The Camping Trip (MMMM/m) *CHAPTER 26

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Bondagefootpig
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Re: The Camping Trip (MMMM/m) *CHAPTER 4

Postby Bondagefootpig » Mon Jul 03, 2017 8:42 am

Mmmmm I def agree they shld have a stinky sock sniffing competition to see who's are the ripe at and ranked and then have a foot worshipping orgy session!

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Re: The Camping Trip (MMMM/m) *CHAPTER 5

Postby bondagefreak » Mon Jul 03, 2017 10:39 pm

Chapter 5 - Dad's Special Blend



I cried out, literally overwhelmed in fear at the prospect of having my own dad's soiled up, ripe sock stuffed in my mouth.
My screams were heavily muffled though and I quickly found myself tensing up, not only in fear, but also from lack of oxygen as big, leather gloved hands covered every inch of my face, including my mouth and nostrils.


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Uncle Don removed his gloved hand from over my eyes, but the rest of my face remained completely concealed beneath the thick glove cover.
My dad and uncles all had very big, strong hands. My pathetic attempts at screaming were easily muffled down.


With my dick trapped beneath the thick gurney strap and pulsing angrily inside the thick bags, I moaned in frustration at my failed attempts to reach for my throbbing member.
The restraints were keeping my arms and hands pinned down, making it impossible for me to touch myself and jerk off or relieve any of the sexual tension that was building up in my groin.

I could only whimper and cry out as my lungs started burning from oxygen depletion, my dad and uncles apparently oblivious to the fact that I couldn't breathe under their big, thick, leather gloves.


"Alright...Don and Joe, you guys hold his head down and pinch his nostrils shut." My dad instructed. "Frank, you pry his mouth open." he continued. "I'll force the sock in."

Tears started welling up in my eyes and I begun whimpering uncontrollably.
My dad was actually gonna shove his cheesy old sock in my mouth and there wasn't a single think I could do about it.

"Three, two...one...go."

In the blink of an eye, the leather gloves covering my face shifted around to occupy strategic positions.

My head was held down, my nostrils were pinned shut and uncle Frank was aggressively prying my mouth open...which wasn't hard to do considering I was in desperate need of air.

My fate was sealed.
As soon as I opened my mouth to breathe, thick leather-clad fingers barged in and forced my jaw open.

My uncles laughed.

For all my struggling and protests, the fight had been short. In a matter of seconds, it was over.



"There you go, son." dad told me, right before going in for the kill. "Choke on my sock."


The big ball of rotting old sock came down full force, jamming between my parted lips and giving my taste buds their first sample of my dad's putrid, black sock.

My head trembled, my body convulsed and I gagged immediately, feeling sick to my stomach and on the verge of vomiting.


My uncles, apparently not bothered by my distressed state, broke out into cheering and laughter.

"Bon appétit!" Frank cried out, keeping my mouth pried open while crying himself to tears.

"How's that taste, sock boi?" Don asked, laughing.


Everyone was laughing except me, but it was my dad's comment that drove my uncles hysterical with laugher.


"Hope you like daddy's cheese-cake, son!" he chuckled, forcefully shoving the big ball of sock past my lips and into my mouth.

My dad's comment immediately made my stomach churn.
There's no way I was gonna survive the night gagging on that ripe, cheesy old sock.
No way in hell!
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Re: The Camping Trip (MMMM/m) *CHAPTER 5

Postby squirrel » Tue Jul 04, 2017 2:30 am

Fantastic chapter! Short, but fantastic :)

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Re: The Camping Trip (MMMM/m) *CHAPTER 5

Postby Sniffingyoursocks » Tue Jul 04, 2017 12:43 pm

WOW...Sir, you know how much I appreciate and love that story...and how much I'd want to be in poor Kyle's place.

Amazing work...like whenever you share a tale with us. Loving it, Master.
Obey and say 'Yes Master'.

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Re: The Camping Trip (MMMM/m) *CHAPTER 6

Postby bondagefreak » Sat Jul 08, 2017 9:47 pm

Chapter 6 - The Gag


"Mmmmmgghh....uuggghhmm" I yelled in my gag, desperately trying to call for help even though I knew we were in the middle of nowhere.

They couldn't do this to me. They couldn't!
My uncles had no right having their hands over my face like this and my dad had even less right stuffing his cheesy old sock in my mouth.
They were gonna shove his big, black, rotten old sock inside my mouth and gag me with it all night long.

I screamed, yelled and protested, but they didn't care.
They just held my head down while my dad forced his putrid sock in my mouth.

"Shut up." my dad barked, trying to shove his big, hole-ridden sock deeper into my mouth.
Beads of sweat ran down his forehead as he fought to jam the large sock between my lips.
He was visibly frustrated. The fact that his movements were greatly hindered by the massive jacket he wore inside the small tent probably contributed to it.
He was probably sweating bullets inside his jacket as well. They must've all been...

"Nah. The sock's too big...it'll never fit in." Frank suddenly let out, apparently not believing my dad would be able to gag me with it.

"Open!" my dad suddenly barked, ignoring his brother and putting a hand on my forehead before using the other to jam the sock down harder.

"Mmmphhh...mmmm..uugghmmmm" I cried out, my moans becoming more muffled by the second.


I tried screaming, but it was of no use.
My dad's big sock started filling my mouth up bad and pinning my tongue down in the process.


"That's gonna be your gag for the night, Kyle." uncle Joe told me, tapping me on the cheek with his big, gloved hand, apparently not caring that I was on the verge of being sick from the strong, rancid material that filled my mouth.

