Hi there people. @BondageFreak: I can't reply for the author and the artist, I'm merely reposting stuff that was on the little site we ran for a couple years. (Thanks for the comment on rereading stories. I actually tend to reread stories too. The Nicholas H. story I posted in the Fictional Adult stories section, Alex's Pet, has been the type of stories that I read many times.)
Here is the last story before last in this South American Tugs story.
The Battle Begins
by Nicholas H.
“Mphhhhhhfff!” I squirmed involuntarily. An early cold breeze –strange for this time of the year – had blasted against my bare chest, sending shivers up my body; and there was nothing I could do to prevent it, for my arms were tied behind my back at wrists and elbows.
My captors, Gus and Klaus, sat on a log facing the cozy bonfire, engaged in a blissful chatter with some other boys while I remained securely bound to a tree a few meters away.
I mmmphhhed again, this time louder. Despite all my efforts to gain their attention, they just pretended they didn’t hear me, occasionally doing that silly giggle which clearly showed how much they were pleased by my helplessness. The scoundrels.
They had been acting like this since an hour ago, after Gus’ –I’ve got to admit – cunning morning joke. When they’d finished lashing me to the a pine’s trunk, they joined the others around the fire and relished in devouring a couple of ham and cheese sandwiches. Of course, that prompted some ‘mmpphs’ from poor me as there was no indication they’d save me even the bread crump. The hospitality from the day before I’d been so thankful for was nowhere to be found; no wonder people say war does bring the worst of people. In minutes, the boy finally grew tired of my whining and came up to me, a sandwich in hand, which he waved at my face.
“Wanna eat Nick?”
I nodded heartily.
“Oh, why didn’t you say so before?”
I rolled my eyes.
“Hehe, let’s get that gag off.”
Maybe he’s not so much of a jerk after all.
Uh… wrong again, Nick boy. As soon as the knot was tackled and the cloth in my mouth removed, Gus reached for the sandwich and crammed half of it into my mouth, before I could even utter a word! He then clamped his hand over my lips. The other kids just laughed at my WTF look.
“Well, you wanted to eat, so eat!” Gus told me, obviously amused. By then, I was fuming, my eyes launching murderous glances at them, but I knew I had no choice; it was that or having an empty stomach for the rest of the morning. Therefore, feeling like a grazing cow, I slowly chewed the little I could at the sides and not without much effort managed to swallow the huge piece. At least they had added a guava jelly that was delicious. The remaining portion was fed in the same extremely polite manner.
“Now, how about something to drink?” Without even waiting for my approval, Gus grabbed my chin and held it up with one hand, squeezing the sides of my face so my lips opened and using the other hand he poured a bottle of juice into my mouth.
“There,” Gus said and wiped my mouth with a napkin, “breakfast over.” With that, he replaced my gag tighter as ever.
“Mmmphh!!”
“What. You’re still hungry?” I shook my head.
“Mppphhhhhh.” I’m freezing! I need a t-shirt!
“Need to pee?” No.
“Mmmm-mmmhhhh!!” Just a t-shirt, for Christ’s sake!
“What then? Rope’s too tight?” No again.
“Ah, good then, if it’s not one of those, it can wait,” he concluded.
Grrr…
Adding to my already precarious psychological condition of coldness and despair, Gus drew a scout handkerchief and blindfolded me. Great. They kept me like that for what it seemed a full half-hour. Then they untied me, leaving my hands and elbows bound, blindfold and gag on, and marched me through the woods, a hand on my shoulder guiding me all the way. We stopped after a good 15 minutes where, judging by the familiar voices, Adrian and Mike’s team had arranged to meet.
“Here he is – as we promised,” Klaus said and pushed me, which made me stumble clumsily forward.
Half-laughing and taken aback at the same time, “Oh my god! You didn’t keep him like that all night, did ya?” Phil asked.
“Sure we did. But we had to,” Mike said.
“Yeah, Nick here just wouldn’t stay still last night and he talks too much!” Klaus chimed in. “We warned him,” he carried on, matter-of-fact, “but he left us no choice.” Everyone chuckled.
Those goddamn liars! I started mphhhfffing loudly through my gag. Well, at least I was not giving those coward boyscouts the chance to humiliate me further. It wasn’t true! But they didn't - I mean, as if I could have... they were the ones who “persuaded” me to take my shorts off and began trying all kind of knots on me! I knew it was part of the game, that they were trying to give the “tough guys” impression in front of their enemies, but nobody likes being embarrassed in front of their friends.
The boy removed my blindfold and I was able to see Tyler, Adrian, Chris, Phil and Adam, grinning at me. As it was revealed to me the day before, they were the ones who had conned me into this whole tie-up club thing and thus becoming the boyscouts’s prisoner.
“Hi there Nick, enjoyed your night?” asked Adrian.
Enraged, I shouted, “You traitors!” but it sounded more like, “Mphhhhhfff!!” which was the reason they all laughed back.
To my right stood the boyscouts, all ten of them (i.e., Mike, Klaus, Scott, James, Justin, Gus, Doug, Collin and the twins Billy & Dan) in their typical brownish uniforms with light-blue scarves and several badges neatly aligned on the left side - dorks -, all of them except Collin. Quite surprised, I saw him just behind the other kids, on the floor, tightly bound and gagged with his own scarf; he had no uniform but a white t-shirt and blue PE gym shorts with white stripes on the sides.
“Look, Adrian, to make things even,” said Mike, “one of our guys is gonna switch to your side. Try to be reasonable. There’s ten of us, eleven in fact with my little brother Robert, and it’s no fun if we squash you too easy.”
I could tell by the look on Adrian’s face he didn’t like the idea of receiving aid at all – conceited and cocky boy, what can you do – and was just about to say something in return, but stopped. I think he realized that, precisely, pride was at stake and little chance of victory could be seen in playing against that many rivals, so he accepted reluctantly with a slight nod.
“We’ll let you have one of the twins. Dan, what do you say?”
The well-built twin looked at Mike, answered okay and before grouping with Adrian he glanced back mischievously at his brother, saying,
“Watch out lil’ bro! Now it’s me ‘gainst ya.”
To which Billy, the other auburn-haired kid, replied, “Yeah, but it’s you who’s gonna get caught, bro.”
“Ha, wait and see,” Dan sneered.
“Ok, anything else?” Adrian said, impatient.
“Hmm… on second thought, you can take this worthless piece of… traitor too,” Mike said and two kids dragged Collin to the other side. The boy sweated profusely and seemed exhausted, exactly alike one who minutes before has suffered a relentless tickle torture.
“What did he do?” said Chris.
“Ask him.”
A boy untied Collin’s gag. Utter shame was printed on his face.
“I… uhhh… fell asleep when I was supposed to be watching Nick… but please Mike! I’m so sorry – it won’t happen again – I promise – please take me in!” Oh my, how piteous he looked with those pearly black eyes! Mike must have had a wholly different pity scale, though, because he merely turned his nose up as the boy’s pleading were muffled away with the same piece of cloth he’d been gagged.
“Awright, it’s all settled for the game then,” Mike announced. “Can someone please explain the rules so we can move on?”
Chris continued, “Sure. Very simple guys, the goal is to capture as much members of the opposite team as you can. The group holding the most prisoners by noon wins. It’s 7.30.”
“Is there like a… specific way of capturing, or we’ll just have to beat each other up?” Tyler asked.
“Well, the only ‘legal’ way to capture an enemy is to shoot him with a squirt gun - that everyone must carry, by the way,” answered Adrian.
“Of course you can wrestle him down too; but if you get hit by the water you HAVE to surrender. Get it?” Tyler nodded.
“Then he’ll become your prisoner, and it’s up to you to make sure he doesn’t escape,” added Mike, smiling at that last sentence.
“No need to say that if you wanna interrogate him, you can, also using whatever method to get the info, as long as you don’t hurt him or cause pain of course,” Adrian concluded.
These general rules were accepted by everyone, mainly because it ensured a safe game while allowing great tie-up fun; disobeying them proved to be stupid, for you lost trust and could be banned from further games – something which nobody was willing to jeopardize.
“Okay, now give us Nick,” Adrian demanded.
“And you, Robert,” came Klaus’ quick answer. Without ado, the exchange of prisoners was carried out.
We flipped a coin to see who’d get the campsite and the clearing as their base. Probability wasn’t nice to us this time; our base would be right there, that vulnerable clearing right in the heart of the woods, while the boyscouts got to keep the camp located East, where it barely touched the forest’s outskirts and had a single attack flank. Getting there would take them a while, so it was convened that they’d blow a whistle to let us know they had arrived, and the game would begin right away.
Not wasting any time, and just a derisive, “good luck, you’ll need it,” as a goodbye, the boyscouts moved out en masse, leaving us to discuss the course of actions.
“Mmmpph,” I finally said after a few seconds to let them know they could untie me if that wasn’t much trouble.
“Oh yeah.” First of them to help me was Tyler, who undid the knots binding my hands and elbows. Phil removed the gag. Freedom! It felt so good to be able to rub some of my aching limbs.
“Everything alright?”
Even though an urging desire of revenge against my pals – especially, my cousin Ty - was building up inside me, I did not confront them; it suddenly dawned on me that they did not know I knew about the set-up yet! Mike had told me about it only last night.
“Yeah, fine.” I would play along, pretend not to know anything, and when they least expected it – sweet payback! Brilliant.
“So, what’s the plan?” I asked with the most enthusiastic tone I could feign. Nobody answered.
“Guys? Guys… please tell me there is a plan.”
“Duh, of course we have one… don’t we?” Phil asked in an increasingly despairing voice.
“Well… I… uh…” Adrian stammered; then he was quiet and goofily whistled, turning around.
I threw my arms up in the air. “Oh, that’s just great Adrian! There are 9 of them; they know this forest hell of a lot better than we do - and you show up saying there’s nothing planned?!” They remained silent.
“Couldn’t you come up with something yesterday? What the hell did you do all night anyway?!”
Phil then chipped in with a devious smile, “Oh, in that one, I gotta say, Adrian did show a great deal of interest.” He, Tyler, Adam and Chris burst laughing while Adrian blushed.
“You better shut up, Phil. What happens in the tent stays in the tent!” Adrian snapped at his brother. Although I was dying of curiosity, I did not enquire further – there was no time to lose.
I sighed. “Hey guys, listen up. This is what we’re gonna do: we’ll split up in groups of 2 – we’re 8, so that makes 4… um, let’s call them ‘squads’. This way we can cover more territory and also prevent the whole team being captured at the same time. But we shouldn’t leave the base unprotected, so only three of the ‘squads’ is going to hit the woods - in different directions of course. One stays hidden here, in case the scouts show up.” The boys nodded their assent.
“What about the prisoners? Where do we bring prisoners? Here too?” asked Adrian.
“Don’t think so, no. You see, if we have one or two prisoners in more than one place then it’ll be harder for the scouts to find out where they are; but if they’re all, like, just in the base, it’s way obvious and the chance of them all getting rescued at the same time is always there. Also, it may be a good idea not to tell the others where you left the guys you captured, ‘cuz if they in turn get captured by the scouts and interrogated, they won’t be able to give in anyway.”
“Right. And what are we gonna do with him?” Adam pointed towards bound and gagged Collin. “Should we set him free?”
“I don’t know…,” Adrian said. He was not altogether sure of letting a former enemy with a laziness record inside our team. “Maybe we should just keep him tied up until the game’s over.”
“MMMMMPPHHHHHH!!” Collin began shaking his head mightily; he even dropped to his knees and whimpered imploringly.
“C’mon, look at him! He’s miserable enough like this!” I said. Adrian pondered, looked at Collin and then back at me. “It would definitely help to have one more,” I then added on the boy’s behalf. Inversing the roles, I sure wouldn’t have wanted to spend 5 hours tied up either and lose all the fun!
“I wonder if we can, or should, trust you,” Adrian said.
Collin hurriedly swung his head up and down; and when Dan untied the cloth impeding his speech, the bright-haired boy cried, “Dude, you’ve gotta let me play!”
“Actually, no we don’t.” Adrian smirked.
“Please, I’ll do whatever you tell me to do! I’m not going to doble-cross you, I promise!” Easy to tell, Adrian wasn’t convinced. He knew better.
“And, and - I can be of great use to you too!”
Skeptical, “Yeah, like what?” Phil asked.
“Uhh… what you said about prisoners! Best strategy is to have them in one place, seriously, um, because then you can… uh… torture info out of them at the same time. Another plus is you won’t need as much guards.”
“Not enough, kid,” Adrian bluntly said. Collin desperately scanned his mind for something that could bail him out.
“Then I could like… uh, I can tell you all their strategies, I can show you how they’ll play!”
Dan, the other scout on our team, stared at him dumbfounded.
“Dude, Mike’s so gonna kill you if you do that!”
“Fuck Mike. I’ll tell.”
“He can’t be serious,” Phil cut in, “he’s just saying anything to save his ass.”
Adrian folded his arms. “I don’t buy it either. Gag him again.”
Collin jumped.“NO! Wait! Adrian, please, Nick—mphhhhffff!!” He was cut in mid sentence by a rag shoved inside his mouth as he grunted and writhed against his bonds.
Then Adrian suddenly chuckled and grinned.
“Just kidding! Of course you can play,” Adrian tousled the younger kid’s hair. Collin was then released and helped on his feet.
“Thanks,” he shyly answered.
Each boy was then given a water pistol (nothing fancy, much like a compact semi-automatic Smith & Wesson .45 or 9mm, transparent and small enough to fit in one’s pocket or inside waistband). We decided carrying 2 coils of rope was enough – if we captured someone we would use the kid’s supply anyway; and one roll of duct tape per squad, which might – if not always – come in handy. In case we ran short of binding material, an extra-supplies bag was left behind hidden inside the bushes.
