AN INTERACTIVE M/M STORY
Having celebrated my 18th birthday just a few short weeks ago, I was quite literally over the moon at having the house all to myself for the last weekend of December.
Unlike my older brother who'd thrown wild parties and gotten drunk every time my parents had left the house in his care, I was a responsible guy and usually just chilled and home and had a friend over to play video games while they were away.
This Saturday would be no different.
I'd have a friend over, but it wouldn't just be any friend. It would be my TUG friend; a guy I'd spent the last year chatting with and someone I'd gotten to know quite a bit over the course of my year-long membership on the tugstories forum.
As soon as I found out about the weekend ski trip my parents and two brothers had planned for this weekend, I made some lame ass excuse about having to replace a sick colleague at work on Sunday, and texted my TUG buddy Sam to let him know of the golden opportunity that now presented itself before us.
Sammy and I were thrilled and spent several days talking about all the stuff we wanted to do and the various ways in which he was gonna be tied up.
Having just recently gotten my first job, I had no bondage gear to speak of, and sadly enough, neither did he.
Fortunately for Sammy though, reading some of Mr. Bondagefreak's stories had peaked our interest in sleeping bag bondage, and the two of us eventually came up with a plan that wouldn't require the use of rope or dedicated bondage gear.
Being an outdoorsy family, myself and my sibling all owned our own cold weather sleeping bags.
My dad in particular owned a mighty thick one.
Rummaging through the garage, I eventually came across a variety of brightly coloured ratchet straps, and quickly found myself eyeing up one of the sturdy-looking camping cots my family owned.
The lack of rope and dedicated bondage gear wouldn't stop us. The cluttered garage space contained everything I needed to keep my bondage-loving TUG friend comfortably bound up and immobilized.
His Saturday night sleepover was going to be a LOT of fun.
Saturday morning came, and I waited for my folks to leave before texting Sammy and telling him to come over.
Much as you'd expect, my friend and I spent most of the day gaming, watching funny YouTube videos, getting to know each other, sharing anecdotes and having harmless fun.
It's only at around 8PM that Sammy suggested we call it a night and not-so-discreetly hinted at wanting to be put to bed early.
I let him know I planned on staying up late and told I wanted to watch a few movies, but the bondage-loving lad assured me that he was fine with being tied up for the night and that he'd been looking forward to this moment for a very long time now.
I happily agreed.
And so while my friend took a quite shower, brushed his teeth and put on his PJs - which consisted of a plain white t-shirt and a pair of loose-fitting boxer shorts - I got the stuff ready.
Upon his return to the living room, the 18-year-old teen-twink was faced with a camping cot, a pile of assorted ratchet straps, a roll of duct tape and three heavy-duty, cold weather sleeping bags.
Sammy was THRILLED!
The woody inside those loose-fitting, plaid boxer shorts of his was sticking out rather fiercely!
He made a comment about how fat our sleeping bags looked and then awkwardly tried concealing how "happy" he was by using his hands and trying to face away from me.
Not wanting to embarrass the guy any more than he already was, I pretended not to see anything, but quickly came up with a plan to stop him from creaming his boxers and making a mess inside our bags while I slept.
The boxer shorts covering his manhood were paper-thin, and by the looks of it, my freckle-faced TUG buddy was SERIOUSLY aroused by the thought of being bagged up and bound for the night. So much so that his tent was sticking out a good six inches past his otherwise flat waistline!
I told my friend to stay put, ran to my room, grabbed a pair of thick crew socks from my sock drawer and then ran back up to him before ordering him to ball his fists up and insert them in my socks.
The kid was clearly a few steps behind me, 'cause he apparently didn't understand what was happening until I duct taped my socks around his wrists and explained that it was a precautionary measuring to stop him from playing with his wee-wee during the night.
Sammy's cheeks burned bright red and a look of sheer embarrassment draped itself across his face.
"It's okay, man. You're perfectly normal." I assured him, pointing his attention to the fact that I too was dealing with a bit of stiffness in my groin. We both were.
Not wanting to waste more time than necessary, I positioned the camping cot - which was going to be my guest's bed for the night - in front of the living room couch and asked my friend if he still wanted to be gagged with socks...something he'd spent the last few days being very adamant about.
Sammy nodded his head yes and lost to time in specifying his two conditions.
One, he wanted them worn. And two, he didn't wanna be gagged with his own socks.
