The Camping Trip - A work by Bondagefreak m/m
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Harlequinn
- Forum Contributer
- Posts: 39
- Joined: 6 years ago
PLEASEEEEEE put the rest of this story up. It’s one of my favourites!
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bondagefreak
- Honorary Member
- Posts: 5503
- Joined: 6 years ago
- Location: Québec
- Contact:
My god. Had I known this tale was so popular, I would've asked [mention]downlover[/mention] for a copy so that I could revamp it and bring it up to date.
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Harlequinn
- Forum Contributer
- Posts: 39
- Joined: 6 years ago
Wow, many of you have been quite vocal about The Camping Trip and the lack of updates. Rest assured, I will be posting more as soon as I find the time to do so. At the moment, I've been branching off and exploring other venues of bondage, and have been getting into other activities.
That, and thanks to Bondagefreak, I've been writing my own works as of late. Alas, here's another piece from The Camping Trip.
Chapter 3 - Bundled Up
I must've unconsciously been wiggling around in my sleep, 'cause most of my lower body was on the tent floor by the time I woke up.
I tried to get back on the cot, but only ended up sliding further down on the ground.
I couldn't see anything through the small opening above my forehead, but I heard the heavy tent zipper opening and heard my dad and three uncles enter the small nylon dome.
I heard them chuckling as they entered and saw my predicament. Then I felt strong arms lifting me back up onto the cot.
The two electric lights were turned on and suddenly I could see the tent ceiling through the hood openings.
The tent was really cramped with my dad and uncles all huddled up inside, wearing their big down jackets and parkas.
"Whoa, man! That's a monster sleeping bag you're zipped up in, Kyle." Uncle Frank told me.
I felt several hands run across the loft of the bag, pressing various parts of my thick cocoon.
Uncle Joe's big old army bag was really thick and puffy. But my new, red sleeping bag was even thicker and way heavier.
I was zipped up, trapped, with the more restrictive mummy bag keeping me sealed up inside the big red bag my dad hag got me.
"You okay in there, son?" My dad asked, fidgeting around with the cords that kept the hoods shut.
"Let's strap him down to his cot so that he doesn't roll around and fall off again." I heard him tell his brothers, not even giving me time to answer his question.
"What? Daaaad!" I complained.
The sleeping bag hoods were opened up and a puff of cold hair rushed to embrace my face.
It felt really good.
"Yeah, I have some straps in the truck." Uncle Joe said. "I'll be back in a minute." he added, quickly walking out the tent, his big, parka-clothed form barely fitting through the diminutive tent door.
"Dad! No! Come on." I argued.
"Son. That's enough." my dad stated, pointing a big leather-clad finger at my face.
He must've put his thick leather gloves on to keep his hands warm. In fact, all my uncles had their gloves on.
I could tell from the condensation of their breathing that the air was pretty cold right now.
The sound of my dad's big leather glove creaked as he extended his finger and pointed it at me in a scolding fashion.
"You're always complaining and freezing your butt off when you come camping with us, so I'm gonna make sure you stay toasty warm this year. I'm tired of your complaining..." he said.
Uncle Joe came back in the tent and zipped the door shut, sealing all five of us in.
"Here, bro." he said, handing a bunch of thick-looking ratchet straps over to my dad.
"Yeah, this'll do nicely." my dad answered. "Here." he said, handing Frank and Don a pair of ratchet straps each. "Let's buckle him down nice and snug." he instructed.
"Dad! No! Stop it....I'm not a kid anymore. I don't wanna be mmmpphhhh!" I cried out, or rather tried to.
Before I could bring myself to finish my complaint, uncle Joe walked up to me and clamped his hand right over my face.
He was wearing gloves too.
Big, black, leather gloves.
I struggled inside the two super thick bags, but it was no use.
My dad and his two brothers were already holding me down and getting ready to strap me to my cot.
I tried complaining, but quickly found myself unable to open my mouth.
I was small for my age, but my dad and three uncles were big, strong guys...all of them, much bigger and stronger than me.
I was no match for uncle Joe's big gloved hand.
It covered my entire lower face, from my chin up to the bridge of my nose.
With my hands and arms stuck inside the super thick sleeping bag cocoon, I was completely defenseless....unable to stop my dad and uncles from restraining me further.
"Quiet down Kyle. No arguing. This is for your own good." he warned, keeping his big gloved hand clamped tightly over my face.
I moaned and cried out, but was easily muffled by his large hand.
Meanwhile, I felt a series of straps cinch down around me.
"Yeah, keep his mouth covered." my dad mumbled, strapping my feet down to the cot and buckling the ratchet strap up.
My boner was RAGING inside my loose-fitting boxer briefs.
I thought I was gonna shoot my load then and there.
I continued struggling as much as I could, but my efforts quickly came to an end when Uncle Don came up to my upper body and secured a strap right over my neck level.
My body trembled and I nearly reached orgasm when uncle Frank buckled a ratchet strap over my wrists and lower waist...simultaneously restraining my hands down to my sides and pressing my fully erect boner.
I tried lifting my hands up and tried reaching for my member, wanting nothing more than to jerk off right on the spot.
But I couldn't.
Uncle Frank pulled the strap restraining my hands down real tight and buckled it up.
My hands and arms were snuggly trapped and the strap was squashing the thick loft down over my throbbing member.
This was torture.
The worst part of it was, I couldn't complain about it, 'cause that would mean revealing to them that this predicament I was in was actually keeping me aroused.
Less than a minute later, I had a bunch of sturdy straps pinning me down to the cot.
One at my feet, one at my thighs, one around my hands, crotch and lower waist, one around my upper arms and lower chest and the last one above my neck.
I was going nowhere.
All three of my uncles laughed at my predicament.
"Looks like Kyle's gonna be our little bound up prisoner for the night." Frank laughed.
"Yeah, haha." my dad chuckled, pulling each one of my restraints a little tighter and making sure they were all securely buckled up.
