PART I MUMMIFIED BY THE COLLEGE TEAM HAZED & JOCKNAPPED
Trapped in this infernally tight, body-hugging spandex sleepsack and restrained as I was, I found myself unable to put up a fight or mount any resistance as the jacked-up college hunk named Kyle grabbed my trapped ankles and began slowly wrapping sticky duct tape around them.
The telltale sound of roaring adhesive immediately attracted the attention of the other college hunks, but Kyle merely batted their curious questions away as though taping me up was the next logical step now that they had me sleepsacked from the neck down.
"Dude, we already had him stuck in the spandex prison. You sure we need to tape him up as well?" college-hunk Shawn asked, chuckling rather incredulously at the fact that Kyle was taking it upon himself to further restrain my already-restrained form.
"Yeah, might as well. We got three fuckin' rolls of this stuff lying around." my duct tape-wielding captor casually responded, his face remaining completely stoic even though he obviously got some sort of perverted thrill from pulling the tape taut and wrapping it around my trapped limbs.
The other four guys in the room just stood there and watched. Nobody bothered consulting me and nobody took the time to find out whether I wanted to be mummified or not. In other words, my opinion was not solicited.
"Well, at least we don't need to pallet wrap him." one of the hunkier blokes named Chris pointed out.
I watched as he scratched the back of his head and watched as he finally bent down and grabbed one of the rolls of heavy-duty duct tape from off the floor. As soon as Chris signalled his intent to help Kyle, my fate was sealed and the verdict was decided.
"Alright guys, let's stand him up. You two work on his legs, we'll take care of his upper body." Shawn instructed, causing almost everyone in the room to fall in line and grab some tape. Everyone but one, that is.
Much as had become custom, the four beefier hunks got to work whilst Mike - the biggest guy of the lot, and also the most passive - quietly sat back and watched the spectacle from afar.
As for me, I did my best to keep an unwilling and convincingly frightened façade. Hiding my excitement was a task easier said than done though, especially with my rock-hard boner angrily pushing up against the skintight sleepsack that clung to me from the neck down.
My four tape-wielding captors were the beefiest and brawniest hunks on campus. Each of them weighed well over 200-pounds and had no trouble lifting my scrawny form up off the floor and holding me in an upright position. Several pairs of hands worked laboriously in pulling the uber-wide construction tape around my hopelessly restrained, spandex-covered body.
In a seemingly unprecedented stroke of luck, my repeated attempts to protest my fate and the many half-hearted calls for help I voiced out had for effect of getting on college-heartthrob Joey's nerves, something which eventually resulted in Big Mike's services being called upon.
"Alright, what d'you guys want me to do?" the towering monstrosity-of-a-man asked, getting up from the couch and huffing as though he didn't really feel like helping out or joining the fray.
"Just stand behind him and hold him still. Get him in a headlock or something." came a set of very aggressively-voiced instructions.
The giant man did as he was told, standing his monumental 6ft8 frame up and slowly taking position behind me.
My ankles, thighs, stomach and chest were slowly being swallowed up beneath innumerable layers of sticky tape by that point. And as if that wasn't enough, I now had Big Mike's huge hairy arms wrapping around me and pressing me up against that freakishly broad, frighteningly large torso of his.
With the overgrown goliath-man standing a full two heads taller than me, I could literally do nothing to escape my fate and rapidly found myself in a tight headlock with the back of my skull pressed up against his T-shirt-clad chest.
The gentle giant - that was his nickname in these parts - wasn't nearly as rough or as brutish as his more jockish counterparts. He didn't need to. His size alone was enough to dissuade most, and he was just so insanely huge that he could easily crush me to a pulp or restrain me without even trying!
Raucous laughter once again filled the room up as the sight of my tightly mummified body slowly began taking shape.
I was turned on like you wouldn't believe, and could only imagine the assortment of smelly gags that could potentially end up being forced into my mouth once the taping process reached my face.
Between Kyle, Shawn, Chris, Joey and Big Mike, the possibilities seemed virtually endless.
My absolute favourite gag would've been one of Kyle's socks.
Oh, what I wouldn't give to get a taste of that cocky college-bodybuilder's sweaty old gym socks!
