I'd read stories about mummification bondage, but reading stories about it and actually experiencing it were two totally different things.
Not to prematurely spill the beans, but none of the experiences or stories I read on tugstories.com could've readied or prepared me for the ordeal my dad ended up putting me through that Saturday morning.
Amused by my frightened and very much surprised expression, my dad lost no time in closing the distance between us and positioning himself squarely behind me.
"Alright, son. I hope you're ready for some serious one on one time with your old man." he spoke, placing his large, powerful hands on both of my shoulders before slowly guiding me towards his bed.
As exited as I normally would've been by the prospect of being solidly taped up, I wasn't in the mood for strict bondage and wasn't entirely keen on letting myself be restrained by my dad.
After all, who the hell wants to be tied up by their own dad?!
As tempting as the thought of wrestling out of his grip and walking out of his room was right now, I was smart enough to know I didn't stand a chance.
My father was a mild-tempered, well-mannered guy.
A real gentleman, by today's standards.
However, between his twenty five years of working manual labor and his three-days-a-week weightlifting routine, the man was no slouch.
Quite the opposite in fact, his body was hardened, time proven and pretty damned buff!
Had it not been for his greying beard and some slight facial wrinkles, he could've passed for a guy substantially younger than his age.
In fact, dad was quite the lady's man and regularly brought home attractive babes in their 30s and late 20s.
The strong grip he applied to my shoulders as he guided me towards his bed, served as a sort of reminder about how wrong I'd previously been to assume that I could successfully tackle the buff 47-year-old and come out victorious.
A few months back, during a family gathering with my cousins and uncles, I'd challenged my dad to an impromptu wrestling match by jumping on him and attempting to prove myself in front of my older cousins.
All those beers we'd been drinking must've gone to my head.
I was very much in my prime, and had a very lithe, athletic build.
But in no way, shape or form was I equipped to take on a man who's biceps were thrice the size of my own and who's thighs were as thick as my waist!
In less than five puny seconds, I was lying face down on the grass, with my father's much heavier, much broader muscle-bound body sitting on top of me.
What could I have possibly been thinking? Me and my scrawny 140 pound swimmer's build, taking on my 240 pound dad.
For the sake of adding insult to injury, the man of the house then trapped me in a powerful headlock and proceeded to humiliate me in front of the whole family by giving me a good old knuckle-rubbing right on the head.
I was no match for him and we both knew it.
And even though he was soft spoken and relatively easy going, I knew him well enough to know there was no backing out of something once he'd made up his mind. With him, it was always his way or the highway.
"Dad, we're not seriously going through with this are we?" I asked, looking on incredulously at the huge roll of pallet wrap and the jumbo rolls of duct tape that awaited me.
"Yes we are, son. You've been itching for something like this for a long time now."
"But I...." I quickly started objecting.
"No buts!" my father snapped, spinning me around so that I was facing him and lifting a finger up to my face. "Now you take your clothes off and you do what I say."
"What!? Daaaaad! C'mon...you can't be serious?!" I immediately complained.
"Enough. I don't wanna hear it. Now strip down to your undies, or I'll take your clothes off by force." he insisted, causing me to grumble in protest and slowly peel my t-shirt and basketball shorts off.
"Now you put your arms down to your sides, and you stand up straight." he continued, wrapping his huge, powerful hands around my scrawny upper arms to make sure I was standing tall and straight.
A pair of folded up washcloths were wedged in between my joints; one in between my ankles and one in between my knees.
I watched as the beefy man picked up the heavy-looking roll of industrial grade pallet wrap, and couldn't help but gulp in apprehension as he approached my position.
*gulp*
Then the wrapping began.
TO BE CONTINUED.
STOP!
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Last edited by bondagefreak3 years ago, edited 2 times in total.
As soon as the stretchy, transparent pallet wrap touched my skin and began trapping my lower legs together, something terrible happened and I quickly began to feel an uncontrollable tingling sensation building up inside my groin.
Keeping my legs together and my arms down to my sides, I looked down in horror at the sight of my thin, loose-fitting boxer shorts slowly tenting up in front of me.
No. No! NO!
This couldn't be happening, I silently cried out.
I closed my eyes and tried thinking of non-horny stuff in the hopes that my growing erection would subside, but the sound of the sticky pallet wrap going around my limbs and the sensation of my prison getting tighter and tighter overrode the non-kinky images I tried flooding my mind with.
By the time the stupid pallet wrap reached my lower thighs, my underwear-clad erection was jutting forward by a good five inches.
It was trapped in the left leg slot, creating a rather large tent and causing the thin fabric to ride up my thigh.
