Game Boy and the burglar (F/m)

[JulieG]

In response to @Bondageboi ”How would you….?”

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The sun had barely kissed the horizon goodbye when the quiet hum of the suburban neighborhood began to settle. House by house, lights flickered off as families retreated behind their doors, seeking the refuge of sleep. In one such home, a teenage boy named Alex remained wide-eyed and alert. Dressed in a faded t-shirt and baggy shorts, his bare feet propped on the coffee table as he navigated the digital landscape of his favorite video game. The soft glow of the screen cast shadows across his bedroom walls, creating a serene sanctuary amidst the encroaching darkness outside.

The game's protagonist leapt from rooftop to rooftop, dodging neon bullets and the nefarious grins of virtual foes. Alex's heart raced as he deftly maneuvered the controls, his eyes glued to the screen, oblivious to the real-world danger that was about to crash into his tranquil evening. His mother had left a note, reminding him to lock the doors and windows, but the excitement of a rare night without his parent had made him careless. He was lost in a world where the only battles that mattered were the ones he could win with the press of a button.

A floorboard creaked in the hallway, a sound so faint it failed to register above the digital symphony of his game. The house had always had its share of peculiar sounds at night—the old pipes groaning, the occasional scuttle of a rogue spider—but this was different. It was deliberate, human.

Alex paused the game, his thumb hovering over the button, his ears tuned to the silence. He listened, straining to hear beyond the steady thump of his own heart. Another sound reached his ears, a soft rustle, the unmistakable whisper of fabric against fabric. He turned his head slowly, eyes scanning the room, searching for the source of the disturbance. His gaze fell upon the doorway, where a shadow lurked, one that hadn’t been there a moment ago.

A figure emerged from the shadows, clad in black from head to toe, a ski mask obscuring their face. The burglar stepped into the room with the grace of a cat, each movement calculated and precise. Alex's eyes widened in shock, his mind racing as he realized the gravity of the situation. He tried to stand, his legs tangling in the game cords, sending his controller clattering to the floor. Panic set in as he scrambled to free himself, adrenaline surging through his veins.

The intruder, however, was unfazed by his clumsy attempt at escape. She strode closer, a coil of rope in her gloved hand, her eyes locked onto his. Through the mask, he could discern a glint of amusement mixed with a chilling determination. Alex's mind raced as he searched for a weapon, his eyes darting around the room. The baseball bat from his little league days leaned against the wall, a relic of a time when the only battles he'd faced were playground skirmishes. But it was too far, and she was too fast.

Before he could even consider a desperate lunge, she was upon him, her hands surprisingly gentle as she secured the ropes around his wrists and ankles. "Don't worry, kid," she whispered, her voice a soft rasp that sent a shiver down his spine, "This isn't personal. Just stay put and we'll both get out of here in one piece."

Alex's heart pounded in his chest as he took in the burglar's lean frame and the confidence in her stride. He knew he couldn't overpower her, not with his limited strength and her clear experience in this line of work. He felt the ropes tighten, biting into his skin, as she efficiently tied his limbs to the chair. Each knot was a silent promise of his captivity, a stark reminder of his vulnerability.

The room grew even more suffocating as she stepped back to assess her handiwork. "Good boy," she murmured, the smugness in her tone making him want to spit in her face. But the fear was stronger, a vice-like grip that held his tongue and his body in check. He could feel the cold sweat beading on his forehead, his breathing shallow and rapid.

Her eyes searched the room, a silent appraisal of the potential riches she had stumbled upon. Alex watched her, trying to think of anything he could say or do to dissuade her from her task. He knew his mom's jewelry was in the master bedroom, a modest collection that she cherished, but certainly not worth the trouble.

"Now tell me where the best pickings are," she hissed, her tone low and menacing. "I have ways of making you talk."

Alex's eyes darted to her hands, noticing the sharpness of her nails as they glinted in the dim light. His stomach churned with dread as she reached out, her fingers hovering over his bare soles. He knew from movies and TV shows that pain was a powerful motivator, and he had no doubt she'd make good on her threat. But his mind remained a fortress of silence. He clenched his jaw, bracing for the torment that was sure to come.

The burglar's touch was feather-light at first, a tickle that made him squirm despite his resolve. His eyes squeezed shut tightly, his body trying to fight the involuntary reactions that tickling so easily provoked. He felt a smug smile form beneath her mask as she found his vulnerable spots, the tender arches and sensitive pads of his feet. Alex's cheeks burned with a mix of embarrassment and anger. He was not going to give her the satisfaction of hearing him squeal like a little kid.

