Gromet's PlazaMummification Stories

My Day as a Mummy

by Peter Lock

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© Copyright 2007 - Peter Lock - Used by permission

Storycodes: Sbm; true; wrap; tape; nylon; cocoon; foam; toys; cons; X

I have been into self-bondage for more years that I wish to admit. I started as a child by wrapping ACE bandages around my cock and balls to masturbate. It was a wonderful experience. The tightness of the bandages made for very intense orgasms. I discovered early on that it felt even better if I shoved a candle up my bun hole.

As I got older, I discovered other things, too, such as my mother’s girdles. I suppose that was my first step towards mummification since it fitted so tightly about my waist. She used the panty girdle style, and they fit very snuggly in my crotch, which was also a good thing.

At the same time that I was experimenting with self-bondage, I was also watching a lot of spy movies and police drama TV shows. It was common to see people tied up in lots of ways. And that excited me in ways that I admitted to no one. In particular, an episode of the classic TV show Hawaii-Five-O really inspired my fantasies. In that episode, the main character was gagged, blindfolded, and muted with wax earplugs. He was zipped into a wet suit and then set afloat in a water pool at skin temperature. It was a torture designed to break a person through sensory deprivation. I was positively enthralled, and fantasized about the possibility endlessly.

I was roughly three times older by the time that I finally acted on my long-simmering fantasy. By that time I had made lots of bondage equipment and purchased a variety of ropes, straps, chains and locks to bind myself up in a variety of ways. But there was always this desire to go one step further, to actually mummify myself.

I am not sure why I finally decided to make the leap, but I did. I tried a few things on my legs to ensheath them: 1) LOTS of ACE bandages, but there was too much stretch; 2) a continuous loop of rope, but that slipped too easily; and 3) plastic wrap, but I just didn’t like the way that worked. So I decided upon duct tape.

Well, duct tape has the advantage that it won’t slip, nor will it come loose after a short time. The problem with duct tape is that, well, it’s tape. And tape leaves a residue. It also pulls hairs, and I have hairy legs. For reasons that I won’t get into, I didn’t want to shave my legs or chest of hair, so I needed a solution that allowed me to mummify myself with duct tape without doing anything quite so drastic. The solution that I came up with was a simple one: a leotard and pantyhose.

I decided that I was going to directly tape up my gonads, so I did shave my crotch. In fact, after shaving it, I used Nair to get rid of any remaining stubble. I understand why the instructions tell you not to get too close to the genital area. It burns like hell! But I felt that it was necessary so I fried off the remaining hairs with a ten minute treatment.

Finally, the weekend of my self-mummification arrived. The necessary items were gathered together in the living room on the floor next to the couch: half a dozen roles of duct tape, scissors, a knife, nipple clamps, shower hair caps (the cheap plastic kind that hotels give you), a stiff plastic tube (about ¾ inch diameter), a can of expandable insulating foam, wrist cuffs, and a padlock. On the couch were my leotard, stockings, and a large anal plug with lubricant.

I had waited twenty years for this experience. I knew that I was going to enjoy it.

The butt plug was the first item. It was necessary to insert it before putting on the clothing. The lubricant was a generous gob of Ben-Gay. I put one foot up on the couch and kind of squatted. With one hand, I pulled one rectal cheek wide, and plunged the six inch plug into my asshole with the other. The hand-made wooden plug is narrow near the tip and gets wider towards the middle, and then suddenly narrows again towards the base. (I had seem plenty of pictures of butt plugs so carving one wasn’t difficult, but I had no idea how mine compared to the plastic ones sold in adult bookstores. I later learned that mine is roughly midway in diameter between the plugs that are marketed as “medium” and those that are sold as ‘large.” However, mine is longer and stiffer since it is made out of wood.) Inserting the plug has never been an easy task, and it seemed even harder that time, probably because of my excitement over what I was about to do. But after some grunting and a couple more anal pushes, the thing slid home, and my sphincter clamped shut over the narrower end at the base. It started to burn almost immediately!

