Trapped inside a psychotic latex bra, you do what any guy in your situation would - scream your head off.
The red latex has bonded smoothly to your skin, the sleek cups of the bra sheer against your pecs. Even the stringy straps over your shoulders are welded so completely to your body you can't pry your fingers under them. As much as you usually have difficulty taking of a girl's bra, this one doesn't even have those annoying clasps to try.
You take some small comfort in the fact you're still very much a guy with a man's chest, no matter what sick contraption you may be wearing.
But then your roommate burst into the room, hunting the source of the scream, and several things happened at once.
Your roommate Ronnie sees your skimpy bra and asks, non-plussed, "What the hell?" You can hear a hint of mocking laughter in his voice.
You don't wait for him to speak, barking over him in panic, "Get it off! Get it off, get it off!!"
The latex, sensing a nearby masculine presence in Ronnie, ignites the lustful spirit you awakened within it the previous night. The latex's surging desire, combined with Ronnie's male libido and the decidedly female function of the bra, compels it to respond with fiercely strong feminine attraction.
In short, you feel your nipples get hard... hard as bullets. And they start to grow.
"Argh," you explain with discomfort, "it's tugging on my chest! Don't just stand there Ronnie, help me! What are you looking at?"
He replies, "Well friend...