Danny in a sticky situation (m/mm)
Posted: Tue Sep 23, 2025 1:08 am
The slam of the tailgate echoed hollowly inside the truck. The darkness was pierced only by a sliver of light filtering in from the front cab. The air there smelled of a mixture of hot rubber, fresh sweat, and a faint trace of disinfectant once used on the upholstery.
Danny lay on his side, breathing heavily behind the white tape that sealed his mouth. The microfoam tape pressed firmly against his cheeks, stretching the skin until he felt constant pressure at the corners of his lips. Every attempt to open his mouth produced only a muffled buzzing sound.
"Mmmmffff..." came from his throat, vibrating against the tape, a wet sound that dissipated into the darkness.
The ropes held him in a rigid embrace. The soft yet firm fiber scraped his skin at the creases of his elbows and under his T-shirt, creating a burning tingling sensation. His arms, pinned to his torso, denied him any attempt at balance, while his wrists, tied so close together behind his back, throbbed with a slight burning sensation every time he tried to force a movement.
His legs offered no relief: his ankles, together and tense, could barely shake his white sneakers, which hit the carpeted floor with a dull thump, thump. His bound knees forced him to remain hunched over, his muscles stiff and tense from the effort. The ropes rubbing against the skin of his calves, damp from the heat of his long socks, added to his discomfort.
Sweat began to soak through his sports shirt, mixing with the smell of the satin fabric of his shorts, a synthetic, shiny aroma, now crumpled under his writhing body. The beat of his breathing was marked on the tape, each inhalation muffled with a slight nasal whistle, each exhalation a muffled gasp:
—"Nnnnghh... mmmfffhh..."—
The silence of the van was only interrupted by those muffled moans, by the rough rubbing of the tightening ropes, and by the creaking of the upholstery beneath his frustrated movements. Locked in, his senses heightened, 13-year-old Danny perceived every texture, every smell, every sound as a constant reminder that he was completely at the mercy of the bet he had lost with his friend Charles.
Danny stirred once more, the rubbing of the ropes against his skin already leaving a persistent burning sensation on his arms and thighs. Sweat began to slide down his forehead, trickling to the edge of the tape that held his mouth immobile. His breath hit his lips sealed with microfoam tape, each exhalation leaving a slight damp heat under the material.
Suddenly, a different sound broke the silence: a brief, repeated metallic pling. Danny turned his head, the ropes creaking around his torso. A few inches away, leaning against the padded wall of the van, was a tablet. The screen glowed insistently, illuminating the interior with a bluish glow. A notification flashed: an incoming video call.
"...mmmhhh... nnnngghh..." he protested, twisting his neck, stretching his bound body. His ankles hit the carpet with a dull thump as he crawled in small, jerky movements until the light from the screen grazed his face.
The answer icon was temptingly close. With effort, pushing his nose against the glass, he managed to drag his face until the screen recognized the contact. A sharp connection sound filled the space, and in a second, the image unfolded.
Danny blinked. The air seemed to catch in his lungs.
On the screen, Charles appeared framed by a fixed camera: tied in the same way, his arms immobilized to his torso, his legs together, unable to move freely. The difference was his mouth: a wide strip of silver duct tape covered his head, glinting in the light.
Charles' blue eyes opened in surprise at the sight of Danny. The tape over his mouth crinkled with his first attempt at speech.
"Mmmhhffhh! Nnnfffhhmm!"
Danny responded instantly, a muffled chorus of moans bouncing around inside the van:
"Nnnngghh... mmmfffhh..."
Both struggled against the ropes, the dull, tense rubbing echoing with every tug, every failed movement. The cold glow of the screen bathed their sweaty faces, capturing the contradiction of the moment: Charles, the friend who had left him there, now trapped in identical helplessness.
Doubt burned in Danny's mind, even more than the ropes. If Charles was also gagged, who had tightened those turns of silver tape around his mouth? Who was behind all this?
Their breaths mingled, canned gasps, muffled sounds. The silence of the van was filled with its own concert of "mmmfff, nnnghh, hhmmpphh," until the screen shook with a new echo: someone else was controlling that connection.
The bluish light from the tablet flickered over both their faces, intensifying the contrast between the artificial brightness and the suffocating darkness of the van. Danny's sweat ran slowly down his temple, disappearing under the edge of the tape that kept his lips sealed.
In front of him, on the screen, Charles was writhing just the same. His shoulders shook with each tug of the ropes that held him hugging himself, his thin body straining under his sports shirt. The metallic sheen of the silver tape on his mouth reflected every small movement, as if to highlight his helplessness.
Danny tilted his head, his sticky cheeks pressed against the microfoam tape, and let out a deep sound:
"Mmmfffhhmmm..."
Charles responded almost immediately, his torso arching against the restraints, his sneakers pounding against the invisible floor on his side of the call.