Next came the pantyhose. After sliding them up my legs, I cut a slot for my pulsing prick and swollen balls, and pulled them through. Then came a second pair of pantyhose, followed by the same 'crotch surgery.' It seemed rather unlikely to me that a single pair of pantyhose would do an adequate job of fully covering the hair on my legs. Two would do a much better job. I had a feeling that three were necessary, but I figured that I could tolerate some problems when cutting off the tape. The second pair slid on much more easily than the first since my legs were smoother because of the first pair. I really liked the way my legs looked, and I enjoyed running my hands up and down my legs for a few moments. (Yes, I know that was a bit narcissistic!) They felt so smooth and slick. And the hose felt as though they were tightly gripping my legs, which was a pleasant sensation, too.

The leotard was the next item. It was a chocolate brown, long-sleeved one even though I didn’t intend to tape up my arms. The garment had a slightly scooped neck and was gathered at the breasts, so even though I had nothing up top, it still gave the illusion of emphasizing what little I had. I glanced at myself in the mirror in the living room, and was surprised at how much of a feminine appearance the leotard gave me. I liked it. Then I closed the crotch of the leotard, leaving my cock and balls sticking through between the two snaps, leaving the third, center snap undone. (To clarify, the front and rear crotch straps of the leotard were connected together with a trio of snaps that formed a line from one thigh to the other, so I snapped the outer two "buttons" and left the center one undone as my genitals were protruding through the center between the spandex closures.) It was uncomfortable since the snaps were supposed to be right at the bottom between my legs, but I had to pull the rear tightly up my crack because of my male gonads which are not, of course, directly at the lowest point of my crotch.

It was time to start the taping process. I began by taping each foot up separately. It definitely felt weird. But I wanted to be sure that I would be able to completely cover my feet, and I was rather certain that taping them would be much more difficult after my crotch was taped up. And that guess later proved to be correct. After covering the soles and top of my two feet, I curled my toes and taped them into the awkward position. I added more tape around the center of the foot, which also snugged the whole affair up, in a rather uncomfortable way. I knew that standing was not going to be easy, but I didn’t plan to spend much time on my feet from that point onwards. When I was finished with that part of the process, my feet were covered with silver tape, from the curled over toes, and slightly arched feet, all the way up to the ankle. I tried flexing them, but the tape was doing a thorough job, just as I wanted.

My naked crotch was next. I wanted to be be especially thorough on that task. To begin, I sliced several pieces of tape lengthwise to make them narrower, and stuck them to the edge of the end table which was to the right of the couch. I used one narrow band of tape to encircle my balls at the base. This was an awkward operation, and would have been best done with three hands, but I only had two. What made the task difficult was that I was trying to pull my balls out as far from my body as possible while applying the circle of tape. It took several attempts and several pieces of tape to get it right. I then used another short, narrow piece of tape to bifurcate my balls into two distinct orbs. That was also difficult, but not as hard to accomplish as the first task. I then put another piece of tape around the base of my balls to hold the other piece in place.

With two more narrow slivers of duct tape, I encircled each ball separately, making them bulge outward. I had done that with cord before. The silver tape was different, but just as effective. Each ball was now stretched so that the skin was smooth. It creates a sort of dull ache in your groin that is reminiscent of being kicked in the crotch, but not nearly as painful. I then used full sized pieces to completely cover my stretched nuts and a couple more narrow pieces to hold it all in place.

My prick was the next item on the agenda. Encasing it in shiny silver tape was much easier, but I still wanted to make sure that the pulsing organ was as tightly girdled as possible. Using a narrow ribbon of tape, I circled the base of my rigid stick as tightly as possible. I repeated the process with another ribbon of tape, just beneath the head which made it bulge more than usual. A third ribbon was used for the middle of my cock. It looked odd. The fatty skin was clumped in two zones: one towards the front and the other towards the base. It was definitely uncomfortable, which was just what I was trying to accomplish. I used several large pieces, criss-cross fashion to cover the head of my organ, and then circled the wand with full-width tape, working from the top, spiraling down to the base.