"There."
I was so aroused that I almost shot my load when he tightened the strap going over my crotch.
I couldn't stop myself from crying out into my uncle's smelly, leather handgag.
The two sleeping bags I was zipped up in were so thick, that I couldn't even feel the ratchet straps keeping me pinned down.
I just knew they were there 'cause I couldn't move or wiggle around anymore.
I'd always dreamed about being tied up inside a few sleeping bags like this. But these bags were way thicker than the ones I had been fantasizing about. The combined thickness of both bags was nothing short of ridiculous.
By the time Jack, Don and Frank had securely bundled me up, I was screaming and struggling inside the thick bags.
Not because of the restraints, but because of uncle Joe's glove smothering my nose up bad.
"Uggghmmm...mmmmphhh...mmm!" I yelled, trying to fight his merciless grip.
Uncle Joe had big hands.
He probably didn't even realise he was blocking my nostrils with his big leather glove.
I managed to get a few quick whiffs every now and then, but he did a pretty good job at keeping my complaints muffled up.
My nostrils flared inside his thick, creaking leather, but my moans were not making it out past his hand.
In retrospect, I should've probably remained quiet and tried to just calm down and accept my fate.
It would've made things a little easier for me that night.
That, and thanks to Bondagefreak, I've been writing my own works as of late. Alas, here's another piece from The Camping Trip.
Chapter 3 - Bundled Up
I must've unconsciously been wiggling around in my sleep, 'cause most of my lower body was on the tent floor by the time I woke up.
I tried to get back on the cot, but only ended up sliding further down on the ground.
I couldn't see anything through the small opening above my forehead, but I heard the heavy tent zipper opening and heard my dad and three uncles enter the small nylon dome.
I heard them chuckling as they entered and saw my predicament. Then I felt strong arms lifting me back up onto the cot.
The two electric lights were turned on and suddenly I could see the tent ceiling through the hood openings.
The tent was really cramped with my dad and uncles all huddled up inside, wearing their big down jackets and parkas.
"Whoa, man! That's a monster sleeping bag you're zipped up in, Kyle." Uncle Frank told me.
I felt several hands run across the loft of the bag, pressing various parts of my thick cocoon.
Uncle Joe's big old army bag was really thick and puffy. But my new, red sleeping bag was even thicker and way heavier.
I was zipped up, trapped, with the more restrictive mummy bag keeping me sealed up inside the big red bag my dad hag got me.
"You okay in there, son?" My dad asked, fidgeting around with the cords that kept the hoods shut.
"Let's strap him down to his cot so that he doesn't roll around and fall off again." I heard him tell his brothers, not even giving me time to answer his question.
"What? Daaaad!" I complained.
The sleeping bag hoods were opened up and a puff of cold hair rushed to embrace my face.
It felt really good.
"Yeah, I have some straps in the truck." Uncle Joe said. "I'll be back in a minute." he added, quickly walking out the tent, his big, parka-clothed form barely fitting through the diminutive tent door.
"Dad! No! Come on." I argued.
"Son. That's enough." my dad stated, pointing a big leather-clad finger at my face.
He must've put his thick leather gloves on to keep his hands warm. In fact, all my uncles had their gloves on.
I could tell from the condensation of their breathing that the air was pretty cold right now.
The sound of my dad's big leather glove creaked as he extended his finger and pointed it at me in a scolding fashion.
"You're always complaining and freezing your butt off when you come camping with us, so I'm gonna make sure you stay toasty warm this year. I'm tired of your complaining..." he said.
Uncle Joe came back in the tent and zipped the door shut, sealing all five of us in.
"Here, bro." he said, handing a bunch of thick-looking ratchet straps over to my dad.
"Yeah, this'll do nicely." my dad answered. "Here." he said, handing Frank and Don a pair of ratchet straps each. "Let's buckle him down nice and snug." he instructed.
"Dad! No! Stop it....I'm not a kid anymore. I don't wanna be mmmpphhhh!" I cried out, or rather tried to.
Before I could bring myself to finish my complaint, uncle Joe walked up to me and clamped his hand right over my face.
He was wearing gloves too.
Big, black, leather gloves.
I struggled inside the two super thick bags, but it was no use.
My dad and his two brothers were already holding me down and getting ready to strap me to my cot.
I tried complaining, but quickly found myself unable to open my mouth.
I was small for my age, but my dad and three uncles were big, strong guys...all of them, much bigger and stronger than me.
I was no match for uncle Joe's big gloved hand.
It covered my entire lower face, from my chin up to the bridge of my nose.
With my hands and arms stuck inside the super thick sleeping bag cocoon, I was completely defenseless....unable to stop my dad and uncles from restraining me further.
"Quiet down Kyle. No arguing. This is for your own good." he warned, keeping his big gloved hand clamped tightly over my face.
I moaned and cried out, but was easily muffled by his large hand.
Meanwhile, I felt a series of straps cinch down around me.
"Yeah, keep his mouth covered." my dad mumbled, strapping my feet down to the cot and buckling the ratchet strap up.
My boner was RAGING inside my loose-fitting boxer briefs.
I thought I was gonna shoot my load then and there.
I continued struggling as much as I could, but my efforts quickly came to an end when Uncle Don came up to my upper body and secured a strap right over my neck level.
My body trembled and I nearly reached orgasm when uncle Frank buckled a ratchet strap over my wrists and lower waist...simultaneously restraining my hands down to my sides and pressing my fully erect boner.
I tried lifting my hands up and tried reaching for my member, wanting nothing more than to jerk off right on the spot.
But I couldn't.
Uncle Frank pulled the strap restraining my hands down real tight and buckled it up.
My hands and arms were snuggly trapped and the strap was squashing the thick loft down over my throbbing member.
This was torture.
The worst part of it was, I couldn't complain about it, 'cause that would mean revealing to them that this predicament I was in was actually keeping me aroused.
Less than a minute later, I had a bunch of sturdy straps pinning me down to the cot.