After common agreement, the squads were formed as follows:
Tyler & Chris (stay in base)
Adrian & Adam (East)
Phil & Dan (South)
Collin & I (North)
We made sure Dan & Collin were not in the same squad, just in case they were planning to desert and return to their former group. Therefore, we sent both in completely opposite directions. Collin teamed up with me; we would retreat North and hide at safe distance from the base, as a fallback squad in case Tyler & Chris were invaded and occupied. Same thing for Dan & Phil, only they would take South, where, according to Collin, Mike would try sending a scout or two. As for Adrian and Adam, the two being the most experimented and agile, they were to storm the front and quickly detect –and hopefully capture- arriving kamikaze enemies. It made no sense sending someone west, as the forest ended just a hundred meters ahead and beyond that it was considered out of the game’s limits.
Collin was giving us some last advices when a low-pitched, acute noise echoed in the woods.
“That’s Mike’s whistle. The game is on,” Adrian announced.
“We stick to my plan. You all know what you have to do,” I said hastily. “Be careful and try not to do something stupid like getting caught!”
“Yeah, and if you do, lie about everything they ask. It’ll buy us time,” Collin winked and smiled.
“Okay, go go go !” We’d been playing Counter Strike a lot over the last few months, so I just couldn’t resist saying this, to the amusement of the whole team.
Thus, we split up. Collin and I headed up a steep trail leading to the top of a small hill, from where we could look over the clearing, until it descended again and disappeared into the heart of the forest. From now on, we would make our way through with utmost care, but swiftly, avoiding branches or twigs that could alert enemies of our presence. Feeling like a Commando team, we continued in his manner for a couple of minutes, until a blood-curling scream had us dead in our tracks.
“HEEEeeeeeeelp!!”
My mind was racing. Collin and I looked at each other. We were sure it came from East, but who was it? It could be either Phil or Dan… or even one of the enemy scouts. But this wasn’t right, it sounded too creepy. Somebody might be hurt. It seems not so far away.
“Let’s go check that.”
“Okay.”
But as soon as we left the bushes which had provided us perfect cover from the main path, we heard close steps behind us.
“Get down!” Collin hissed and we both dropped to the ground immediately, our hearts pouncing.
“Did they see us?”
“Dunno.”
“Get your gun ready.”
TBC
The Boys' Knotty Summer 2 - Adrian's Farm by Nicholas H. mm/mm + pics
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Bondwriter
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This is such a good and fun story
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Bondwriter
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- Joined: 6 years ago
Battle Continues
by Nicholas H.
We stood face down on the ground, immobile, our hearts pounding like drums. The footsteps had stopped but we weren’t sure. A disturbing silence enclosed the forest while we waited anxiously for a hint where to go – or not to go. One thing we were certain of: we could not stay here. Either we jumped from the bushes and launched a reckless attack upon whoever was out there, or retreated deeper and fled as far and fast as our legs could take us. We were in the jungle now; the mandate was to hunt -or become game.
The area was cut in half by a massive line of head-high bushes reminiscent of warfare trenches, the only difference being that neither defendant nor attacker could see from, into or over it; everything else was clean field, no slopes or thick trunks to shield yourself from slaughterer water shots. Once you were out, you were visible to anyone looking from a 100 m. range: an easy target. And the TuG rule was clear: if you received the slightest sprinkle on your t-shirt, you had to surrender. True, by attacking we had the surprise factor on our side, but it was a double-edged sword – they could be expecting precisely that, scouting with their pistols pointed straight at the bushes. There was a reason they got there so fast, right?
The rustling along the right side of the bush-line was getting louder and distressingly more frequent – as if someone was sweeping the foliage open with an arm every 5 m.
I poke my head out to the left side, the blazing sun blinding me for a second, and skimmed the territory in despair for a new hiding spot. Right away, I spotted the place to go: the only tree around considerable in size - a huge mango – was on its side. Most probably was that a storm knocked it down; the result were dirty roots sticking out and a hole in the ground. It was surrounded by carpet of fading red and yellow leaves and the dry mangoes that had been left behind by small but voracious monkeys or birds known to cause havoc in some rural zones.
“There!” I told Collin in a hurried whisper, pointing at the crevice.
He stared jaw-dropped at me, shook his head and made a soundless but meaningful “no” with his lips, feeling understandably uneasy about the idea of jumping into that natural foxhole.
“Let’s go!” I grasped his arm.
“Are you crazy?” He shook himself free.
“Collin! It’s our only chance!” I reinforced my grip around his arm this time.
“No!”
I frowned. Grrrr.
Before he carried on with his stubbornly squeamishness and got us captured, I half-dragged him out of the bushes and crawled towards the tree. Collin whimpered all the way and I kept looking over our shoulders in case the enemies had heard us and crossed the line. I stopped at edge of the crack and peered in. I gulped. Uh, on a second thought, there might have been a grain of truth in my pal’s apprehension. It was gloomy, and dark, and moist – without a doubt the most intimidating creepy little spot ever. Just by looking at it you had all sort of visions about the kind of creatures that dwelled within its depth.
“NO way, Nick! I’m NOT getting down there!”
Frightening noises came from the shrubbery: someone stepping on twigs and what sounded like murmurs.
Almost panicking, “Oh, yes you are!” I said and jumped, pulling him down with me.
Slosh!
We sunk to our thighs in dense mud.
“Ew…”Collin whined, “gross!”
I assessed my surroundings. It was dark but I could still make out everything – and thanked my eyes I didn’t see vipers of any sort.
“Don’t be such a wuss! It’s only mud, dude,” I said and playfully put some on his face.
“Cut it out!” He grimaced slapping my hand and I chuckled.
The hole was deep enough so our heads remained below ground level, giving us unbeatable cover; and we still had a good sight of the field by craning our necks a bit.
We did not wait long. Soon, to my amazement, Gus, one of the boyscouts, emerged from the bushes. He stopped, gazed for a while, and began walking in our direction. He was clad in their – silly, if I have a say - light-brown uniform, blue scarf, tube socks and - as a contrast to what you’d expect in its standardized configuration - different lengths of rope protruded from his pockets along with a roll of duct tape attached to his waist. At the end of Gus’ steady right arm was a squirt gun, pointing at anything that moved.
He’s been following us?! He couldn’t have possibly guessed we were coming this way.
“H-h-how on earth did he get here so fast?” Collin said, astounded.
“I don’t know… but he’ll be our first prisoner,” I whispered cockily winking and aimed my gun up at the boy when he turned his back to us.
“No! Wait,” Collin put a hand on my shoulder, “what if you miss?”
“I won’t.”
"I have a better idea – gimme that!” He snatched the gun from my hand.
“Are you nuts? He’s right over there! This is our chance to –mppphhh!” Collin suddenly pressed his palm against my mouth.
“MMMPHHH!!” I glared at him.
“Shhhhhh… ” He frowned back.
Gus walked past us and disappeared into the woods. We had lost him.
I pulled Collin’s hand down and by the time I had managed to retrieve my pistol, the boyscout was nowhere to be seen.
“Great idea, Einstein. Just great. He got away.” I looked sideways but Collin wasn’t there anymore.
“Come, quick!” My teammate had climbed out from the hole and was now crouching on the edge, offering me his hand.
“Huh?”
“Hurry up, Nick! Trust me!”
I rolled my eyes and grudgingly took his hand. Within seconds I was out too, and immediately we proceeded to jog north, after our prey.
Now, it should be explained and perhaps warned to those who’ve never been to the subtropics that a stroll back there from late November till early March implied two things: suffocating humidity and sweating. Lots of it. So it’s no surprise that shortly after we started off, we were already showered in perspiration. We carried on, dodging poison ivy, reddish sandy ant nests mingled almost imperceptibly with the dark soil and other minor dangers, our damp shirts becoming a second skin layer – but no signs of Gus. I was beginning to lose all hope when a slender figure flickered in my peripheral sprinting vision. I stopped dead in my tracks.
“Dude!” I hissed at Collin, panting, and pointed at the khaki-haired head at the bottom of a steep. We smoothly walked up and squatted behind a large trunk at the top, our backs against it, from where we could clearly hear him. Soon we learned he was not alone.
“They weren’t there!”
The other boy sounded exasperated. “What do you mean ‘they weren’t there’? They had to be!”
“I even searched the bushes, nothing.”
“Mike specifically told me Nick and Collin’d be somewhere between their base and this place. Dude, was it that difficult to… – oh heck! You know what? Forget it! Stay here with Scott, I’ll go do it myself,” he growled and we heard him walk away.
We still couldn’t believe our ears. What we’d just heard made no sense. How did Mike find out about our plans if the boyscout team had already left when I made them? I couldn’t come up with any plausible explanation. Unless… had one of the boyscouts stayed behind and spied on us and then ran to tell Mike?
Occupied in these reflections, I did not notice when Klaus appeared to the left accompanied by Doug, and they would have found us had Collin not miraculously, as they turned to descend the steep, grabbed and pulled me to the ground. I had landed on top of him and I felt his heart pouncing under mine; thus we remained until their steps dwindled in the forest and all I could hear was that everlasting back and forth motion of tree branches and leaves.
“Are they gone?” he whispered.
“Yeah.”
Long silence.
“So, can you get off me now?”
“Oh, sorry,” I answered meekly self-conscious and got to my feet.
A few minutes elapsed without anything happening to further elucidate this mystery, so I took a quick glance over the trunk and saw only two boys, Scott and Gus, sitting under a tree and talking. To their left some bags with several ropes lay open, bandannas, ropes and tape piled up – probably the whole team’s provisions.
The wind was definitely blowing on our side. Scott was a gawky little kid despite his age of 14, slim, with spiked short brown hair and deep blue eyes; he got a good deal of mockery since he seemed not to be older than 10. Gus, on the contrary, was 13, but looked 15-ish, had darker skin, broader shoulders and was rather chubby. Neither was strong enough to overpower us so I could not but grin at this favorable sight. I had underestimated my buddy’s plan; now we would get two prisoners instead of only one. I looked at Collin, who immediately understood and smiled back.
“This is our chance,” I said to myself and told Collin to move on. We forded the trunk and entered the woods again. My heart started pounding increasingly as I made out the back of the boyscouts’ heads, who were blissfully unaware of the eminent danger. We snuck up behind them, mere feet away. Collin hinted with his eyes at the boys and I nodded; he soundlessly counted with his fingers 1, 2, 3… NOW!
We both pounced in perfect timing – me on Scott, Collin on Gus -, wrapped an arm around their necks and pressed the point of the guns against their sides. We then pulled the trigger, unloading the water on their shirts and thus capturing them. The shock tore vivid screams so we swiftly clamped our hands over their mouths lest they should alert any nearby foe. As a reflex, they tried to fight back, but we had them clutched as jaguars onto helpless lambs.
“Stay put and quiet! There’s no point in resisting.” In realization of their capture, both reluctantly calmed down, their hands loosening their grips on our arms.
“You’re our prisoners now, and the more you cooperate the better it’ll turn out for ya. ‘Derstood?” They made a soft mpphhh under our hands and nodded their assent.
“Now, I want ya to drop your weapons,” I said. As expected, I heard two objects fall to the ground.
“Good. Now give us your scarves.” They grunted in response.
“Come on!” They undid the knot around their necks with ease and handed them to us. I made a wad with the scarf and held it in front of Scott’s face. “Okay. I’m gonna take my hand off your mouth, but don’t you dare make a sound.”
“Open up,” I ordered and as soon as he did, I unceremoniously forced the blue bundle beyond his teeth and on his tongue, smothering any complains he might have thought of directing to us. As a temporary solution, I held it in place with my hand, but not for long; there was still another surprise.
“Raise your arms,” Collin said. They complied and we yanked their t-shirts off, which we then used to secure the scarves in place: each one was folded and pressed against their stuffed mouths, tying the ends at the back of their heads with much tightness, producing a neat but effective cleave-gag. After ensuring their silence, we continued to ensure their stillness. Collin and I snatched the coils of rope from the boyscouts’s pockets: soft white cotton. Since there was no need to order them to turn around, I grasped Scott’s wrists, positioning palm to palm, and tied them very securely: first, rope around each hand; then I wrapped several loops more – tightening every turn - around both, cinched vertically in between the wrists and finally knotted it off where he couldn’t work it with his fingers. Additionally, a long piece of cord was wrapped around his bare chest, thus bringing his already bound arms closer to the body.
Collin then subdued Gus likewise. As always, the ropes were snug and firm, yet they didn’t cut off circulation or produced any pain.
We spun them around.
“Comfortable?” Vainly, and to much of our delight, they tested their bonds by squirming and fighting against them, only to confirm what they and we already knew: getting loose without help was unattainable! We weren’t completely satisfied though. Looking forward to seeing them wiggling just about so they know how helpless they were, we decided with a quick look at each other to further immobilize our new prisoners.
“Okay,” said Collin, “lie down over there, on your stomach.” They reluctantly obeyed and we tied their ankles crossed in a similar manner as the hands, and using a second rope lashed them to the wrists. Now they writhed within the constraints of a very strict hogtie, their fingertips almost touching their heels. We stepped back to admire our handiwork, which we congratulated each other for and judged pretty neat and skillful, since all our prisoners could do was barely flex fingers and whimper pathetically under their gags. We stared at them for a while as they mmphhhed for mercy at us and rocked on their bellies on the sandy clearing.
“We’re gonna to let you think about your situation while we decide what to do with you. Don’t go anywhere!” I laughed at the last phrase and then stepped back along with Collin to avoid being heard.
“So, what do you think we should do?” I asked Collin.
“I think we should just ask them about how they found out our plans,” he said matter-of-fact. I gave him a puzzled look. “Haha! Just kidding! Let’s tickle the crap outta them!”
A broad wicked grin took over my lower face.
We returned to find Gus and Scott the same way we had left them, only sweatier; they had been mightily trying to get some slack on the ropes during our absence, and getting none, caked their arms and chests with dirt. Scott was particularly engaged in an intense writhing as drops of sweat ran down his reddened face from his spiked brown hair.