I was somehow hoping my dad wouldn't notice, but how the hell was that possible with my underwear-clad shaft sticking out like a sore thumb in front of me?
"Well, someone's sure happy with this turn of events!" the blue-eyed construction worker eventually chuckled, causing me to bite my lower lip and look up at the ceiling in utter shame.
The wrapping continued around my thighs, around and around and around.
By the time my dad was done wrapping my legs up, I didn't have much balance left and had to rely almost exclusively on him to keep from falling over.
Fortunately for me, my dad was the overprotective type.
It also helped that I was his only child and that we'd been living alone since I was a kid.
His overprotectiveness was sometimes real annoying, but in this instance, I was actually thankful for it.
Any neglect on his part could result in me losing my balance and hitting my head on something before crashing down to the floor.
Having already lost the love of his life in a freak accident, dad would've never forgiven himself if something would've happened to me.
I was his baby boy, which also explained his apparent willingness to accept and indulge these strange obsessions of mine.
"Arms down. Hands flat on your thighs." came the hardened man's stern commands as he knelt down in front of me and plastered the pallet wrap over my hands and upper thighs.
Eight revolutions later, and my hands, fingers and wrists were stuck to my outer thighs, forcing me into what could only be described as a helpless mummy stance, with my legs trapped together and my arms stuck to my sides.
I dreaded what was to happen next, but imagine my surprise when dad ignored my engorged crotch and skipped right up to my stomach and forearms.
The foot-wide roll of industrial grade pallet wrap roared and squealed as it was pulled around and around my lowers arms and abdomen.
By the time it reached my chest and upper arms, I was REALLY starting to feel trapped and constrained.
My erection throbbed and pulsed uncontrollably inside my loose-fitting boxer shorts.
It's almost as though all the blood was being squeezed out of my body and forced into my dick somehow!
I had never, in all my wildest fantasies, imagined I would ever become this aroused.
Especially in the presence of my own father, no less!
"How does that feel, son?" my dad asked, snapping me out of my thoughts while continuously wrapping more and more stretchy plastic around my already-secured limbs and torso.
"It's...it's too tight." I moaned, attempting and failing to free my arms from the maddeningly restrictive pallet wrap cocoon that was now in the process of swallowing me whole.
"Son. By the time I'm done with you, it's gonna be a whole lot tighter. You're not goin' anywhere, kiddo." came the buff construction worker's stern reply as he pulled the pallet wrap around for another revolution around my amply-mummified chest and shoulders.
I was quite literally beside myself with shame when my father severed the pallet wrap and took a step back to observe his own handiwork.
Everything from my neck down was tightly wrapped up, pressed down and sausaged up in strong layers of stretchy, transparent plastic. Everything except for my crotch, that is.
My dad apparently found my precarious predicament pretty amusing, but I averted his gaze and refrained from acknowledging the throbbing mass over underwear-clad flesh that insisted on standing to attention.
This was my first time being mummified, and the raging hormones inside my 18-year-old body were going stark crazy and forcing me to endure these uncomfortable, strenuously rigid erections!
Dad chuckled at my demise and made fun of me while simultaneously running his warm hands across my body to make sure the pallet wrap was tight and that no loose ends were sticking out.
"You still wanna pretend you're not enjoying this, kiddo?" he smirked, placing a hand on my shoulder and using his other hand to ruffle the top of my head in a semi-playful manner.
I said nothing and just rolled my eyes up into my skull before lowering my gaze down and averting his stare.
The wrapping process soon continued when dad took hold of the pallet wrap and pressed a layer of the stuff onto my already-mummified chest. He was gonna wrap me up again, but this time he was gonna start from my chest and work all the way down.
Unable to defend myself or do anything meaningful to stop the assault, I just stood there and looked on as my captor wrapped five more layers of stretchy plastic around my chest and shoulders, before slowly making his way down towards my abdomen and lower torso.
The cocoon was already extremely tight and completely escape-proof, but still he kept wrapping more and more layers around my scrawny little torso.
I moaned and groaned about the tightness of my restraint, but the authoritarian Alpha-man paid little heed to my complaints and continued wrapping his way down my body, until finally, he reached my no-go zone.
"Sorry, kiddo." came my dad's apologetic words as he pulled the pallet wrap real taut across my butt, and pulled the dreaded plastic film right over my throbbing boner-tent.
My father wanted a perfectly smooth, aesthetically perfect mummy.
Allowing my hard-on to stick out like that was not part of the plan.