In one final desperate attempt, I used my tongue and started pushing the fabric out with every ounce of strength I had left.
It was enough to piss my dad off even more and make my uncles laugh.

"Looks like he's a fighter!" Frank laughed, visibly amused by the struggle I was putting up.

"I don't think he likes your sock, bro." Don told my dad, chuckling like the rest of them.

"Can't really blame him..." Joe answered, not leaving my dad any time to respond. "Those socks are fuckin' rotten!" he laughed, causing his brother's to laugh once again.


My dad didn't seem to care though that he'd worn the socks to work for well over a month without washing them and cared even less that they were crusty, moist, smelly-as-sin and filled with foot skin, toe jam and great big balls of dirty lint. Those things were on his feet over sixteen hours a day, every day...even on weekends when he was at home. My dad always wore army pants or jeans with his boots, even in the
summer. And pretty much wore his black socks in them all the time.


"Mmmm! Uggghhmmmppph!"
I wanted to yell at him and scream at him to get that putrid thing away from my face, but my uncles were all over me, pinning my head down and roughly muffling my screams up with their big, gloved hands.


"No son. You're not pushing your gag out." dad growled, forcefully stuffing the sock back in my mouth with his big, leather-clad fingers.
"You complain about the cold. I go and buy you a new sleeping bag, but you STILL find some reason to complain. I'm fuckin' tired of hearing you complaining, son. You want something to complain about? Fine...I'll give you something to complain about." he continued, roughly shoving the smelly old sock deeper inside.
"Here. Eat my sock!" he growled.

I coughed and choked on the size of the wad and gagged on the smell and taste of it.
It was absolutely PUTRID!

"Shup up!" my dad barked, not caring about the loud choking noises I was making. "Open your mouth and eat it!"


"Yeah, stuff it all in. That'll keep him quiet." Frank pitched in.


"Man, that's some serious gagging." Don chuckled.


"I don't want him mouthing off..." my dad mumbled, half-absently.


"How you liking that sock, Kyle?" My uncle Joe asked, teasingly tapping my left check. "I bet it tastes pretty strong, don't it?" he laughed, causing everyone, even my dad to chuckle.

"mmmmpphh...mmmphh." I cried out, my screams barely audible as big, leather-clad fingers packed my mouth up by shoving more sock in.


"There we go." my dad spoke. "No more talking. You're gonna chew on my sock for the rest of the night." he said, using his aggressive fingers to push my enormous gag in deeper.


I tried to grunt in protest, but to my great dismay I found that I couldn't.
My mouth was packed full and jammed open and there was STILL part of the sock that wouldn't completely fit in.

My mouth was small and my dad's old sock was huge. It made sense, since my dad was a tall guy with pretty big feet. They were a LOT bigger than mine.
"mmmmm...mmmmmm" I cried out, barely hearing myself as I did so.


"Yeah, you don't have much to say now, don't you Kyle?!" uncle Joe asked in a demeaning fashion.

"Fuck. He can't even scream or call for help." Don remarked, apparently mesmerized and amazed by the effectiveness of the gag. "He looks like he's gonna be sick though..." he said, chuckling.


"Haha, yeah. Knowing Jack, those socks probably haven't been washed in like...three months or something." Frank answered, obviously finding my predicament very funny.

The overwhelmingly strong taste of the sock, combined with the knowledge that I was chewing on over a month's worth of my dad's sweat, foot cheese and rotten toe gunk was driving me insane.
I was gonna be sick and I wanted to puke real bad. Tears ran down my eyes as I let out a desperate cry for help.
All in vain as the big, black, ripe old sock muffled my scream up completely.


My dad clamped his big gloved hand over my mouth and stopped me from pushing any amount of gag out with my tongue.
"Alright, Frank, pass me the tape." he ordered.

"Yeah, tape that sock in." Don muttered.

"Make sure you tape that sock in real good." uncle Joe told my dad. "We can't have him spitting it out in our sleep and waking the forest up with his yelling. His mouth needs to be stuffed 'till we get up tomorrow morning."


"Got two rolls." Frank said, offering my dad the bounty he'd found in Joe's truck.
One was a huge roll of wide duct tape. The other was a smaller roll of black electrical tape.


"Gimme that." my dad said, grabbing the electrical tape with his big, gloved hand. "Alright, you guys hold the sock in." he told his brothers, who were all a little too over-zealous about shoving their big, leather-clad fingers over my stuffed mouth to stop me from spitting the sock out.

My dad managed to find the end of the tape -no small feat with his thick gloves on- and unwrap some of it off the roll.


With my mouth jammed wide open and the massive sock stuffed up real tight behind my front teeth, I wasn't even able to offer a cry of protest as my dad started wrapping layer after layer of electrical tape around my head, making it completely impossible for me to get rid of the gag.

"Yeah, that's the way to do it." Frank laughed as my dad went over my jam-packed mouth and around the back of my head over a dozen times.

When my dad severed the tape and put it down to observe his work, my uncles took their hands away from my face and started teasing me a bit.

"Not so tough now, eh boi?" Don laughed, gently tapping my face.

Frank ran his gloved hands over the top of my thick bags, creating loud swooshing noises and making sure all the straps were securely locked.
"He's not getting out of those any time soon." he said, feeling the enormous amount of loft with his big hands.

"And he won't be mouthing off any time soon either." my dad chimed in, speaking as though I wasn't even there.

I cried out, pleading whatever higher power was listening, to help and free me from this predicament. But only a barely audible "mmmmm" came out.