I sighed. “Don’t you get it? You can’t escape! Calm down or - I tell you this from personal experience - you’ll get some nasty rope burns,” I said. Soon they gave up and rested their heads on the ground, breathing heavily through their nostrils.
I decided to release their gags - they were already drooling from them –, though not without beforehand assuring them that even the mere attempt of crying for help would be punished severely. They spat the scarves out on my hand and remained quiet, glad to give their aching jaws some relief.
Collin squatted in front of the hogtied boys.
“Ok. This is it: how did Mike find out where we were going to?” he asked with a friendly tone, pausing between each word to give it meaning.
The boyscouts looked at themselves and said nothing in response, a defiant expression on their faces.
Therefore, I barged in with the bad-cop attitude, “We can do this the easy or the hard way; either way we’re getting what we want. You decide.”
I already knew they wouldn’t give in that easy. Teenage pride, male predisposition to tough show-offs, loyalty to the tribe, all those played a role. But perhaps, even though they would never admit it, because they also wanted to know what we had in store for them.
“You’d better put the gag back on because there’s nothing that’ll make me talk,” said Scott. “Me neither!” Gus nodded.
“We’ll see that,” I said and inserted the scarves while they willingly opened their mouths; I used the same t-shirts to hold them in, and in no time they could do no more than grunts, as requested. Stupidly stubborn brats.
“Oh, wait, I think I made a mistake. I swapped the soggy scarves each one had inside your mouths, but you don’t mind, do you?” Gus and Scott showed the worst signs of disgust and glared with mad eyes over their cleave-gags.
“Too late. Sorry!” I said with a shrug and Collin burst out laughing, which only produced more grunting from our prisoners.
Next, we undid their hogties and dragged them to the tree they had been under. We sat them side to side and dragged them towards the trunk so their bare backs leaned against it it. The rope around the chest was removed; their hands were untied and retied in the same fashion in front. Using a long coil, Collin bound the boys’s wrists together and threw the rope over a branch, pulling until their armpits were completely exposed. Gus and Scott started to mew, apprehensive.
After rummaging in the inside of one of the bags, we found a couple of stakes, a toothbrush and a feather. Interesting. We stretched their legs out; with the aid of a rock, one stake was driven in the ground near Gus’s bound feet and another next-to Scott’s, and we lashed their feet to them. Finally, we removed their shoes and socks. There they sat, vulnerably bound at our mercy: ribs, bellies, armpits and soles waiting to be tickled for information. The look on their faces was priceless.
Without notice, I launched a reckless tickling spree on Scott’s body, beginning by the sides. He jumped in surprise and tried bringing his arms down but it was too late. The more I wiggled and brushed my fingers against his taut skin, the more poor Scotty thrashed and laughed hysterically.
He went absolutely berserk. “MMMMMMMMMMMMMPPPPHHHHHHHFFFF!” I could almost hear him say ‘stop’, but his gag did the job. He desperately tried to lose himself, but all his efforts only made him lower his resistance to endure my attacks. I went up under his arms where he showed to be even more ticklish, and when I got down to his feet, oh boy, he almost fainted. Gradually I took control over Scott’s body by tweaking the right spot to increase intensity. I carried on like that for three, four-and-a-half minutes, only as a demonstration of what would come.
Gus, who had been spared of the treatment, watched his friend’s predicament very noticeably anxious. Who can take the torture of a buddy right next to you knowing you’ll get the same treatment minutes later?
Abruptly, I stopped. Scott, exhausted and panting, remained still to regain strength for a second round.
“So, Gus,” I said, “this is just the tip of the iceberg. Consider this chance. Maybe you’ll be smart enough this time and change your mind before we go on.”
Actually, it was very kind of us; it was not common for prisoners receiving alternatives or any kind of offers for that matter. Captors would normally savagely tickle the information out of them when they were on verge of peeing themselves!
Gus gulped, and for a second I saw a trace of fear in his eyes - that he would give up - but Gus turned to Scott who shook his head no, and that was enough to convince him to refuse our advice.
“Very well. This will show you not to turn kind offers down!”
I picked the toothbrush while Collin chose the feather and approached our captives menacingly. Collin was to torture Scott and I was to work on Gus, since I held a receipt for him (due to the ‘breakfast’ episode). Both boy’s eyes widened in terror as we got closer, tightening their muscles in anticipation; and we were hardly an inch away when we heard footsteps behind us.
“Shit!” We dropped the feather and toothbrush to fetch the pistols, hid hastily behind the tree and waited. I thought we were going to be caught and was already imagining all kinds of terrible punishments. Immense was our surprise and joy, for we were expecting Klaus and Doug to return, when nobody less than Phil emerged from the woods, accompanied by a bound and gagged Dan!
“Hey Nick! Collin! Is that you guys?” Phil called.
Having noticed a team member, we stepped out. You could tell Dan wasn’t happy at all; he struggled and mmphed while Phil pushed him rather roughly around.
Phil captured Dan, but why?! – he’s on our team!
As soon as the slim blond boy saw us, his look changed.
“God!” he said pointing our shorts, “where the hell have you guys been?” I looked down and saw my lower body covered in sloppy mud, still not entirely dry. Funny enough, we had only become aware of it now, since we were so busy hunting and tying boys down to notice such a thing. We broke into a general laughter and quickly filled Phil in with the details. We also updated him on the disclosure of our plans to the enemy.
“Yes, there is a traitor,” Phil said with severity, “it’s Dan.” He and pushed the auburn haired kid who stumbled forwards.
“WHAT? What happened?!” I gaped at Phil, bewildered, and then at the twin, duct tape around his wrists, arms and mouth, who was restless and whimpering mightily under his gag. “
“Oh shut up, you coward!” Phil kicked him in the shins and Dan shrieked. “When we were alone deep in the forest, this… viper tried to take me from behind; we wrestled and he had the upper hand in the beginning, but I managed to take out my gun and shoot him…” Phil put a finger on his chest.
“Oh my…” I almost couldn’t believe it.
“So he surrendered by the rules?” Collin asked, inspecting Dan who was protesting a great deal under several layers of silver.
“Sorta,” said Phil, “I still had some trouble taping him up.”
Those damn boyscouts, would they ever play fair and square?
My eyes lit in anger. We almost got caught because of this traitor. “You’re a lucky bastard I wasn’t the one you tried to take, or else I would’ve left you tied under a beehive!”
“You interrogate him yet?” Collin asked as we both removed our shorts with the purpose of washing them in the creek or changing clothes at our base.
“No, no time for that. I had to come and warn you guys. We’ll have plenty of time for interrogation once we take’em all, including those two over there,” he pointed at Gus and Scott bound under the tree, “to our base. Tyler and Chris’ll take care of them while we go tell Adrian and Adam… that is, if they haven’t been already captured. I wanna get to the end of this too, but now we have to act fast,” concluded Phil and helped us untie our prisoners from the trees.
Quick and dirty, for the scouts could return any moment now, we then secured their wrists behind their backs with tape and attached them to their waists using several rounds. We removed the gags, gave them some water, and plastered their lips shut.
So they could walk more comfortably, we put their shoes on them and we were about to set off when Phil, out of the blue, said,
“Wait a second… how do we know Collin isn’t a traitor just like Dan?”
“What are you talking about? Of course he’s not!” I chuckled.
“How can you be so sure about it?”
“Duh! Because if he was he would’ve done like Dan – he would’ve tried to capture me when we were alone! And he didn’t!”
“Yet! He hasn’t tried yet!” added Phil, paranoid, “Plus, he was freaking out earlier this morning so Mike take him in their group again. I think he’d do anything to win Mike’s trust, even becoming a traitor.”
Well, he had a point there. I couldn’t draw hasty conclusions but if Dan, a boyscout, turned against us, then logically Collin would do what’s best for them; if pushed, Collin was very likely to betray us, or if captured, easily give our whereabouts and strategies away.
“I’m just saying that we should tie him up too, until he proves he’s on our side.”
Collin gasped. “What?! I’m not a traitor!” He cried in outrage.
“Can you prove you’re not?”
“What?! No no no, can you prove I am?”
“See, he’s avoiding to answer,” Phil stated. I wasn’t versed yet in the subtleties of sophism, so I saw this as a good argument against Collin.
“Huh?! I’m not a traitor!” Collin shrieked, frustrated.
I slowly turned to the light-haired boy. I didn’t want risk losing the game.
“Collin, I…”
“Come on, Nick! Are you going to believe that load of crap?!” he replied in panic. I lowered my head.
“Now,” Phil ordered, “put your hands behind your back.”
“Nick!”
“I’m so sorry, Collin.” Then I shot him on the chest, the cold water expanding on his t-shirt.
Within seconds, we had him trussed up and gagged like the others. Then we set off the way we had come. We lead the four boys so they didn’t trip or fall until, and after a long quiet stroll during which Dan didn’t stop grunting, despite Phil’s severe threats, we arrived at our base, the main clearing.
It was unusually quiet.
“Hmmm, this is weird,” I said. “No sign of Tyler of Chris.”
“Let’s wait for a couple of minutes. They should be around here,” Phil said. I helped Gus, Scott, Dan and Collin down on a log, in a row.
That’s when I saw it – there on Dan’s back.
“Phil?”
“Yeah?”
“You told me Dan first tried to take you down but then you shot him on the chest, right?”
“That’s how it happened!” he said airily.
“After struggling on ground?” I looked at the filthy floor.
“Uh-huh. He put up a great fight, though. I have to admit it.”
I turned around and faced him. “Then how come the patch of water is on Dan’s back and your shirt is so white and clean?!” I snapped.
Dan mewed in his gag, mightily swinging his head up and down, confirming my suspicions.
Phil turned pale. He knew I knew. It was impossible to wrestle here and keep an immaculate shirt, and that patch was a proof that Phil shot Dan from behind when he had no chance of defending himself.
“Nice job, Sherlock,” Phil chuckled.
At the same time, Klaus, Doug, and Rob showed up bringing with them two bound and gagged prisoners: our buddies Tyler and Chris. Phil didn’t say a word in response; he looked triumphantly at me and slowly raised his water pistol. I had no time to react.
“Too bad you didn’t figure it out earlier, Nick. Now you’re trapped. Drop your gun and put your hands where I can see’em.”
“Why did you do it, Phil?! Why?!” I yelled at him.
“Because I didn’t wanna lose – again.” He smiled.
“You poor bastard. You are so dead. When we get our hands on you…”
“The gun. Now!” he barked. With a feeling of impending doom, I reached inside my pocket, took it out, and threw it at Phil’s feet. He started walking in my direction.
Goddamnit. Why did I have to say it out loud? Why couldn’t I just attack him or run away? But no. Instead I was: ‘Look how smart I am! I figured it all out and have to announce it to the whole world! Bring the cameras, cable TV!’. I sighed. I’m such an asshole, I looked like one of those corny Scooby Doo wannabe detectives.
Phil produced a long coil of rope from his pocket. He reached behind me, and I was already feeling the first loops around my wrists when all of a sudden Dan and Collin tackled Phil to the ground! Using the sheer weight of their bound bodies, they smashed against him in a joint attack!
I stared at them, jaw open, not sure if I wasn’t in some Hollywood movie.
“MMMMMMMMMMMPHHHHFF!”
I snapped back to reality, blurred figures shrieking at me from the ground through their gags, as though saying, “RUN, YOU MORON, DON’T JUST STAND THERE!!!!”
I actually had to kick my legs out of shock before I bolted towards the forest, running as desperately and fast as the adrenaline boost could propel me, leaving my captive friends behind. I heard orders being shouted and a rush of footsteps. Fortunately, I wasn’t too worried they’d caught up. False modesty aside, I was the best middle and long-distance runner probably in all school.
Smoothly diving under branches and making my way through the dense vegetation, changing direction twice, I soon lost them.
I have to act – and fast.
Still running, I muttered, “I have to warn Adrian,” and turned north.
My mind was racing and in no time I realized the dilemma. What if there’s more than one traitor? What if Phil was just making cover for the big strike?
What if Adrian is involved in this too?!
TBC
by Nicholas H.
We stood face down on the ground, immobile, our hearts pounding like drums. The footsteps had stopped but we weren’t sure. A disturbing silence enclosed the forest while we waited anxiously for a hint where to go – or not to go. One thing we were certain of: we could not stay here. Either we jumped from the bushes and launched a reckless attack upon whoever was out there, or retreated deeper and fled as far and fast as our legs could take us. We were in the jungle now; the mandate was to hunt -or become game.
The area was cut in half by a massive line of head-high bushes reminiscent of warfare trenches, the only difference being that neither defendant nor attacker could see from, into or over it; everything else was clean field, no slopes or thick trunks to shield yourself from slaughterer water shots. Once you were out, you were visible to anyone looking from a 100 m. range: an easy target. And the TuG rule was clear: if you received the slightest sprinkle on your t-shirt, you had to surrender. True, by attacking we had the surprise factor on our side, but it was a double-edged sword – they could be expecting precisely that, scouting with their pistols pointed straight at the bushes. There was a reason they got there so fast, right?
The rustling along the right side of the bush-line was getting louder and distressingly more frequent – as if someone was sweeping the foliage open with an arm every 5 m.
I poke my head out to the left side, the blazing sun blinding me for a second, and skimmed the territory in despair for a new hiding spot. Right away, I spotted the place to go: the only tree around considerable in size - a huge mango – was on its side. Most probably was that a storm knocked it down; the result were dirty roots sticking out and a hole in the ground. It was surrounded by carpet of fading red and yellow leaves and the dry mangoes that had been left behind by small but voracious monkeys or birds known to cause havoc in some rural zones.
“There!” I told Collin in a hurried whisper, pointing at the crevice.
He stared jaw-dropped at me, shook his head and made a soundless but meaningful “no” with his lips, feeling understandably uneasy about the idea of jumping into that natural foxhole.
“Let’s go!” I grasped his arm.
