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.
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.