PLEASE BE WARNED: THIS IS A GAY ROMANCE NOVEL FEATURING CONTENT OF A NON-CONSENSUAL NATURE.
ASIDE FROM THE STORY OPENER, THIS TALE DOES NOT REVOLVE AROUND SLEEPING BAGS!
A "CLICK-TO-READ" LIST OF CHAPTERS DESIGNED TO MAKE FINDING SPECIFIC SCENES A LOT EASIER
I struggled against the restraints that kept me tightly pinned down, but all my attempts to squirm around were in vain. I just couldn't break free! I was completely trapped inside my friend's thick, expedition-grade mummy sleeping bag and there was virtually nothing I could do to free myself from it suffocating embrace.
Damn Nick! I'd once again fallen head-first into another one of his stupid traps, I thought, silently cursing myself for being so naïve. Knowing him, he'd probably keep me in here for an entire hour or two!
Unbeknownst to me at the time, my hunky blond buddy planned on keeping me captive for quite a bit longer.
His puffy, dark blue bag was incredibly thick and narrow. It wasn't a new bag either. In fact, it was the same old sleeping bag Nick had been using ever since we were teens, going out on camping trips with his dad and uncle.
Nick was several years older than I was, and although I practically considered him to something along the lines of an older brother, he'd grown into one, big, handsome man.
I was pretty handsome and in shape myself, if I may say so. But even with my good looks, sharp facial features, 60kg build and quaint 5'7 stature, I was a scrawny twerp compared to my blond friend.
The buff, muscle-bound beefcake was almost a full head taller than I was, standing tall at 6'4 and weighing in at well over 230 pounds. He had always been big and strong growing up; bullying smaller teens, earning his place as captain of the football team for four years in a row....all that typical jock stuff.
A lot of those jocks went out of shape when they reached their late 20s. They would wind up drinking too much beer or end up slowing down and generally letting their good habits go.
But not Nick!
All those days training at the gym and working in construction were DEFINITELY paying off for him.
We were no longer neighbours like we used to be back in the day, but being best friends, I often hung out with him and spent time at his place. Besides, I had a rather shitty apartment and was more than happy to enjoy the space and luxury that his large, suburban home had to offer.
But yeah, I'm getting a little ahead of myself, aren't I?
Where were we? Ah yes, the sleeping bag.
So yeah, Nick was apparently planning on going with some friends to camp up north this winter and had gotten his old mummy bag re-stuffed with additional down filling.
When I asked him why he didn't just get a new bag, he brushed me off and mentioned something about his "lucky bag" still being in good shape.
Ever the fool, I accepted his invitation to join him in the basement and try out his newly-overstuffed, trusty old bag.
The basement was a little cooler than the rest of the house and being dressed only in my socks, track pants and a thin t-shirt, I actually took comfort in the warmth that his super fat, smelly old expedition bag had to offer.
The moment I slipped inside and allowed him to zip me up, it really hit me how thick this thing was.
The baffles were literally full to bursting, giving the narrow blue bag a definite worm-like appearance.
It was a frightening sight, to say the least.
At first, I laughed and squirmed around a bit, enjoying the feeling of the soft nylon brushing my skin and accepting the fact that I could barely move due to the extremely thick loft hugging me real tightly.
The ever-present smell of my handsome friend's body didn't fail to tickle my senses either. It smelled pretty damn strong in there, which made sense considering Nick had been camping out in this thing for ages and had obviously never washed it.
It didn't exactly stink, but it was kinda strange being completely engulfed and surrounded by the scent of another man. I hate to admit this, but for some strange reason, the warm, slightly musky aroma that spilt into my nostrils every time I breathed in, didn't quite turn me off. In fact, quite the opposite.
When the big, muscular blond brute zipped the bag up all the way and tightened the big, puffy hood around my head and face, I laughed and closed my eyes for a bit, enjoying the warmth and security his extremely thick and restrictive cocoon had to offer.
'Man, this thing is crazy fat!' I thought to myself.
With the hood closed up around my head and the drawstrings pulled tight, I was left with only a puny sniff-hole to see and breathe through.
The amount of sheer loft that surrounded my body and covered my head and ears was so great that I basically lost touch with everything going on outside the bag. I could hear very little besides the soft swooshing sounds that occurred every time I moved. With nylon being so noisy, it's a wonder people got any sleep inside these thick mummy-style bags!
This was exactly like being trapped in a cocoon. A really warm, comfy and THICK cocoon!
Unbeknownst to me, however, Nick was busy preparing me for an unplanned overnight stay.
In my haste to try out his newly stuffed bag, I'd apparently failed to notice that I was resting on a narrow camping cot, with a bunch of thick ratchet straps dangling down from both sides of it.
By the time I felt the straps tightening around my trapped and heavily cocooned form, it was too late.
The jock had me strapped down and buckled up. No amount of struggling or squirming was gonna get me out of this predicament.
I was screwed!
And so my journey began.