The Mummy

The Background

I was sharing a terrace house in the City with two girls, Mandi and Rachel, both nurses at a nearby hospital. On Saturday night we were all going to a party thrown by the girls who lived next door. We’d even got an invitation from them; this said ‘Everyone must dress up as Mummies or Daddies’. Mandi and Rachel didn’t have shifts on Friday so they headed into town to search the second-hand and vintage clothing shops for suitable gear. Unfortunately I had to work both Friday and all day Saturday so I didn’t get a chance to join them or go shopping. As I hadn’t got anything that was really suitable, the girls suggested that they dress me up as a Mummy - an Egyptian Mummy that was. I went along with that - it sounded a good idea at the time. But only later was I to find out what a good a job of mummification they would make.

My Mummification

It was almost 6.30 when I got in after work on Saturday night; the other two had finished their shifts at lunchtime and seemed to have spent the afternoon planning their mummification of me and getting all the materials they needed.

“Have a cup of coffee then go and get a shower and come back here so we can start getting you ready.”

“But we don’t have to be at the party until about 10.” I called back as I took my shoes off my aching feet.

“We think we’ll need at least a couple of hours to get you all bandaged up as an authentic looking mummy.” Was Rachel’s reply. “And don’t bother to put any clothes on, we’ve got everything you’ll be wearing here.” She added.

As I’d been standing up all day I decided to run a bath, add a liberal dose of bath salts and give myself a relaxing soaking. It was sheer bliss just lying back in the bath getting rid of all the tensions of the day. It towelled myself off, did my hair and made up my face.

“Come on slowcoach.” Mandi called out from the kitchen. “We’ll be running late.” I wrapped a large bath towel round my body and went to join the other two.

“You won’t be needing that.” Said Rachel as she pulled the towel off and threw it over the back of a chair.

“Come over here.”

Rachel picked up a reel of 2 inch surgical tape and wrapped two turns round my left arm just above my elbow. Then, pushing my arm against my side, she wrapped two turns round my body so as to hold my arm tightly against my side. She repeated the treatment with my other arm. Then she did the same with my wrists, taping them to the tops of my thighs.

“What’s this for?” I asked. “How will I be able to move my arms at the party?”

‘You won’t. You’ve never seen an Egyptian mummy flapping its arms about have you.” Was all I got from Rachel who seemed to be quite enjoying her task.

‘Now before they mummified ancient Egyptians they made sure that all the orifices in the body were plugged. So that’s what we’re going to do with you.” Said Mandi. “Open wide.” With that she pushed a fat plug gag onto my mouth and buckled it tight at the back of my neck. There was a breather hole through the centre of it so my reply came out as a cross between a rush of air and ‘Mmmmph’.

“Now for your ears.” She stuffed them with cotton wool. “A this point it gets interesting.” She said. “Open your legs and relax, I’m now going to plug the two holes down below. You don’t want to back out now do you?”

This was nothing like I thought going to the party as an Egyptian mummy would be like, but I’d gone along with it so far so I might as well let them continue. I shook my head and mmmmphed a “No”. A fat dildo soon filled my pussy. They couldn’t find a butt plug so they slid a candle up my bum. Rachel then wrapped surgical tape round my legs just above my knees. “Just to stop those plugs falling out while we mummify you properly.” She added. Next she taped my ankles together.

Then Mandi picked up the first of a number of 4-inch wide cotton bandages and, starting at my ankles, wrapped it round and up my legs. More bandages followed binding my thighs, up my body to my neck and then down again back to my ankles. They put on four layers of bandages, each one seemed to be wrapped tighter than the one before. As a result I could hardly bend my body at all - both of them certainly were experts at bandaging. Then they stood back to admire their handiwork. My only thought as I tried desperately to move a muscle was that the hospital must now be running mighty short of bandages.

“Now for your head. Close your eyes like a good Mummy.” With that Mandi stuck a thin strip of surgical tape across my eyelids sealing both my eyes closed. Then the pair of them got to work on my head. Short lengths of clear plastic tubing - again undoubtedly borrowed from the hospital - were put in my nostrils and another short length of tube was stuck into the breather hole in the gag. These were going to act as breather tubes.

