Hogtied Day (m/m, ?/m)

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Beaumains
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Hogtied Day (m/m, ?/m)

Post by Beaumains »

So, dear reader, you might be wondering why I’m writing this. Well, that’s a long story, starting on an innocent Saturday night when Jason, our soccer team’s charismatic captain, tied me up. I had not been in favor of this but had little choice. Like after every lost match, we had voted on who our worst player was. I had lost this time and had to spend a night roped up, our disciplinary method to pressure us to give all and win.

“Good evening,” Jason said when I parked my bike in front of his garage. “Glad you showed up. Sammy lacked the balls last week and stayed for somewhat longer. I doubt he will be a no-show ever again.”

“Thanks, man,” I replied nervously. “You know I detest this, so let’s get it over with.”

Jason smiled uncannily, and we went up to his bedroom, where his rope collection lay ready on the spare mattress. I changed in my short black pajama shorts and a plain white shirt, went to the toilet, and brushed my teeth in front of the bathroom mirror. Here, I watched my fifteen-year-old blue eyes in the mirror, ashamed I was here. Why me? Everyone had played horribly, but I had been responsible for our opponents’ first two goals. Unfair, as our strikers missed several chances, and the other defenders screwed up even worse. Our simple motivational rule had made us promote last year, and now our competitors were almost two years older than us. So Jason almost weekly tied someone up nowadays, and he was getting quite good at it.

I returned to his room and lay down. “I’m tired. Mind going easy on me?”

“Easy? Why? You made the mistakes, not me,” Jason laughed, jumping down on me. He was smaller than me but muscular, and I knew better than fighting him. “Lay on your stomach, legs together, and arms behind your back. You’re getting hogtied tonight.”

My first instinct was to debate Jason as sleeping with my arms behind me sounded awful. Excruciating, and a hogtie would make it even worse. But I kept silent as he restrained me, which as usual, took longer than I hoped. I waited quietly while my limbs became useless, hoping my obedience would ease my life later on. Adrenaline flew through my body as Jason, in his underwear, box tied my arms not very tight with silk-like, non-scraping white rope. He taped my hands into fists, bound my ankles and knees together with the same comfy rope, lifted my ankles up, creating a right angle with the mattress, and fastened them to my arms.

“I made it loose as you were tired. Looks quite snug actually,” Jason smiled, patting my short blond hairs. “You’re eerily quiet tonight, aren’t you? I better keep it that way to get a good night’s sleep.”

I grunted as he blindfolded me with a scarf and pressed a ball of worn, stinky socks in my mouth. My own, I told myself as he secured them with a scarf and tucked me in the blanket. “Good night. Hopefully, I don’t see you here again anytime soon as this joke also costs me my Saturday night.”

I protested in my gag as I was the real victim here but only received a slap on my face and a stern recommendation to stay quiet. We all knew Jason enjoyed this but went along, hoping to play well enough to stay away from his room. Though in hindsight, this had been the first omen of the horrors awaiting me. If I only had known…


I fell asleep eventually, tired as I was, and slept dreamless, except for a puzzling sentence that repeated itself: We Disappear When You Survive The Day.

Then I had no idea what it meant, but it kept rattling around my head. The hogtie woke me, but my blindfold had taken my perception of time, so I had no clue how long I had slept but felt well-rested.

“Wakie-wakie, Mikey!” Jason shouted out of nowhere after some time. He pulled the blanket away, hit my head with his pillow, and began tickling my feet. “You like that? No better way to wake up!”

“Mmmppphhhh,” I cried.

“I bet that’s a no. Will you be more useful on the pitch next week?”

I stayed silent, and my captain accepted this answer and untied me under the sounds of the radio blasting I got you babe. He saved my gag and blindfold for last, let me scold him briefly before sending me to the shower. I got in my green t-shirt of an obscure eighties movie, black sweatpants, and white sneakers. I ate breakfast with Jason and beat him in some videogame, before I stepped on my bike, heading home, where my trouble began.

I pedaled over the main road on my old mountain bike, listening to a local Pennsylvania radio station on my headphones. Swift, as I wore no coat, enjoying the Sunday morning’s serenity while the wind rushed past me. I was not worried or anxious but should have been. It had been too peaceful as two red vans rode drove alongside me, turning to my side of the road. One cut me off, got in front of me, and stopped abruptly. I cursed and squeezed my brakes until I stood still, causing my headphones to sail through the air. Out of the vans, six people appeared covered in shiny red latex, including red boots, red gloves, and a fox mask of red and black leather veiling the upper half of their hooded faces.

I froze. I could not move. I watched the oddly clothed individuals run up to me. I felt how they dragged me off my bike and cooperated when three pulled me to the ground and rolled me on my belly. But, then, with one massive man pushing my chest to the ground with his knees, and another sitting on my legs, I screamed. First insecure, then of the top of my lungs, but not long, as I received a massive red ballgag in my mouth. A blindfold followed while the strangers bound my legs together and box tied my arms faster than the speed of light and stricter than Jason. The noses of my shoes were painfully forced against my wrists, my arms could no longer move, and my jaw ached. I was stuck in another hogtie.

