A Week to Themselves (M/MM)

[zerg rush]

Mondays! You've always hated them. This school year, just to make your Monday even worse, they've given you double math.

As you walk through the high school gates, you see your friends.

"Did you hear what happened to Steve?"
Steve? Who's Steve, you wonder.

"His house got broken into on Friday!"
Your other friends all seem to know about this story. They all butt in, wanting to be the person that tells you what happened.

"His parents were out, but he was in."
"The robber tied him up, and he was stuck like it for 4 hours till his parents came back!"
"No he wasn't! He was like that waaay after his parents got back."
"I heard he was gagged so well, it took his parents half an hour to find him!"
"I heard it was an hour!"
"Whatever. When they finally found Steve, they called 911. When they got there 20 minutes later, they were still untying him!"
"I think his mom worked on his gag and his dad was untying the rest of him."
"I thought it was the other way round..."
"It took 2 officers and his parents over an hour to finish untying him!"
"Wasn't it closer to 2?"

You get tired of this 4 Yorkshiremen skit your friends have dreamt up.
"This is total bullshit" you tell your friends. "It's impossible to tie someone up that much. A real robber would be in and out in 5 or 10 minutes, and even if they DID tie this Steve up, AND he couldn't get out himself, it wouldn't take FOUR people over a whole FUCKING HOUR to untie him! Where did you hear this bollocks?"

Everyone else thinks for a second, and all turn to look at one of your friends simultaniously.

"Er... Claire told me..." he mumbles.
"Claire? Fat liar Claire!?"
"Maybe she wasn't lying this time..."




The rest of your Monday crawls by. Time seems to be slowing down, because everytime you look at your watch, you feel an hour has gone, but the watch only shows a 10 minue jump. You can't wait till school is over. Your parents are going away for the week, so you've done what every sensible person would do; invite their boyfriend to stay for the week! Being an only child, that gives the two of the house to yourselves! At 19, he's 7 months older than you, but he's already got his life sorted. He's training to be a mechanic. Not the most glamorous job, but a good career on decent money.

Finally, school finishes. Everyone rushes home, but not you. As if Monday wasn't bad enough, for some reason you made it your cardio day too. Treadmill, bike, rowing machine, cross trainer, 20 minutes on each. By the time you make the mile long walk from the gym to your house, you are a sweaty mess. By going to a dirt cheap gym, you save money, but in return you exercise in a place where the air conditioning works rarely, and the showers even less than that.

You collapse on the sofa in your sitting room. You check your watch. 1 and a half hours till your boyfriend is due to arrive. Plenty of time to have a wash, get changed and buy a few things at the shop. But before any of that, you need to recover from your gruelling workout.

*KNOCK KNOCK*

Shit! You must have fallen asleep on the sofa! You look at your watch. Only 5 minutes have passed. Phew. Still plenty of time before your beloved turns up.

*KNOCK KNOCK*

"Alright! I'm coming!" Jesus. People have no patience.

You open the front door. A large man wearing a motorcycle helmet is on the other side, holding a big brown cardboard box. He is dressed all in black, with black gloves. Something about him seems off, but you're not quite sure what.

"Got a parcel for ya. Just need you to sign here."

You haven't ordered anything. Your parents must have ordered it and had forgotton to tell you. That box looks too big to go on the back of a bike, but you don't question it further.

You take the reader in one hand and the stylus in the other. He places the parcel just inside your front door. It looks light for a box of that size. Looking down at the screen on the reader, you find it's blank.

"MPPHHHH!!"

The delivery driver thrusts a cloth over your face with his right hand! His left hand is round the back of your head, crushing it between both his hands. The cloth smells sickly. You drop the reader and start panicking.

"HFFFFF!! HFFFFFFFF!"

As you struggle to fight him off, he drags you inside. He manuovers himself behind you. He forces the back of your head against his chest, and closes the front door with his free hand.

*THUD*

His wraps his free hand around your upper body, trying to stop your arms from moving around too much.

[img]

You feel your strength slowly leave your body. Your pleas for help are getting quieter, and your thoughts start to cloud. Your eyes catch the large cardboard box again. There is no name and address sticker on it! This guy is definitely not a delivery driver.

"Breathe! Breathe deep little boy!" he growls into your ear. You flail your arms around. Or, you try to. They feel like they're made of lead. "Hffff" you cry, desperately hoping to attract some attention. You can feel something poke faintly at your lower back. This gives you a burst of adrenaline. You briefly manage to free your right arm from his grip, but he merely grabs your body again, holding you tight, close to his body. You feel something poking your lower back again.

The chloroform is doing it's work. You are now down to your knees. Your eyelids feel heavy. He feels safe enough to take his hand away from your body.

"I propose a swap. The contents of this box for everything you own." He uses the hand holding the cloth over your nose and mouth to make you nod your head. "Fantastic. I knew you'd agree!" His voice sounds full of malice. He bends over, and removes the strip of packing tape sealing the box closed. The flaps open immediately, as though whatever is inside was crammed in to the point of overflowing. "Why, it's your new outfit! It's BOUND to look good on you! Get it? Bound?"