One at my feet, one at my thighs, one around my hands, crotch and lower waist, one around my upper arms and lower chest and the last one above my neck.
I was going nowhere.
All three of my uncles laughed at my predicament.
"Looks like Kyle's gonna be our little bound up prisoner for the night." Frank laughed.
"Yeah, haha." my dad chuckled, pulling each one of my restraints a little tighter and making sure they were all securely buckled up.
"There."
I was so aroused that I almost shot my load when he tightened the strap going over my crotch.
I couldn't stop myself from crying out into my uncle's smelly, leather handgag.
The two sleeping bags I was zipped up in were so thick, that I couldn't even feel the ratchet straps keeping me pinned down.
I just knew they were there 'cause I couldn't move or wiggle around anymore.
I'd always dreamed about being tied up inside a few sleeping bags like this. But these bags were way thicker than the ones I had been fantasizing about. The combined thickness of both bags was nothing short of ridiculous.
By the time Jack, Don and Frank had securely bundled me up, I was screaming and struggling inside the thick bags.
Not because of the restraints, but because of uncle Joe's glove smothering my nose up bad.
"Uggghmmm...mmmmphhh...mmm!" I yelled, trying to fight his merciless grip.
Uncle Joe had big hands.
He probably didn't even realise he was blocking my nostrils with his big leather glove.
I managed to get a few quick whiffs every now and then, but he did a pretty good job at keeping my complaints muffled up.
My nostrils flared inside his thick, creaking leather, but my moans were not making it out past his hand.
In retrospect, I should've probably remained quiet and tried to just calm down and accept my fate.
It would've made things a little easier for me that night.
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Harlequinn
- Forum Contributer
- Posts: 39
- Joined: 6 years ago
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Scottstud94
- Centennial Club
- Posts: 186
- Joined: 6 years ago
- Location: Michigan
The next part is where it gets good
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puffalover
- Forum Contributer
- Posts: 57
- Joined: 6 years ago
Hey [mention]downlover[/mention]. Thanks so much for bringing back this awesome story by [mention]bondagefreak[/mention]. I really miss reading all the terrific writing he’d done on the old forum so it’s really great to have this story back. Hope you can post more of it very soon.
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bondagefreak
- Honorary Member
- Posts: 5503
- Joined: 6 years ago
- Location: Québec
- Contact:
Thanks for the comments guys.
I don't remember how many chapters I wrote of this tale, but if the demand is high enough, at some point I may decide to continue and even revamp it a bit (with more pics/details/etc).
[mention]sniffingyoursocks[/mention], [mention]Trainedsub[/mention], [mention]socjuc[/mention], [mention]sock_gagged[/mention], [mention]Tsuhaya[/mention], [mention]lengban[/mention], [mention]handovermouth[/mention], [mention]hotgom[/mention] and a few other of my regular readers might enjoy this tale.
I don't remember how many chapters I wrote of this tale, but if the demand is high enough, at some point I may decide to continue and even revamp it a bit (with more pics/details/etc).
[mention]sniffingyoursocks[/mention], [mention]Trainedsub[/mention], [mention]socjuc[/mention], [mention]sock_gagged[/mention], [mention]Tsuhaya[/mention], [mention]lengban[/mention], [mention]handovermouth[/mention], [mention]hotgom[/mention] and a few other of my regular readers might enjoy this tale.
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Harlequinn
- Forum Contributer
- Posts: 39
- Joined: 6 years ago
I remember the story itself from before, it was super fun to read, was excited to see what'd happen next. A revamp and continue would be neat to see, seeing how much you made Bound and Gagged more fun! Just don't overwork yourself doing so.bondagefreak wrote: ↑5 years ago Thanks for the comments guys.
I don't remember how many chapters I wrote of this tale, but if the demand is high enough, at some point I may decide to continue and even revamp it a bit (with more pics/details/etc).
@sniffingyoursocks, @Trainedsub, @socjuc, @sock_gagged, @Tsuhaya, @lengban, @handovermouth, @hotgom and a few other of my regular readers might enjoy this tale.
Chapter 4 - No Laughing Matter
"Man, he's got quite a bit of fight in him." uncle Don chuckled.
"Well he sure as hell ain't gonna be cold in Joe's old mummy bag." Frank added, using his gloved hands to feel the enormous amount of loft and thickness that surrounded me.
"You should see the bag Jack got him." Uncle Joe told his brother, referring to the super fat, red bag I was trapped in.
"It's fuckin nice and thick." he added.
"Yeah...it sure seems like it." Frank remarked, pressing down against my thick bags.
I tried moaning, but it was no use.
Uncle Joe slipped a big gloved hand under my head and used it to stop me from moving my head away from his smothering hand gag.
"Bro, you got something to shut him up?" he suddenly asked my dad, who was apparently busy looking for something.
"Yeah, that's what I'm looking for." my dad answered.
"UUUHMM!?" I cried out in my uncle's big, leather glove.
"Shhhhh...quiet down, Kyle." Joe told me, rocking my head from side to side while maintaining his big, smothering grip over my face. "That little mouth of yours is gonna get you in trouble, kid."
"Hey Frank." Joe, suddenly called. "I got some duct tape in the truck. Wanna get it for us?" he asked.
"Yeah, no problem." uncle Frank answered, quickly exiting the tent.
"Fuck, I didn't bring any spare socks." My dad cursed, going through his backpack. "Could've shoved one in his mouth."
"Doesn't matter bro, just use the ones on your feet." uncle Don suggested, chuckling mildly.
"Yeah, just shove a sock in his mouth." Joe pitched in, keeping his gloved hand clamped tightly over my face, stopping me from screaming or calling for help.
My dad smirked evilly before sitting down on his cot and slowly unlacing and removing both of his old hiking boots.
"Hmm.....how about that, nephew?" Joe teased, squeezing my face with his gloved hand. "You gonna have fun chewing on one of your dad's smelly socks?"