I agreed to his conditions and then spent a few seconds looking at the three sleeping bags in front of us before silently pondering which I wanted to zip him up inside first.
Given that his woody was still incredibly engorged and showing no signs of deflation, I realised that him creaming his shorts during the night was still a very real possibility, and that I couldn't risk zipping him up inside my dad's super thick, super expensive, high-quality expedition bag...not without putting him inside another sleeping bag first.
Now Sammy was a cute kid, but I wasn't exactly thrilled at the prospect of him shooting his seed inside my own bag either.
So that left me with only one option; my older brother's bag...which was the perfect choice considering it's flannel-lined interior had no doubt been spunked several times over the course of the last couple years.
When my TUG buddy saw the poorly scribbled name "Nathan" on the exterior of the fat bag's oversized storage envelope, he asked me whose bag that was and seemed particularly content to know it belonged to my 21-year-old brother.
I zipped Sammy up inside my older brother's extraordinarily thick, rectangular-shaped blue bag and watched as he revelled in the strong, musky scent that began to engulf his face and filter up into his nostrils.
"Sorry about the smell." I apologized, realizing that my big brother's heavily-used winter bag stank and probably smelled a little strong.
Being the naturally polite guy that he was, my brown-haired friend refrained from voicing a complaint and obediently placed his arms down to his sides even as I slowly zipped the fat sleeping bag up all the way past his collarbone.
I needed access to Sammy's face so that I could fix him up with a gag for the night.
But once that was done, my brother's sleeping bag would be zipped up all the way to the top, as would the other two sleeping bags I planned on securing my friend in.
Next came my bag; a moderately thick, grey and green mummy bag that smelled several orders of magnitude better than my brother's!
Being only designed for moderately cold, subzero temperatures, my bag was definitely the thinnest of the three, but still lofted up quite well and was substantially thicker than your run-of-the-mill, warm weather sleeping bag.
In any case, getting my mummy bag zipped up around my brother's much thicker rectangular one was much harder than I thought. The struggle was well worth it however, as the sight of my friend's worm-shaped prison taking form in front of my eyes quickly turned into it's own reward.
I strapped him in with eight black ratchet straps. And fortunately for Sam, my brother's sleeping bag was so fat and thickly insulated that the lad felt no amount of discomfort even though the restraints were tightened real nice and snug around his body.
I didn't want him cumming inside there, so even though his hands were trapped in my socks, I made certain that his arms were tucked down at his sides before pulling the security straps taut and making sure there was no wiggle to move his hands around.
He was gonna stay zipped in our bags and he wouldn't be coming out of them any time soon.
Sammy was going to have a LOT of fun in there!
It took some doing to get the now-bundled up teen off the floor and unto the cot.
But as soon as I got him on his makeshift bed and as soon as he was lying inside my father's ridiculously fat, polar expedition bag, I just had to take my phone out and snap a quick pic for you guys.
"You comfy in there?" I asked, causing the lad to nod his head 'yes' and chuckle at the fact that he felt both totally safe and completely helpless at the same time.
I laughed at the conflicting nature of his statement and told him to wait 'till my dad's bag was zipped up, alluding to the fact that his sleeping bag prison was about to get a whole lot "safer".
Sammy and I spoke for a minute or two, during which I made sure he was real nice and comfy and made certain he was okay with being completely zipped up for the night, which he was.
Finally, it was time for his gag.
Which brings me to you, dear reader.
YOU DECIDE WHAT HAPPENS NEXT!
I NEED A MINIMUM OF 25 ANSWERS BEFORE DECIDING WHAT TO DO WITH SAMMY'S MOUTH.
HERE ARE THE CHOICES OF WHAT I CAN DO:
A - KICK MY TRAINERS OFF AND USE MY OWN WORN SOCKS TO GAG HIS MOUTH?
B - PAY A VISIT TO MY 15-YEAR-OLD BROTHER'S ROOM IN SEARCH FOR WORN SOCKS?
C - PAY A VISIT TO MY 21-YEAR-OLD BROTHER'S ROOM IN SEARCH FOR WORN SOCKS?
D - PAY A VISIT TO MY DAD'S ROOM IN SEARCH FOR WORN SOCKS?
E - SEARCH THE COMMUNAL LAUNDRY HAMPER IN SEARCH FOR WORN SOCKS?
F - OTHER (SPECIFY)