“Are you crazy?” He shook himself free.
“Collin! It’s our only chance!” I reinforced my grip around his arm this time.
“No!”
I frowned. Grrrr.
Before he carried on with his stubbornly squeamishness and got us captured, I half-dragged him out of the bushes and crawled towards the tree. Collin whimpered all the way and I kept looking over our shoulders in case the enemies had heard us and crossed the line. I stopped at edge of the crack and peered in. I gulped. Uh, on a second thought, there might have been a grain of truth in my pal’s apprehension. It was gloomy, and dark, and moist – without a doubt the most intimidating creepy little spot ever. Just by looking at it you had all sort of visions about the kind of creatures that dwelled within its depth.
“NO way, Nick! I’m NOT getting down there!”
Frightening noises came from the shrubbery: someone stepping on twigs and what sounded like murmurs.
Almost panicking, “Oh, yes you are!” I said and jumped, pulling him down with me.
Slosh!
We sunk to our thighs in dense mud.
“Ew…”Collin whined, “gross!”
I assessed my surroundings. It was dark but I could still make out everything – and thanked my eyes I didn’t see vipers of any sort.
“Don’t be such a wuss! It’s only mud, dude,” I said and playfully put some on his face.
“Cut it out!” He grimaced slapping my hand and I chuckled.
The hole was deep enough so our heads remained below ground level, giving us unbeatable cover; and we still had a good sight of the field by craning our necks a bit.
We did not wait long. Soon, to my amazement, Gus, one of the boyscouts, emerged from the bushes. He stopped, gazed for a while, and began walking in our direction. He was clad in their – silly, if I have a say - light-brown uniform, blue scarf, tube socks and - as a contrast to what you’d expect in its standardized configuration - different lengths of rope protruded from his pockets along with a roll of duct tape attached to his waist. At the end of Gus’ steady right arm was a squirt gun, pointing at anything that moved.
He’s been following us?! He couldn’t have possibly guessed we were coming this way.
“H-h-how on earth did he get here so fast?” Collin said, astounded.
“I don’t know… but he’ll be our first prisoner,” I whispered cockily winking and aimed my gun up at the boy when he turned his back to us.
“No! Wait,” Collin put a hand on my shoulder, “what if you miss?”
“I won’t.”
"I have a better idea – gimme that!” He snatched the gun from my hand.
“Are you nuts? He’s right over there! This is our chance to –mppphhh!” Collin suddenly pressed his palm against my mouth.
“MMMPHHH!!” I glared at him.
“Shhhhhh… ” He frowned back.
Gus walked past us and disappeared into the woods. We had lost him.
I pulled Collin’s hand down and by the time I had managed to retrieve my pistol, the boyscout was nowhere to be seen.
“Great idea, Einstein. Just great. He got away.” I looked sideways but Collin wasn’t there anymore.
“Come, quick!” My teammate had climbed out from the hole and was now crouching on the edge, offering me his hand.
“Huh?”
“Hurry up, Nick! Trust me!”
I rolled my eyes and grudgingly took his hand. Within seconds I was out too, and immediately we proceeded to jog north, after our prey.
Now, it should be explained and perhaps warned to those who’ve never been to the subtropics that a stroll back there from late November till early March implied two things: suffocating humidity and sweating. Lots of it. So it’s no surprise that shortly after we started off, we were already showered in perspiration. We carried on, dodging poison ivy, reddish sandy ant nests mingled almost imperceptibly with the dark soil and other minor dangers, our damp shirts becoming a second skin layer – but no signs of Gus. I was beginning to lose all hope when a slender figure flickered in my peripheral sprinting vision. I stopped dead in my tracks.
“Dude!” I hissed at Collin, panting, and pointed at the khaki-haired head at the bottom of a steep. We smoothly walked up and squatted behind a large trunk at the top, our backs against it, from where we could clearly hear him. Soon we learned he was not alone.
“They weren’t there!”
The other boy sounded exasperated. “What do you mean ‘they weren’t there’? They had to be!”
“I even searched the bushes, nothing.”
“Mike specifically told me Nick and Collin’d be somewhere between their base and this place. Dude, was it that difficult to… – oh heck! You know what? Forget it! Stay here with Scott, I’ll go do it myself,” he growled and we heard him walk away.
We still couldn’t believe our ears. What we’d just heard made no sense. How did Mike find out about our plans if the boyscout team had already left when I made them? I couldn’t come up with any plausible explanation. Unless… had one of the boyscouts stayed behind and spied on us and then ran to tell Mike?
Occupied in these reflections, I did not notice when Klaus appeared to the left accompanied by Doug, and they would have found us had Collin not miraculously, as they turned to descend the steep, grabbed and pulled me to the ground. I had landed on top of him and I felt his heart pouncing under mine; thus we remained until their steps dwindled in the forest and all I could hear was that everlasting back and forth motion of tree branches and leaves.
“Are they gone?” he whispered.
“Yeah.”
Long silence.
“So, can you get off me now?”
“Oh, sorry,” I answered meekly self-conscious and got to my feet.
A few minutes elapsed without anything happening to further elucidate this mystery, so I took a quick glance over the trunk and saw only two boys, Scott and Gus, sitting under a tree and talking. To their left some bags with several ropes lay open, bandannas, ropes and tape piled up – probably the whole team’s provisions.
The wind was definitely blowing on our side. Scott was a gawky little kid despite his age of 14, slim, with spiked short brown hair and deep blue eyes; he got a good deal of mockery since he seemed not to be older than 10. Gus, on the contrary, was 13, but looked 15-ish, had darker skin, broader shoulders and was rather chubby. Neither was strong enough to overpower us so I could not but grin at this favorable sight. I had underestimated my buddy’s plan; now we would get two prisoners instead of only one. I looked at Collin, who immediately understood and smiled back.
“This is our chance,” I said to myself and told Collin to move on. We forded the trunk and entered the woods again. My heart started pounding increasingly as I made out the back of the boyscouts’ heads, who were blissfully unaware of the eminent danger. We snuck up behind them, mere feet away. Collin hinted with his eyes at the boys and I nodded; he soundlessly counted with his fingers 1, 2, 3… NOW!
We both pounced in perfect timing – me on Scott, Collin on Gus -, wrapped an arm around their necks and pressed the point of the guns against their sides. We then pulled the trigger, unloading the water on their shirts and thus capturing them. The shock tore vivid screams so we swiftly clamped our hands over their mouths lest they should alert any nearby foe. As a reflex, they tried to fight back, but we had them clutched as jaguars onto helpless lambs.
“Stay put and quiet! There’s no point in resisting.” In realization of their capture, both reluctantly calmed down, their hands loosening their grips on our arms.
“You’re our prisoners now, and the more you cooperate the better it’ll turn out for ya. ‘Derstood?” They made a soft mpphhh under our hands and nodded their assent.
“Now, I want ya to drop your weapons,” I said. As expected, I heard two objects fall to the ground.
“Good. Now give us your scarves.” They grunted in response.
“Come on!” They undid the knot around their necks with ease and handed them to us. I made a wad with the scarf and held it in front of Scott’s face. “Okay. I’m gonna take my hand off your mouth, but don’t you dare make a sound.”
“Open up,” I ordered and as soon as he did, I unceremoniously forced the blue bundle beyond his teeth and on his tongue, smothering any complains he might have thought of directing to us. As a temporary solution, I held it in place with my hand, but not for long; there was still another surprise.
“Raise your arms,” Collin said. They complied and we yanked their t-shirts off, which we then used to secure the scarves in place: each one was folded and pressed against their stuffed mouths, tying the ends at the back of their heads with much tightness, producing a neat but effective cleave-gag. After ensuring their silence, we continued to ensure their stillness. Collin and I snatched the coils of rope from the boyscouts’s pockets: soft white cotton. Since there was no need to order them to turn around, I grasped Scott’s wrists, positioning palm to palm, and tied them very securely: first, rope around each hand; then I wrapped several loops more – tightening every turn - around both, cinched vertically in between the wrists and finally knotted it off where he couldn’t work it with his fingers. Additionally, a long piece of cord was wrapped around his bare chest, thus bringing his already bound arms closer to the body.
Collin then subdued Gus likewise. As always, the ropes were snug and firm, yet they didn’t cut off circulation or produced any pain.
We spun them around.
“Comfortable?” Vainly, and to much of our delight, they tested their bonds by squirming and fighting against them, only to confirm what they and we already knew: getting loose without help was unattainable! We weren’t completely satisfied though. Looking forward to seeing them wiggling just about so they know how helpless they were, we decided with a quick look at each other to further immobilize our new prisoners.
“Okay,” said Collin, “lie down over there, on your stomach.” They reluctantly obeyed and we tied their ankles crossed in a similar manner as the hands, and using a second rope lashed them to the wrists. Now they writhed within the constraints of a very strict hogtie, their fingertips almost touching their heels. We stepped back to admire our handiwork, which we congratulated each other for and judged pretty neat and skillful, since all our prisoners could do was barely flex fingers and whimper pathetically under their gags. We stared at them for a while as they mmphhhed for mercy at us and rocked on their bellies on the sandy clearing.
“We’re gonna to let you think about your situation while we decide what to do with you. Don’t go anywhere!” I laughed at the last phrase and then stepped back along with Collin to avoid being heard.
“So, what do you think we should do?” I asked Collin.
“I think we should just ask them about how they found out our plans,” he said matter-of-fact. I gave him a puzzled look. “Haha! Just kidding! Let’s tickle the crap outta them!”
A broad wicked grin took over my lower face.
We returned to find Gus and Scott the same way we had left them, only sweatier; they had been mightily trying to get some slack on the ropes during our absence, and getting none, caked their arms and chests with dirt. Scott was particularly engaged in an intense writhing as drops of sweat ran down his reddened face from his spiked brown hair.
I sighed. “Don’t you get it? You can’t escape! Calm down or - I tell you this from personal experience - you’ll get some nasty rope burns,” I said. Soon they gave up and rested their heads on the ground, breathing heavily through their nostrils.
I decided to release their gags - they were already drooling from them –, though not without beforehand assuring them that even the mere attempt of crying for help would be punished severely. They spat the scarves out on my hand and remained quiet, glad to give their aching jaws some relief.
Collin squatted in front of the hogtied boys.
“Ok. This is it: how did Mike find out where we were going to?” he asked with a friendly tone, pausing between each word to give it meaning.
The boyscouts looked at themselves and said nothing in response, a defiant expression on their faces.
Therefore, I barged in with the bad-cop attitude, “We can do this the easy or the hard way; either way we’re getting what we want. You decide.”
I already knew they wouldn’t give in that easy. Teenage pride, male predisposition to tough show-offs, loyalty to the tribe, all those played a role. But perhaps, even though they would never admit it, because they also wanted to know what we had in store for them.
“You’d better put the gag back on because there’s nothing that’ll make me talk,” said Scott. “Me neither!” Gus nodded.
“We’ll see that,” I said and inserted the scarves while they willingly opened their mouths; I used the same t-shirts to hold them in, and in no time they could do no more than grunts, as requested. Stupidly stubborn brats.
“Oh, wait, I think I made a mistake. I swapped the soggy scarves each one had inside your mouths, but you don’t mind, do you?” Gus and Scott showed the worst signs of disgust and glared with mad eyes over their cleave-gags.
“Too late. Sorry!” I said with a shrug and Collin burst out laughing, which only produced more grunting from our prisoners.
Next, we undid their hogties and dragged them to the tree they had been under. We sat them side to side and dragged them towards the trunk so their bare backs leaned against it it. The rope around the chest was removed; their hands were untied and retied in the same fashion in front. Using a long coil, Collin bound the boys’s wrists together and threw the rope over a branch, pulling until their armpits were completely exposed. Gus and Scott started to mew, apprehensive.
After rummaging in the inside of one of the bags, we found a couple of stakes, a toothbrush and a feather. Interesting. We stretched their legs out; with the aid of a rock, one stake was driven in the ground near Gus’s bound feet and another next-to Scott’s, and we lashed their feet to them. Finally, we removed their shoes and socks. There they sat, vulnerably bound at our mercy: ribs, bellies, armpits and soles waiting to be tickled for information. The look on their faces was priceless.
Without notice, I launched a reckless tickling spree on Scott’s body, beginning by the sides. He jumped in surprise and tried bringing his arms down but it was too late. The more I wiggled and brushed my fingers against his taut skin, the more poor Scotty thrashed and laughed hysterically.
He went absolutely berserk. “MMMMMMMMMMMMMPPPPHHHHHHHFFFF!” I could almost hear him say ‘stop’, but his gag did the job. He desperately tried to lose himself, but all his efforts only made him lower his resistance to endure my attacks. I went up under his arms where he showed to be even more ticklish, and when I got down to his feet, oh boy, he almost fainted. Gradually I took control over Scott’s body by tweaking the right spot to increase intensity. I carried on like that for three, four-and-a-half minutes, only as a demonstration of what would come.
Gus, who had been spared of the treatment, watched his friend’s predicament very noticeably anxious. Who can take the torture of a buddy right next to you knowing you’ll get the same treatment minutes later?
Abruptly, I stopped. Scott, exhausted and panting, remained still to regain strength for a second round.
“So, Gus,” I said, “this is just the tip of the iceberg. Consider this chance. Maybe you’ll be smart enough this time and change your mind before we go on.”
Actually, it was very kind of us; it was not common for prisoners receiving alternatives or any kind of offers for that matter. Captors would normally savagely tickle the information out of them when they were on verge of peeing themselves!
Gus gulped, and for a second I saw a trace of fear in his eyes - that he would give up - but Gus turned to Scott who shook his head no, and that was enough to convince him to refuse our advice.
“Very well. This will show you not to turn kind offers down!”
I picked the toothbrush while Collin chose the feather and approached our captives menacingly. Collin was to torture Scott and I was to work on Gus, since I held a receipt for him (due to the ‘breakfast’ episode). Both boy’s eyes widened in terror as we got closer, tightening their muscles in anticipation; and we were hardly an inch away when we heard footsteps behind us.