Unfortunately for me, my raging erection got caught in the crossfire. And instead of being plastered up to my stomach like I was hoping it would, it got caught in the plastic and ended up being pulled down and trapped the opposite way.
"Mmmppff..." I moaned, closing my eyes tight and curling my toes up as the rock-hard boner in my boxer shorts was forced down again my left thigh.
A second layer of strong pallet wrap reinforced the first layer, then a third, a fourth and a fifth, squishing my butt cheeks together and crushing my stubbornly engorged erection down to my inner left thigh.
The predicament my hard-on now found itself in was extremely uncomfortable and straining.
But I was so ashamed of being aroused in front of my father that I didn't dare openly complain about it or make a scene.
I just tightened my lips together and tried to ignore the fact that my member was now stuck in a downwards position, trapped beneath layers upon layers of heavy duty pallet wrap.
The wrapping continued down my thighs and down my legs, until finally it reached my ankles and my dad stopped.
"There. All tightly sausaged up." my father cheered, placing the giant roll of warehouse packing material down onto the floor and then positioning himself in front of me so that he could inspect his work.
"How's that feel, boy?" he asked, looking down at me from his two-meter-tall vantage point.
"It feels...tight, dad." I answered, wiggling inside my unbreakable plastic prison and causing the cocoon to creak and strain under the stress I was putting it through.
I could move my head, my feet and my toes, but the rest of my body was completely wrapped up and totally immobile.
"You think you can get out of this, kiddo?" my dad asked, placing his hands on both of my shoulders and looking down at me with a cocky smirk on his face.
I gave the unrelenting pallet wrap prison a final test of solidity before letting out a sigh of despair and signaling my surrender.
"No, dad. I can't."
The stupid layers of stretchy plastic wouldn't give. Not even a tiny bit.
Dad's work was totally escape-proof, and worst of all, he'd only just begun.
"You bet you can't!" the cocky man gleefully chuckled, pinching my cheeks hard and grabbing the tip of my nose in a playful, yet slightly condescending fashion.
"Daaad. Stop that!" I complained, causing the muscle-bound brute to laugh and grin at my utter misfortune.
Instead of heeding my protests, my father just smirked and wrapped his fingers around the back of my head before bringing his other hand up and rubbing his hard knuckles into my scalp.
I HATED when he did that!
"No! Daaaaaaad! Cut it out!" I cried, attempting and failing to free my arms from the body-hugging pallet wrap cocoon.
This was infuriating!
But for some reason, my dad's constant laughing and teasing ended up lightening the mood a bit and even caused the beginnings of a smile to pull at the corners of my lips.
"Aww. There we go! There's my boy!" the big man chuckled, planting a kiss on my forehead and ruffling my hair up like he used to back when I was a young lad.
I rolled my eyes up and blushed, but was left with no other option than to just stand there and be ridiculed.
"I'm glad you're having fun, kiddo. You and I are gonna spend some quality time together and we're gonna have a nice, looong talk." my father spoke, his steely blue orbs staring straight down into my slightly apprehensive hazel eyes.
I knew from the tone of his voice that the discussion we'd be having would be of a serious nature, and I genuinely dreaded the fact that I was left with no means of escaping his intrusive questions.
As soon as my dad started speaking again, my eyes darted up to his face and I couldn't help but notice to seriousness of his expression.
"But before we get to that, I'm gonna tape you up real nice and tight. You see those fat rolls of duct tape behind me?" he asked, grabbing hold of my lower face and forcing me to cast my gaze down to the bed.
"Get a good look at them, son. 'Cause when I'm done wrapping you up, you won't be going anywhere. Then we're gonna have a serious conversation with each other. Just you and me. Alright, boy?" my dad announced, speaking in a low, uncharacteristically stern and uncompromising tone of voice.
My eyes gazed over those extra wide rolls of heavy duty duct tape and I immediately nodded my head yes before gulping in fear.
This pallet wrap cocoon was already way tighter and more restrictive than anything I'd ever experienced, and yet here I was, about to be duct taped from head to toe and kept as a hostage for god knows how long!
FUCK!
TO BE CONTINUED.
STOP!
ARE YOU ENJOYING THIS TALE?
ARE YOU LOOKING FORWARD TO PART IV?
DROP ME A NOTE IN THE COMMENTS SECTION!
I'm conflicted. On the one hand, I really want see the long talk between the understanding father and his son who could use some help about self-discovery.
On the other hand, I really hope a good amount of that duct tape goes around the son's mouth, haha.
25-year-old bondage enthusiast who likes cute guys, underwear, and bondage, preferably together.
Dad spent a bit of time fixing me up in an upright position before moving on to the next phase of my encasement.