"Yeah, that's right son. Gag on it." my dad told me.


"Fuck, I can't believe how quiet he is with that sock in his mouth!" Don laughed. "He can't even fuckin' moan anymore."


Uncle Joe didn't seem impressed though.
"Hurry up and get some duct tape over his face." he told my dad.


My eyes grew wide in fear as I watched uncle Frank hand my dad the big, wide roll of heavy-duty duct tape he'd found in Joe's truck.
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Re: The Camping Trip (MMMM/m) *CHAPTER 6

Postby squirrel » Sat Jul 08, 2017 10:55 pm

Can't get enough of your stories, man... Magnificent!

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Re: The Camping Trip (MMMM/m) *CHAPTER 6

Postby Sniffingyoursocks » Sun Jul 09, 2017 9:24 am

You absolutely know how much I love the style of this story, Sir...and another amazing chapter is added. Thank you, Sir!
Obey and say 'Yes Master'.

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Re: The Camping Trip (MMMM/m) *CHAPTER 6

Postby FuzzyBalloonPhantom » Mon Jul 10, 2017 11:24 am

Just wanted to say that you have an incredible gift for storytelling, especially in the realm of ties. The first thing I think about when I come onto this forum is checking out any of your stories for updates. They're that good. Don't stop!

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Re: The Camping Trip (MMMM/m) *CHAPTER 6

Postby bondagefreak » Wed Jul 12, 2017 1:50 pm

WildcatFan93 wrote:Just wanted to say that you have an incredible gift for storytelling, especially in the realm of ties. The first thing I think about when I come onto this forum is checking out any of your stories for updates. They're that good. Don't stop!


Hey buddy, thanks for the nice comment. Really appreciate it.

I have a tendancy of strecthing scenes out a lot even though many readers prefer faster-paced tales.
I'm glad to see my stuff still attracts a good audience though 8)
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Re: The Camping Trip (MMMM/m) *CHAPTER 6

Postby Yee-hogtied-haw » Wed Jul 12, 2017 1:56 pm

Sounds like Kyle is gonna have one hell of a camping trip if this is the start of the night. Three tough guys all teaching Kyle about the merits of thick gloves and sleeping bags makes for one hot story. Lovin' the authoritative tone each of the guys have, and Kyle's reaction to the socks is perfect.
Don't expect to free yourself once you're bound by me. Even if you do, expect to immediately be wrestled back to the ground and subdued with additional penalties applied. And trust me, the second time round, the roping will be serious.

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Re: The Camping Trip (MMMM/m) *CHAPTER 6

Postby bondagefreak » Wed Jul 12, 2017 1:59 pm

Yee-hogtied-haw wrote:Three tough guys all teaching Kyle about the merits of thick gloves and sleeping bags...


Four tough guys :quirk:
Haha, thanks for the comment my friend. I knew this was right up your alley.
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Re: The Camping Trip (MMMM/m) *CHAPTER 6

Postby Yee-hogtied-haw » Wed Jul 12, 2017 2:07 pm

Hehe, oops yeah. Nameless father made me miscount I guess.
Have to say, the scene of the last chapter in particular was pretty similar to my last weekend, if it was 3 doms on 1 sub secured down to a couch with ratchet straps (- sleeping bag), before then the 3 of us sat down on an opposing couch and rested our feet/boots on the guy so definitely up my alley indeed. :D
Don't expect to free yourself once you're bound by me. Even if you do, expect to immediately be wrestled back to the ground and subdued with additional penalties applied. And trust me, the second time round, the roping will be serious.

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Re: The Camping Trip (MMMM/m) *CHAPTER 7

Postby bondagefreak » Thu Jul 13, 2017 11:59 pm

Chapter 7 - Strange Thoughts


The roll of duct tape was big and really wide. It looked a lot tougher than the cheap tapes that mimicked it's look.
My dad struggled with the tape, his thick, creaking leather gloves making it hard to grab hold of the end piece.

A loud "Rrrrrrip" echoed through the tent as he severed the end of the roll with his gloved fingers and unwrapped a length of it.

"Yeah, that's some real duct tape." Don cheered, almost enthusiastically.

"Get that over his mouth. Get some around his face." uncle Joe prodded, apparently really anxious to see me mercilessly tape gagged with his duct tape.

Three pairs of big, gloved hands grabbed my face and held it in place as my dad started wrapping layer after layer over my lower face and around the back of my head, sealing his enormous sock in my mouth for good.

After about two minutes of careful wrapping, I had about a dozen wraps of tape around my head and several thick pieces going under my chin and securing my jaw shut.
My entire lower face was immobilised and my mouth was packed tight as hell.
I couldn't even make a peep.


"There we go, son." my dad said putting the tape down and cupping my chin up with his gloved hand. "Since you like talking back so much, I figured I'd give you something special to chew on for the rest of the night. Let's see you trying to mouth off through that gag o' yours." he added, looking down at me with a stern expression on his face.

I cried out, partly in anger but mostly in horror at the realisation that I was gonna be spending the ENTIRE night with his filthy sock in my mouth.
Only the smallest of whimpers came out though. "mmmm"

My dad and uncles laughed.

"Fuck....bro. I can't believe you stuffed your smelly ass sock in his mouth!" Frank laughed, chuckling like crazy.

"That thing fuckin' REEKED!" Don pitched in, laughing almost as hard.

I wanted to scream so badly...wanted to reach for my face and claw the tape off my mouth, but I couldn't.

I was stuck inside my super fat, red bag, trapped inside my uncle's equally thick mummy bag.
I was zipped up, strapped in and buckled down, my arms hopelessly pinned tight to my sides.