The next socks on my list would've been Chris', followed closely by Joey's.
All three of them were HOT. And I would've just melted at the chance of sucking on something that reeked of their foot sweat.
All things considered though, fishing for a gag right now was definitely risky business.
As receptive as I was to being gagged with something that I secretly enjoyed, the possibility of being gagged with something that I didn't, also weighed heavily on my mind.
Shawn was notorious for his raunchiness, and his bedroom was filled to the brim with putrid socks and fart-infested boxer-briefs. And as for Big Mike...those size 15 socked soles of his oozed a type of fetid stench that didn't sit well with me.
It was to the point where it made me sick to my stomach and made me wanna barf my brains out.
So yeah, fishing for a gag was definitely risky business.
Still, aroused as I was and feeling the need to have my own secret desires quenched and fulfilled, I fought and struggled to break free from Mike's grip, and even went so far as to voice out an embarrassingly loud cry for help.
"No! Uggghhh! Let me go, you fuckers! Help! HEEEEEEELP!" I cried out, purposefully being more virulent in my protests than I would've normally been.
My close friends and those who knew me would've no doubt seen through my illusion and recognised my valiant attempts at fishing for a gag. But even though I wasn't particularly talented in the art of theatrics, Shawn and his gang of testosterone-ridden college brutes didn't know me very well. They took my noisy protests at face value and misconstrued them as genuine attempts to call for help.
"Shhhh! Quiet!" Chris scolded, instantly ordering me to stop protesting.
"Dude! Keep him quiet! Cover his mouth up!" Joey angrily told Mike, who still had me pressed up against his torso and restrained in a tight headlock.
Big Mike seemed reluctant to intervene at first.
He simply lifted a hand up and gave me a light tap on the cheek before telling me to pipe it down.
Now if you claim to know anything about me, you should know that screaming for help and making a scene would've normally been way outside my comfort zone. It still was! But even though it felt out of character and made me feel a little flushed and uneasy, the potential fallout was simply too great to ignore.
I cried out a second time and a third time after that, struggling and grunting in an attempt to make my theatrics seem more genuine.
That's when I finally got what I was after.
My perseverance paid off, and Big Mike's reluctance to get involved took a back seat.
The nearly 7-foot-tall goliath beast-of-a-man acquiesced to popular demand and took things into his own hands.
I watched with wide fearful eyes as an absolutely MASSIVE palm came up over my face and swallowed it whole; covering everything from my chin right up to the bottom of my forehead.
"No! WAIT! HELmmmmmmpph..."
Big Mike kept his hand over my face for a few seconds, but as soon as he released his grip, I opened my mouth up and cried out again; letting him and everyone else know I'd yell and make a scene so long as I was able to.
Finally seeing no alternative than to stop me from alerting the neighbours, the gentle giant clamped his freakishly thick, heavily oversized hand back down and kept it there for the entirety of the twenty-minute-long mummification process.
I was barely getting enough air in to stay conscious during that time.
But as you can probably imagine, I was in my own special heaven by that point.
"Hmmmmpph..."
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Last edited by bondagefreak2 years ago, edited 4 times in total.
PART II MUMMIFIED BY THE COLLEGE TEAM HAZED & JOCKNAPPED
The mummification process continued undelayed and without any additional interruptions from me. NOT from lack of trying, mind you. I tried very hard to make my voice heard, and even went so far as to letting out several deafening screams that would've surely rocked the walls of the apartment had Big Mike's hand not been present to stop me.
Much to my continued delight and mounting frustrations though, none of my valiant attempts were making it past his hand or having any sort of noticeable effect.
Big Mike's palm was so large that it covered everything from the underside of my chin, right up to the bottom of my eyes. His hands were also extremely thick and fleshy, creating an airtight seal around my face and making it nearly impossible for me to get any air in.
I screamed and yelled, defiant to the very last. But even after my shortness of breath forced me into a sort of comatosed-silence, the colossal goliath-man kept his enormous hand clamped tight. I was to be prevented from alerting the neighbours and could not be trusted to remain silent out of my own accord.
In short, getting a peep out through Big Mike's incredibly oversized palm was nothing short of an impossible feat. But no matter how frustrating and difficult it was for me to get enough air in through my nostrils, I can honestly say, I wouldn't have had it any other way.