It took a bit of doing and creative thinking on his part, but after a short bout of trial and error, I was fixed up to the tall weightlifting machine he kept in his bedroom.
The point was to keep me standing up while he worked on duct taping me top to bottom.
After making doubly certain that I ran no risk of tipping over and falling, the man of the house grabbed the first roll of heavy duty duct tape from off his bed, and then slowly made his way back towards me.
I couldn't help but gulp in fear as I laid eyes on the massive roll of tape and recognized the cocky smirk displayed on my father's face.
"You see this, son?" he asked, causing me to squirm nervously inside my pallet wrap prison and nod my head yes.
"This is the stuff I use at work. Stickiest duct tape on the planet." he mumbled, spinning the heavy-looking 120 yard roll of 3-inch-wide duct tape in his hand and allowing me to get a good look at it.
As soon as he grabbed the end of the tape and unleashed it from the roll, an angry, low-pitched growl filled my ears and echoed across the room.
PRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRT!
My acute senses instantly recognized how different this sound was from the cheap, all purpose-grade duct tape I was used to purchasing from the local hardware store. This was a much deeper, much lower-pitched sound.
And it scared the SHIT out of me!
The sight of all those thick, patterned fibers on the adhesive side of the ultra sticky tape, definitely didn't help ease my fears either.
Add to that the fact that the rolls my dad used for work were TWICE as big and almost TWICE as wide as the regular "heavy duty" stuff!
I trusted my dad and felt safe under his care. But considering the duct tape he was using and considering how absolutely ballistic he went when he needed to restrain someone, I was understandably TERRIFIED about being his mummified prisoner.
Trust me. You'd be shitting your pants too had you been the one in my place.
My puny, 140-pound form was already helpless inside the overly-tight pallet wrap prison dad had deemed fit to wrap me up in.
But even so, my brutish captor decided to spend an ENTIRE ROLL of his extra fat, extra wide duct tape on my scrawny, 175 cm tall body.
And that was just the start of it!
Dad must've spent a good half hour pulling the duct tape taut around my ankles and then slowly moving up my body.
The man's thick, calloused hands worked the massive roll of tape a good six or seven times around each spot before moving upwards in an incredibly slow, deliberate manner.
Every layer he applied had to be extra tight.
And every layer that came after it had to be even tighter than the first.
I swear, it felt as though I was being squashed and eaten alive by some giant constrictor worm.
By the time the first 110-meter roll was spent, I was duct taped from my ankles, all the way up to the base of my neck.
My cocoon was tighter and stricter than you could possibly imagine, but that didn't stop my captor from walking up to the bed and grabbing a second roll of the sticky, industrial-grade stuff.
"Daaaad! Nooo..." I complained, immediately earning myself a hard smack on the face.
"Quiet, boy! I don't wanna hear another peep from your mouth." came my dad's stern reply.
I lowered my head down in shame and rubbed my reddened cheek against my left shoulder in an attempt to soothe the slight stinging sensation that lingered where my dad had struck.
The new roll of extra wide, construction-grade duct tape was torn open, and a familiar low-pitched growl instantly filled my ears.
PRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRT!
Dad spent another half hour mummifying my already-mummified body again, this time slapping the silver adhesive over my duct tape-clad collarbone and working his way down towards my torso and legs.
By the time he reached my ankles, I came to realize that I was having trouble breathing in normally.
It wasn't that I couldn't breathe or anything.
Simply that I couldn't expand my lungs to their fullest and was forced to take in significantly smaller, shallower breaths.
Not feeling the need to alarm my father, I simply kept my head down and remained quiet like I was told.
Instead of stopping there and severing the tape like I expecting him to, my stern captor kept wrapping more and more tape around my hopelessly restrained ankles. Then he started slowly going up my calves and up my legs again.
I groaned and squirmed inside my bonds, but aside from my head and toes, I couldn't move any part of my body more than a micron in any direction!
Unbeknownst to my dad, I practically creamed myself when the tape reached my upper thighs and was pulled real tight around them.
My dick pulsed and throbbed angrily, but I couldn't even move a finger or do anything to relieve myself.
Dad reached my chest, his exceptionally broad shoulders and huge, muscular arms bulging fiercely from the effort he was putting into this.
The man finished the second roll of heavy duty, extra wide duct tape, but then grabbed a third roll before plastering more adhesive onto my chest and continuing his upwards ascent towards my lower neck.
By the time he reached my neck, I could tell he was real pleased with himself.
"Not so tough now, eh boi?" he asked, giving me a demeaning pat on the cheek and ruffling my hair up in a playful manner.
