EASY PREY IV: THE UNEXPECTED MANHUNT (M+/M) ILLUSTRATED! *ANNOUNCEMENT*
Posted: Fri Jan 21, 2022 10:04 am
Note from the Author: Yes, another heavily illustrated tale that's going to be filled to the brim with non-consensual bondage and thick gags. If you've not already done so, then do yourself a favour and go read EASY PREY I, II & III before carrying on with this tale. While being familiar with the prequels is not necessarily critical to the enjoyment of this tale, it still comes strongly recommended.
What I'm about to tell you next took place many months after my older brother's departure from home and roughly three weeks after my eighteenth birthday. I know that many of you have been itching to learn more about my dad Mitch, and I also know that some of you are hoping I'll find the courage to approach him about my love of socks and my thirst for being tied up.
Yes, I know...as many of you have pointed out, my dad can easily deliver on both fronts. He's big, strong, has the worse smelling socks and is no stranger to tight ropework. More importantly though, he isn't just some stranger. He's my dad. Fooling around and playing these games with my older brother was already weird enough. Approaching my dad with such a request wouldn't only be weird, it would be unthinkable and just downright bizarre!
In any case, whatever you're thinking this written account of mine will be about, I can tell you straight away that you've got it all wrong. What happened that week was unlike anything I'd ever experienced before. I've recently spoken to Andrew about it, and although I'm not much of a writer, I'll do my best to fill you guys in without being too wordy or verbose.
By the way, you guys all remember Mitch, right? You know, the fire marshall with the insanely strong-smelling feet?
Yeah, I thought you might. After all, he is sorta hard to forget, isn't he?
So every year, my dad has this thing where he, my three uncles, my godfather and a bunch of guys from the local fire station drive up to this remote countryside location up north and spend several days camping out in the wilderness.
Mum often has her special nights out with her friends and sisters, so it makes perfect sense for my dad to have his own time with the guys, away from home and household responsibilities.
This year, the five-day-long camping trip was to take place in late October, and much as tradition dictated, my eighteenth birthday secured me a VIP spot to this men-only countryside getaway. In other words, this was dad's way of initiating me to the world of manhood. He had coerced Andrew into accompanying him to such a trip two years ago, and now it was my turn to undergo this harrowing ritual.
*Sigh* I say harrowing because unlike my dad, my uncles and the rest of their hyper-masculine, macho-man cabal, the idea of roughing it and not having access to hot running water, a toilet or internet for a few days didn't exactly appeal to me.
Oh, don't get me wrong. I'm not a complete wuss! I mean, I would've totally been into it had it only been for a day or two. But roughing it out in the woods for a total of five days wasn't exactly my idea of a good time. Even more so because the evenings and nights were growing unpleasantly cold and gloomy at this time of the year. We were practically in November, for Pete's sake!
I actually did try declining the invitation, but dad would have none of it. In fact, he'd made it somewhat amply clear that his decision was final and that he was ready to drag me there by force if need be.
The idea of being tied up by him and carried off to the countryside was as unappealing as it was intriguing. Being a lot bigger, a lot heavier and a lot stronger than I was, I knew he could tackle me to the ground and render me helpless without breaking a sweat. Even my brother Andrew, who was fairly tall and now well in his prime was no match for dad. Most unnerving though was the knowledge that Mitch would have no qualms about carrying out such a threat. Had I chosen to refuse his invitation and made a big fuss about not wanting to go, there was absolutely no doubt in my mind that the burly man-of-the-house would've forced the issue and carried me there by force like some inanimate piece of luggage. Yes, dad was that kind of guy.
But yeah, after reading all of the comments you guys left on my three previous memoirs, I'm willing to bet that some of you would've intentionally refused to embark on this venture in the hopes of being strung up and dragged into it by force.
Anyways, when the day of our departure finally came, dad and I loaded our clothing bags and camping equipment into the back of the pick-up truck. I put some jeans, a sweater and a thick hoodie on before saying goodbye to mum. Dad did the same after donning his tight leather police gloves and putting on that preposterously overstuffed shiny North Face puffer of his.
We set out on the road fairly early that morning; him looking forward to seeing his brothers and buddies, and me absentmindedly scrolling through the seemingly endless memes populating my social media feed.
"Ah man, this is gonna be great! Just us guys, lots of beers, fresh autumn air. You'll see, buddy-boy, this is gonna be super fun!" my very much enthused father cheered, causing me to dismissively roll my eyes up and look out the passenger-side window.
"So who's gonna be there anyway?" I asked, more out of feigned interest than out of genuine curiosity.