The minutes continued ticking by as strong hands and muscular arms busily wrapped me up in the tightest and strictest of duct tape mummies. Whoever was working on my thighs was getting closer and closer to the spandex tent protruding from my crotch.
At first, I felt the duct tape being wrapped around my upper thighs, right underneath my bum cheeks. But as more and more revolutions were spun and the tightening tape prison continued its ascent, so too did the building pressure on my groin; resulting in my dick being pressed up against my lower abdomen.
As soon as the growling adhesive was pulled taut across my round buttocks and over the engorged shaft that was my throbbing erection, I yelped out in surprise and moaned inside Mike's smothering handgag.
The devilish tape came around and around for additional passes.
Each time it came around, my prison grew a little tighter and a little more restrictive.
Slowly, the entire length of my vertically erect boner was crushed up against the warmth of my own body; its protruding outline disappearing beneath the seemingly endless layers of cruelly relentless construction tape.
The unbearable pressure squeezing down around my engorged manhood, the heavy-duty duct tape's aggressive roaring, Mike's suffocatingly undefeatable and heavily oversized handgag, and the knowledge that I'd soon end up trapped and mummified from head to toe, all of it sent me over the top and made my groin tingle with envy.
I screamed inside Mike's stupidly large, disabling hand, struggled against my tightening duct tape prison, and then bucked my hips forward in a desperate attempt to grind against something.
A sudden rush of energy shot up towards my crotch.
My extremities tensed up and my limbs immediately hardened.
Then, the inevitable happened.
I came.
An explosion of warm juice fired out of my flaring piss slit, immediately creaming the skin beneath my unreachable navel and making a serious mess of things. The uber sticky duct tape concealed the totality of it, but my strange moans would've been a dead giveaway had one of my captors been paying sufficient attention.
Fortunately for me, none of the guys taping me up seemed to notice that I'd just shot a huge load and creamed myself.
Even if one of them had suspected what had just happened, nobody was comfortable enough to bring it up or even make fun about it. And as for me, well...I was more than happy to leave it at that.
By the time the five brutes were done wrapping me up from the neck down, I was feeling both sleepy and exhausted from the accidental release I'd just had. Additionally, drawing laboured sniffs through Big Mike's incredibly large and suffocatingly fat handgag was proving increasingly tiresome.
My closely-shaved crotch was all wet and sticky, but for the first time in what seemed like forever, my dick was flaccid and my body felt all squishy.
My appetite for the over-the-top extreme mummification I was being subjected to pretty much died out the instant I'd finished creaming myself.
I'd read stories about men who can go on and on; repeatedly shooting load after load...without any sort of pause or significant cooldown time. Whether or not those tall tales were true or simply gross exaggerations, I knew not. What I do know, however, is that I most definitely did not fit into that supposedly select group of men.
When I shot a load or creamed myself, my normal instincts were to curl up and sleep like a baby.
The ejaculatory process took so much energy out of me that I couldn't possibly bring myself to contemplate anything even remotely kinky. At least, not for a good half-hour or so.
Unfortunately for me though, that didn't change the fact that my captors were bent on keeping me mummified whether or not it met my approval.
Big Mike and the burly college cabal eventually lowered me to the floor. Much to their imminent satisfaction and surprise, no mouthy complaints or loud protests came out of my mouth when the handgag was pulled off. I was too tired to make a scene and too clunked out to try alerting the neighbours.
The tape mummification was tight. Real fuckin' tight!
These guys had obviously done this before, and it was sort of apparent that they got a special thrill out of doing it.
All in all, a far better mummification than the lousy ones I normally found myself stumbling across on YouTube.
College-hunk Kyle was the one who took the initiative to sit next to my head and start taping my face up.
I whimpered a little and expected him to just plaster the sticky stuff over my mouth and wrap it around my head a dozen times. But the stoic muscle-jock had something completely different in mind, and actually went through the much more arduous process of ripping medium-sized strips of tape from off his roll and then plastering them onto my head...much like you would go about applying papier-mâché to a sculpture.