Most frustrating of all though, was the gag.


I wanted to yell and call for help. Wanted to scream and tell them to let me go.
I tried, but I wasn't able to.

I was sixteen, but my uncles didn't care.
The three of them just held me down against my will and restrained me while my dad forced his rotten old sock inside my protesting mouth to stop me from being able to cry out.

I screamed and tried calling for help, but I couldn't even get a whimper out past my gag.
My dad's filthy, old, putrid sock was doing a really good job at stuffing my mouth up.


I still couldn't believe it.

My friends were probably out, partying and having the time of their lives. Yet here I was, gagging on my own father's cheesy black sock, choking on the size of the wad and nearly puking from the potency of it's taste.

It wasn't only the taste of it, nor it's slimy texture, nor the fact that it was filling my mouth with balls of lint that was making me sick.
It was also the fact that I'd seen the hole-ridden sock, smelt it, recognised it and knew that it hadn't been washed in WEEKS.

My dad had been hiking in those socks all day and had been wearing them for well over a month, before now.


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I'd been zipped up. I'd been strapped down. My uncles had surrounded me.
There was nothing I could do to stop them from holding my face down...nothing I could do to stop my dad from taking off his boot, peeling his sock off and forcing it inside my screaming mouth.

And now I was screwed...my body zipped up, my arms tucked in and my mouth stuffed beyond reason...layers and layers of tape keeping the wad of cloth jammed deep between my lips and keeping my screams at bay.


Uncle Joe grabbed my hair and lifted my head up slightly before smoothing the tape down around my face with his big, leather gloved hands.

I closed my eyes, gagged and whimpered as the taste of my father's fetid, worn-out sock slowly filled my mouth.
My uncle paid me no attention though.

"Well...there's no way he's working his way around that gag of his." he commented, seemingly satisfied with the way my mouth was taped up.

"You happy in there, nephew?" he asked, looking down at me. "...All bundled up inside those bags, big straps to keep you safe and secure and a big, fat gag in your mouth to make sure you stay nice and quiet." he continued.

"mmmm...mm" I moaned in protest, nearly choking as I did so.

"Yeah, he's happy in there." my dad said, grabbing the upper top part of the red bag and lifting it over my face.
I felt the thick loft surround my head and felt my dad tugging on the drawstrings, pulling them tight and knotting them together, sealing me in and leaving only a small opening at my eye-level.
Then I felt even more loft surround my head as the fat mummy bag was sealed shut, reducing the size of the hole to half it's previous size and trapping me inside my thick red bag for good.


I tried to let out one final frightened yell as the straps securing me down to the cot were tightened, but I quickly realised how useless it was when my dad and uncles laughed at the fact that they could no longer hear me.

I felt the strap over my neck tighten down and it suddenly occurred to me how truly helpless I was.

I was so helpless that if they left me like this, I would surely die of thirst or dehydration...or probably both.


Someone could pass within 50 meters of the tent and never find me, even if I was screaming at the top of my lungs.
Even the sound of rain impacting on the nylon dome above me would drown out my screams...


Of course, I was just being paranoid.
I knew my dad and uncles would never leave me like this.
But the thought of being left out here, with rescuers combing through the forest around me, but me being unable to call for help 'cause of the sock that was duct taped inside my mouth...kinda scared me and made my dick throb, all at once.
Even more so because it was my dad's sock!

I could only imagine myself being zipped up and strapped down in here for days, rescuers calling my name nearby, but me not being able to respond, with my dad's big old, rancid sock filling my mouth.
Finally, only to be left in the forest, all tightly bound up, gagged and chewing on his cheesy sock.

This was scaring the crap out of me, but for some reason it was making me horny as well.


I tried breathing through my nose, tried ignoring the taste of the sock in my mouth and attempted to calm down.

A wave a fatigue quickly overcame me and I eventually dozed off into a light sleep.
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Re: The Camping Trip (MMMM/m) *CHAPTER 6

Postby footfreakshawn93 » Fri Jul 14, 2017 8:04 am

This is perfect. Now his nose i ready for a well deserved assault from all of there nasty feet. ;) loving this

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Re: The Camping Trip (MMMM/m) *CHAPTER 6

Postby Bondagefootpig » Fri Jul 14, 2017 8:58 am

Omg they shld have a contest and see who can get him to squirm the most from the stink lol. Def love the whole gagging sequence and the sinisterness af all the bros. God I wish that was my family lol.

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Re: The Camping Trip (MMMM/m) *CHAPTER 8

Postby bondagefreak » Mon Jul 17, 2017 9:37 pm

Chapter 8 - The First Night


I woke up a few times during the night, each time feeling hotter and more disoriented than the last.

I was still snuggly trapped inside the thick layers of squishy loft that surrounded me.
With the drawstrings pulled tight and the bags knotted shut, I couldn't get my nose or face out my thick red bag.
It's loft was smothering me up pretty bad and muffling my moans up as well.
At least the bag was new and didn't stink like uncle Joe's old mummy bag.

I tried wiggling around in my bags, but the sturdy straps were keeping me pinned to my cot.
I could only wiggle about an inch or so in either direction, but no more than that.



I cried out in despair, but my dad's old, putrid sock was still jammed tight in my mouth and going nowhere.
I tried opening my jaw, but the duct tape kept it shut. My dad had wrapped it real tight. Not only that, he'd wrapped a stupid amount of layers around my face and under my jaw.
My lower face was sealed up and my mouth literally stuffed to the point of bursting.
My dad had gagged me with a sort of vengeance or something...
He was either really upset with me or he really, REALLY didn't want me mouthing off tonight.