"UHMMMPHH?!" I cried out, more than a little caught off guard by the cruelty of their plan.
To my horror, my dad was wearing the same old, hole-ridden, black Adidas socks he always wore.
There was NO WAY IN HELL those were going in my mouth.
I wouldn't allow it!
His big, old, dirty work socks probably hadn't been washed in over a month and he wore them every day inside his smelly construction boots.
I wanted to scream after my dad. I wanted to yell at him and ask him what the fuck he thought he was doing.
But all I managed to do was grunt and moan unintelligibly inside my uncle's big, gloved hand.
"Ummmphhh...uuugghmmmph!" I yelled, quickly silenced by the tightening handgag.
"Shhh....Shhh...Shhh. You're not getting out of those sleeping bags, Kyle." uncle Joe told me, ignoring my muffled screams.
"Mmmmm....uuummhhgg....uuggmmmpph." I yelled in defiance.
"Yeah. That's a real nice sleeping bag your dad got you. Real thick and heavy." my uncle continued, visibly enjoying my state of mounting frustration. "My fat, green mummy's gonna make sure you stay all nice and zipped up inside that big red bag of yours." he added.
"Jesus, it stinks in here!" Frank complained, upon entering the tent with a big roll of wide, silver duct tape in hand.
It did stink. My dad's feet and socks were to blame.
"Aww fuck, bro." Uncle Joe muttered, visibly sickened by the potent stench of my dad's cheesy socks filling the tent.
Don didn't say anything, but quickly crinkled his nose in disgust.
My dad chuckled, visibly amused by the reaction from his three brothers. "Guys, c'mon...it's not that bad." he laughed.
"Are you kidding? Fuck....it smells like shit in here!" Frank shot, covering his nose with his own glove and opening the tent door to try and air out the strong stench filling up the dome.
"UMMMmmggh....mmmm....Ugghm!" I screamed, the thought of gagging on one of my dad's putrid old socks literally scaring me to death.
At first, I thought they were just fooling around with me.
But it wasn't long until I realised they were actually seriously thinking of going through with this!
There's NO WAY one of those socks was going in my mouth.
No FUCKIN' way!
I watched my dad sit down on his cot before peeling both of his big, black Adidas crew socks off.
Big balls of black lint fell to the tent floor and even more lint appeared stuck between his big, sweaty toes.
I watched in horror as my dad picked one of his hole-ridden, sweat stained socks off tent floor, turned it inside out and used it to gather the balls of slimy lint stuck between his plump toes.
He cleaned his other foot in a similar fashion, before crumpling up the big, moist sock in his gloved hand and walking up towards me.
My uncles chuckled...but were still visibly sickened by the potency of my dad's rancid foot stench.
My dad was a real macho guy.
He had big, stinky feet and worked with big, heavy boots on his feet every day of the week.
To make things worse, he always wore the same stupid socks and almost never put them in the wash.
One thing that was certain; judging from the strong, rotten-cheesy stink that filled the tent, his socks had not been washed in a really, REALLY long time.
"Any last words before we muzzle you up for the night, son?" he asked.u
Uncle Joe quickly removed his big hand from my mouth so that I could finally speak.
"Mmmpphhh! Dad! What the hell?! This isn't funny anymore! Let me go!" I yelled, struggling inside the two massive sleeping bags.
"You're staying zipped up inside your bag until tomorrow morning, son. That's final." he answered, sternly.
"You can't fuckin' do this! I'm fuckin' sixteen! I'm not a kid anymore! Let me out!!" I grunted furiously.
"Alright son, open up." my dad ordered, his massive, black, jacket-clad form towering over me.
"No. NO!" I cried out, panicking as my big, jacket-clad captors closed in and towered menacingly over my zipped up body.
"Dad. Stop! You're not putting your fuckin' dirty sock in my mouth! Dad...no!" I yelled.
"Open your mouth, son. Nice and wide!" he ordered anew, quickly loosing his temper.
"Dad! NO!! STOP!! You're NOT gagging me with your sock!" I cried out, shaking my head from side to side.
"The sock is going in whether you want to or not. Now open up! I'm NOT telling you again!" he warned.
"You're not doing this. You're not....no...nooo...NO!...HEEELLLP! HELmmmppppphhhh." I screamed, my dad and uncles quickly covering my vulnerable face with their big gloved hands.
"mmhhh...uugghmm...phhfff." I cried out, gagged and smothered by the multiple gloved hands that clamped down over my face, covering everything from my chin to my forehead.
"Man, he's got quite a bit of fight in him." uncle Don chuckled.
"Well he sure as hell ain't gonna be cold in Joe's old mummy bag." Frank added, using his gloved hands to feel the enormous amount of loft and thickness that surrounded me.
"You should see the bag Jack got him." Uncle Joe told his brother, referring to the super fat, red bag I was trapped in.
"It's fuckin nice and thick." he added.
"Yeah...it sure seems like it." Frank remarked, pressing down against my thick bags.
I tried moaning, but it was no use.
Uncle Joe slipped a big gloved hand under my head and used it to stop me from moving my head away from his smothering hand gag.
"Bro, you got something to shut him up?" he suddenly asked my dad, who was apparently busy looking for something.
"Yeah, that's what I'm looking for." my dad answered.
"UUUHMM!?" I cried out in my uncle's big, leather glove.
"Shhhhh...quiet down, Kyle." Joe told me, rocking my head from side to side while maintaining his big, smothering grip over my face. "That little mouth of yours is gonna get you in trouble, kid."
"Hey Frank." Joe, suddenly called. "I got some duct tape in the truck. Wanna get it for us?" he asked.
"Yeah, no problem." uncle Frank answered, quickly exiting the tent.
"Fuck, I didn't bring any spare socks." My dad cursed, going through his backpack. "Could've shoved one in his mouth."
"Doesn't matter bro, just use the ones on your feet." uncle Don suggested, chuckling mildly.