Shawn, Big Mike, Joey and Chris simply plopped down on the large living room sofa and looked on as my head slowly disappeared beneath a sea of fibrous duct tape.
The sight of Kyle's gorgeous face, and the sound of the aggressive duct tape being torn off his roll made short work of that mandatory cooldown time I was previously telling you about. Less than fifteen minutes had gone by since I'd emptied my balls out, and already I was back to being both hard and horny.
It took the twenty-year-old muscle god quite a while to tape my head up. But after a good three dozen strips or so, the majority of my head was trapped in a silvery cocoon, leaving only my face left to suffer a similar fate.
My forehead was taped up. Then my cheeks, my chin and my brow followed suit.
No smile or glimmer of sympathy lit my cocky captor's face up.
A wide strip of tape was placed across the bridge of my nose and then patted down onto my right and left cheeks. Another strip was added, and then another and another; each strip further contributing to making my facial restraint more restrictive.
Kyle even went so far as to plaster several thin strips over my hairless upper lip, right where my moustache - if I actually had one - would've been.
My nostrils were of course left unclogged and free of tape.
But aside from that, the only bits of skin left for hunky Kyle to tape up were my eyes and my lips.
The hot bodybuilder's reasons for taping my face in this fashion quickly became apparent when he reached for the gear-filled duffle bag sitting next to me and grabbed the inflatable plug gag that had been used during my initial capture.
He was going to slip the dreaded bulb in through the hole he'd left over my lips! And then he was gonna buckle it behind my head and inflate the damnable thing; something which didn't sit well with me at all!
As soon as the dreadful plug gag came into sight, I struggled against my unbreakable body-encompassing restraint and let out a disappointed groan of frustration.
Fortunately for me, Alpha-hunk Shawn was quick to step in and intervene on my behalf.
"Nah bro, don't use that. Let's give the little fucker somethin' special to suck on." he told Kyle, eyeing his younger counterpart and hinting at the fact that there were better gags to be used.
Kyle acquiesced to the slightly older and more heavily-build hunk.
He looked at me, and then tossed the rubber gag contraption back into the gear-filled duffle bag.
"Yo Mike!" Shawn's baritone voice suddenly boomed. "This little faggot ass bitch needs a gag. Wanna have one o' your socks laundered?" he laughed, using foul language to belittle me, whilst at the same time quickly diverting his eyes my way and flashing me a discreet wink.
As ecstatic as I was about Shawn having just saved me from the much-dreaded plug gag, I was now utterly TERRIFIED at the prospect of being made to suck on one of Big Mike's nauseating ankle socks!
"Mmnnnooooo!" I cried out, drawing instant laughs from everyone in the room.
I didn't wanna have ANYTHING to do with Big Mike's positively ginormous disease-ridden socks!
Much to my continued chagrin though, that was no longer my call to make.
SHALL I CONTINUE? LET ME KNOW IN THE COMMENTS! NEED A MIMIMUM OF TEN REPLIES TO CONTINUE
As soon as the growling adhesive was pulled taut across my round buttocks and over the engorged shaft that was my throbbing erection, I yelped out in surprise and moaned inside Mike's smothering handgag.
The devilish tape came around and around for additional passes.
Each time it came around, my prison grew a little tighter and a little more restrictive.
Slowly, the entire length of my vertically erect boner was crushed up against the warmth of my own body; its protruding outline disappearing beneath the seemingly endless layers of cruelly relentless construction tape.
Let me just say...I so identified with this poor sap, that I experienced a similar reaction when reading about his mummification!
Yes continue!! I like seeing Kyle taking a more active role in this. And thank you Shawn for saving the narrator from the plug gag! If Big Mike doesn't want a washing machine, I'm sure Shawn sure could use one for once in his life
At first I thought this was a republished excerpt from B&G but I was very happily surprised to see that it is a new story involving the college crew!
And of course you should continue, do you really need to ask?
Do these guys rent out their services? They could make a bundle as riggers for hire. They'd certainly be on my favored contact list. A bunch of studly testosterone factories who are skilled with tape and enjoy what they do? Christmas isn't for a month and a half!