I couldn't move my tongue, so tightly packed my mouth was right now.


I was really angry and furious with my dad.
Him and his big, fuckin' stupid socks...

How dare he gag me with one of them!


I still couldn't believe my own dad had forced his old work sock in my mouth.

It was beyond cheesy...it was filthy! Not to mention, it smelled strong enough to make my uncles sick to their stomachs.



Just the thought of it made me sick.
His big, sweaty, smelly feet had been simmering inside those socks for weeks and weeks now.
They were holed, stained, moist, filled with cheesy lint, toe jam and foot gunk.

Yet here I was, bound and gagged with one of his big, rotten socks stuffed in my mouth.


He'd apparently gotten tired of hearing me complaining and decided that he didn't want me talking for the rest of the night....as though a dad was allowed to decide whether or not his sixteen year old son should be allowed to talk or not.

Apparently, my dad had no qualms or moral issues about restraining me and gagging me against my will.


He decided he didn't want me talking for the night, so he just forced his filthy sock in my mouth to take care of the problem.
I wasn't able to say a word or even cry out anymore. I was quite literally, chewing, choking and gagging on his huge, nasty black sock.


He was no doubt so accustomed to having stinky feet that he probably didn't really pick up the strong stench coming from his own socks.

One thing had become apparent.
He really did NOT care about the fact that his sock was worn-out and filled with lint and toe jam, and cared even less that it made me want to puke real bad.

For him, it was only a means of stuffing my mouth so that I couldn't talk or cry out for help.
As long as I couldn't talk, he was happy.


"mmmm....mmmhhmm...ummmph." I cried out, my moans clearly not making it out past the two, thick winter-grade sleeping bags.



I spent most of the night dosing on and off, half awake and regularly whimpering inside my foul-tasting gag.

After what seemed like forever, I heard the birds chirping and saw the morning light slowly sweeping inside the tent.
Only a few more hours and I'd be free.
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Re: The Camping Trip (MMMM/m) *CHAPTER 8

Postby Sniffingyoursocks » Tue Jul 18, 2017 2:55 am

The description of Kyle's dads funky, stinky socks got me going.

Useless to mention I wish I was in his place...amazing work like always. Thank you Sir.
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Re: The Camping Trip (MMMM/m) *CHAPTER 8

Postby squirrel » Tue Jul 18, 2017 4:54 am

Looking forward to seeing the adults wake up and torment poor kid some more :)

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Re: The Camping Trip (MMMM/m) *CHAPTER 8

Postby Harlequinn » Wed Jul 19, 2017 3:14 am

This story just keeps getting better. I wonder how Kyles going to spend the day "bonding" with his dad and uncles. Can't wait for the next chapter!

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Re: The Camping Trip (MMMM/m) *CHAPTER 8

Postby Scottstud94 » Thu Jul 20, 2017 4:06 pm

I hope they get out the chains and really make sure this punk can't get out

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Re: The Camping Trip (MMMM/m) *CHAPTER 8

Postby Sniffmyfeet » Fri Jul 21, 2017 8:31 am

Kyle is treated very harshly, his dad and his uncles showing absolutely no mercy and having fun at his expense. Poor Kyle... but I know for sure that many of us are really interested in what it is like to be Kyle and would love to share in his predicament. I know you have the materials (sleeping bags, putrid socks, duct tape) to make it happen :wink:
bondage /'bɒndɪdʒ/ noun & verb. ME.
A The condition of being bound or tied; fig. subjection to authority, constraining force, or obligation. LME.
‣b
spec. Sadomasochism involving binding, handcuffing, etc. M20.

(SOED, 6th ed.)

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Re: The Camping Trip (MMMM/m) *CHAPTER 9

Postby bondagefreak » Mon Aug 07, 2017 6:57 pm

Chapter 9 - Breakfast in Bed


I spent what seemed like hours dosing on and off until finally, the sound of shuffling around in the tent woke me up.

Uncle Joe undid the knots that kept my head sealed in the bags and opened the hood up for me, allowing my face to finally feel some fresh air.
It was morning and it was cold. I could tell by the condensation coming out of my nose when I exhaled.

"Morning Kyle." My uncle beamed. "Glad to see you're still alive in there." he laughed.

"Mmmm...uugghmmm..uggh." I moaned, more than a little anxious to be freed from this enormous sleeping bag prison.


I watched my dad zip up his thick jacket and watched him slowly pull his creaking, leather gloves on before walking over to me.

Uncle Don started laughing. "Twelve hours and he's still no closer to being able to talk through his gag."
Even my dad smiled at his brother's remark.

"How'd you sleep, son?" he asked, cupping my chin with his gloved hand and putting his other hand over my forehead so that I was forced to look up at him.

"Hmmhgghmm...uugghgmm..." I barked, glaring angrily at his face.

"I didn't quite get that, son. You got somethin' to tell me?" he asked, smirking devilishly down at me.

"I think he wants us to leave him like that until noon." uncle Frank laughed, his suggestion quickly gaining support from my two other uncles.

"Yeah, let's keep him like that for a while longer." Don agreed.


"Mmmppphh! Mmpphh...uggghmmmpph....uuuggmm!" I tried yelling.

"Calm down, son." My dad ordered, ignoring his incorrigible brothers. "You wanna have something to drink?" he asked.


I nodded my head frantically and pleaded in my gag.