He holds your now half conscious body over to the box. While keeping the cloth over your lower face, he forces you to look inside.


























[img]

"mmmmmm?!"

The cardboard box, 3 foot wide, 2 foot long and 2 foot deep, is filled to capacity with rope and tape! What did he mean by outfit, exactly? The question leaves your brain before you've even finished asking yourself. Your chloroform addled mind can now only stare at the contents of the box. Miles of rope and at least 7 big rolls of tape are the last thing you see before you finally pass out.

==============================================================================================================================

Spacing is deliberate. I wanted to put the second image behind a spoiler as a surprise, but doing it breaks the image, so I compromised. If that's a deliberate feature, I understand why it's there completely. I'm not asking for it's removal. Just want to explain why there's a huge gap.

[MaxRoper]

I like the start to this with everyone telling the story and getting the details wrong. I have a feeling our hero and perhaps his boyfriend are in for an interesting time.

[cj2125]

Cool story, like [mention]MaxRoper[/mention] said, it was fun seeing everyone telling a different version of the story. Can't wait to sse what the intruder has in store for the hero and his boyfriend!

[Rtj65]

Really interesting opening part! Looking forward to finding out just how much truth there was to those different accounts at the beginning!

[harveygasson]

Really great start!

[jackroper]

Excellent! Hope he takes at least an hour to be untied. Please do continue, at your leisure.

[Smythdean]

Great start.
Hope there is plenty more verbal teasing from our captor

[harukatsukino]

yes... my kind of story, much respect

[Jejune301]

What a windfall - another story from you! LOL, the pure talent behind your words just gushes from the pages. I mean it, Zerg Rush: you are special indeed! When reading the first story of yours I came across, "Footjob Felon", I was entranced. The narrator/victim was full of personality and very real: a devil-may-care jock with a dash of machismo who even allowed a mild disdain for "perverts" to show, although he took care to qualify his statements in such a clumsy, endearing way that one sensed there was no malice in him. He didn't seem spiteful, but instead to be an insouciant hunk unaware of his allure. You accomplished a depth of characterization with so few words that I was amazed. And then there was the bondage itself, described in MUCH-appreciated detail and so lavish that the reader knows it serves far more than the simple purpose of utilitarian restraint. You imbued the story with ominousness and danger - an important part of the erotic fetish recipe for me - without making it overtly pornographic. That fine poise is a big accomplishment in my eyes.

I got the distinct feeling that you were confident enough to post the installments as you wrote them, which is incredibly brash. There are little mistakes in spelling that indicate you are not a professional writer. And what happens? You deliver to us the most vivid, absolutely incredible account of a foot job that I have ever read! It's not for nothing that non-professionals are called amateurs, that they engage in activities out of sheer love for them.

This bold originality and fresh genius was even more manifest in the story about the "how-to-kidnap" video - one of my favorite stories of all time on this site - and now we have THIS ONE. (Forgive me, please, for getting so mixed up by your assay into the "Choose Your Own Alternative" genre.) In THIS story, the small detail, that it took four people a full hour to untie a victim, speaks volumes. Again, you create memorable characterization so deftly and economically that I am bowled over with admiration.

So who are you, Zerg Rush? Another Leonardo daVinci, so full to bursting with creativity that you can't finish anything before you are lured to the next project? How I wish you would continue the tale of the "how-to" video, or of the exploits of the Footjob Felon, and OF COURSE I await reading this newest adventure with bated breath.

Despite my clamor for "MORE, PLEASE!", I temper my enthusiasm with the heartfelt wish that you follow your own lights at your own pace in your own way, for you are obviously a special and very unique, estimable talent. Bravo, Zerg Rush! Bravissississississimo!!

[Jejune301]

Dear Zerg Rush, I am justly punished for allowing my pedantic and fuddy-duddy side to peek through! I mentioned spelling gaffes and then I carelessly end my paean of praise with a big mistake. UNIQUE is one of those words that can't be modified as to quantity because it is by definition absolute. Unique is one-of-a-kind. Something can't be more unique, just as "more perfect" and "more virginal" are impossibilities, too (although one can say "more nearly perfect").

So HAH! I apologize. This only goes to show how proper grammar and syntax are merely the handmaidens of talent, which you have in abundance! When chastised for such solecisms, Theodore Dreiser replied that to expect someone who is expressing deep emotion in its rawest form to abide by rules of proper grammar is just plain silly. This stuff is just a hobby for me, to "collect" refinements of our noble language. It isn't nearly so important as that which is being communicated.

Still, Dorothy Parker's review of Mr. Dreiser is a gem: "Theodore Dreiser should ought to write nicer". Continue to write, please, although we don't want Zerg rushed because we treasure Zerg Rush!

[harukatsukino]

really wished he would give a surprise continuation of Foot Felon, for me, that story is the best in Tugstories

[harukatsukino]

Hey Zerg Rush, Just wanna check and I hope this story got continued

[wataru14]

Damn this story is awesome so far! Hope there's a new part coming.