After criss-crossing the space between my cock and balls with several more narrow bands, I then encircled the entire base with the silver cloth tape. My gonads looked like a metal enclosed prod and balls, sticking out in front of my body!

At that point, I decided to give myself silver panties, so I spent about fifteen minutes covering my crotch and butt with duct tape, which further isolated my organs outwards from my body. I also now had a completely silver butt, with both cheeks completely covered. In particular, I was able to use the tape to isolate the two cheeks a little bit from each other, which also made my butt feel more open, but the duct tape down the middle kept everything in place. The panties were completed by the addition of several wraps of tape completely around my waist and around my upper thighs.

As I returned to the task of taping my legs together, I realized that it was quite fortunate that I had already taped up my feet because my tape panties would not allow me to bend very much at the waist! However, starting at the ankles, I was able to work my way up the calves with tape. Going up, however, meant that the top spiral gapped a little bit at the bottom, so I also worked the tape back down again, and also used several vertical strips to close off the gaps. By the time that I was finished with my lower legs, they looked like a single appendage, rather than two. I could barely move them and I hadn’t even taped up my thighs yet! In addition, I could tell that they were already hot inside their shiny chrysalis.

But I wasn’t finished. I had waited for a very long time for this experience, and wanted it to be complete. I paused to catch my breath, and then continued with my task. I took the can of spray foam, and inserted the thin nozzle down the gap below my knees and sprayed. The foam filled the space up within seconds, expanding to fill up all the volume between my legs and the tape. It took a bit of maneuvering, but I was also able to squirt some of the expanding foam down into the rear space as well. After a few minutes, the foam hardened, so my legs really had been turned into a single appendage. In addition, the expanding foam increased the pressure of the tape on my legs, so the entire thing was much tighter.

Anyone considering something like expanding foam to encase any of their limbs should be aware that it has several negative aspects: 1) depending on the type of foam used, as the foam cures, it can generate a considerable amount of heat; 2) most foams will stick extremely well to human skin, making removal extremely difficult; 3) most foams are chemically reactive and will burn human skin (surprisingly and fortunately, the two layers of pantyhose did an adequate job of protecting my legs, but I'm sure that I would not have been so fortunate if I had only used a single layer); and 4) expanding foam can generate a considerable amount of pressure that can affect circulation (since I was only using the foam to fill up gaps between my legs and the tape rather than encase my legs, the pressure effect was minimal).

I hadn’t realized how much work it would be to wrap the tape up; I was already getting tired, but I had a lot more to do. I decided that I would take a break after my legs were completely encased. I added several more inches of tape, up over my knees and added more foam. It was interesting to watch it expand, filling the gap between my legs and the encircling tape.

Doing the rest of my legs was difficult as I had to stand, and my fettered feet didn’t want me to do that! But I was able to lift myself to a standing position with my hands. About fifteen minutes later, I had finished my upper legs, totally wrapping them from my knees to the top of my thighs, so I was now completely covered with silver duct tape from my waist down to my toes, and the gaps were all filled in with expandable foam. (I was rather pleased with that idea, but it came back to haunt me later.)

I then flopped down on the couch to rest for a while. In fact, I fell asleep. That is not surprising since I had barely slept the night before because I was so excited about mummifying myself. I don’t know how long I dozed, but it was probably a couple of hours. I felt rested and ready for the rest of my project.

What remained was my torso, so I pushed myself up to a “sitting position.” It wasn’t really sitting since I was almost straight. My legs truly felt like a single unit rather than two separate ones, and that was wild. They were quite stiff in their foam-filled cocoon, which was just what I had hoped for. (I had originally considered using a piece of wood between my legs, but I was inspired to use the foam instead after repairing some cracks in the concrete walls of my basement.)