“Shit!” We dropped the feather and toothbrush to fetch the pistols, hid hastily behind the tree and waited. I thought we were going to be caught and was already imagining all kinds of terrible punishments. Immense was our surprise and joy, for we were expecting Klaus and Doug to return, when nobody less than Phil emerged from the woods, accompanied by a bound and gagged Dan!
“Hey Nick! Collin! Is that you guys?” Phil called.
Having noticed a team member, we stepped out. You could tell Dan wasn’t happy at all; he struggled and mmphed while Phil pushed him rather roughly around.
Phil captured Dan, but why?! – he’s on our team!
As soon as the slim blond boy saw us, his look changed.
“God!” he said pointing our shorts, “where the hell have you guys been?” I looked down and saw my lower body covered in sloppy mud, still not entirely dry. Funny enough, we had only become aware of it now, since we were so busy hunting and tying boys down to notice such a thing. We broke into a general laughter and quickly filled Phil in with the details. We also updated him on the disclosure of our plans to the enemy.
“Yes, there is a traitor,” Phil said with severity, “it’s Dan.” He and pushed the auburn haired kid who stumbled forwards.
“WHAT? What happened?!” I gaped at Phil, bewildered, and then at the twin, duct tape around his wrists, arms and mouth, who was restless and whimpering mightily under his gag. “
“Oh shut up, you coward!” Phil kicked him in the shins and Dan shrieked. “When we were alone deep in the forest, this… viper tried to take me from behind; we wrestled and he had the upper hand in the beginning, but I managed to take out my gun and shoot him…” Phil put a finger on his chest.
“Oh my…” I almost couldn’t believe it.
“So he surrendered by the rules?” Collin asked, inspecting Dan who was protesting a great deal under several layers of silver.
“Sorta,” said Phil, “I still had some trouble taping him up.”
Those damn boyscouts, would they ever play fair and square?
My eyes lit in anger. We almost got caught because of this traitor. “You’re a lucky bastard I wasn’t the one you tried to take, or else I would’ve left you tied under a beehive!”
“You interrogate him yet?” Collin asked as we both removed our shorts with the purpose of washing them in the creek or changing clothes at our base.
“No, no time for that. I had to come and warn you guys. We’ll have plenty of time for interrogation once we take’em all, including those two over there,” he pointed at Gus and Scott bound under the tree, “to our base. Tyler and Chris’ll take care of them while we go tell Adrian and Adam… that is, if they haven’t been already captured. I wanna get to the end of this too, but now we have to act fast,” concluded Phil and helped us untie our prisoners from the trees.
Quick and dirty, for the scouts could return any moment now, we then secured their wrists behind their backs with tape and attached them to their waists using several rounds. We removed the gags, gave them some water, and plastered their lips shut.
So they could walk more comfortably, we put their shoes on them and we were about to set off when Phil, out of the blue, said,
“Wait a second… how do we know Collin isn’t a traitor just like Dan?”
“What are you talking about? Of course he’s not!” I chuckled.
“How can you be so sure about it?”
“Duh! Because if he was he would’ve done like Dan – he would’ve tried to capture me when we were alone! And he didn’t!”
“Yet! He hasn’t tried yet!” added Phil, paranoid, “Plus, he was freaking out earlier this morning so Mike take him in their group again. I think he’d do anything to win Mike’s trust, even becoming a traitor.”
Well, he had a point there. I couldn’t draw hasty conclusions but if Dan, a boyscout, turned against us, then logically Collin would do what’s best for them; if pushed, Collin was very likely to betray us, or if captured, easily give our whereabouts and strategies away.
“I’m just saying that we should tie him up too, until he proves he’s on our side.”
Collin gasped. “What?! I’m not a traitor!” He cried in outrage.
“Can you prove you’re not?”
“What?! No no no, can you prove I am?”
“See, he’s avoiding to answer,” Phil stated. I wasn’t versed yet in the subtleties of sophism, so I saw this as a good argument against Collin.
“Huh?! I’m not a traitor!” Collin shrieked, frustrated.
I slowly turned to the light-haired boy. I didn’t want risk losing the game.
“Collin, I…”
“Come on, Nick! Are you going to believe that load of crap?!” he replied in panic. I lowered my head.
“Now,” Phil ordered, “put your hands behind your back.”
“Nick!”
“I’m so sorry, Collin.” Then I shot him on the chest, the cold water expanding on his t-shirt.
Within seconds, we had him trussed up and gagged like the others. Then we set off the way we had come. We lead the four boys so they didn’t trip or fall until, and after a long quiet stroll during which Dan didn’t stop grunting, despite Phil’s severe threats, we arrived at our base, the main clearing.
It was unusually quiet.
“Hmmm, this is weird,” I said. “No sign of Tyler of Chris.”
“Let’s wait for a couple of minutes. They should be around here,” Phil said. I helped Gus, Scott, Dan and Collin down on a log, in a row.
That’s when I saw it – there on Dan’s back.
“Phil?”
“Yeah?”
“You told me Dan first tried to take you down but then you shot him on the chest, right?”
“That’s how it happened!” he said airily.
“After struggling on ground?” I looked at the filthy floor.
“Uh-huh. He put up a great fight, though. I have to admit it.”
I turned around and faced him. “Then how come the patch of water is on Dan’s back and your shirt is so white and clean?!” I snapped.
Dan mewed in his gag, mightily swinging his head up and down, confirming my suspicions.
Phil turned pale. He knew I knew. It was impossible to wrestle here and keep an immaculate shirt, and that patch was a proof that Phil shot Dan from behind when he had no chance of defending himself.
“Nice job, Sherlock,” Phil chuckled.
At the same time, Klaus, Doug, and Rob showed up bringing with them two bound and gagged prisoners: our buddies Tyler and Chris. Phil didn’t say a word in response; he looked triumphantly at me and slowly raised his water pistol. I had no time to react.
“Too bad you didn’t figure it out earlier, Nick. Now you’re trapped. Drop your gun and put your hands where I can see’em.”
“Why did you do it, Phil?! Why?!” I yelled at him.
“Because I didn’t wanna lose – again.” He smiled.
“You poor bastard. You are so dead. When we get our hands on you…”
“The gun. Now!” he barked. With a feeling of impending doom, I reached inside my pocket, took it out, and threw it at Phil’s feet. He started walking in my direction.
Goddamnit. Why did I have to say it out loud? Why couldn’t I just attack him or run away? But no. Instead I was: ‘Look how smart I am! I figured it all out and have to announce it to the whole world! Bring the cameras, cable TV!’. I sighed. I’m such an asshole, I looked like one of those corny Scooby Doo wannabe detectives.
Phil produced a long coil of rope from his pocket. He reached behind me, and I was already feeling the first loops around my wrists when all of a sudden Dan and Collin tackled Phil to the ground! Using the sheer weight of their bound bodies, they smashed against him in a joint attack!
I stared at them, jaw open, not sure if I wasn’t in some Hollywood movie.
“MMMMMMMMMMMPHHHHFF!”
I snapped back to reality, blurred figures shrieking at me from the ground through their gags, as though saying, “RUN, YOU MORON, DON’T JUST STAND THERE!!!!”
I actually had to kick my legs out of shock before I bolted towards the forest, running as desperately and fast as the adrenaline boost could propel me, leaving my captive friends behind. I heard orders being shouted and a rush of footsteps. Fortunately, I wasn’t too worried they’d caught up. False modesty aside, I was the best middle and long-distance runner probably in all school.
Smoothly diving under branches and making my way through the dense vegetation, changing direction twice, I soon lost them.
I have to act – and fast.
Still running, I muttered, “I have to warn Adrian,” and turned north.
My mind was racing and in no time I realized the dilemma. What if there’s more than one traitor? What if Phil was just making cover for the big strike?
What if Adrian is involved in this too?!
TBC
-
Bondwriter
- Centennial Club
- Posts: 575
- Joined: 6 years ago
This is the last installment written in this saga...
Battle Ends
by Nicholas H.
Engrossed in my thoughts, mechanically avoiding pine trees and holes and thick roots in the run, I only realized how distant I was when I spotted the creek. Surprised, I came to a stop. As a thin layer of sweat coated my skin, I examined the surroundings and searched within my mind a familiar spot. This was a new territory for me and I couldn’t afford getting lost now.
Whoa, I’m this far? Without a doubt, it was the same freezing cold, crystalline watercourse we had swum and played in the day before. More importantly, it was located right behind the boyscouts’ camp. There were almost 2 km [~ 1,25 miles] from one base to the other, but for me only a few seconds had elapsed since my successful evasion.
Storming their base was a brave option, except for a little detail: I stared at my empty pockets and hands, cursing under a hasty breath. I knew that without a water gun or rope or duct tape I was a very easy catch, and I knew there had to be at least one of these in the nearby enemy base; the only thing I did not know was whether the camp was guarded or not. Though confident upon my rudimentary notions of ground wrestling and judo locks, I would be no more difficult to capture than a forest deer against two or more armed hunters even if I miraculously Matrixed the first water shots.
There were only three physical obstacles before reaching the base: first, the creek; second, immediately following the rocky shore, a low hill; and finally on the top of the hill, a thick line of trees. Due to this last wall of high foliage that completely surrounded the campsite, I fortunately couldn’t be spotted approaching it – but conversely, neither could I see anyone inside to prevent me from falling into the wolves den.
I pondered the alternatives. What alternatives?! I can’t go back, there are probably 6 guys on my tail, and I don’t have a clue where Adam or Adrian were – they might as well have already been captured, or switched sides so they could win! (You never know what Adrian is capable of). It was worth the risk taking a look in their camp for some rope; if I got lucky, maybe I’d even stumble upon a forgotten water pistol. Going around like this would only eventually get me caught, I concluded.
So it was decided. I started walking through the shoreline scattered with pebbles, the crushing sound from beneath my feet echoing in the woods. After judging it too loud for an infiltration mission, I removed my shoes along with, why not, my socks – a choice I’d dearly regret. I tucked each sock into its shoe, then threw them to the opposite shore.
Seeing that the narrowest part of the rivulet was not narrow at all, and finding the prospect of plunging into this awfully cold stream far from appealing, I backed a few steps in order to get enough impulse. Swinging my arms like a flailing duck, my legs propelled me to a great leap forwards. I successfully arrived at the other side of the creek, but landed with all my weight on my right foot - and since I was shoeless and sockless, a tiny sharp rock pierced my bare sole. An acute pain shot up my legs; I screamed in pain. My legs faltered, I lost balance and backed up till I fell into the freezing water. Well done.
The moment I felt the welcoming liquid acting more like a googol of needles on me, I bolted out onto the shore. I sat cross-legged and inspected my wound: even though it was a small cut, a scarlet stream continuously leaked. I washed it but it didn’t look much nicer.
“Great,” I thought, “I just hope I won’t have to chop my leg off, I don’t think we packed the machete.”
Well, as long as it didn't kill me, it was ok. My clothes were obviously soaked. Now, in spite of my living in a very, very hot country - and that day wasn’t particularly cooler – the iced cloth that clung to my skin made me shiver with the first breeze, so I peeled the t-shirt off and wrung the excess of water out of it. However, it was still pretty damp – I’d have to do without.
All of a sudden, as I put the socks back on and fastened the shoelaces, I heard steps behind me. A torrent of adrenaline flowed through my veins. There, on the opposite shore, stood Phil with a smirk on his face. One hand held a pistol; the other was hooked at his waist, panting a bit because of the chase, but still showing his characteristic, so-Phil pose of arrogant cleverness.
“Gosh, Nick, I didn’t know you were such a hygiene freak. You could’ve washed up when the game was over, y’know,” he broke the silence and laughed away.
“Okay, lie down, put your arms behind your back, and wait for me to get there.” He prepared to jump over to this side.
“Yeah, right.” I chuckled, got up, and made a desperate run up the hill. Momentarily forgetting my injured foot, I nearly collapsed again, clutching a nearby tree to avoid the fall. Damn, it really hurt, I couldn’t make a step. I started to hop on one foot, recklessly half-running, half-jumping as I heard Phil’s voice behind me telling me to stop, that I had no escape. Well, in a certain way he was right, for he would reach me sooner or later, but was I going to give up? Stubborn me, yeah. Like I said before, I was the fastest one in the group, followed by Phil, but thus deprived of one leg I was no better than chubby Rob in a sack race.
Wading the dense array of trees, I could make out the tents in the camp. I only hoped that I could get there before Phil, and that I could find something to defend myself with. However, still in the forest, no more than 20 meters [~ 65 feet] left till the clearing, Phil ominous threats behind me, I paid little attention to my way. Huge error: all of a sudden, my only functional foot was circled and yanked by a rope, and since I had been hopping, I offered little resistance to my being knocked down. A fluffy layer of leaves somewhat diminished the impact, but I can’t say I went down graciously – more like a bag of potatoes being dropped on the ground.
I’d stepped on a booby trap. A primitive device, but nonetheless effective, especially on one-legged game: you conceal a generous loop of rope with a swift-slipping knot in someone’s path, hold its end from a hidden spot, and when the person steps in, you simply pull in the opposite direction of the unfortunate fellow.
“Owww… did you really have to do that?!”
I lay on my stomach, breathing heavily, not fully grasping the situation yet. I stirred and prepared to get up, but a voice said, “Don’t even think about it.” The plastic barrel of a gun was pressed against the back of my head as my new assailant pinned me down with his weight.
“I got him, Phil!” Mike smiled up to welcome the boy who trudged carrying my shoes and shirt. Before I could even think of squirming, he reached for a rope inside his zipped pocket.
“Yeah, and I have the perfect plan for the other two,” he quizzically said, grasping my right wrist and wrapping the first of the several loops around it.
In no time, they were carrying me by the arms to the campsite with my hands deftly cross-bound behind my back. And since they put my damp shirt to good use, I could but mpphhh back at them for the derisory comments after I confessed my clownish episode in the creek.