"Then stay quiet." my dad finally barked, pointing a big leather gloved finger over my face.


My dad and uncles spent the next couple minutes removing the tape from around my face before finally pulling the huge, smelly sock out of my mouth.

I coughed and choked as it was pulled out, balls of dirty lint sticking to my tongue and palate.

Uncle Joe lifted my head and my dad quickly opened up a water bottle with his gloved hands and brought the opening into my mouth before pouring it's content down my throat.

The cool liquid felt good inside my parched mouth.
I felt a little sick to my stomach when lint and toe jam mingled with the water and slid my throat, but at least the awfully strong taste of my father's sock was being washed down as well.


I was allowed to drink about half the bottle before it was pulled from my lips.


"You're gonna eat your breakfast too, son." my dad stated, putting the water bottle back in the cooler and grabbing, what appeared to be, an overly ripe banana.

I watched my dad fumble with the squishy fruit. His thick creaking gloves were making it more difficult that it normally would've been, but eventually he managed.

Uncle Joe held my head up and clamped is other gloved hand under my chin. Uncle Frank held my throat down and kept his second hand over my forehead to stop me from moving my face away.
My dad shoved the banana inside my mouth, faster than I could chew and swallow. And Don was apparently circling around my cot and re-tightening the thick straps that kept me restrained.

"Eat." my dad told me, impatiently shoving the mushy banana into my mouth.

I coughed and choked my way through the first one. Only to find my dad peeling a second, equally ripe one before forcing me to eat it as well.
I didn't really like bananas. I thought my dad knew that, but he apparently didn't know...or didn't care.

Eating two overly ripe bananas wasn't the worst part of it though.
My dad grabbed the bag of sliced, brown bread he'd brought to make sandwiches. But instead of making me a sandwich, he just grabbed a slice of bread and smushed it up with his big, leather glove.

"Noommphh..." I attempted to cry out.
With my body zipped up inside the two super thick sleeping bags and the big gloved hands keeping my head and mouth under control, I was quickly silenced and forced to eat the slice of bread my dad had mashed up for me.

"Bon appétit." Frank laughed as I was force-fed the squashed bread...big, leather-clad fingers aggressively shoving it inside my mouth.


I was allowed another mouthful of water to wash my breakfast down, but nothing more.


Only when I saw my dad reaching for his big, smelly, saliva-covered sock did I start to panic.


"NO! NOommphh." I started crying out.
My uncles had their hands clamped around my face and had no trouble keeping me from making too much of a fuss.

My dad just looked at his big, funky old sock and squashed it up into a big ball before bringing it over my face.
There was no remorse in his eyes, no sign of guilt or anything else to indicate that he felt it was wrong to forcefully gag his own son with a filthy sock.

"Open wide, son. The sock is going back in." he told me, his big, jacket-clad form towering above me.

I tried crying out, but my dad and uncles were apparently not interested in debating the issue.
"MMmmmpphhnnOO! Dad! Stop! Let me gmmmpphhh!" I managed to cry out before being smothered and muffled by big, gloved hands.

"That's enough! I don't wanna hear it...now open up!" My dad growled, angrily forcing the thick wad of smelly cloth past my lips.

I coughed as the material started filling my mouth faster than I could cope.
"Shut up!" My dad barked.

"Yeah, get that old sock back in there." Joe mumbled.

"Mmmuuumphh...ugghh." I coughed as my dad continued forcefully stuffing his large sock into my mouth. "Are the straps still buckled tight?" he asked his brother Don.

"Oh they're buckled up alright." Don answered. "Real nice and tight."

"He won't be getting out of there any time soon." Frank chuckled, sliding his hand over the massive loft I was trapped in.

"mmmm.....uuggh...uumpph....uggh." I moaned.

"My trusty old winter bag keeping you warm, kiddo?" Joe teased, ignoring the fact that I was literally choking on my dad's filthy sock.
"I bet he's real warm and toasty inside that big, red bag you got him, Jack." he told my dad.


Warm and toasty was an understatement.
I was warm. REALLY warm.
And apparently I wasn't about to be let out just yet.
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Re: The Camping Trip (MMMM/m) *CHAPTER 9

Postby Sniffingyoursocks » Mon Aug 07, 2017 11:28 pm

Really loving the thick, creaking leather gloves..
And the force feeding. Bread squashed by hot leather gloves....mhmmm....nice!
Obey and say 'Yes Master'.

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Re: The Camping Trip (MMMM/m) *CHAPTER 9

Postby BoundBoyBeta » Tue Aug 08, 2017 1:50 am

Great force feeding scene.
Another great chapter... etc etc. you get the idea.
Awesome as usual.

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Re: The Camping Trip (MMMM/m) *CHAPTER 9

Postby squirrel » Tue Aug 08, 2017 2:56 am

magnificent!

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Re: The Camping Trip (MMMM/m) *CHAPTER 10

Postby bondagefreak » Tue Aug 08, 2017 12:34 pm

Chapter 10 - No Respite


My mouth was jam-packed and my tongue was pinned down, yet there was still more sock to go and my dad was bent on making it all fit in.

To make matters worse, uncle Don walked on the other site of the cot from where my dad was standing and pulled the ratchet strap going over my neck hard, before buckling it back up.
All my restraints had now been tightened and with the gurney strap squashing down the massive loft real tight around my neck, I had no hopes of ever working my arms out of the bags and unzipping myself.

My arms and legs and everything below my neck was mercilessly trapped.
No amount of squirming around or struggling would help me get free.
My head was surrounded on all sides by massive amounts of loft that threatened to close up over my face and smother me up.
As if that wasn't enough, two of my uncles were holding my head and face down with their strong hands.
I had literally no defence against my dad. No way to stop him from forcefully gagging me against my will.