"Nnnngghhhmmmfffhh!"
The two muffled voices crossed, overlapping, meaningless, like a broken dialogue trapped in a cage of adhesive fabric. Danny felt his chest tighten with each breath; the air entered roughly through his nose and exited with a wet hiss, leaving the tape slightly fogged.
The heat inside the van grew thicker. His satin shorts, which had felt light before, now clung to the sweaty skin of his thighs, wrinkling under the pressure of the ropes at his knees. The rubber smell of the upholstery mixed with sweat and the synthetic feel of sportswear, creating a heavy, almost dizzying atmosphere.
He tried to push the tablet with his forehead, trying to bring it closer, as if somehow he could bridge the distance between he and Charles. The movement only resulted in a sharp blow against the glass and a beep from the app. The screen vibrated and refocused on his friend's face.
Charles' eyes stared at him, wide, somewhere between anger and pleading. He groaned loudly again, shaking his head from side to side.
"Mmmmmmhhhfffhhh!"
Danny replied, his throat vibrating under the tape, unable to articulate anything:
"Hhhmmmfffhhmmm..."
It was a primitive exchange, reduced to gasps, to muffled roars that collided with their tape gags. But each moan contained an urgency, a desperate attempt to understand the impossible: how the two of them had ended up in this condition, separated, watching each other through a screen that only increased the feeling of confinement.
The video call notification continued to glow in the corner, a cruel reminder that someone else controlled the connection. But no one intervened. No one spoke. It was just them, staring at each other, gasping, bound and gagged, trapped in a game whose rules neither of them knew.
Both boys remained still for a moment until the tablet screen moved away slightly and Danny immediately recognized the place where Charles was tied up. It was Charles's room, with posters of athletes and girls in bikinis. The blond boy was lying on his bed covered in car prints. Behind him appeared another blond boy, much taller and with a psychopathic smile. It was Thomas, Charles' older brother. Everything fell into place in Danny's mind.
"How careless of my little brother to let his guard down. Now you two are in the same situation. How does it feel, Danny?" Thomas said.
Danny barely responded with a growl of frustration. Thomas ruffled his younger brother's hair and ended the video call. Danny was tied up and gagged in Charles and Thomas' parents' truck, which was in the garage. A couple of minutes passed before Danny heard footsteps from outside, then the door burst open. Thomas appeared with Charles on his shoulders and gently placed him next to Danny. Both boys groaned.
"Guys, we're going for a little ride now. I know the conditions in there aren't the best, but I still hope you enjoy it."
"Mmmfmfmfmm!!!" said both teenagers before the door closed and the truck's engine started.
Danny lay on his side, breathing heavily behind the white tape that sealed his mouth. The microfoam tape pressed firmly against his cheeks, stretching the skin until he felt constant pressure at the corners of his lips. Every attempt to open his mouth produced only a muffled buzzing sound.
"Mmmmffff..." came from his throat, vibrating against the tape, a wet sound that dissipated into the darkness.
The ropes held him in a rigid embrace. The soft yet firm fiber scraped his skin at the creases of his elbows and under his T-shirt, creating a burning tingling sensation. His arms, pinned to his torso, denied him any attempt at balance, while his wrists, tied so close together behind his back, throbbed with a slight burning sensation every time he tried to force a movement.
His legs offered no relief: his ankles, together and tense, could barely shake his white sneakers, which hit the carpeted floor with a dull thump, thump. His bound knees forced him to remain hunched over, his muscles stiff and tense from the effort. The ropes rubbing against the skin of his calves, damp from the heat of his long socks, added to his discomfort.
Sweat began to soak through his sports shirt, mixing with the smell of the satin fabric of his shorts, a synthetic, shiny aroma, now crumpled under his writhing body. The beat of his breathing was marked on the tape, each inhalation muffled with a slight nasal whistle, each exhalation a muffled gasp:
—"Nnnnghh... mmmfffhh..."—
The silence of the van was only interrupted by those muffled moans, by the rough rubbing of the tightening ropes, and by the creaking of the upholstery beneath his frustrated movements. Locked in, his senses heightened, 13-year-old Danny perceived every texture, every smell, every sound as a constant reminder that he was completely at the mercy of the bet he had lost with his friend Charles.
Danny stirred once more, the rubbing of the ropes against his skin already leaving a persistent burning sensation on his arms and thighs. Sweat began to slide down his forehead, trickling to the edge of the tape that held his mouth immobile. His breath hit his lips sealed with microfoam tape, each exhalation leaving a slight damp heat under the material.
Suddenly, a different sound broke the silence: a brief, repeated metallic pling. Danny turned his head, the ropes creaking around his torso. A few inches away, leaning against the padded wall of the van, was a tablet. The screen glowed insistently, illuminating the interior with a bluish glow. A notification flashed: an incoming video call.