"Yeah, just shove a sock in his mouth." Joe pitched in, keeping his gloved hand clamped tightly over my face, stopping me from screaming or calling for help.
My dad smirked evilly before sitting down on his cot and slowly unlacing and removing both of his old hiking boots.
"Hmm.....how about that, nephew?" Joe teased, squeezing my face with his gloved hand. "You gonna have fun chewing on one of your dad's smelly socks?"
"UHMMMPHH?!" I cried out, more than a little caught off guard by the cruelty of their plan.
To my horror, my dad was wearing the same old, hole-ridden, black Adidas socks he always wore.
There was NO WAY IN HELL those were going in my mouth.
I wouldn't allow it!
His big, old, dirty work socks probably hadn't been washed in over a month and he wore them every day inside his smelly construction boots.
I wanted to scream after my dad. I wanted to yell at him and ask him what the fuck he thought he was doing.
But all I managed to do was grunt and moan unintelligibly inside my uncle's big, gloved hand.
"Ummmphhh...uuugghmmmph!" I yelled, quickly silenced by the tightening handgag.
"Shhh....Shhh...Shhh. You're not getting out of those sleeping bags, Kyle." uncle Joe told me, ignoring my muffled screams.
"Mmmmm....uuummhhgg....uuggmmmpph." I yelled in defiance.
"Yeah. That's a real nice sleeping bag your dad got you. Real thick and heavy." my uncle continued, visibly enjoying my state of mounting frustration. "My fat, green mummy's gonna make sure you stay all nice and zipped up inside that big red bag of yours." he added.
"Jesus, it stinks in here!" Frank complained, upon entering the tent with a big roll of wide, silver duct tape in hand.
It did stink. My dad's feet and socks were to blame.
"Aww fuck, bro." Uncle Joe muttered, visibly sickened by the potent stench of my dad's cheesy socks filling the tent.
Don didn't say anything, but quickly crinkled his nose in disgust.
My dad chuckled, visibly amused by the reaction from his three brothers. "Guys, c'mon...it's not that bad." he laughed.
"Are you kidding? Fuck....it smells like shit in here!" Frank shot, covering his nose with his own glove and opening the tent door to try and air out the strong stench filling up the dome.
"UMMMmmggh....mmmm....Ugghm!" I screamed, the thought of gagging on one of my dad's putrid old socks literally scaring me to death.
At first, I thought they were just fooling around with me.
But it wasn't long until I realised they were actually seriously thinking of going through with this!
There's NO WAY one of those socks was going in my mouth.
No FUCKIN' way!
I watched my dad sit down on his cot before peeling both of his big, black Adidas crew socks off.
Big balls of black lint fell to the tent floor and even more lint appeared stuck between his big, sweaty toes.
I watched in horror as my dad picked one of his hole-ridden, sweat stained socks off tent floor, turned it inside out and used it to gather the balls of slimy lint stuck between his plump toes.
He cleaned his other foot in a similar fashion, before crumpling up the big, moist sock in his gloved hand and walking up towards me.
My uncles chuckled...but were still visibly sickened by the potency of my dad's rancid foot stench.
My dad was a real macho guy.
He had big, stinky feet and worked with big, heavy boots on his feet every day of the week.
To make things worse, he always wore the same stupid socks and almost never put them in the wash.
One thing that was certain; judging from the strong, rotten-cheesy stink that filled the tent, his socks had not been washed in a really, REALLY long time.
"Any last words before we muzzle you up for the night, son?" he asked.u
Uncle Joe quickly removed his big hand from my mouth so that I could finally speak.
"Mmmpphhh! Dad! What the hell?! This isn't funny anymore! Let me go!" I yelled, struggling inside the two massive sleeping bags.
"You're staying zipped up inside your bag until tomorrow morning, son. That's final." he answered, sternly.
"You can't fuckin' do this! I'm fuckin' sixteen! I'm not a kid anymore! Let me out!!" I grunted furiously.
"Alright son, open up." my dad ordered, his massive, black, jacket-clad form towering over me.
"No. NO!" I cried out, panicking as my big, jacket-clad captors closed in and towered menacingly over my zipped up body.
"Dad. Stop! You're not putting your fuckin' dirty sock in my mouth! Dad...no!" I yelled.
"Open your mouth, son. Nice and wide!" he ordered anew, quickly loosing his temper.
"Dad! NO!! STOP!! You're NOT gagging me with your sock!" I cried out, shaking my head from side to side.
"The sock is going in whether you want to or not. Now open up! I'm NOT telling you again!" he warned.
"You're not doing this. You're not....no...nooo...NO!...HEEELLLP! HELmmmppppphhhh." I screamed, my dad and uncles quickly covering my vulnerable face with their big gloved hands.
"mmhhh...uugghmm...phhfff." I cried out, gagged and smothered by the multiple gloved hands that clamped down over my face, covering everything from my chin to my forehead.
After this chapter came a bit of a gap. I'll try to resurrect it if I can, otherwise Bondagefreak will have to take a nice trip down memory lane to reclaim what he has forgotten. That, or rewrite the series.
P.S. Don't ever give access of favorite works to overzealous ex-lovers.
P.S. Don't ever give access of favorite works to overzealous ex-lovers.
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bondagefreak
- Honorary Member
- Posts: 5503
- Joined: 6 years ago
- Location: Québec
- Contact:
[mention]downlover[/mention] Not sure I'm following you. But rest assured, I have zero interest in reworking or rewriting the stories that came to an abrupt halt when the forum crashed last year.
It's nice that some of you saved them and are reposting some lost works, and I'm glad some readers are enjoying the stories, but as far as I'm concerned, these works are forgotten and I have no intention of going back.
If someone wants to pick up, that's great!
But all my writing focus will be going on Bound and Gagged and it's support story, The Bondage Buddies.
It's nice that some of you saved them and are reposting some lost works, and I'm glad some readers are enjoying the stories, but as far as I'm concerned, these works are forgotten and I have no intention of going back.