“We wouldn’t want you suffocating, would we? Said Mandi as she started to swathe my head with bandages. Again there must have been at least 4 or 5 layers.

What came next was real scary. Rachel, who had earlier filled a bucket with water, started soaking the first of many Plaster of Paris bandages. This time they started with my head and worked down to my ankles. Then, starting at my ankles, they put on another layer up to the top of my head - then another and then yet another. I was left standing until the plaster set when they pushed me back against the kitchen table and, with somewhat of a struggle, they lifted me on to it. One of them tied my big toes together with a length of string. Then they amused themselves by tickling the soles of my feet and between my toes - they knew how ticklish I was and that I just couldn’t stand my feet being tickled. Now that I was rigidly encased in a cocoon of plaster, there was no escape and the tickling was sheer torture.

Eventually they had enough of their game and started bandaging and then plastering my feet. Next I felt something being pushed against the bottom of my feet. I found out later that it was our breadboard that they had wrapped in wet plaster bandages. They then wrapped more layers of plaster soaked bandages round the board, over my feet and round my ankles to secure them rigidly to a flat base so that they could stand me up without the danger of me toppling over. When they had finished I could just about make out the noise of them cleaning up in the kitchen; then it went silent. I assume that they had both gone off to get ready for the party.

The time dragged on. It seemed like an eternity since I had been left lying on the table. I was looking forward to the party - the girls next door always throw a good one. How soon would someone get me out of this so that I can take part? Then I felt myself being stood upright, I must have looked like a statue on my baseboard. Shortly afterwards I was lifted up and carried somewhere. I later found out that Mandi and Rachel had finally got to the party at about 10.30, and everyone had asked where I was. Evidently the girls told them that if they wanted me to be there, two strong men would have to go and fetch me. This was when I felt myself being carried away - I was going to the party. The boys stood me in the middle of the room - one of the many positions they put me in during the night. I could just hear the sound of music and the noise of the party, but I couldn’t make out what was going on or being said - I couldn’t even recognise the tunes. All I wanted was to get free and join the party but it seemed that was not to be.

At last the noise faded. I strained to hear any sound but the house was silent. At this time I was lying face down at a slight angle - probably propped up on a chair or stool with baseboard at my feet resting on the floor. What time was it? Had the girls gone home or gone on to another party and left me here? I later found out that the party wound up at about dawn; by which time Rachel was fast asleep in bed with her boyfriend and Mandi, who had had rather too much to drink, had crashed on the settee. I had long since stopped trying to struggle my way to freedom; I just could not move any part of me. The bandages over my face were wet with my drool and tears. Finally, when I was just about giving up hope of ever getting free, I felt myself being moved and laid face down on the floor. Someone was sawing or chipping at the plaster between my feet and the baseboard. Then I felt the back of the cold blades of cutters pressing against the soles of my feet as someone started cutting off the plaster.

Gradually they cut all the way up my back until they reached my neck. Then they rolled me over and cut away up the front of me. Where the cutters passed over my fleshy parts it was not too bad, but over some bony parts it got a bit painful. They cut away round my neck and then tugged the two halves of the plaster cast off my body. Only my head was still encased. Evidently there was a lengthy discussion by the ‘experts’ as to the best way to get that off without cracking every bone in my skull. It was decided that the way to go was by breaking it off bit-by-bit first under my chin and round the nape of my neck using both the cutters and a pair of pliers. They sat me in a chair and commenced the operation. At last when they lifted the last piece off, Rachel peeled the tape from my eyelids, then unbuckled the gag strap and pulled the plug from my aching jaws.

“I think we should leave them like that.” Said one of the girls pointing at my arms that were still taped to my sides.

“No, get them off, I’ve had enough.” Rachel came over with a pair of scissors and cut the tapes.

“You can pull off the bits still stuck to your skin.”

Leanne, one of the girls who threw the party, asked me if I wanted a drink. I said that I didn’t at the moment, but I would have one after I’d visited the bathroom, had a good shower and cleaned myself up. They told me that I’d been the hit of the party and that they’d all voted me the best dressed and awarded me first prize - a bottle of French champagne. Unfortunately it had got drunk during the night - but I could keep the empty bottle!

12.09.02