"There...he's not going anywhere." Don remarked, buckling down the final strap and eyeing his handiwork.

I could hear them talking, but could barely focus on what they were saying.
It was all happening so fast. My mind was a blur.


I tried fighting the restraints, tried shaking myself free, but my legs were squashed, my arms were trapped and my body was pinned down to the cot.
I started choking, tears welling up inside my eyes as the big wad of dirty sock threatened to fill my throat up.
My dad was big and muscular. He could easily choke me with his sock if he wasn't careful.
My cheeks were bursting and my cries and coughs were reduces to nothing more than distant whimpers. My uncles couldn't seem to care less.
I couldn't even close my mouth. The sock was just filling it up way too much.
"uuggh....uggh...uugghmmph." I cried out.

"You sure he can't get out?" uncle Frank asked.

"Positive." Don answered. "There's no way in hell he's getting out of those bags."


"Sorry son." my dad mumbled, ignoring his brothers. "It's hunting season out here, so there are other people in the woods. I can't have you calling for help and attracting attention."

I couldn't care less about his excuses.
The only thing that mattered to me was getting the big, nasty sock out of my mouth.

"Your uncles and I are gonna be going for a long hike this morning. You're gonna stay zipped up and you're gonna be nice and quiet while we're gone." he told me.

Before I knew it, Don passed my dad some of the black electrical tape and the massive wad of sock was being sealed up inside my stuffed-to-bursting mouth.
My three uncles held my head up with their big, gloved hands while my dad brought the thin, stretchy tape over my open mouth and around the back of my head, over and over.

"Mmuuggh....uggghmm." I protested, to no avail.


"Yeah, that's it." Joe prodded. "Make sure you tape the sock up inside his mouth real good."


"Now that's what I call a gag!" uncle Frank chuckled. "I'm just glad I'm not the one chewing on your sock." he added, drawing a subdued snicker from my dad.

"Same here." Don added.

My dad had a reputation in his family, for having the biggest, smelliest feet.
From the sound of it, it seemed as though my dad's two younger brothers had vivid memories of being forced to smell and taste my dad's dirty socks in the past.
They were all okay with tying me up like this, so maybe they used to play tie up games with each other when growing up...maybe there had been a lot of gagging involved as well.
It would explain a lot.

It didn't really matter though. What mattered was my predicament, here and now.

Right now, I was helplessly bundled up and gagging on my dad's cheesy old sock.

I tried moaning, tried pushing it out, but my dad continued wrapping more and more tape around my head.
"Shhhh...quiet down, son. No talking. Just be a good boy and gag on my sock." he told me.


"Yeah...gag on it." Frank mumbled.


More and more tape was wrapped around my head and pretty soon I lost count of how many layers covered my mouth.

"Did Chris and Nate say at what time they'd get here?" My dad asked Joe.

"No, but I told them we'd be out hiking until mid afternoon." uncle Joe answered. "Even if they get here early, it'll give them time to set their tent up." he added.

"Good." My dad answered, finally severing the tape and putting it down.

Chris and Nate?!
Apparently two of my older cousins were gonna be joining us.
Chris was a lot older than me. He was alright. Nate though, was a different story. He was my least favourite cousin and a real bum at that.



I watched in horror as uncle Don grabbed the big roll of wide, industrial grade duct tape and handed over to my dad.

"Alright, hold his head still." my dad instructed.

Six big, leather-clad hands, grabbed hold of my head and then I heard the familiar sound of heavy duty duct tape filling the tent.
Last edited by bondagefreak on Mon Aug 14, 2017 11:22 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: The Camping Trip (MMMM/m) *CHAPTER 10

Postby Scottstud94 » Tue Aug 08, 2017 5:06 pm

I hope they add chains to make his predicament even worse. Or keep him tied 24/7. This kid deserves it. All his whining. Glad his dad and uncles are doing the right thing gagging him properly and making sure he can't get out.

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Re: The Camping Trip (MMMM/m) *CHAPTER 10

Postby skdj » Tue Aug 08, 2017 8:22 pm

Just ... wow! Great attention to detail and painting a vivid picture. Wonder what Kyle is thinking of doing if he survives the night.

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Re: The Camping Trip (MMMM/m) *CHAPTER 11

Postby bondagefreak » Tue Aug 08, 2017 10:35 pm

Chapter 11 - Alone Time


Six big hands grabbed my face and held it tight.
Uncle Joe used his strength to try to close my jaw up as much as possible with his gloved hands.
The strong smell of leather filled my nostrils and before I knew it, wide silver tape was slapped onto my left cheek and stretched over my already stuffed and taped mouth.

"Uuuggghh..."
I attempted to cry out, which did nothing to halt my dad's advance.
While my uncles held my head in place, my dad wound the tape up real tight over my mouth and around my head.

I watched my dad strain, pulling the roll taut, making sure the extra wide silver adhesive was wrapped up real tight around my face.
He was sweating bullets inside his big down jacket. They all were.
The extra wide duct tape went over my mouth and around my head two times, three times, four times...

"Make sure you get some under his chin." Joe told my dad.

More and more tape was applied to my face. The sticky, silver material completely covering everything below my nostrils and concealing my stuffed-up and already taped mouth underneath.

My dad wasn't finished yet. He wound the tape four more times around my face, even going over the bridge of my nose twice, ripping part of the tape so as to leave my nostrils free.
My face was muzzled up good. Real good.
"Mmmmuughh." I yelled in protest.