The place was empty except for James, who to my complete amazement was tying Billy up to a pole! But Billy was one of them!
“Guys, look what we got,” said Phil. James turned around and smiled triumphantly. I groaned.
“Perfect, now we’ll keep them both busy.”
He resumed by tying off Billy’s last knot, with unnecessary tightness.
“Hey, take it easy, James!”
“Sorry!” He finished the task by pressing a simple cleave gag between the kid’s teeth.
Billy then tested the bonds to confirm what was already evident: he was going nowhere. He was tied in one of the most restrictive and uncomfortable ways I had ever seen – and was about to feel.
Phil and Mike first untied my hands, whilst explaining James and Billy the previous events that had led to my dumb capture, having a second round of laughter at my expense.
They forced me down on a kneeling position, my back against a wooden pole about 20 cm [~ 9 inches] in diameter. Thanks to my long legs, my feet could be drawn back around the pole enough to cross them at the ankles, where they were lashed together with rope. The pressure on my lower back now forced me slightly forwards. Discovering the wound on my sole, James took a few minutes to cleanse it and apply a Band-aid before going on (they weren’t that cruel after all!).
Notwithstanding, during the whole procedure I stared unsympathetically at my captors. I knew what they had in store for me wasn’t going to be nice.
I duly put my arms behind the trunk when Mike fetched a new length of soft cotton rope.
“Oh no, Nick, not this time.”
Mike brought my hands in front, lifted them above my head and behind the pole, and tied them also crossed. In an automatic reflex, I arched my back as my arms were drawn upwards, stretching my torso as taut as a drum, and exposing both my armpits and sides, which lost all protection and became frighteningly vulnerable. I gulped at this realization.
Next, Phil removed my gag, but I knew the relief it gave on my jaws was not intended to last. After he offered me a bottle of water – I refused for fear of the dreaded tickle torture - he took something out of his pocket, which I recognized, widening my eyes, as a squash ball.
“Remember this, Nick?” Phil squatted and held it in front my face. I immediately regretted having used this type of gag on him back at his place.
“No! Phil, dude! I’m sorry! You wouldn’t…”
“Oh, yes.” A broad grin spread across his face. He picked one of my socks and put the ball inside; he rolled them in a bundle.
“Please Phil, not this. I won’t make a sound!” I hurried to beg but, as usual, it all fell on deaf ears.
“Open up!”
I sighed and reluctantly did as told, receiving the wad without resisting, which filled my mouth completely and bulged my cheeks. The boy put his hand over my mouth to hold it in, while he searched with the other for the edge of a duct tape roll. Using his teeth, Phil peeled a strip, which he plastered over my mouth and then wrapped unmercifully around my head until all the attempts to speak were mere mppphhhhhfs. As I’ve mentioned before, the silencing score of this gag is high – of course, at the expense of the wearer’s comfort: it forces the mouth wide open, can’t be spit out or even worked with the tongue, and biting the bundle only makes the jaw tired.
The fact that they added no further ropes to my bindings and stepped back to admire their prisoners puzzled me. Mike used to be very thorough in his rope-work. I should have known better; as soon as they finished, I struggled against my bonds, and realized, with an expression of both shock and excitement, that I was utterly helpless – now even more than other times. The tying implied an understanding of human anatomy (or just lots, and lots of tie-up practice), because it hindered movement of limbs with the least amount of fastening material. The most fascinating aspect was that it became impossible to relax! Because of the way I was tied, I was unable to stretch my arms up; neither could I lower them to gain relief! I had no choice but to strain the whole time, which wasn’t a very nice position to remain in, I must say. The cords had been wrapped horizontally, then vertically tight around wrists and ankles; the knots, as always, were way out of the reach of my prying fingers.
Continuing to struggle was useless - and quickly painful – so I gave up and gazed up expectantly at Phil and Mike, who smirked back.
“Okay, maybe you’re wondering why Billy here’s sharing the same fate,” began Mike pointing at the shirtless auburn-haired kid to my left. “Well, you probably know there’s only Adrian and Adam left to capture, so– ”
“Aww, c’mon dude,” interrupted Phil, “let him find it out by himself. It’s gonna be soo funny! I can’t wait to see his face!” He walked up to me, swept my still wet hair clear from my face and patted my cheeks as I glared at him.
“Mmmmph!”
Everyone agreed and without more ado, they walked away West, disappearing behind the tents, which left me to ponder about the strange predicament I had been put into.
My mind was racing. Using me to lure Adrian and Adam was clear, but why did they include Billy in the bait too, if he wasn’t in our team? Why would Adrian wanna release him? It made no sense. Even more, it was way too suspicious, and Adrian wasnt’t that dumb, he wouldn’t walk into what he’d see as a blatant trap.
Time passed by: ten, twenty, thirty minutes. We just waited in silence, which began to get irritable. Nobody appeared. Clad only in my soaked underwear, under the punishing mid-morning sun, the previous coolness of water on my skin was replaced by drops of sweat running down face and chest. Not to mention that my muscles were starting to get stiff – and I hadn’t even dared struggle, knowing all too well the consequences.
A pint of hope emerged when noises started coming from the forest. Like Mike had said, Adrian and Adam turned up. But they didn’t retreat noticing the trap, as I had expected. They saw us, but remained cautious.
Of course they’re gonna realize it. What a crappy trap, Mike.
I swung my head left. Billy looked and smiled at me the best he could under his gag. Then he started to mpphhh loudly.
I rolled my eyes. They’re not gonna buy it!
But the boys started to walk in our direction.
Sooner or later they’ll be able to tell it’s me and Dan –-err, I mean Billy and then… I stopped in my thought.
OH MY GOD! The twins! That’s it! Those cheating bastards! On that instant, it all fitted perfectly: Mike wanted Adrian & Adam to think Billy was his brother Dan! Dan and Billy were identical twins, except Billy was a bit slimmer and boyish than his twin. But we had met them only the day before, so neither Adrian nor Adam would be able to tell the difference, not yet! Even I got confused after hanging out with the twins for a longer time.
“MMMMMMMMMPPPPPPHHHHH!”
Adrian whispered something to Adam and approached cautiously. We were in serious trouble; we would lose if I didn’t find a way to warn my friends now!
Seeing nobody around, Adrian walked up to us. “Are you guys ok?”
“Yhh, ww’re fine. Hrry uff!” said Billy. The boyscouts had deliberately given him a lousy, packless cleave gag so he could speak more understandably than I could!
“Dan, who caught you? Where are them?” asked Adrian in whisper tone, as he understandably untied Billy’s gag first - mine would have taken too much time.
“Just Mike! He went away just a minute ago. C’mon, untie us, quick!” Billy urged them.
All the while I shouted my lungs out. Watch out, is a trap! He’s NOT Dan! But everything was effectively muffled by the squash ball plus tape, and Adrian just chuckled.
“What’s wrong with him?”
“Oh, Nick wants to pee,” Billy answered, grinning at my murdering glares.
“Well, he’s already undressed to his underwear,” Adam laughed at the thought, “so we could just pull-“
“No! Untie us first, they may come back at any time,” Billy cut him off.
So Adrian and Adam did exactly what he had wanted them to do: they tucked their water pistols in their pockets, as both hands were needed to tackle our knots. They squatted beside us, inspecting then bonds: Adrian on mine and Adam on Billy’s. Since the boyscouts had made sure to use complicated, sturdy triple knots, they were also having a hard time untying me.
Persistently, I mpphed through my tape gag at Adrian, but he just hushed me, “Hold it for a minute, would ya? I’m doing it as fast as I can! It’s too damn tight.”
I couldn’t believe this was happening! It was so frustrating to see how those cheating boyscouts’ plan worked to perfection.
Adrian was about to unravel the rope around my left wrist, when Billy cried “NOW!”
Before they could turn around, two shots of stagnant water coming from Mike and Phil’s gun spurted on their backs. An expression of deep shock was printed on our buddy’s faces; it had happened too fast for them to understand. Even more for Adrian, who saw his brother Phil playing on enemy side.
“Hi Adrian,” Phil said cunningly. The boys jaw almost hit the floor.
“Ok, drop your weapons and raise your hands,” ordered Mike.
“What the hell is going on here?!” screamed the blond kid, slowly getting up after James had picked his and Adam’s gun from the ground.
“We just fooled you - and good!” Mike answered.
“What?!”
“The one over there is not Dan,” indicated Phil.
“It’s Billy…” completed Adam, realizing too late.
“Yup.”
“No way!” Adrian blurted out, examining the boy half-tied to the pole, his auburn hair, his light brown eyes, for a hint of confirmation.
“Surprise, surprise!” Billy said.
“But… you… why, bro?” Adrian asked Phil.
“Well, I didn’t wanna lose again, y’know. It was pretty humiliating last time when they were only 5 - it was obvious we wouldn’t beat them this time around, all 10 of ‘em. And if you can’t beat’em, join’em!” he shrugged as if there was nothing reproachable in his actions.
Betrayed and tricked, the ego badly wounded, Adrian gave his brother the fiercest, blood-curling look I had ever seen. He was not angry, he was furious.
“Phil, you have no idea how much this is going to cost you.” He gnashed his teeth at every word.
“Oh, shut up!” retorted Phil and abruptly shoved a rag deep into his brother’s mouth; he used Adrian’s own t-shirt to hold it in place by tying it off savagely tight behind his head, which not only stifled entirely the boy’s sounds, but also put enormous pressure on the corner of his lips.
Soon both of them lay hogtied in front of me. I had the honor and the pleasure (remark also aimed at making me aware of what was aware to everyone else looking at me), according to Mike, to see “knot masters” at work, while I long-sufferingly watched how they tied Adrian and Adam’s hands behind their backs, the elbows together, and finally linked them to beforehand-bound ankles.
Once we were duly trussed up, and Billy was released, they couldn’t help to torture us some.
“A good tie-up is not complete without tickling!” Mike pointed out. The others nodded happily, not to say ecstatically, and launched a relentless attack on poor Adrian and Adam’s bare soles. The strict hogtie further reduced their mobility and they writhed and laughed as they went on to the most sensitive parts of their vulnerable bodies, like Adrian’s skinny ribs or Adam’s ticklish belly.
“Hey, Nick over there seems to want some too,” said James and the FOUR boyscouts surrounded me.
I bit the ball hard and tensed my body, anticipating the start. That’s when the helplessness of that tie-up was noticeable in its fullest degree: every muscle, every part, every little hidden spot was available for the tickle-thirsty boys to plunge their fingers in. I had never felt it that way, so intensely ubiquitous. It was plain cruelty! Tickling was reserved to extract information, not to please the captors! Also, but maybe it was just me, they appeared to have taken a special liking to torturing my body, for it passed the eternity and a little bit before they stopped. When they finished, I was exhausted and breathing heavily; tears had long begun running down my face.
“That’s enough, we don’t want him wetting the only dry cloth he’s got now,” said Mike. Then he told James and Billy to go and call the other boyscouts that had stayed back at our base and bring all prisoners together, so they could pronounce themselves winners. By the rules, the losers would get to spend tied as long as it was deemed enough, the limit being sunset. I was already imagining all sorts of terrible tortures being played on us.
It’s beyond my ability to put into words how amazed Mike was, when, after twenty minutes, both kids returned all wrapped up in duct tape, chest to chest, hands bound behind the other one’s back in a hugging lock, and tape-gagged. Mike almost had a heart attack. A white scarf was tied around the boys’ necks, a sign for truce.
“What the heck happened to you guys?!” Phil said but Mike hushed him.
“Listen!”
Shortly afterwards, the rest of Mike’s team emerged from the woods (Klaus, Scott, Gus, Doug, Rob and Justin) with their upper bodies immobilized in rope, arms bound behind their backs in a chain to the other boyscouts’ arms, and silenced by their own t-shirts. Following them came our teammates, pistol in hands, Collin, Tyler, Chris and Dan, pistols in hand.
Mike and Phil backed up as our friends invaded the camp and had their prisoners sit in a row on a log, and had their ankles tied. Collin at once put them at ease.
"Don't worry, it’s a truce, we’re not attacking you. We just think it’s reasonable to make a deal because there is no way you’ll beat the four of us, and the only thing that could happen is you two getting captured too." He swung an arm across the eight bound boys.
“What do you want?” asked Mike with a scorn.
“It’s clear now we win. And according to the rules, we can take all of you hostages for as long as we want,” Collin explained.
Chris went on, “We don’t really care about that. We’ll call it a tie, but we only ask one thing.”
“And that would be…?”
“Him!” Tyler pointed a finger at Phil, our Judas.
The kid’s green eyes widened in terror, “What?! Are you kidding?! Mike, please tell me you’re not taking their crap. We can still win!”
Chris continued, “We are also gonna let all our eight prisoners go in exchange for that little traitor.” It was the best bargain the boyscout leader could get – and he knew it. Not even the wisest strategist and negotiator would reject the offer.
“So, what do you say?” asked Tyler.
Mike, a prideful kid as he was, couldn’t bear the idea of losing to a bunch of non-boyscout city kids.
After a long silence, during which Phil pathetically implored for mercy, Mike went to where Adrian lay hogtied without saying a word; he untied him completely, handed him a long piece of rope and said with a smile, “Don’t let him get away.”
Adrian immediately understood. He jumped on his feet and made a quick knot to convert the rope into a lasso, then waving a big loop in the air. Phil panicked at the sight. If he fell in Adrian hands, the question wouldn’t be what he would do to him, but what we would not do. So you can imagine how heartily he demanded his legs to take him away as fast as possible.
I couldn’t help mmmphing a few cries of joy as an exciting chase ensued; the younger boy sprinted across the campsite and almost made it to the woods, but his brother’s expertly calculated lasso roped his feet and brought him down with a thud. Before Phil could react, Adrian pounced him, turned him on his back, and lashed his ankles together. He forced his brother’s lean arms behind his back; and holding with one hand, he used the remaining length of rope to bind the wrists. After completing the hogtie, Adrian knotted it off and placed a foot on the kid’s head.