"...mmmhhh... nnnngghh..." he protested, twisting his neck, stretching his bound body. His ankles hit the carpet with a dull thump as he crawled in small, jerky movements until the light from the screen grazed his face.
The answer icon was temptingly close. With effort, pushing his nose against the glass, he managed to drag his face until the screen recognized the contact. A sharp connection sound filled the space, and in a second, the image unfolded.
Danny blinked. The air seemed to catch in his lungs.
On the screen, Charles appeared framed by a fixed camera: tied in the same way, his arms immobilized to his torso, his legs together, unable to move freely. The difference was his mouth: a wide strip of silver duct tape covered his head, glinting in the light.
Charles' blue eyes opened in surprise at the sight of Danny. The tape over his mouth crinkled with his first attempt at speech.
"Mmmhhffhh! Nnnfffhhmm!"
Danny responded instantly, a muffled chorus of moans bouncing around inside the van:
"Nnnngghh... mmmfffhh..."
Both struggled against the ropes, the dull, tense rubbing echoing with every tug, every failed movement. The cold glow of the screen bathed their sweaty faces, capturing the contradiction of the moment: Charles, the friend who had left him there, now trapped in identical helplessness.
Doubt burned in Danny's mind, even more than the ropes. If Charles was also gagged, who had tightened those turns of silver tape around his mouth? Who was behind all this?
Their breaths mingled, canned gasps, muffled sounds. The silence of the van was filled with its own concert of "mmmfff, nnnghh, hhmmpphh," until the screen shook with a new echo: someone else was controlling that connection.
The bluish light from the tablet flickered over both their faces, intensifying the contrast between the artificial brightness and the suffocating darkness of the van. Danny's sweat ran slowly down his temple, disappearing under the edge of the tape that kept his lips sealed.
In front of him, on the screen, Charles was writhing just the same. His shoulders shook with each tug of the ropes that held him hugging himself, his thin body straining under his sports shirt. The metallic sheen of the silver tape on his mouth reflected every small movement, as if to highlight his helplessness.
Danny tilted his head, his sticky cheeks pressed against the microfoam tape, and let out a deep sound:
"Mmmfffhhmmm..."
Charles responded almost immediately, his torso arching against the restraints, his sneakers pounding against the invisible floor on his side of the call.
"Nnnngghhhmmmfffhh!"
The two muffled voices crossed, overlapping, meaningless, like a broken dialogue trapped in a cage of adhesive fabric. Danny felt his chest tighten with each breath; the air entered roughly through his nose and exited with a wet hiss, leaving the tape slightly fogged.
The heat inside the van grew thicker. His satin shorts, which had felt light before, now clung to the sweaty skin of his thighs, wrinkling under the pressure of the ropes at his knees. The rubber smell of the upholstery mixed with sweat and the synthetic feel of sportswear, creating a heavy, almost dizzying atmosphere.
He tried to push the tablet with his forehead, trying to bring it closer, as if somehow he could bridge the distance between he and Charles. The movement only resulted in a sharp blow against the glass and a beep from the app. The screen vibrated and refocused on his friend's face.
Charles' eyes stared at him, wide, somewhere between anger and pleading. He groaned loudly again, shaking his head from side to side.
"Mmmmmmhhhfffhhh!"
Danny replied, his throat vibrating under the tape, unable to articulate anything:
"Hhhmmmfffhhmmm..."
It was a primitive exchange, reduced to gasps, to muffled roars that collided with their tape gags. But each moan contained an urgency, a desperate attempt to understand the impossible: how the two of them had ended up in this condition, separated, watching each other through a screen that only increased the feeling of confinement.
The video call notification continued to glow in the corner, a cruel reminder that someone else controlled the connection. But no one intervened. No one spoke. It was just them, staring at each other, gasping, bound and gagged, trapped in a game whose rules neither of them knew.
Both boys remained still for a moment until the tablet screen moved away slightly and Danny immediately recognized the place where Charles was tied up. It was Charles's room, with posters of athletes and girls in bikinis. The blond boy was lying on his bed covered in car prints. Behind him appeared another blond boy, much taller and with a psychopathic smile. It was Thomas, Charles' older brother. Everything fell into place in Danny's mind.
"How careless of my little brother to let his guard down. Now you two are in the same situation. How does it feel, Danny?" Thomas said.
Danny barely responded with a growl of frustration. Thomas ruffled his younger brother's hair and ended the video call. Danny was tied up and gagged in Charles and Thomas' parents' truck, which was in the garage. A couple of minutes passed before Danny heard footsteps from outside, then the door burst open. Thomas appeared with Charles on his shoulders and gently placed him next to Danny. Both boys groaned.
"Guys, we're going for a little ride now. I know the conditions in there aren't the best, but I still hope you enjoy it."
"Mmmfmfmfmm!!!" said both teenagers before the door closed and the truck's engine started.