“MMMPPHHH!” I yelled, expecting them to steal my wallet or phone, but this never happened. These were no simple-minded thieves.

“You might survive tomorrow,” a woman said. “Today, you were unsuccessful.”

Without saying anything or even laughing, they entered their vans and drove off with shrieking tires. I lay in fear on the cold asphalt, panicking to the point I struggled breathing. Who were these strangers, and what was going on?

I calmed down as I regained control over my lungs. My body relaxed, accepting the relentless tie until someone would find and free me. I slumbered away, and the mysterious sentence echoed through my mind: We Disappear When You Survive The Day.


I opened my eyes. What was happening? The hard asphalt had turned squishy, the ropes silky, and the gag spongy, almost slimy, and worse, reeking of sweat. I wore no sweatpants and shoes anymore, and something light lay on me, and it this moment, I concluded this was unnatural and broke the laws of physics. Magic? Sorcery? Divine intervention? I did not know, never feeling or hearing anyone while I lay bound. And still today, I have not gotten any closer to an explanation.

Then out of nowhere, “Wakie-wakie, Mikey!”

It was Jason, and he yanked my blanket away, struck my head with his pillow, and tickled my feet until I screamed, my left foot a split second earlier.

“I bet that’s a no. Will you be more useful on the pitch next week?”

Like yesterday, my captor freed me, ending with my blindfold and gag, while I stayed silent, and the radio played I got you babe. “What’s going on? Where am I?”

“You’re in my bedroom. I tied you up last night because you screwed up during yesterday’s match. You remember that, don’t you?”

I laughed this off and took a shower as my mind could not comprehend this. Had those men and women in red been a dream? Yet Jason woke me with those identical words?

I got dressed, had breakfast, left without playing videogames, and biked home on the same road, but an hour earlier. Everything had been a nightmare caused by sleeping hogtied, I thought, passing the place the red vans had ambushed me without problems.

But, this tale is no nightmare but my reality, as I heard a car engine behind me a hundred yards from my house. I turned my head, saw a red van, and rushed home. But alas, the van was faster and touched my bike’s tail, causing me to trip and slide over the asphalt. The pain stiffened my body and brain as four figures in red latex and wearing fox masks approached. They yanked my limbs in position, hogtied me less tight than yesterday, blindfolded me, and gagged me with a humbler red ballgag.

“You might survive tomorrow,” a familiar-sounding woman said. “Today, you were unsuccessful.”

I closed my eyes as the painful abrasions all over my body hurt, especially around the knots. My injuries put me in a deep sleep, again dreamless, apart for We Disappear When You Survive The Day.


I opened my eyes, tasting sweaty socks, feeling soft ropes, and sensing my healed skin. I was identical to yesterday, or was this the exact same day?

“Wakie-wakie, Mikey!” Jason yelled, and the familiar routine of him yanking the blanket away, punching me, and tickling my soles started. “I bet that’s a no. Will you be more useful on the pitch next week?”

After he had loosened the knots, I examined my skin, immaculate as if I never fell. I crafted a plan, and after breakfast, I went outside, emptied my bike’s rear tire, and phoned my mom I had a flat tire. Needless to say, she came to my rescue and picked me and my bike up. I thanked her at home and went to my room, naively assuming I was safe.

At 11:30AM, four red vans halted on our driveway, and I saw eight figures in red in our back garden. I locked my room and hid under my bed. My parents and younger sister screamed downstairs seconds before they kicked my door in, dragged me aside, tied me up stricter than before, and gagged me with an inflatable gag.

“You might survive tomorrow. Today, you were unsuccessful.”


I howled in my gag, fell asleep eventually, listened to the eerie words, opened my eyes, and was freed by Jason an hour later. This day I was captured once more, standing no chance.


Today is day 387, and I have not broken the spell yet. I am hunted down daily, do not age, cannot be wounded, and am the sole person who retains their memories. How longer I survive the day, how more extreme their methods and numbers become. I have seen helicopters, paratroopers, booby-traps, and gigantic spiders, while my record is roaming free until 3PM. I have tried explaining this to my parents, Jason, the police, and even the strangers, but none can help me. I have stayed at Jason’s house all day, surrendered myself, fled Punxsutawney, slew them with a kitchen knife, asked Jason to hogtie me, and stayed awake the entire day. Nothing works, and I write this from Jason’s laptop, hoping some stranger grasps this. I am losing all hope, unable to leave this nightmare and reliving the same terrible day eternally.
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mig137
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Post by mig137 »

fantastic story, please continue the story.
;)
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Post by Canuck100 »

mig137 wrote: 1 month ago fantastic story, please continue the story.
It is indeed fantastic, surprised to find out about it two years later!
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Post by mig137 »

Indeed, there are many good stories buried on this page, you just have to discover them.
;)
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Post by Beaumains »

mig137 wrote: 1 month ago fantastic story, please continue the story.
Thanks a lot! It is a long time ago I wrote this, and I doubt I will continue this story. I just have no clue how.
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