“I always win, bro.”
Phil, staring blankly at the sky, could utter nothing in reply - a hand quickly pushed a scarf past beyond his teeth and secured it with a cloth tied around his head.
After Mike’s part of the agreement was fulfilled, we released the boyscouts as agreed and soon - freedom at last! - we were untied. Apart from being extenuated and some nice rope burns, I was okay.
We then enjoyed a nice meal, it was near noon, prepared by the scouts, no hard feelings. Phil didn’t have any; he just remained staked out, shirtless, gagged and continuously tickled, in front of us.
There was a general chatter about the previous events, where I got the opportunity to straight things up.
“There’s still one thing I don’t get, Dan. How on earth did you manage to untie yourselves and besides capture all the boyscouts that were guarding you?”
“Oh, easy! Actually, they helped us with that.”
I looked quizzically at him.
“You see, they asked us if we wanted some water. It was like 40º C [104 º F] out there, we all were like ‘YES!!!’ They thought it’d be funny, so they poured dozens of water buckets on us – but we had the last laugh! What they forgot was that duct tape comes off pretty easy when wet,” he explained chuckling.
“So we struggled ourselves free,” Collin continued, “waited for the right moment when they weren’t looking and jumped them. Overpowering them didn’t come easy, but we’re good. We captured the others one by one as they came back and we were almost done tying them up, when Billy and James showed up, all cocky about us being still trussed up that they didn’t even carry their guns. So we taped them together, put the flag around their necks, and sent them back to Mike as a little present. All we had to do then was follow their way!” We broke in a general laughter, except for the boyscouts, of course.
Then I went looking for Collin. He had avoided me since the end of the game, and I wanted to apologize for the little trust I had displayed when I chose to believe Phil instead of him. I’d only known him for a day, but I’d enjoyed tagging along with him so much that I was starting to miss him already.
I noticed the white muddy shorts he’d been wearing outside his tent, so I assumed he was changing inside. He was rummaging his bag when I came in but he didn’t raise his head or show any signs of noticing my presence.
“Hey,” I said shyly after a while, my voice fading off to a whisper. Collin didn’t answer. His face displayed a cold look, somewhat increased by the bright blond hair that fell over his eyes.
“That mud is going to be a bitch to scrub off,” I pointed out.
Silence.
I just stood there, wondering what to do. Collin kept searching for clothes, even though he already had a pair of clean shorts in his hand.
“C’mon Collin, this is stupid!” I kneeled in front of him.
“I’m sorry, ok?” I said with sincere guilt. “I didn’t mean to–“
“It’s fine,” Collin said at last without looking at me.
“Really?” I asked. I had expected a little more resistance than this.
“Yeah, it’s okay. It was just a game.” His tone betrayed his words.
“Wait, no, this isn’t right. Phil was lying! Look, lemme make it up to you.”
Collin stared at me dumbfounded.
“What do you want? Anything, just ask it,” I said.
“Thanks, Nick, but it’s okay. Really.”
“No! I took advantage of you!”
“But…“
“Ok, punch me.”
“What?!”
“Punch me!” I ordered.
“I’m not going to – “
“Come on!” I opened my arms exposing my stomach.
I remained in that position for a few seconds. He hesitated. I nodded.
“You’re not leaving me alone till I do something, right?”
“Yup.” I grinned.
He rolled his eyes and clenched his fist, threw his arm back and plunged it straight into my body. I stumbled and fell on my butt, but barely felt the strike.
Collin instantly crawled up to me, noticeably worried.
“Nick?!”
“Ok, that was pathetic,” I said. “You punch like a girl.” He frowned and I chucked.
“I think there’s no point in trying again, but I still feel I owe you, dude.” He’d told me the day before he lived pretty close to my house, so I came up with an interesting idea. “Let’s do this: I tied you up for no reason, so it’s only fair you get to do the same. I’ll give you a free tie-up coupon. Anywhere, anytime, just text me.” I smiled.
He opened his eyes wide and opened his mouth, ready to protest.
“No buts.”
Before he said anything else, I offered him my hand. “Deal?”
I looked right into his eyes. Collin looked away, curled his lips into a sheepish smile and blushed slightly, as thought a sudden thought had crossed his mind. He stared at me, struggling to sound casual.
“Ok, but only ‘cause you said so!”
I grinned back and shook his hand.
“Deal,” he said.
We spent the rest of the afternoon hanging out, doing random stuff, playing cards or swimming in the creek. But it quickly became late so we called it a day and got our things ready to go back to the farm (as lenient as Mr. Silva was with us, he wouldn’t want us disappearing for two entire days).
Also, I sensed the others were secretly looking forward to returning - we still had a traitor to punish. Things were basically pretty screwed up for Phil now. I almost felt sorry for him! Almost…
The End
Battle Ends
by Nicholas H.
Engrossed in my thoughts, mechanically avoiding pine trees and holes and thick roots in the run, I only realized how distant I was when I spotted the creek. Surprised, I came to a stop. As a thin layer of sweat coated my skin, I examined the surroundings and searched within my mind a familiar spot. This was a new territory for me and I couldn’t afford getting lost now.
Whoa, I’m this far? Without a doubt, it was the same freezing cold, crystalline watercourse we had swum and played in the day before. More importantly, it was located right behind the boyscouts’ camp. There were almost 2 km [~ 1,25 miles] from one base to the other, but for me only a few seconds had elapsed since my successful evasion.
Storming their base was a brave option, except for a little detail: I stared at my empty pockets and hands, cursing under a hasty breath. I knew that without a water gun or rope or duct tape I was a very easy catch, and I knew there had to be at least one of these in the nearby enemy base; the only thing I did not know was whether the camp was guarded or not. Though confident upon my rudimentary notions of ground wrestling and judo locks, I would be no more difficult to capture than a forest deer against two or more armed hunters even if I miraculously Matrixed the first water shots.
There were only three physical obstacles before reaching the base: first, the creek; second, immediately following the rocky shore, a low hill; and finally on the top of the hill, a thick line of trees. Due to this last wall of high foliage that completely surrounded the campsite, I fortunately couldn’t be spotted approaching it – but conversely, neither could I see anyone inside to prevent me from falling into the wolves den.
I pondered the alternatives. What alternatives?! I can’t go back, there are probably 6 guys on my tail, and I don’t have a clue where Adam or Adrian were – they might as well have already been captured, or switched sides so they could win! (You never know what Adrian is capable of). It was worth the risk taking a look in their camp for some rope; if I got lucky, maybe I’d even stumble upon a forgotten water pistol. Going around like this would only eventually get me caught, I concluded.
So it was decided. I started walking through the shoreline scattered with pebbles, the crushing sound from beneath my feet echoing in the woods. After judging it too loud for an infiltration mission, I removed my shoes along with, why not, my socks – a choice I’d dearly regret. I tucked each sock into its shoe, then threw them to the opposite shore.
Seeing that the narrowest part of the rivulet was not narrow at all, and finding the prospect of plunging into this awfully cold stream far from appealing, I backed a few steps in order to get enough impulse. Swinging my arms like a flailing duck, my legs propelled me to a great leap forwards. I successfully arrived at the other side of the creek, but landed with all my weight on my right foot - and since I was shoeless and sockless, a tiny sharp rock pierced my bare sole. An acute pain shot up my legs; I screamed in pain. My legs faltered, I lost balance and backed up till I fell into the freezing water. Well done.
The moment I felt the welcoming liquid acting more like a googol of needles on me, I bolted out onto the shore. I sat cross-legged and inspected my wound: even though it was a small cut, a scarlet stream continuously leaked. I washed it but it didn’t look much nicer.
“Great,” I thought, “I just hope I won’t have to chop my leg off, I don’t think we packed the machete.”
Well, as long as it didn't kill me, it was ok. My clothes were obviously soaked. Now, in spite of my living in a very, very hot country - and that day wasn’t particularly cooler – the iced cloth that clung to my skin made me shiver with the first breeze, so I peeled the t-shirt off and wrung the excess of water out of it. However, it was still pretty damp – I’d have to do without.
All of a sudden, as I put the socks back on and fastened the shoelaces, I heard steps behind me. A torrent of adrenaline flowed through my veins. There, on the opposite shore, stood Phil with a smirk on his face. One hand held a pistol; the other was hooked at his waist, panting a bit because of the chase, but still showing his characteristic, so-Phil pose of arrogant cleverness.
“Gosh, Nick, I didn’t know you were such a hygiene freak. You could’ve washed up when the game was over, y’know,” he broke the silence and laughed away.
“Okay, lie down, put your arms behind your back, and wait for me to get there.” He prepared to jump over to this side.
“Yeah, right.” I chuckled, got up, and made a desperate run up the hill. Momentarily forgetting my injured foot, I nearly collapsed again, clutching a nearby tree to avoid the fall. Damn, it really hurt, I couldn’t make a step. I started to hop on one foot, recklessly half-running, half-jumping as I heard Phil’s voice behind me telling me to stop, that I had no escape. Well, in a certain way he was right, for he would reach me sooner or later, but was I going to give up? Stubborn me, yeah. Like I said before, I was the fastest one in the group, followed by Phil, but thus deprived of one leg I was no better than chubby Rob in a sack race.
Wading the dense array of trees, I could make out the tents in the camp. I only hoped that I could get there before Phil, and that I could find something to defend myself with. However, still in the forest, no more than 20 meters [~ 65 feet] left till the clearing, Phil ominous threats behind me, I paid little attention to my way. Huge error: all of a sudden, my only functional foot was circled and yanked by a rope, and since I had been hopping, I offered little resistance to my being knocked down. A fluffy layer of leaves somewhat diminished the impact, but I can’t say I went down graciously – more like a bag of potatoes being dropped on the ground.
I’d stepped on a booby trap. A primitive device, but nonetheless effective, especially on one-legged game: you conceal a generous loop of rope with a swift-slipping knot in someone’s path, hold its end from a hidden spot, and when the person steps in, you simply pull in the opposite direction of the unfortunate fellow.
“Owww… did you really have to do that?!”
I lay on my stomach, breathing heavily, not fully grasping the situation yet. I stirred and prepared to get up, but a voice said, “Don’t even think about it.” The plastic barrel of a gun was pressed against the back of my head as my new assailant pinned me down with his weight.
“I got him, Phil!” Mike smiled up to welcome the boy who trudged carrying my shoes and shirt. Before I could even think of squirming, he reached for a rope inside his zipped pocket.
“Yeah, and I have the perfect plan for the other two,” he quizzically said, grasping my right wrist and wrapping the first of the several loops around it.
In no time, they were carrying me by the arms to the campsite with my hands deftly cross-bound behind my back. And since they put my damp shirt to good use, I could but mpphhh back at them for the derisory comments after I confessed my clownish episode in the creek.
The place was empty except for James, who to my complete amazement was tying Billy up to a pole! But Billy was one of them!
“Guys, look what we got,” said Phil. James turned around and smiled triumphantly. I groaned.
“Perfect, now we’ll keep them both busy.”
He resumed by tying off Billy’s last knot, with unnecessary tightness.
“Hey, take it easy, James!”
“Sorry!” He finished the task by pressing a simple cleave gag between the kid’s teeth.
Billy then tested the bonds to confirm what was already evident: he was going nowhere. He was tied in one of the most restrictive and uncomfortable ways I had ever seen – and was about to feel.
Phil and Mike first untied my hands, whilst explaining James and Billy the previous events that had led to my dumb capture, having a second round of laughter at my expense.
They forced me down on a kneeling position, my back against a wooden pole about 20 cm [~ 9 inches] in diameter. Thanks to my long legs, my feet could be drawn back around the pole enough to cross them at the ankles, where they were lashed together with rope. The pressure on my lower back now forced me slightly forwards. Discovering the wound on my sole, James took a few minutes to cleanse it and apply a Band-aid before going on (they weren’t that cruel after all!).
Notwithstanding, during the whole procedure I stared unsympathetically at my captors. I knew what they had in store for me wasn’t going to be nice.
I duly put my arms behind the trunk when Mike fetched a new length of soft cotton rope.
“Oh no, Nick, not this time.”
Mike brought my hands in front, lifted them above my head and behind the pole, and tied them also crossed. In an automatic reflex, I arched my back as my arms were drawn upwards, stretching my torso as taut as a drum, and exposing both my armpits and sides, which lost all protection and became frighteningly vulnerable. I gulped at this realization.
Next, Phil removed my gag, but I knew the relief it gave on my jaws was not intended to last. After he offered me a bottle of water – I refused for fear of the dreaded tickle torture - he took something out of his pocket, which I recognized, widening my eyes, as a squash ball.
“Remember this, Nick?” Phil squatted and held it in front my face. I immediately regretted having used this type of gag on him back at his place.
“No! Phil, dude! I’m sorry! You wouldn’t…”
“Oh, yes.” A broad grin spread across his face. He picked one of my socks and put the ball inside; he rolled them in a bundle.
“Please Phil, not this. I won’t make a sound!” I hurried to beg but, as usual, it all fell on deaf ears.
“Open up!”
I sighed and reluctantly did as told, receiving the wad without resisting, which filled my mouth completely and bulged my cheeks. The boy put his hand over my mouth to hold it in, while he searched with the other for the edge of a duct tape roll. Using his teeth, Phil peeled a strip, which he plastered over my mouth and then wrapped unmercifully around my head until all the attempts to speak were mere mppphhhhhfs. As I’ve mentioned before, the silencing score of this gag is high – of course, at the expense of the wearer’s comfort: it forces the mouth wide open, can’t be spit out or even worked with the tongue, and biting the bundle only makes the jaw tired.