Her fingers grew bolder, digging in slightly, the sensation shifting from playful to uncomfortable. He bit his lip hard, tasting the coppery tang of blood as he tried to hold in the giggles that bubbled in his throat. The pain grew, a dull throb that started to overpower the initial tickle. Alex's eyes watered, his body writhing in the chair, desperately trying to escape the relentless torment.

"C'mon," she coaxed, her smile audible in her voice, "Make it easy on yourself."

Alex's eyes flicked from the floor to the masked woman, then back to his bound feet. Less than a minute had passed since she'd started her interrogation, but it felt like an eternity. The pain grew unbearable, each giggle now a grimace. His mother's jewelry, a collection that had been passed down through generations, suddenly didn't seem so important. "They're in the...master bedroom," he choked out, the words barely escaping through his clenched teeth.

The burglar's smile grew, victorious and predatory. She stepped away from him, the tension in the room shifting like a storm cloud moving on to its next target. "Good boy," she repeated, the condescension thick in her voice. "Now, if you stay put, we won't have any more...unpleasantness, okay?"

Alex nodded, his eyes never leaving her. In less than a minute, his resolve had crumbled under the pressure of her unorthodox interrogation. The fear of more pain had been too great, and he had given her the information she sought. His mind raced with thoughts of his mother's reaction when she found out, the disappointment in her eyes, the loss of her precious family heirlooms.

The woman disappeared into the master bedroom, her footsteps muffled by the thick carpet and her soft soled boots. The seconds ticked by like hours as he sat bound on the floor, listening to the rustle of drawers being pulled open and closed, the soft clink of jewelry being placed into a bag. Each sound was a stab of regret, a reminder of his carelessness. He heard the distinctive zipping of the bag, signaling the end of her search.

She emerged from the darkness, her eyes gleaming with success. The bag of jewelry swung at her side, a grim trophy from her conquest of his mother's privacy. But she had brought something else with her, something that sent a cold shiver down his spine. A pair of clean tights draped over her arm, and a roll of tape in her hand. The sight of the tape made his throat constrict. He had seen enough movies to know what that could mean.

“Dont worry anout these. Fresh from the packet, your mum hasn’t worn them.”

The burglar’s words sent a shiver down Alex’s spine as she approached him with the tights. Despite the situation, a strange sense of relief washed over him knowing that the painful tickling would stop. She leaned down, and he could feel her breath against his cheek as she stuffed the tights into his mouth. The fabric tasted faintly of fabric softener, an oddly comforting scent amidst the chaos. The tights filled his mouth, muffling any sound he might make.

Next, she took the roll of tape, the sticky embrace of the plastic coils echoing in the otherwise silent room. The sound of the tape tearing from the roll made his heart race. She carefully wrapped it around his head, pressing the edges down to ensure a snug seal. The pressure was surprisingly gentle, almost tender, as if she were wrapping a gift rather than silencing her hostage. Alex felt a strange sense of detachment as she worked, his mind reeling from the absurdity of the situation. Once his mouth was tightly sealed a couple more wraps of the lurid pink tape over his eyes served as the most secure blindfold.

When she finished, she stepped back, and the room plunged into complete darkness. The tape was cold against his skin, and the sudden lack of visual stimuli made the world seem to spin around him. He was now a prisoner in his own home. He could feel his breathing accelerate, his chest rising and falling in rapid succession as his imagination painted scenes of horror in his mind.

The house grew eerily quiet, save for the distant sound of drawers closing. The burglar had moved to the next room, but the memory of her touch and the sound of her steps sent his pulse racing. Alex's senses were heightened, the slightest noise making him jump. The rustle of plastic from the tape was the only constant reminder of his current reality.

The darkness was absolute, the tape pressing tightly against his eyelids. He tried to blink, but the plastic was unyielding. His eyes watered, and he could feel the warm liquid seep into the fabric of the blindfold. Panic clawed at his chest, making it difficult to breathe. He fought against his restraints, the ropes biting into his skin, but she had tied them too well. Each movement sent waves of pain through his limbs, a stark contrast to the cold floor beneath him.

Above the sound of his own labored breathing, Alex heard the unmistakable sound of the front door opening and closing. His heart sank. She was leaving. The burglar had taken what she came for and was now escaping into the night, leaving him helpless in her wake. He strained to listen, hoping to hear the reassuring sounds of his neighbors stirring, of someone who might come to his aid. But the night remained still and indifferent, the quietness of the suburban street mocking him with its deafening silence.

[Snozzberry]

The burglar forgot the most valuable possession in the House ALEX.

[TuggyMale]

I Love the gag. Using tights as a stuffing is an amazing idea. Well done