I looked down at my torso, squirmed in defiance, and then grimaced at how utterly useless my attempts to escape were.
My dad just grinned and spent a few minutes observing his work and smoothing the tape down.
He massaged my body a little, and then used his hands to get my blood flowing and make sure none of my limbs were going numb.
My breathing felt like it was getting normal again.
My chest couldn't expand to it's full capacity, but my body seemed to be adjusting nicely to the tightness of my father's prison.
The level of ecstasy I was feeling pretty much skyrocketed when the man of the house started wrapping my neck up.
He didn't make it nearly as tight as he did with the rest of my body, but he still wrapped enough tape around it to make my head movements more difficult.
When the extra sticky duct tape reached the tip of my chin, my heart started pounding.
My giant, construction worker dad was mummifying me alive and wrapping his HUGE, super sticky tape around my neck and around my chin and jawline.
Around and around and around the tape went.
I squirmed and moaned, but the sticky silver prison continued it's ascent. Until finally, it reached my bottom lip.
Imagine my surprise when dad stopped right below my lips, severed the tape, and starting patting it down around my neck, chin and jawline.
I was certain he was gonna plaster my mouth shut, but apparently the man had other plans for my yapper.
Instead of resuming where he had left off, my no-nonsense father slapped his fibrous duct tape over my eyebrows and pulled the jumbo roll all the way around my head.
The wide, silver adhesive covered the entirety of my forehead, but still, my captor was not satisfied.
He brought the tape around for another pass, then another and then another one after that.
Pretty soon, he was wrapping tape under my jaw and over the top of my head, closing my jaw shut, while still allowing my lips to remain free and unscathed.
By the time dad was satisfied with his work, my entire head was wrapped up in countless layers of super thick, super sticky industrial duct tape.
Numerous long strands were plastered to the top of my head, and then pulled down against both sides of my neck.
More tape was then wrapped around my head, neck and jawline, until finally, dad had pretty much secured my head into a soft of makeshift posture collar.
I couldn't move my head in direction, and couldn't move my face even a centimeter or two!
Duct tape was then plastered above my eyes, in between my eyes and under my eyes.
My cheeks and my nose received the same treatment, and each fell prey to multiple layers of the sticky stuff.
Save for my eyes, the only portion of my face which retained some amount of freedom were my nostrils and my lips.
Dad unstrung me from his weightlifting machine and scooped me up in his huge, powerful arms before carrying over towards to his bed.
Even as he laid my body down on top of the soft, king sized mattress, I could do nothing by pant through my mouth and wiggle my sock-clad toes around in sheer excitement.
"There we go." the beefy man purred, lowering me down to the bed and pushing the back of my head into his super thick, heavily overfilled down pillow.
"How's that feel, son? You nice and comfy like that?" he asked, climbing up on the memory-foam mattress and crouching down next to my amply mummified head.
"Ysssssh dddddhhd." I answered, speaking through the small opening he'd deemed fit to grant my lips, but finding myself unable to articulate much due to all the tape that was plastered around my jaw, face and cheeks.
"You having trouble talking, eh son?" my dad asked, placing his right hand against the front of my neck and grabbing hold of my heavily taped up jaw.
"Ysssssh dddddhhd." I repeated, trying and failing to articulate better than I had the first time.
My father eyed me down with a smug, condescending smirk before tapping the side of my face and squeezing my duct tape-clad cheeks together.
"Too bad. That hole is MORE than big enough for you to answer my questions, kiddo." he rebuked, tightening his grip around my lower face and pointing his index finger down at me in a stern, fatherly manner.
That was it.
The buff construction worker who had fathered me was now going to turn me inside out and squeeze every little secret out of my miserable body, I knew.
I was his prisoner.
And he was my judge, jury and executioner.
TO BE CONTINUED.
STOP!
ARE YOU ENJOYING THIS TALE?
ARE YOU LOOKING FORWARD TO PART V?
DROP ME A NOTE IN THE COMMENTS SECTION!
Last edited by bondagefreak3 years ago, edited 2 times in total.
Hot! Really like the description of the son describing his excitement at various points of the taping. I am intrigued by the father and how he laboured so hard to encapsulate his son, what he will do next!
This story can be found HERE.
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I like your description of the tightness of the duct tape mummification, including details like that he's now forced to take smaller breaths. If taping up takes up a full hour, I'm wondering how long he's going to stay taped up like that
I'd love to see the running trainers getting involved which you showed earlier on. They'll be excellent tools to extract information from our tightly taped up prisoner.