As I had done earlier, I propped myself up, doing almost all of the work with my arms, so I was leaning against the arm of the couch. That was a bit of a problem since the remaining duct tape was on the floor, as were the nipple clamps. So I slunk down to the floor to get the items that I would need, placed them on the couch and raised myself up again. The fact that that took so much effort should have set off some mental alarms, but it didn’t; well, if it did, I ignored them.

I pulled down the top of my leotard and clamped a clip to my right nipple. Oww! The little metal mouth bit into the base of the nipple, and was not going to come off. I repeated the process on the other side, and wondered if this was a smart thing to do. The pain in my chest was awful, but I had made a decision to go on with this, so I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Relaxation is the best way to overcome the pain of nipple clamps, but sometimes they hurt so much that relaxation is impossible. This was one of those times.

So I decided that the best way to eliminate the temptation to remove them was to make it impossible to remove them. So I wrapped the duct tape around my chest. This is actually a rather difficult thing to do, especially when you are precariously balanced on two cramped, curled feet. I don’t know how long it took, but eventually, I had covered my torso with tape, from just under my armpits, all the way down to my previously taped up waist. I had not originally been planning to tape that much of my body, but it seemed like a logical extension at the time. And as I had done with my legs, I used two layers of tape. The result was that my body was quite stiff and unbendable. At the time, that fact struck me as very wicked and exciting, and I was happy that I had decided to make that addition to keep myself from removing the nipple clamps, which I suspected that I could do by rubbing on the rough rug. At that point, there was only one thing that I regretted: I didn't have my camera set up to take pictures of myself! As my old camera doesn't have any kind of autowinder, it would have been quite impractical to take shots of myself, so I had decided when planning my adventure to simply dispense with the camera. I did have a mirror off to the side, so I did get a full view of myself wrapped up in the silver cocoon, so at least I had a mental photograph of myself, and I was quite certain that this was something that I would remember for a long time to come!

I then slid down to the floor to finish the bondage that I had ordained for myself. I removed two disposable shower caps from their packages. I slipped one over my head, completely covering my hair. The second one went over the top of my head, partially covering the first one, and down over my eyes. I stuck the plastic tube in my mouth and then proceeded to cover my head with tape. This was probably one of the dumbest things that I have ever done in my life. I wrapped the tape around my forehead first, to keep the plastic shower caps in place. That was followed by a vertical wrap that went down under my chin and over the top of my head. I made some elaborate crossing wraps to ensure that the top of my head was completely encased in silver cloth, and then I finished the job with more horizontal wraps to cover my face. When I was finished, my head was completely covered in silver duct tape, except for a narrow slit for my eyes. But that narrow slit was also separated in the middle by a two vertical pieces of tape that I had used to cover my nose and seal my mouth. The tube was even held in place in my mouth with tape. My lips were very thoroughly sealed by those horizontal strips and several more horizontal ones, and I must admit that having my lips glued to very sticky duct tape felt a bit weird. It was, however, the type of completely effective bondage that I wanted to achieve. In addition, the tape over my head had effectively eliminated my sense of hearing as well. It was a rather surrealistic experience.

It is important to note that the second hair cap actually came down over my eyes to protect my eyebrows and eyelashes from the the adhesive of the tape; the result was that my eyes were protected, too, by the plastic, but I had to look out through semitransparent material, which truly restricted my vision more than I had planned. And because of the tape between my eyes, looking left or right was also a weird experience as the vision of one was cut off due to the central obstruction. The tape that was stuck directly to my face kept it all firmly in place, so I had created a complete helmet that wasn’t going to shift around. And i knew that I wasn't going to lose my breathing tube either, as it was very effectively held in place by the tape.

So I had reached the most important point of my complete bondage. I slipped on one leather cuff and then the other one. I was now completely flat on the floor, so I rolled over, and put my arms behind my back while holding the padlock in one hand. I took a deep breath before proceeding. Locking the cuffs together was the defining moment of my self-captivity, and there was only one solution after that was done: the key to the lock was a thousand miles away in the kitchen. The pain in my chest made me grimace; it was a reminder that my self-mummification was going to be marked by a fire in my nipples, from beginning to end. For a second I thought: "Geeze, have I ever done anything as stupid as this?" After taking another gulp of air, I answered my question, "Nope. And that is exactly why I am going to do this now before I think any more!" Then I slipped the lock through the metal rings of the cuffs, locking them shut and together, behind my back.