PART III MUMMIFIED BY THE COLLEGE TEAM HAZED & JOCKNAPPED
"Mnooo. Noooo!" I yelled, struggling to articulate through the stupidly restrictive mouth-hole muscle-hunk Kyle had granted my face. The tape prison he'd plastered onto my head was real tight and effective, and even though my lips hadn't been covered yet, the fact that my jaw, chin and cheeks were all taped up made talking and articulating nearly impossible.
The super buff social-media mogul surprised me once more, this time by reigning supreme over my mummified form and clamping one of his surprisingly large hands on top of my protesting mouth-hole.
"Shhh. Quiet!" he growled, smothering me up and using his meaty palm and fingers to cover my face.
Normally, I would've been more than happy to comply with the hunky man's instructions.
But the circumstances surrounding my current predicament didn't allow me the luxury of enjoying this state of imposed silence. In other words, I was NOT okay with the prospect of being silenced with one of Big Mike's socks!
Don't get me wrong, Big Mike was such a charming and easy-going guy. He was known around these parts as "the Gentle Giant", and for good reason! His socks, however, smelled particularly foul and oozed out a type of fetid stench that stank of boiled eggs and rotten corn. The odour was highly unpleasant, to say the least. And even scarier was the fact that the cotton bundles currently stretched taut across his oversized soles smelled strong to the point of stinking up the entire apartment.
I felt so bad for the guy. He was a towering oaf if ever there was one, but next to his more jockish counterparts, he was a sheep among wolves. Embarrassment and shame were written all over his face. On one side, he had his raucous roommates, laughing and cheering for one of his socks to be used as a gag. And on the other, some mummified kid he hardly even knew was screaming and panicking at the idea of being gagged with one of his stink-bombs.
Big Mike and the gang spent the next few minutes arguing back and forth about his socks and their potential use as gags for my mouth.
Shawn, Chris, Joey and Kyle all seemed to think it was a great idea.
Big Mike, on the other hand, did not.
The five of them argued about it until Mike naively tried peddling the idea that his socks had recently been washed and didn't need another cleaning. That they'd been washed recently, that much could've been true. But arguing that they didn't need the desperate cleaning everyone else claimed they did, was a mind-blowingly ridiculous statement, to say the least.
As you can probably imagine, the entire living room lit up and roared with uncontrollable laughter as the freakishly tall man's indefensible words left his mouth. Big Mike wasn't fooling anyone. His socks smelled like shit, and virtually everyone within a 5-meter radius of him could smell them.
"Don't need to be washed?! Dude! Your socks fuckin' REEK!" Chris immediately cried out, much to poor Mike's continued embarrassment.
"Alright, then if they're as clean and as rosy as you claim them to be, I'm sure blondie-boy over here won't mind scooting closer to them." Shawn chuckled, squatting down towards the other mummy in the room - my friend Josh who'd been captured about an hour ago - before pushing the helpless lad closer towards the L-shaped couch Big Mike was sitting on.
Joshua's trapped body was pushed several meters across the floor, right until his fully mummified head was left resting only a few inches from Big Mike's comfortably crossed size 15 socked soles. In other words, easily within reaching distance of the huge man's ginormous toes.
The room went eerily silent for a few seconds, but Shawn and the gang didn't have to wait long for the panicked protests to start spewing out from their mummified prisoner's hopelessly gagged mouth.
The foul-smelling jockstrap that had been forcibly stuffed into my now-mummified friend's protesting yapper did an incredible job at keeping his loud screams at bay. But even with that smelly cloth stuffing his mouth, and even with the innumerable layers of tape covering my ears, the intensity of Joshua's cries and the sheer urgency of his screams was enough to frighten the living daylights out of me!
As soon as the captive lad's screams hit my ears, I puppy-eyed hot-stuff Kyle and mewled pathetically under his hand.
I was so extremely turned off and horrified by the bizarre stench that permeated the air around Mike's socks, that had my current captor's hand not been in place to keep me quiet, I would've immediately broken down into a pleading mess and BEGGED him to step-in in my favour.
As much as it would've shamed me to grovel and plead in front of all these hunky jocks, I simply was not up to the task of having to suck on one of Big Mike's pungent stink-bombs.