"Everyone! Dave, Rick, Robert, Frank..." dad went on and on, naming all three of my uncles, as well as my godfather and a bunch of other guys whom I was vaguely familiar with. In short, everyone there was going to be in their 30s and 40s, and I was going to be the small fry of the group.
I knew dad was really looking forward to this trip, and so I did my best not to sour the mood for him. Truth be known, I wasn't exactly keen on spending the next five days with no one to talk to. And I sure as hell wasn't looking forward to sharing a tent with those godawful feet of his!
With me being a little groggy from having not slept well the previous night, most of the long drive north was spent in relative silence. The V8 engine's low rumbling proved a welcome companion to my sleepy self; its soothingly regular hum complimented only by the angry creaking of dad's leather gloves and the noisy swooshing of his immensely fat, black puffer jacket.
"Has the forecast changed at all since we last checked?" he asked, after I half-heartedly woke up from my semi-restful slumber.
I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes, looked at the weather predictions for the upcoming nights and shook my head 'no'.
"Nope, still the same. A bit above freezing point tonight and tomorrow night, then a few degrees colder the rest of the week." I voiced out, taking solace in the fact that the daytime predictions appeared far more clement.
"Yeah, I guess that was to be expected. We tried organising the trip for September like last year, but this week was pretty much the only time the guys and I could take off. Besides, it won't be that bad. Frank, Greg and Jeff are bringing some spare sleeping bags. And if ever it gets too cold at night, you'll be able to swap with mine." dad spoke, filling me with a sense of dread at the thought of being zipped up in his sleeping bag.
Those of you who are smart enough not to be reading this before having read my three previous accounts *ahem* will no doubt remember the unsavoury encounter I once had with dad's old winter bag. Suffice to say, I was NOT looking forward to a repeat of that experience.
In any case, it was already closing in on two in the afternoon by the time our pick-up truck made it to the densely forested campsite. Three large tents were being erected on the flattest part of the secluded clearing, but the first thing that struck me wasn't the number of abodes. It was the number of guys that would be sharing them! Eighteen hunky, testosterone-ridden men!
Like I said, this wasn't gonna be your run-of-the-mill camping trip.
The next five days would prove much wilder than any of us had predicted.
But before I get to that, I really need to know: Are any of you interested?
CHAPTER 1
THE HARROWING RITUAL
THE HARROWING RITUAL
What I'm about to tell you next took place many months after my older brother's departure from home and roughly three weeks after my eighteenth birthday. I know that many of you have been itching to learn more about my dad Mitch, and I also know that some of you are hoping I'll find the courage to approach him about my love of socks and my thirst for being tied up.
Yes, I know...as many of you have pointed out, my dad can easily deliver on both fronts. He's big, strong, has the worse smelling socks and is no stranger to tight ropework. More importantly though, he isn't just some stranger. He's my dad. Fooling around and playing these games with my older brother was already weird enough. Approaching my dad with such a request wouldn't only be weird, it would be unthinkable and just downright bizarre!
In any case, whatever you're thinking this written account of mine will be about, I can tell you straight away that you've got it all wrong. What happened that week was unlike anything I'd ever experienced before. I've recently spoken to Andrew about it, and although I'm not much of a writer, I'll do my best to fill you guys in without being too wordy or verbose.
By the way, you guys all remember Mitch, right? You know, the fire marshall with the insanely strong-smelling feet?
Yeah, I thought you might. After all, he is sorta hard to forget, isn't he?
So every year, my dad has this thing where he, my three uncles, my godfather and a bunch of guys from the local fire station drive up to this remote countryside location up north and spend several days camping out in the wilderness.
Mum often has her special nights out with her friends and sisters, so it makes perfect sense for my dad to have his own time with the guys, away from home and household responsibilities.
This year, the five-day-long camping trip was to take place in late October, and much as tradition dictated, my eighteenth birthday secured me a VIP spot to this men-only countryside getaway. In other words, this was dad's way of initiating me to the world of manhood. He had coerced Andrew into accompanying him to such a trip two years ago, and now it was my turn to undergo this harrowing ritual.
*Sigh* I say harrowing because unlike my dad, my uncles and the rest of their hyper-masculine, macho-man cabal, the idea of roughing it and not having access to hot running water, a toilet or internet for a few days didn't exactly appeal to me.
Oh, don't get me wrong. I'm not a complete wuss! I mean, I would've totally been into it had it only been for a day or two. But roughing it out in the woods for a total of five days wasn't exactly my idea of a good time. Even more so because the evenings and nights were growing unpleasantly cold and gloomy at this time of the year. We were practically in November, for Pete's sake!
I actually did try declining the invitation, but dad would have none of it. In fact, he'd made it somewhat amply clear that his decision was final and that he was ready to drag me there by force if need be.