The pain in my chest from the clamps was awful. Lying on them made it worse. I was also lying on my completely isolated cock and nuts. That also hurt, but it also felt good. For a while, I just tried to relax, taking deep breaths, but the pain in my chest was too high. Yup, I was definitely regretting those stupid nipple clamps.

I arched my back a little bit to take some of the weight off my chest, but that only worked for a short while. The problem was that it was difficult to arch my body because of the stiffness of my cocoon. But the clips bit so strongly into my nipples that taking weight off of them simply didn’t make that much of a difference.

Since I had waited twenty years to experience this level of bondage and encasement, I wanted to enjoy it for a while before setting myself free. Considering the level of bondage that my cock was in, I didn’t think that it would be easy to make myself come even though I was lying on it, squashing it into the carpeted floor. So it occurred to me that I could distract myself by rocking back and forth on my cock, or by rubbing it against the carpet.

So I tried. And that was when I discovered that I really couldn’t move at all. The duct tape was so tight and thickly layered at my waist that I couldn’t bend even the slightest. It was like a heavily boned corset! And my legs were as stiff as a board. So my position, face-down on the carpet meant only two things: pain and more pain. Pain in my swollen tits, and pain in my totally encased, throbbing prick and nuts. To top it all off, I was very hot! A duct tape skin does not breath.

So I just lay there on the floor for a very long time. Somehow the pain in my tiny tits faded a bit (it never went completely away during my entire time in the duct tape chrysalis), although the pain in my crotch didn’t subside even a little bit. If anything, the ache in my balls got worse, which was erotic in a perverse sort of way. And then there were other issues: fire erupted in my shoulders, in my arms, and in my legs. But I actually found some pleasure in the position as I discovered that I could actually flex the muscles of my cock. I couldn't come, of course, but at least it felt good. Eventually I did drift into a state of 'nonexistence,' which was a kind of out-of-body experience. The bondage was exquisite, and I loved it.

Somehow I actually did fall asleep for a while. When I woke up, I ached everywhere. I knew that it was time to get out of my cocoon. The room was not well-lit anymore, so I guessed that it was dusk. But apparently the tape had slid on my face a bit while I slept, and I couldn’t see directly ahead of me. That meant it was going to be much more difficult to find my way to the kitchen where I had left the keys to the padlock.

But I had to try despite that problem. And that was when I shocked into recalling my most essential problem. I couldn’t move at all. That fact should have impacted me with greater significance much earlier when I found that I couldn’t move enough to make myself climax. My inability to bend my legs at the knee or flex at the waist meant that my plans to slink to the kitchen like an inch worm were totally scuttled. To make matters worse, I could barely flex my toes. And because they were folded by the tape, I couldn't even dig them into the carpet to push myself. Quite simply, i had been TOO thorough in my self-mummification efforts. I tried swinging my arms from side to side, but there simply wasn’t enough movement to accomplish anything. This was a very serious problem.

I tried all sorts of things. Rocking gained me virtually nothing. I tried over and over again to propel myself forward with my legs, but they wouldn’t bend at all. I am sure that it was a consequence of the double wrappings of duct tape as well as the foam insulation. Ironically, even though I didn’t manage to move forward, my legs did get hotter from the effort. That was not a good thing. About the only thing that I was capable of doing was changing the position of my arms behind my back and flopping my head from one cheek on the carpet to the other. That was not exactly conducive to forward (or even backward) propulsion.