Fortunately for me, the public humiliation I was so ready to put myself through never happened. The huge, muscle-bound jock-god kept his beefy hand clamped real tight over my face, stopping any of my pleas from spilling out and silencing me before I could embarrass myself in front of the entire college cabal.
Big Mike and his more rowdy friends went on and on, arguing about his socks and throwing pointless jabs at each other.
Of course, it was all in good fun. But even though the victim of those jabs was visibly uneasy and embarrassed at the realisation that his feet stank and that his socks reeked of death, I couldn't help but notice that he made virtually no effort to move his soles away or put some distance between them and the heavily-tapegagged prisoner lying helplessly right next to them.
My mummified friend just lay there, forced to endure the fumes coming out of Big Mike's nauseating socks, and desperately trying to call for help through the pube-infested jockstrap our captors had filled his speech-capable cavity with.
I quite literally fell off my figurative seat when muscle-hunk Joey - possibly the most decisive of the guys - finally chimed in and volunteered to supply me with another alternative.
"Alright, since Mike doesn't wanna help out, let's just gag this fucker with one of my socks instead." he casually spoke, reaching down towards his left foot and pulling his giant white running shoe off.
I was a little bit too far to get a whiff of his sneaker, but the big black tube sock currently adorning his left foot looked seriously wet and incredibly sweaty.
Joey peeled the sock off of his thick hairy leg, and in doing so, granted me an unobstructed view of his large foot and the innumerable cotton fuzz-balls that lined the moist skin in between his plump toes.
Without even stopping to see if I agreed, the heavily-muscled, dark-haired Alpha-stud tossed his sweaty sock over to where I was positioned, allowing his hunky mate Kyle to snatch it up and hover it over my face.
Kyle didn't say anything. He just held the sock in one hand, looked at me, and naively expected me to surrender my mouth up and accept his buddy's cheese-ridden sweat ball.
The sock was indeed very wet and sweaty, but in Joey's defence, it didn't smell nearly as toxic as Big Mike's puke-inducing stink-bombs.
Much like Kyle, Joey had that "clean guy" look. Unlike the other hunks in the room, he didn't look like the type who'd wear the same underwear for days on end or go weeks without getting his socks laundered.
The fact that his white running shoes were in a somewhat better shape than everyone else's and that a faint aroma of expensive cologne seemed to trail his every movement, heavily contributed to the "clean guy" image I associated him with. In other words, Joey was suaver and more sophisticated. He was every chick's dream man, and the sock he'd peeled off his foot didn't reek of foul cheese nearly as much as those of his less hygienic roomies.
All in all, I was actually relieved to be assigned to his sock rather than Mike's.
"Dude. I think your sock is too big." Kyle finally spoke, seemingly abandoning the idea of stuffing the older Alpha's sock in my mouth.
Kyle was right, of course.
Joey's sock was indeed very large and thick.
Fortunately for Kyle, however, the apartment's overly muscular, hairy-chested Alpha-Boss was once again ready to swoop in and provide his assistance.
"Nah, don't worry, bro. Pass the sock, I'll show you how it's done." Shawn somewhat cockily instructed, picking the back of my head up with one hand and grabbing Joey's big sweaty sock up with the other.
Shawn wasn't only the leader of these brutes, but he was also the brawniest and least patient of them all. So it came as no surprise to anyone that he didn't show any interest in negotiating my surrender or hammering down a peaceful agreement with me.
"Pinch his nostrils shut." he told Kyle, causing the more athletic hunk to clog my nose up and cut off my breathing.
I, of course, moaned in strong disapproval.
But much as you'd expect, Shawn was quick to shut me up and force me back into a state of compliance.
"Open up!" came the burly blond brute's bark, leaving absolutely no room for debate.
My lips parted open as wide as the restrictive tape prison would allow. And as soon as my gaping maw presented a wide enough opening, Shawn's brutish fingers went into attack mode and Joey's bacteria-ridden tube sock began invading my orifice.
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Last edited by bondagefreak2 years ago, edited 1 time in total.
God I love seeing the mummies associated with these stories, they always look so smooth, clean, and completely helpless
Would love to keep reading this one!
Holy crap yes please continue! Your description of the mummification is not only spot on accurate, but it brings me back to when I was last mummified... Years ago.
Wow.
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