If someone wants to pick up, that's great!
But all my writing focus will be going on Bound and Gagged and it's support story, The Bondage Buddies.
Last edited by bondagefreak 4 years ago, edited 1 time in total.
I always liked this one a fair bit, the bondage was brutalizing but it was less sexual (M/M sexual doesnt do it for me as much personally). Glad it got brought back from the grave
For my stories I haven't gotten around to posting here: https://gagfan.wordpress.com/
This story is magnificent. You have exceeded yourself, man!
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bondagefreak
- Honorary Member
- Posts: 5503
- Joined: 6 years ago
- Location: Québec
- Contact:
[mention]squirrel[/mention] You should be the one to pick this up. This is so your style !
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Harlequinn
- Forum Contributer
- Posts: 39
- Joined: 6 years ago
Can’t wait for the rest! I remember how great the bare handgagging scenes with the dad were.
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Scottstud94
- Centennial Club
- Posts: 186
- Joined: 6 years ago
- Location: Michigan
I would argue this as a whole was more enjoyable than B&G. Not to take away from B&G, this was just a little more my style of story.
The next gagging scene is amazing!!
The next gagging scene is amazing!!
Nice to see this one got resurrected! I had forgot about it, but remember now that I see the pictures of the brothers. Looking forward to the next chapters 
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bondagefreak
- Honorary Member
- Posts: 5503
- Joined: 6 years ago
- Location: Québec
- Contact:
[mention]Gagfan[/mention], [mention]Harlequinn[/mention], [mention]Scottstud94[/mention]
I'm sorry to hear you guys are enjoying this more than B&G.
I'm not all that surprised and I'm pretty sure I can put my finger each of your reasons why.
Gagfan: The sleeping bag scenes are aren't as detailed and don't come with any photos, but since you're not into sexual themes, it makes sense that you'd prefer the scenes here over most of the ones in B&G.
Harlequinn: I'm pretty sure you have a strong predisposition towards tales that are centered around father/son adventures. This, along with my friend [mention]squirrel[/mention]'s tales are right up your alley.
Scottstud94: I think you were never fully satisfied with the direction B&G took once it hit the early-mid point (chapter 50) and started veering into the romantic-bdsm genre. You would've preferred something more hardcore (much like the scenes in the earlier B&G chapters). More strict bondage, less talk. Am I right?
While I don't have access to this tale and barely remember anything about it, I do still have the three attachment photos that go with this latest chapter.
Hope you guys like these!
RYAN'S DAD, JACK
JACK'S ROTTEN SOCKS
POOR RYAN BEING SMOTHERED UP AND MUZZLED BY HIS DAD AND UNCLES
I'm sorry to hear you guys are enjoying this more than B&G.
I'm not all that surprised and I'm pretty sure I can put my finger each of your reasons why.
Gagfan: The sleeping bag scenes are aren't as detailed and don't come with any photos, but since you're not into sexual themes, it makes sense that you'd prefer the scenes here over most of the ones in B&G.
Harlequinn: I'm pretty sure you have a strong predisposition towards tales that are centered around father/son adventures. This, along with my friend [mention]squirrel[/mention]'s tales are right up your alley.
Scottstud94: I think you were never fully satisfied with the direction B&G took once it hit the early-mid point (chapter 50) and started veering into the romantic-bdsm genre. You would've preferred something more hardcore (much like the scenes in the earlier B&G chapters). More strict bondage, less talk. Am I right?
While I don't have access to this tale and barely remember anything about it, I do still have the three attachment photos that go with this latest chapter.
Hope you guys like these!
RYAN'S DAD, JACK
JACK'S ROTTEN SOCKS
POOR RYAN BEING SMOTHERED UP AND MUZZLED BY HIS DAD AND UNCLES
You do not have the required permissions to view the files attached to this post.
Oh yea the sleeping bag scenes in your current story are much better, I just have to pick and choose a bit more. But since a certain very kind overachiever took the time to create a fetish index that will be much easier now 
For my stories I haven't gotten around to posting here: https://gagfan.wordpress.com/
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Harlequinn
- Forum Contributer
- Posts: 39
- Joined: 6 years ago
Please continue!
-
bondagefreak
- Honorary Member
- Posts: 5503
- Joined: 6 years ago
- Location: Québec
- Contact:
SPECIAL ANNOUNCEMENT
Over a year has gone by since this pre-written story has seen an update, and I still don't have access to the remaining 80% of my story. Having said that, some of you may be happy to know that I plan on rebooting a short version of this tale as a follow-up story to: A DREAM COME TRUE (M/M)
I'll be striving to make the new "The Camping Trip" readable as a standalone story, but would greatly suggest brushing up on it's prequel story beforehand.
Alright, so for all who wished to read the rest, I have some bad news for y'all. I do not seem to have chapters 5 to 11. I'm not sure what happened, and I don't have any time to try to do a deep recover from my last computer. Therefore, I will be posting what I have from 12 onwards.
Chapter 12 - The Cousins
Time went by, but I had no way to make en educated guess about it's rate of passage.
I knew it was early in the morning and I knew I still had many hours left before my dad and uncles got back from their hike.
I dozed off every now and then but couldn't seem to get any lasting sleep.
Words can't quite begin to express the frustration I felt that morning.
I'd been unjustly grounded and left alone, but that wasn't the bad part.
I was utterly and completely helpless inside these ridiculously thick sleeping bags.
I had no way to free or unzip myself. My arms and legs were strapped down tight.
I couldn't even move my head up an inch with the thick ratchet strap pinning my neck down to the cot.
There was a thick strap going over my chest, pinning my upper arms down as well, and another strap keeping my thighs trapped down in a similar fashion.
My body was zipped up and completely strapped down.
I couldn't even scratch the annoying itch I had on my nose.
I was defenceless. No leg or arm movement what-so-ever and no head movement either.
But the worst part of it was the gag.
There was nothing I could do about it. Absolutely nothing.