Eventually, I discovered that I could move forward at an agonizingly slow rate by arching up and down, like a vibrating board. I was also able to dig my chin into the thick pile and pull by bending my head down, but that added only the most minimal amount of forward propulsion that one could imagine. It also hurt my neck. I thought once again about digging into the carpet with my toes, but as I already mentioned, I couldn’t do that because of the way that I had cleverly bound them in a curled position. Even my feet had a downward bend to them, further inhibiting their use. To put it bluntly, I had fucked up badly, and I knew it. (I was slightly pissed off at myself because of this, but I decided that it would just make the entire experience that much more special.)

After a period of time that seemed to be a significant fraction of forever, I had moved something on the order of a foot towards the kitchen. That is when it occurred to me that even when I arrived there, which I estimated to be sometime in a couple of days, I would have to at least roll onto my side to grab the keys, and I had already learned that I couldn’t roll over. So while I remained there, working to catch my breath, I considered this secondary, but none-the-less major, problem

I thought that maybe I could use the kitchen table legs to somehow get onto my side. That made me smile, but only briefly because I had left the keys in the corner on the floor, several feet away from the table. Ironically, I had done that so the table wouldn't be in the way of my efforts to retrieve the keys. (by the way, I used the word "keys" rather than "key" because it was always part of my games to provide myself with a pile of keys to open the lock or locks that kept me bound. Only one of them was the correct one for the lock, of course, and trying to find the right key was always a challenge.) I had a strong suspicion that I would not be able to propel myself in any direction on the slick kitchen floor once I was on my side.

I was starting to panic. Somehow that gave me more energy to rock, which I did; I almost came, and that simply added to my frustration. Now I was beginning to think that I might die on my living room floor. And bizarrely, I had the most insane thought. I would die on the verge of a climax, so I would die as much from frustration as from starvation or thirst. Well, when you are panicking, you don’t think clearly.

By the time that I reached the linoleum flooring in the hallway, I was quite exhausted. It had taken a rather long time to reach that point, and the house was considerably darker. The walls were a shimmery orange from the light of the setting sunlight that streamed in through the front picture window and the sheer curtains. Since I had started my activities in the early afternoon, there were no lights on in the house. This was another problem that I hadn't anticipated. Now I do have a couple automatic night lights in outlets in the kitchen and dining room, but I suspected that it was going to be rather difficult to see the keys in that low illumination, especially since I had such a limited capability to see through the slit in the tape! It occurred to me that I was probably going to have to spend the entire night in mummified bondage, which was both exciting and frightening.

To move completely onto the linoleum required a bit of twisting, but I managed to achieve that small intermediate goal. That was when I discovered that my intermediate goal was also the end of the line. No amount of rocking on the slick linoleum changed my position. I was stuck! Being a bit of a weird person, I smiled to myself at the odd irony. Because my body was wrapped in shiny, smooth tape, I was stuck in my position, but not because the tape was sticking to the floor.

However, I didn't dwell on the irony for long. It occurred to me that I had a VERY serious problem. I had no idea how to reach the keys in the kitchen. So as the room rapidly darkened, I just lay there on the floor, chest down on hard tile, with my face twisted to the side so my right cheek was also lying on the floor. There really wasn't a part of me that wasn't hurting at that point, but some places (my shoulders, genitals and nipples, for example) hurt much worse than the rest of my body. There was nothing about my situation that was acceptable, except that I realized that being mummified was a very cool form of bondage. However, I was having mixed feelings about whether or not I wanted to die that way.

That was when I remembered something very significant: I had used scissors to cut the duct tape, and they were back at the couch! I guessed that it had taken me three hours to move across the living room to the hallway. Considering how tired I was, it would take me much more than three hours to make it back. But there was one obstacle to overcome first: I had to wiggle around and get back onto the carpet! And I really wasn't sure how I was going to accomplish that feat.

In fact, it turned out to be much harder than I expected. I managed to worm around so I was aimed in the right direction. My head and chest were back in the living room, and my feet were against the hallway wall, but there was no leverage to be gained by pushing against the wall. At most, it would move me an inch further into the living room, but most of my body was still on the slippery tile, so there was no friction for forward motion. And I really was in about the worst possible position as my chest, by awful coincidence was on the metal stripping at the edge of the carpet and linoleum, which did nothing but add extra sideways pressure to my nipple clamps.