The idea of being tied up by him and carried off to the countryside was as unappealing as it was intriguing. Being a lot bigger, a lot heavier and a lot stronger than I was, I knew he could tackle me to the ground and render me helpless without breaking a sweat. Even my brother Andrew, who was fairly tall and now well in his prime was no match for dad. Most unnerving though was the knowledge that Mitch would have no qualms about carrying out such a threat. Had I chosen to refuse his invitation and made a big fuss about not wanting to go, there was absolutely no doubt in my mind that the burly man-of-the-house would've forced the issue and carried me there by force like some inanimate piece of luggage. Yes, dad was that kind of guy.
But yeah, after reading all of the comments you guys left on my three previous memoirs, I'm willing to bet that some of you would've intentionally refused to embark on this venture in the hopes of being strung up and dragged into it by force.
Anyways, when the day of our departure finally came, dad and I loaded our clothing bags and camping equipment into the back of the pick-up truck. I put some jeans, a sweater and a thick hoodie on before saying goodbye to mum. Dad did the same after donning his tight leather police gloves and putting on that preposterously overstuffed shiny North Face puffer of his.
We set out on the road fairly early that morning; him looking forward to seeing his brothers and buddies, and me absentmindedly scrolling through the seemingly endless memes populating my social media feed.
"Ah man, this is gonna be great! Just us guys, lots of beers, fresh autumn air. You'll see, buddy-boy, this is gonna be super fun!" my very much enthused father cheered, causing me to dismissively roll my eyes up and look out the passenger-side window.
"So who's gonna be there anyway?" I asked, more out of feigned interest than out of genuine curiosity.
"Everyone! Dave, Rick, Robert, Frank..." dad went on and on, naming all three of my uncles, as well as my godfather and a bunch of other guys whom I was vaguely familiar with. In short, everyone there was going to be in their 30s and 40s, and I was going to be the small fry of the group.
I knew dad was really looking forward to this trip, and so I did my best not to sour the mood for him. Truth be known, I wasn't exactly keen on spending the next five days with no one to talk to. And I sure as hell wasn't looking forward to sharing a tent with those godawful feet of his!
With me being a little groggy from having not slept well the previous night, most of the long drive north was spent in relative silence. The V8 engine's low rumbling proved a welcome companion to my sleepy self; its soothingly regular hum complimented only by the angry creaking of dad's leather gloves and the noisy swooshing of his immensely fat, black puffer jacket.
"Has the forecast changed at all since we last checked?" he asked, after I half-heartedly woke up from my semi-restful slumber.
I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes, looked at the weather predictions for the upcoming nights and shook my head 'no'.
"Nope, still the same. A bit above freezing point tonight and tomorrow night, then a few degrees colder the rest of the week." I voiced out, taking solace in the fact that the daytime predictions appeared far more clement.
"Yeah, I guess that was to be expected. We tried organising the trip for September like last year, but this week was pretty much the only time the guys and I could take off. Besides, it won't be that bad. Frank, Greg and Jeff are bringing some spare sleeping bags. And if ever it gets too cold at night, you'll be able to swap with mine." dad spoke, filling me with a sense of dread at the thought of being zipped up in his sleeping bag.
Those of you who are smart enough not to be reading this before having read my three previous accounts *ahem* will no doubt remember the unsavoury encounter I once had with dad's old winter bag. Suffice to say, I was NOT looking forward to a repeat of that experience.
In any case, it was already closing in on two in the afternoon by the time our pick-up truck made it to the densely forested campsite. Three large tents were being erected on the flattest part of the secluded clearing, but the first thing that struck me wasn't the number of abodes. It was the number of guys that would be sharing them! Eighteen hunky, testosterone-ridden men!
Like I said, this wasn't gonna be your run-of-the-mill camping trip.
The next five days would prove much wilder than any of us had predicted.
But before I get to that, I really need to know: Are any of you interested?
INTERESTED IN THIS STORY? WANT A FOLLOW-UP CHAPTER?
LET ME KNOW IN THE COMMENTS!
READER COMMENTS WILL BE USED TO GAUGE THE LEVEL OF AUDIENCE INTEREST IN THIS PROJECT.
IF YOU'RE NOT YET REGISTERED, TAKE A MINUTE TO SIGN UP AND JOIN THIS AWESOME COMMUNITY!
LET ME KNOW IN THE COMMENTS!
READER COMMENTS WILL BE USED TO GAUGE THE LEVEL OF AUDIENCE INTEREST IN THIS PROJECT.
IF YOU'RE NOT YET REGISTERED, TAKE A MINUTE TO SIGN UP AND JOIN THIS AWESOME COMMUNITY!