A DREAM COME TRUE (M/M)
Posted: Wed Jul 29, 2020 12:13 pm
A DREAM COME TRUE
This tale unfolds six months after the events of it's prequel story "More Than I Bargained For".
If you haven't read that story, then follow this link and come back here when you're done: https://tugstories.com/viewtopic.php?f=8&t=5982
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This tale unfolds six months after the events of it's prequel story "More Than I Bargained For".
If you haven't read that story, then follow this link and come back here when you're done: https://tugstories.com/viewtopic.php?f=8&t=5982
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PART I - CAUGHT IN THE ACT
That day those burglars broke into our countryside cottage and got caught trying to loot the place, really changed my life.
Under normal circumstances, the burglary attempt should've been a traumatic event for someone so young.
But my impressionable teenage mind immediately became infatuated by the tight roping and strict gagging my dad gave one of the would-be burglars after wrestling him to the ground.
For years I had spent night after night reliving and fantasizing about those events, somehow wishing I had been the one all bundled in dad's tight ropes and knots.
I watched videos, read stuff online and even worked the courage to join a forum community dedicated to deviants like me.
In other words, guys who had a thing for restraining or being restrained.
Many of my online correspondents I spoke to encouraged me to seek other men out.
Some even went as far as suggesting that I should confront my dad about it and get him to tie me up.
Truth be known, I didn't really feel like meeting creeps from over the internet.
And although the possibility of opening up to my dad was sorta fun to contemplate, I could only laugh at the unlikeliness that he would respond favourably to such a revelation.
Being a family of only two, I guess you can say we were pretty close-knit.
But that didn't mean that it wouldn't freak him out to know that his only son was a bizarre, bondage-loving weirdo.
No, opening up to my dad about this was not an option.
Anyways, as you all know, I eventually did end up getting a taste of his ropework.
After coming up with the excuse of needing to be in the mindset of a kidnapped captive for a school essay I had to work on, my dad agreed to bind me up and knot me down for a short while...just so that I could experience what it felt like to be restrained for some time.
His ropework, as you remember, did NOT disappoint.
Nor did the incredibly disabling gag he somehow forced into my uncooperative mouth.
He kept me bound up for quite a bit longer than we initially agreed.
But after being freed, I ended up thanking him for the valuable insight he had given me, and made a concerted effort to keep my enthusiasm focused on the good grades my essay would later grant me.
Of course, there were no grades to be had and there was no essay for me to write.
It was all a big lie, and I thought myself oh so clever to have tricked my dad into believing the fanciful backstory I'd concocted.
My willingness to indulge in the pleasures of careless self-bondage eventually backfired upon me.
And as the weeks went by and my self-imposed restraints grew more complex and more creative, so too did the misplaced sense of self-confidence that washed over me with each successful session I completed.
In my defense, I'd gotten pretty good at escaping by own bonds, and was usually real careful about choosing the right time so as not to get caught.
Well...my luck eventually did run out on me, and my dad was more than a little freaked out when he arrived home from work one day, only to find me sprawled out on my bed, my wrists zip-tied to the steel frame and my mouth stuffed to the brink with one of my own dirty socks.
In my panic to break free, the zip ties ended up cutting my wrists and creating deep creases into my skin.
The sock taped inside my mouth was visibly dirty and I broke down into tears and curled up into a ball when my dad finished freeing me and started confronting me about what the hell I was doing all tied up with a worn sock in my mouth.
No words came out of my mouth that night, and my father received no explanation for my strange behaviour.
In fact, we didn't speak to each other at all for next few days.
Things finally came to a head about a week later, when dad walked into my room one night, sat onto my bed and revealed to me that he had gone through my online searches using his administrator's account on the home wireless internet network.
I was torn, but decided to make a scene and try to deflect some of the shame by yelling at him that I was eighteen and that spying on me was a gross violation of my privacy.
My dad remained silent during the altercation, and I could right away tell that his opinion of me had changed.
I was no longer just his innocent little boy.
I was...different, somehow.
His facial features remained calm, and his eyes peered into my hazy orbs with an almost serene, accepting look.
I curled up on my bed and attempted concealing my sobs by burying my face deep inside my pillow.
I wanted to crawl into a hole and just disappear somewhere.
Dad stayed with me for a good minute or two before eventually placing his large hand on my thigh and telling me that everything was okay. He rubbed my thigh and rubbed my back a little before kissing the top of my head and wishing me goodnight.
I actually slept good that night.
And when I woke up, my dad was in an especially cheerful mood and was busily cooking breakfast for us, like he usually did on Saturday mornings.
I had no idea what the man found so comical and amusing, and had no clue as to why he kept eyeing me up with a smirk on his face.
But as soon as we were finished eating, the 47-year-old construction worker ordered to take a shower and then instructed me to meet him in his bedroom as soon as I was done.
Not knowing what this was about and staying true to my usual, compliant self, I quickly did my business, stepped into the shower and got cleaned up as fast as I could.
The instant I made it out of the washroom and walked into my dad's bedroom, my eyes went wide in surprise.
He was already in there, waiting for me. But that wasn't what caught my attention.
Rather, it was the absolutely MASSIVE roll of industrial grade pallet wrap, and the six jumbo rolls of heavy-duty duct tape that were sitting on top of his bed that caused my eyes to bulge out and my heart to skip a beat.
WHAT.
THE.
F*CK!?
TO BE CONTINUED.
STOP!
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). 
Did I say that out loud? 