The wide, heavy duty duct tape by itself would've been more than enough to keep anyone from talking or calling for help.
But I not only had that to keep me quiet, I also had to cope with the giant sock stuffed in my mouth, underneath the duct tape.

"You got something to say, son?" my dad asked, knowing full well I couldn't respond.

"uugghh...ugghm....mmughh." I cried out, my screams so deeply muffled that only the faintest of whimpers made it past the gag.

My uncles immediately started laughing.
"I think he's trying to call for help." Frank chuckled.

"Good luck trying to get anything out past your gag, son." my dad smirked, visibly proud of his work.

"Mmmguumh" I cried out, only to find myself choking on the thick wad of cloth taped in my mouth.
Fuckin' stupid sock! I'd been chewing on it for twelve hours before this and it STILL tasted like fermenting cheese.


"Poor Kyle." Joe teased. "Sounds like that sock is giving him quite a bit of trouble." he chuckled, tapping me on the plastered cheek.

"Yeah, he won't be calling for help anytime soon." Don pointed out.



My dad and uncles spent the next half hour or so eating and getting ready for their morning hike.
I was pretty much being ignored and left to my own musings. Only Frank seem determined to tease me every now and then.

My uncle squeezed both of my cheeks together with his big, gloved hand and occasionally used his black, leather-clad fingers to pinch my nostrils shut.

"How you doin' in there, boy?" he asked, a big smirk on his face.

"Ughhh...uuggmmm." I answered, giving my uncle my best set of puppy eyes.

"You havin' fun chewing on your dad's sock?" he asked, tapping me on the cheek in a teasing manner.

I cried out again, but only a faint whimper made it out.

"Yeah, I bet you are." he answered, ignoring my pleas for help.


"How's our little prisoner doing?" my dad asked, finishing his snack and getting up from his cot to come and see me.

"Oh, he seems pretty happy in there." Frank answered, chuckling.

My dad walked up to my cot and towered above me before reaching for my face with his big creaking glove and cupping my chin.


"What d'you say to that, son? You happy in there?" he asked, looking down at me with a cocky smirk displayed on his face.

"Ugghhgmmm....mmmggh!" I cried out, trying to shake my head out of his tight grasp.

"What's wrong son? My sock giving some trouble?" he asked, squeezing my cheeks the same way uncle Frank had, just a minute ago.

"Ugghh...uugghmmm...mmmuugh." I moaned, choking hard and struggling to catch my breathe.

"Well you should've thought about that before mouthing off like you did last night." he answered, ignoring my muffled screams.

"Ugghhh!" I attempted to scream, halting abruptly to stop the sock from sliding into my throat.
Tears welled up in my eyes as I swallowed a mixture of my saliva and my own dad's foot sweat.

"Uummpph!" I cried, in genuine despair.
Not only was I hopelessly trussed up and gagged, but I was also being forced to accept the taste of my dad's raunchy, old work sock.
I had been given no choice, no alternative. The sock was filthy and it smelled really strong and cheesy, but no one seemed to care.
My dad had just unlaced his leather army boot and peeled his rotten old sock off before forcing it inside my mouth last night.
No choice, no alternative.
It had been imposed on me, forced in against my will.

Part of me felt violated.

Even now, the sock was continually assaulting my taste buds.
I was constantly being reminded of what it was I was gagging on.
The knowledge that it was my dad's sock made it almost as bad as the taste itself.

Tears welled up in my eyes, but my dad showed me no sympathy.
"Yeah, you're in serious trouble now, aren't you son?" he continued. "You can't get out, you can't call for help and no ones coming to free you."

"You're fucked, kiddo." shot uncle Don, drawing laughter from my two other uncles.

"Mmmmpphh...mmuugghh." I cried, my moans quickly changing from angry insults to pleas for mercy.


"Yeah, I bet you have all sorts of things to say right now, don't you, son?" my dad said, cutting me short. "Well I don't wanna hear it. You're grounded 'till I get back." he added, almost angrily, letting my face go and grabbing the thick loft of the red sleeping bag before pulling it over my mouth and nose.

"No talking, no texting and no playing on your phone. You're not getting out of uncle Joe's sleeping bag." he continued, grabbing my cell phone from my jeans, which were on the tent floor next to my cot.
I watched as my dad took my phone, opened his thick jacket up and slid the phone inside one of his jacket's internal pockets before zipping it shut.

The password to unlock my phone wasn't that obvious to someone who didn't know me. But my dad or anyone else who was close to me could probably figure it out after a few attempts.
I hadn't erased my browsing history recently and I had a lot of photos on there. Photos I didn't want my dad, or anyone else for that matter, to see!
Stupid, stupid me!

Ok, calm down Kyle, I told myself.
He isn't gonna figure out the password and he's not gonna go browsing through your phone.



The last thing I saw was my dad towering over my head.
Then I felt the mummy bag hood being sealed shut over my face and everything went black.

I was only allowed a tiny hole to breathe through and I knew from experience that when it came to knots, my dad never took shortcuts.

I heard my uncles laughing in the distance and heard the tent door being opened and zipped shut.
Then everything went quiet and I was alone.
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Re: The Camping Trip (MMMM/m) *CHAPTER 11

Postby Bondagefootpig » Wed Aug 09, 2017 6:58 am

Damn that was a really good hot chapter bf! Hmmm can't wait til the cousins get there and find him all helpless. Wonder if there will be more stinky sock sniffing and foot worshipping st all?


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