Despite my exhaustion, I really didn't spend much idle time in that position. I was facing the very real possibility of death by unplanned suicide. Because of the heat inside my silver cocoon, it was conceivable that I would die from the build up of body temperature. But if that didn't get me, the lack of water would surely do me in. That realization was accompanied by my first panic attack. I flailed my legs vigorously for a long time, which did nothing more than twist my body sideways so I no longer even had the comforting thought that somehow I would be able to push myself forward enough by kicking against the wall.

After regaining some composure, I tried to think about possible solutions to my problem. In fact, I thought of a dozen different ideas before I tried anything. Among other things, I tried to roll over, but that was a pointless waste of energy. Then I managed to wriggle myself back into a position with my toes against the wall again. It didn't really gain me anything, but somehow there really was some comfort in having my toes against the wall: not much, but some!

Unfortunately, at some point, my thoughts transitioned from rational problem solving to panicky consideration of ways that I was going to die. I was furious with myself. I thought that I had planned this all out so well, but I had gone a step too far when I cleverly added that expanding foam. My legs were totally useless: reduced to a single limb that was totally stiff from waist to toes!

During my panicky, frustrated state, I tried pushing with my legs again, but that was pointless. It was impossible to even twist them against each other. Then I pulled at my wrists, and twisted, and pulled. And to my utter shock, that exercise wasn’t useless: the left cuff popped open. At first I thought that I was dreaming because I wanted it so badly. But then I moved my arms again, and realized that they truly weren’t connected to each other any more.

It is hard to laugh in relief when you have a plastic pipe taped in your mouth, but I managed. My arms were rather stiff, but I eventually moved them around so I could look at them because I didn’t understand how this could happen. Well, my cuffs are home-made. They didn’t break, because they are made from heavy cowhide. Instead I had made a fortunate blunder when I locked them together. I thought that I had locked the two shackles that also hold the cuffs closed. In fact, I had put the hasp of the padlock through the shackle on my right cuff, but I had missed and locked it on a D-ring on the left cuff. Consequently, the left cuff had never been locked shut. And I didn’t know it. However, the construction of the cuffs still kept the cuff closed until enough pressure was exerted to make it slip open. Pure, dumb luck.

So with freedom in hand, I took something else in hand: carpet. And slowly I dragged myself back into the living room. Since I knew that I was going to be able to get out of my bondage, I took some time to get some relief of a different sort. It took me a long time to finally climax because I first tried to make myself come by rubbing my cock on the carpet. With my hands free, I was able to move myself back and forth on the rug. It felt great, but the tightly wound tape limited sensation too much. So, with much effort, I pulled myself back to the couch, which I used to help turn myself back over, into a semi-sitting position. In some ways, it almost seems anti-climactic when I think about it now, but I simply jerked off the old fashioned way, filling the tape cocoon on my cock with slimy spunk. It was one of the most wonderful eruptions that I've ever experienced! My entire body seemed to be climaxing at once, not just my well-covered peter. Much relieved and relaxed, I reached up and grabbed a throw pillow off the couch and just lay there on the floor for a long time, staring into nothingness.

I masturbated one more time before cutting myself out of my silvery mummy sack. This time I was able to do it by rubbing my taped up organ on the carpet because of the fluid that had filled the tape “condom” on my previous orgasm.

Removing the tape was a much faster process than putting it on. I began by carefully making a few slits in the tape encasing my head. It was an incredible relief to be out of that duct tape and plastic helmet (it took a huge amount of scrubbing later in the shower to get the glue off of my cheeks), but oddly, I kept the hose in my mouth, and continued to breath through my snorkel.