I was strapped down in here, unable to move at all.
This had really not been a fair fight.
They'd waited until I was completely strapped down, from my ankles up to my neck before gagging me.
My dad and his three brothers were grown men, pretty big and muscular by any standard.
It wouldn't have been a fair fight even against one of them, much less all four.
They'd strapped me down foot to neck, handgagging me the entire time before stuffing a big, filthy sock into my mouth and taping it in.
The sock was soiled and rotten.
It smelled really strong and tasted even worst.
I couldn't speak and I couldn't call for help. My own dad had used his big, putrid sock to shut me up against my will and stop me from crying out.
My mouth was STUFFED.
So here I was...literally gagging on my own dad's cheesy, worn-out sock. And there was NOTHING I could do about it.
I was so angry...so upset.
They had no right to do so this me, no right to restrain me and gag like this!
I thrashed and twisted as hard as I could against the straps.
I was literally roasting inside the super thick red bag my dad had bought me. The fact that they even decided to zip me up inside uncle Joe's old arctic mummy bag made it even worse.
My sleeping bag prison was so thick and lofty that I looked like a huge green worm. Even without the straps I would've had a hard time unzipping myself and getting out.
I yelled and screamed out 'till my lungs burned.
It was no use. My body was pinned down. I couldn't move a muscle, the straps were buckled down real snug.
My loudest yells barely made it out of the sleeping bags and probably didn't even make it out the tent, especially with the constant rustling of leaves outside and the other wilderness noises.
Somebody could walk ten meters past the tent and still not hear my muffled screams. All because of my father's big. stinky sock!
More time went by and just as I was about to doze off again, I heard the unmistakable sound of a car engine approaching the campsite.
That could only mean one thing.
My cousins had arrived.
From the sound of it, they spent a good amount of time unloading the car and setting their tent up.
It took a while for them to find me...even though I was yelling and screaming inside my thick gag.
Finally, I heard the tent zipper being opened up.
"Holy shit." I heard my cousin Nate voice out, obviously surprised by what he was seeing.
"Dude, that's dad's old army bag." Chris said, probably wondering whether or not his dad was the one moaning and struggling inside it. "He told me he was bringing it to keep Kyle warm." he added.
A few minutes when by, but I had a lot of trouble hearing what they were saying.
Apparently, my cousins were having a hard time undoing the draw cords that kept the old military bag's hood shut.
All in all, it wasn't that surprising considering it was my dad who'd knotted the damned hood shut.
After some more fidgeting, they eventually managed to undo the knots and open the hood up, revealing my gagged, sweaty face within.
I whimpered and gave both my cousins a pitiful look, one that demanded my immediate release.
"Holy fuck, dude!" Nate laughed, finding my predicament really funny.
Very typical of uncle Joe's youngest son, I thought. He was such an ass.
Chris, being older and less of a jerk, seemed genuinely perplexed by what he saw.
Nonetheless, a smile quickly appeared on his handsome face.
"What are you doing all tied up in our dad's sleeping bag, Kyle?" he asked.
I tried talking through my generous gag, but only ended up, choking and struggling to stop myself from vomiting.
"Dude, he's inside another huge bag..." Nate remarked, pulling the thick red bag off from over my lower face and bunching it up down beneath my chin.
"Wtf, man. Why are you all strapped down and gagged like that?" Chris asked, perplexed and humoured at the same time.
"Man...look at how thick those bags are!" Nate laughed, running his hands over my sleeping bag cocoon. "I can't believe they actually strapped him down in there."
"He must've done something to piss his dad off..." Chris figured.
"Yeah...he's really strapped down good." Nate remarked, half-absently checking out the unbreakable restraints.
"I'm gonna take his gag off so he can tell us what happened." Chris decided, fidgeting around with the wide duct tape that was wrapped around my face.
Finally, I was gonna have my dad's stupid sock pulled out of my mouth and I'd be able to talk and plead for help, I thought to myself.
"Man, how much duct tape did they use?!" Chris exclaimed, laughing at my predicament.
He didn't know the half of it yet.
After several minutes of careful unwrapping, the duct tape was finally peeled off.
"Holy f*ck!" my older cousin exclaimed, as the multiple layers of black electrical tape covering my mouth came into view.
"Haha! Dude! He's got something real big taped in his mouth!" Nate laughed, visibly amused.
"Yeah, his mouth is STUFFED!" Chris agreed, talking as though I wasn't there. "If they stuffed his mouth up this good and taped his face up so well, I'm betting they really don't want him talking..." he reasoned.
I immediately yelled out and tried pleading for help. No! NO! They weren't gonna leave me like this! They couldn't!
"Muuggh! Mmm! Uuughhhmm...uughm."
"Haha! Dude...I can't believe they did that to him." Nate laughed.
"Seriously...two fuckin' huge sleeping bags..." Chris started. "And that gag."
"You're really screwed, bud." Nate laughed, playfully tapping me on the plastered cheek.
Chris looked around the tent for a minute before bending down and picking something up.
"We better duct tape his mouth back up." he decided, fidgeting with the big roll of duct tape my dad and uncles had left on the tent floor next to my cot.
I squirmed around and tried screaming in my gag, but my deeply muffled yells did little to change my handsome, older cousin's mind.
I spent two whole minutes getting my already-gagged face taped up even more and found myself being sealed up inside my sleeping bag prison once again. My two idiot cousins had worked the hood shut and knotted the draw cords back together.
I wasn't goin' nowhere.
Time went by, but I had no way to make en educated guess about it's rate of passage.
I knew it was early in the morning and I knew I still had many hours left before my dad and uncles got back from their hike.
I dozed off every now and then but couldn't seem to get any lasting sleep.
Words can't quite begin to express the frustration I felt that morning.
I'd been unjustly grounded and left alone, but that wasn't the bad part.
I was utterly and completely helpless inside these ridiculously thick sleeping bags.
I had no way to free or unzip myself. My arms and legs were strapped down tight.
