I don’t actually think it’s that profound. It’s actually quite simple. Take the chance when you can. Say yes. Keep moving. Whether it’s across the street or across the world, it’s always there waiting. When the time is right and the situation arises, you may need to take a risk. That is, if you want to.
As I mentioned earlier, with this cluster-fuck of a year, I felt overwhelmingly alone. One positive thing I’ve drawn from the trip is that this isn’t and was never the case. The journey has shown me that there’s a level of intense connectivity within our fetish lives. Once you orgasm to your first obscure porno or purchase that one kinky item, you also receive an amazing gift.
You join a global force.
A distant but interconnected family that’s so weird, so fucked up, so deeply perverted.
It may not be perfect by any means. But it’s yours.
If you’ve got this far, I’d like to mention some huge thank yous. Firstly the father of For Fun, @Mr S RubberForFun who’s built a world-renowned fetish capital in Asia. His energy is infectious, his ideas always breaking the mould when it comes to fetish reality, and his warm, friendly personality was constantly felt throughout the trip.
This journey wouldn’t be the same if not joined by the rag-tag group of rubber critters.
@PupFlowy
@Atomic
@LatePsyd
@RushDela
@PupJunkers
@PupFengdi
@NickleDobie
@Tom
@DunkTheSub
@Reyko
@Texserr
@TaiTang
@Fox_s_hy (extra credit for the amazingphotos)
I assure you, I wasn’t paid by the Bangkok tourist board in writing this (haha) but if it’s even a possibility that you can visit this amazing city, I whole-heartedly recommend it. I’d recommend keeping up to date with the below accounts.
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