The next phase involved cutting off the torso wrap. I wasn't surprised to discover that the easiest way to accomplish that was by cutting through the leotard as well. When I had removed enough tape, it was time to remove the nipple clamps that had been my agonizing companions for many hours. I had never worn nipple clamps for that long, and I knew that the pain was going to be awful. There is no way to describe how much of an understatement that was. First I bit down on the tube in my mouth in anticipation, and then I popped open the clamp that had been relentlessly crushing my right nipple for an eternity. The flash of pain was so much more than I could possibly have imagined. Perhaps the best analogy might be that the bolt of pain was comparable to being kicked in the chest by Jackie Chan. The pain exploded through every nerve in my body, and it took an inconceivably long amount of time to diminish.

If I had been smart, I would have reasoned: "OK, my body is convulsing in agony right now! How much worse can it be if I remove the other one while I am convulsing in pain?" And then I would have removed the other clip. But no, being a glutton for punishment, I waited for my body to recover from that miserable shock before removing the other one. Now my mind already knew what to expect, so it magnified the pain when the second explosion occurred in my chest. I'll admit it: I cried! I've been paddled mercilessly by a professional Mistress who I made the mistake of pissing off, and as awful as that was, it was nothing compared to the electrical jolt that ripped through my chest...twice. Rubbing my two buds did alleviate the explosions of fire that resulted from the sudden return of molten lava (otherwise known as blood) to those tortured nubbins, but they continued to hurt for more than a week afterwards, including spontaneous spasms of pain at all hours of the following days.

Eventually I found a reserve of energy to cut myself out of the silver leg sheath. Both layers of nylon tore with the tape, and the blocks of stiff foam stuck to both the inner layers of tape and to the nylon of the pantyhose, too. But that was better than sticking mercilessly to my skin. There was very little of that nasty, sticky glue on my legs, but there was a little bit.

The main problem, of course, was removing the tape from my genitals. There was no nylon protection there, so it took a combination of very careful cutting and pulling to slowly remove all of the tape from my organs. Not surprisingly, the most difficult part was removing the tape from my balls. However, I had encased them in duct tape on numerous occasions prior to that (almost) full mummification of myself, so I knew to have lots of patience.

After drinking a couple quarts of water, I slept for more than 12 straight hours. Did I dream about the experience? I have no idea. I am one of those people who never remember any dreams in the morning. In fact, after fifty years, there were only a dozen dreams that I remembered the following mornings, and in each case, something about those dreams had been traumatic or violent enough to cause me to wake up during the dream. Because of that, I still remember all of them. However, dreaming about that incredible day as a duct tape mummy has never been enough to wake me up, if it has ever flashed through my night-time musings since that day.

Afterwards, it occurred to me that I should have at least slept with the bottom layer of mummy skin still enveloping my legs, but it was too late. Well, it was an unforgettable experience with a fortunately good ending. (by the way, I should point out that I would not have been able to use the scissors that I had left back at the couch. I had planned to leave them on the floor as a safety mechanism -- a point that I had forgotten during my struggles -- but I had made the mistake of leaving the scissors on the coffee table, where it would have been inaccessible to me if I had managed to wriggle back to the couch while still completely bound.)

I have mummified myself a couple of times since then, but they were not quite the same as I was overly cautious after that first near disaster. (For example, on the other occasions, I left "obstacles" in my path that slowed my progress when I had to maneuver around them, but then I was able to use those obstacles as leverage points after passing them. And I have not used insulating, expanding foam again so I have had some flexibility in my legs.) I shall certainly always remember my first time as a silver mummy. And perhaps someday, I will find a different way to do it that will allow me to spend an entire night that way. I suppose what I really need is a co-conspirator, not a key ...nor dumb luck.

Note: the story above is not fiction. This is the record of an actual attempt at self-mummification. As much as it is a tale of delight, it is also a cautionary tale. Even with lots of advance planning, my game almost ended in disaster for me. Would I do it again? Actually, I already have, but much wizened by first experience. Although indescribably thrilling, this was also a rather dangerous game (which, I suppose, contributed to the thrill) that shouldn't be tried without a great deal of thought and planning and -- most importantly -- care! So consider the excitement but don't forget my nightmare...



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