I couldn't even move my head up an inch with the thick ratchet strap pinning my neck down to the cot.
There was a thick strap going over my chest, pinning my upper arms down as well, and another strap keeping my thighs trapped down in a similar fashion.
My body was zipped up and completely strapped down.
I couldn't even scratch the annoying itch I had on my nose.
I was defenceless. No leg or arm movement what-so-ever and no head movement either.
But the worst part of it was the gag.
There was nothing I could do about it. Absolutely nothing.
I was strapped down in here, unable to move at all.
This had really not been a fair fight.
They'd waited until I was completely strapped down, from my ankles up to my neck before gagging me.
My dad and his three brothers were grown men, pretty big and muscular by any standard.
It wouldn't have been a fair fight even against one of them, much less all four.
They'd strapped me down foot to neck, handgagging me the entire time before stuffing a big, filthy sock into my mouth and taping it in.
The sock was soiled and rotten.
It smelled really strong and tasted even worst.
I couldn't speak and I couldn't call for help. My own dad had used his big, putrid sock to shut me up against my will and stop me from crying out.
My mouth was STUFFED.
So here I was...literally gagging on my own dad's cheesy, worn-out sock. And there was NOTHING I could do about it.
I was so angry...so upset.
They had no right to do so this me, no right to restrain me and gag like this!
I thrashed and twisted as hard as I could against the straps.
I was literally roasting inside the super thick red bag my dad had bought me. The fact that they even decided to zip me up inside uncle Joe's old arctic mummy bag made it even worse.
My sleeping bag prison was so thick and lofty that I looked like a huge green worm. Even without the straps I would've had a hard time unzipping myself and getting out.
I yelled and screamed out 'till my lungs burned.
It was no use. My body was pinned down. I couldn't move a muscle, the straps were buckled down real snug.
My loudest yells barely made it out of the sleeping bags and probably didn't even make it out the tent, especially with the constant rustling of leaves outside and the other wilderness noises.
Somebody could walk ten meters past the tent and still not hear my muffled screams. All because of my father's big. stinky sock!
More time went by and just as I was about to doze off again, I heard the unmistakable sound of a car engine approaching the campsite.
That could only mean one thing.
My cousins had arrived.
From the sound of it, they spent a good amount of time unloading the car and setting their tent up.
It took a while for them to find me...even though I was yelling and screaming inside my thick gag.
Finally, I heard the tent zipper being opened up.
"Holy shit." I heard my cousin Nate voice out, obviously surprised by what he was seeing.
"Dude, that's dad's old army bag." Chris said, probably wondering whether or not his dad was the one moaning and struggling inside it. "He told me he was bringing it to keep Kyle warm." he added.
A few minutes when by, but I had a lot of trouble hearing what they were saying.
Apparently, my cousins were having a hard time undoing the draw cords that kept the old military bag's hood shut.
All in all, it wasn't that surprising considering it was my dad who'd knotted the damned hood shut.
After some more fidgeting, they eventually managed to undo the knots and open the hood up, revealing my gagged, sweaty face within.
I whimpered and gave both my cousins a pitiful look, one that demanded my immediate release.
"Holy fuck, dude!" Nate laughed, finding my predicament really funny.
Very typical of uncle Joe's youngest son, I thought. He was such an ass.
Chris, being older and less of a jerk, seemed genuinely perplexed by what he saw.
Nonetheless, a smile quickly appeared on his handsome face.
"What are you doing all tied up in our dad's sleeping bag, Kyle?" he asked.
I tried talking through my generous gag, but only ended up, choking and struggling to stop myself from vomiting.
"Dude, he's inside another huge bag..." Nate remarked, pulling the thick red bag off from over my lower face and bunching it up down beneath my chin.
"Wtf, man. Why are you all strapped down and gagged like that?" Chris asked, perplexed and humoured at the same time.
"Man...look at how thick those bags are!" Nate laughed, running his hands over my sleeping bag cocoon. "I can't believe they actually strapped him down in there."
"He must've done something to piss his dad off..." Chris figured.
"Yeah...he's really strapped down good." Nate remarked, half-absently checking out the unbreakable restraints.
"I'm gonna take his gag off so he can tell us what happened." Chris decided, fidgeting around with the wide duct tape that was wrapped around my face.
Finally, I was gonna have my dad's stupid sock pulled out of my mouth and I'd be able to talk and plead for help, I thought to myself.
"Man, how much duct tape did they use?!" Chris exclaimed, laughing at my predicament.
He didn't know the half of it yet.
After several minutes of careful unwrapping, the duct tape was finally peeled off.
"Holy f*ck!" my older cousin exclaimed, as the multiple layers of black electrical tape covering my mouth came into view.
"Haha! Dude! He's got something real big taped in his mouth!" Nate laughed, visibly amused.
"Yeah, his mouth is STUFFED!" Chris agreed, talking as though I wasn't there. "If they stuffed his mouth up this good and taped his face up so well, I'm betting they really don't want him talking..." he reasoned.
I immediately yelled out and tried pleading for help. No! NO! They weren't gonna leave me like this! They couldn't!
"Muuggh! Mmm! Uuughhhmm...uughm."
"Haha! Dude...I can't believe they did that to him." Nate laughed.
"Seriously...two fuckin' huge sleeping bags..." Chris started. "And that gag."
"You're really screwed, bud." Nate laughed, playfully tapping me on the plastered cheek.
Chris looked around the tent for a minute before bending down and picking something up.
"We better duct tape his mouth back up." he decided, fidgeting with the big roll of duct tape my dad and uncles had left on the tent floor next to my cot.
I squirmed around and tried screaming in my gag, but my deeply muffled yells did little to change my handsome, older cousin's mind.
I spent two whole minutes getting my already-gagged face taped up even more and found myself being sealed up inside my sleeping bag prison once again. My two idiot cousins had worked the hood shut and knotted the draw cords back together.
I wasn't goin' nowhere.