The fact that they added no further ropes to my bindings and stepped back to admire their prisoners puzzled me. Mike used to be very thorough in his rope-work. I should have known better; as soon as they finished, I struggled against my bonds, and realized, with an expression of both shock and excitement, that I was utterly helpless – now even more than other times. The tying implied an understanding of human anatomy (or just lots, and lots of tie-up practice), because it hindered movement of limbs with the least amount of fastening material. The most fascinating aspect was that it became impossible to relax! Because of the way I was tied, I was unable to stretch my arms up; neither could I lower them to gain relief! I had no choice but to strain the whole time, which wasn’t a very nice position to remain in, I must say. The cords had been wrapped horizontally, then vertically tight around wrists and ankles; the knots, as always, were way out of the reach of my prying fingers.
Continuing to struggle was useless - and quickly painful – so I gave up and gazed up expectantly at Phil and Mike, who smirked back.
“Okay, maybe you’re wondering why Billy here’s sharing the same fate,” began Mike pointing at the shirtless auburn-haired kid to my left. “Well, you probably know there’s only Adrian and Adam left to capture, so– ”
“Aww, c’mon dude,” interrupted Phil, “let him find it out by himself. It’s gonna be soo funny! I can’t wait to see his face!” He walked up to me, swept my still wet hair clear from my face and patted my cheeks as I glared at him.
“Mmmmph!”
Everyone agreed and without more ado, they walked away West, disappearing behind the tents, which left me to ponder about the strange predicament I had been put into.
My mind was racing. Using me to lure Adrian and Adam was clear, but why did they include Billy in the bait too, if he wasn’t in our team? Why would Adrian wanna release him? It made no sense. Even more, it was way too suspicious, and Adrian wasnt’t that dumb, he wouldn’t walk into what he’d see as a blatant trap.
Time passed by: ten, twenty, thirty minutes. We just waited in silence, which began to get irritable. Nobody appeared. Clad only in my soaked underwear, under the punishing mid-morning sun, the previous coolness of water on my skin was replaced by drops of sweat running down face and chest. Not to mention that my muscles were starting to get stiff – and I hadn’t even dared struggle, knowing all too well the consequences.
A pint of hope emerged when noises started coming from the forest. Like Mike had said, Adrian and Adam turned up. But they didn’t retreat noticing the trap, as I had expected. They saw us, but remained cautious.
Of course they’re gonna realize it. What a crappy trap, Mike.
I swung my head left. Billy looked and smiled at me the best he could under his gag. Then he started to mpphhh loudly.
I rolled my eyes. They’re not gonna buy it!
But the boys started to walk in our direction.
Sooner or later they’ll be able to tell it’s me and Dan –-err, I mean Billy and then… I stopped in my thought.
OH MY GOD! The twins! That’s it! Those cheating bastards! On that instant, it all fitted perfectly: Mike wanted Adrian & Adam to think Billy was his brother Dan! Dan and Billy were identical twins, except Billy was a bit slimmer and boyish than his twin. But we had met them only the day before, so neither Adrian nor Adam would be able to tell the difference, not yet! Even I got confused after hanging out with the twins for a longer time.
“MMMMMMMMMPPPPPPHHHHH!”
Adrian whispered something to Adam and approached cautiously. We were in serious trouble; we would lose if I didn’t find a way to warn my friends now!
Seeing nobody around, Adrian walked up to us. “Are you guys ok?”
“Yhh, ww’re fine. Hrry uff!” said Billy. The boyscouts had deliberately given him a lousy, packless cleave gag so he could speak more understandably than I could!
“Dan, who caught you? Where are them?” asked Adrian in whisper tone, as he understandably untied Billy’s gag first - mine would have taken too much time.
“Just Mike! He went away just a minute ago. C’mon, untie us, quick!” Billy urged them.
All the while I shouted my lungs out. Watch out, is a trap! He’s NOT Dan! But everything was effectively muffled by the squash ball plus tape, and Adrian just chuckled.
“What’s wrong with him?”
“Oh, Nick wants to pee,” Billy answered, grinning at my murdering glares.
“Well, he’s already undressed to his underwear,” Adam laughed at the thought, “so we could just pull-“
“No! Untie us first, they may come back at any time,” Billy cut him off.
So Adrian and Adam did exactly what he had wanted them to do: they tucked their water pistols in their pockets, as both hands were needed to tackle our knots. They squatted beside us, inspecting then bonds: Adrian on mine and Adam on Billy’s. Since the boyscouts had made sure to use complicated, sturdy triple knots, they were also having a hard time untying me.
Persistently, I mpphed through my tape gag at Adrian, but he just hushed me, “Hold it for a minute, would ya? I’m doing it as fast as I can! It’s too damn tight.”
I couldn’t believe this was happening! It was so frustrating to see how those cheating boyscouts’ plan worked to perfection.
Adrian was about to unravel the rope around my left wrist, when Billy cried “NOW!”
Before they could turn around, two shots of stagnant water coming from Mike and Phil’s gun spurted on their backs. An expression of deep shock was printed on our buddy’s faces; it had happened too fast for them to understand. Even more for Adrian, who saw his brother Phil playing on enemy side.
“Hi Adrian,” Phil said cunningly. The boys jaw almost hit the floor.
“Ok, drop your weapons and raise your hands,” ordered Mike.
“What the hell is going on here?!” screamed the blond kid, slowly getting up after James had picked his and Adam’s gun from the ground.
“We just fooled you - and good!” Mike answered.
“What?!”
“The one over there is not Dan,” indicated Phil.
“It’s Billy…” completed Adam, realizing too late.
“Yup.”
“No way!” Adrian blurted out, examining the boy half-tied to the pole, his auburn hair, his light brown eyes, for a hint of confirmation.
“Surprise, surprise!” Billy said.
“But… you… why, bro?” Adrian asked Phil.
“Well, I didn’t wanna lose again, y’know. It was pretty humiliating last time when they were only 5 - it was obvious we wouldn’t beat them this time around, all 10 of ‘em. And if you can’t beat’em, join’em!” he shrugged as if there was nothing reproachable in his actions.
Betrayed and tricked, the ego badly wounded, Adrian gave his brother the fiercest, blood-curling look I had ever seen. He was not angry, he was furious.
“Phil, you have no idea how much this is going to cost you.” He gnashed his teeth at every word.
“Oh, shut up!” retorted Phil and abruptly shoved a rag deep into his brother’s mouth; he used Adrian’s own t-shirt to hold it in place by tying it off savagely tight behind his head, which not only stifled entirely the boy’s sounds, but also put enormous pressure on the corner of his lips.
Soon both of them lay hogtied in front of me. I had the honor and the pleasure (remark also aimed at making me aware of what was aware to everyone else looking at me), according to Mike, to see “knot masters” at work, while I long-sufferingly watched how they tied Adrian and Adam’s hands behind their backs, the elbows together, and finally linked them to beforehand-bound ankles.
Once we were duly trussed up, and Billy was released, they couldn’t help to torture us some.
“A good tie-up is not complete without tickling!” Mike pointed out. The others nodded happily, not to say ecstatically, and launched a relentless attack on poor Adrian and Adam’s bare soles. The strict hogtie further reduced their mobility and they writhed and laughed as they went on to the most sensitive parts of their vulnerable bodies, like Adrian’s skinny ribs or Adam’s ticklish belly.
“Hey, Nick over there seems to want some too,” said James and the FOUR boyscouts surrounded me.
I bit the ball hard and tensed my body, anticipating the start. That’s when the helplessness of that tie-up was noticeable in its fullest degree: every muscle, every part, every little hidden spot was available for the tickle-thirsty boys to plunge their fingers in. I had never felt it that way, so intensely ubiquitous. It was plain cruelty! Tickling was reserved to extract information, not to please the captors! Also, but maybe it was just me, they appeared to have taken a special liking to torturing my body, for it passed the eternity and a little bit before they stopped. When they finished, I was exhausted and breathing heavily; tears had long begun running down my face.
“That’s enough, we don’t want him wetting the only dry cloth he’s got now,” said Mike. Then he told James and Billy to go and call the other boyscouts that had stayed back at our base and bring all prisoners together, so they could pronounce themselves winners. By the rules, the losers would get to spend tied as long as it was deemed enough, the limit being sunset. I was already imagining all sorts of terrible tortures being played on us.
It’s beyond my ability to put into words how amazed Mike was, when, after twenty minutes, both kids returned all wrapped up in duct tape, chest to chest, hands bound behind the other one’s back in a hugging lock, and tape-gagged. Mike almost had a heart attack. A white scarf was tied around the boys’ necks, a sign for truce.
“What the heck happened to you guys?!” Phil said but Mike hushed him.
“Listen!”
Shortly afterwards, the rest of Mike’s team emerged from the woods (Klaus, Scott, Gus, Doug, Rob and Justin) with their upper bodies immobilized in rope, arms bound behind their backs in a chain to the other boyscouts’ arms, and silenced by their own t-shirts. Following them came our teammates, pistol in hands, Collin, Tyler, Chris and Dan, pistols in hand.
Mike and Phil backed up as our friends invaded the camp and had their prisoners sit in a row on a log, and had their ankles tied. Collin at once put them at ease.
"Don't worry, it’s a truce, we’re not attacking you. We just think it’s reasonable to make a deal because there is no way you’ll beat the four of us, and the only thing that could happen is you two getting captured too." He swung an arm across the eight bound boys.
“What do you want?” asked Mike with a scorn.
“It’s clear now we win. And according to the rules, we can take all of you hostages for as long as we want,” Collin explained.
Chris went on, “We don’t really care about that. We’ll call it a tie, but we only ask one thing.”
“And that would be…?”
“Him!” Tyler pointed a finger at Phil, our Judas.
The kid’s green eyes widened in terror, “What?! Are you kidding?! Mike, please tell me you’re not taking their crap. We can still win!”
Chris continued, “We are also gonna let all our eight prisoners go in exchange for that little traitor.” It was the best bargain the boyscout leader could get – and he knew it. Not even the wisest strategist and negotiator would reject the offer.
“So, what do you say?” asked Tyler.
Mike, a prideful kid as he was, couldn’t bear the idea of losing to a bunch of non-boyscout city kids.
After a long silence, during which Phil pathetically implored for mercy, Mike went to where Adrian lay hogtied without saying a word; he untied him completely, handed him a long piece of rope and said with a smile, “Don’t let him get away.”
Adrian immediately understood. He jumped on his feet and made a quick knot to convert the rope into a lasso, then waving a big loop in the air. Phil panicked at the sight. If he fell in Adrian hands, the question wouldn’t be what he would do to him, but what we would not do. So you can imagine how heartily he demanded his legs to take him away as fast as possible.
I couldn’t help mmmphing a few cries of joy as an exciting chase ensued; the younger boy sprinted across the campsite and almost made it to the woods, but his brother’s expertly calculated lasso roped his feet and brought him down with a thud. Before Phil could react, Adrian pounced him, turned him on his back, and lashed his ankles together. He forced his brother’s lean arms behind his back; and holding with one hand, he used the remaining length of rope to bind the wrists. After completing the hogtie, Adrian knotted it off and placed a foot on the kid’s head.
“I always win, bro.”
Phil, staring blankly at the sky, could utter nothing in reply - a hand quickly pushed a scarf past beyond his teeth and secured it with a cloth tied around his head.
After Mike’s part of the agreement was fulfilled, we released the boyscouts as agreed and soon - freedom at last! - we were untied. Apart from being extenuated and some nice rope burns, I was okay.
We then enjoyed a nice meal, it was near noon, prepared by the scouts, no hard feelings. Phil didn’t have any; he just remained staked out, shirtless, gagged and continuously tickled, in front of us.
There was a general chatter about the previous events, where I got the opportunity to straight things up.
“There’s still one thing I don’t get, Dan. How on earth did you manage to untie yourselves and besides capture all the boyscouts that were guarding you?”
“Oh, easy! Actually, they helped us with that.”
I looked quizzically at him.
“You see, they asked us if we wanted some water. It was like 40º C [104 º F] out there, we all were like ‘YES!!!’ They thought it’d be funny, so they poured dozens of water buckets on us – but we had the last laugh! What they forgot was that duct tape comes off pretty easy when wet,” he explained chuckling.
“So we struggled ourselves free,” Collin continued, “waited for the right moment when they weren’t looking and jumped them. Overpowering them didn’t come easy, but we’re good. We captured the others one by one as they came back and we were almost done tying them up, when Billy and James showed up, all cocky about us being still trussed up that they didn’t even carry their guns. So we taped them together, put the flag around their necks, and sent them back to Mike as a little present. All we had to do then was follow their way!” We broke in a general laughter, except for the boyscouts, of course.
Then I went looking for Collin. He had avoided me since the end of the game, and I wanted to apologize for the little trust I had displayed when I chose to believe Phil instead of him. I’d only known him for a day, but I’d enjoyed tagging along with him so much that I was starting to miss him already.
I noticed the white muddy shorts he’d been wearing outside his tent, so I assumed he was changing inside. He was rummaging his bag when I came in but he didn’t raise his head or show any signs of noticing my presence.
“Hey,” I said shyly after a while, my voice fading off to a whisper. Collin didn’t answer. His face displayed a cold look, somewhat increased by the bright blond hair that fell over his eyes.
“That mud is going to be a bitch to scrub off,” I pointed out.
Silence.
I just stood there, wondering what to do. Collin kept searching for clothes, even though he already had a pair of clean shorts in his hand.
“C’mon Collin, this is stupid!” I kneeled in front of him.
“I’m sorry, ok?” I said with sincere guilt. “I didn’t mean to–“
“It’s fine,” Collin said at last without looking at me.
“Really?” I asked. I had expected a little more resistance than this.
“Yeah, it’s okay. It was just a game.” His tone betrayed his words.
“Wait, no, this isn’t right. Phil was lying! Look, lemme make it up to you.”
Collin stared at me dumbfounded.
“What do you want? Anything, just ask it,” I said.
“Thanks, Nick, but it’s okay. Really.”
“No! I took advantage of you!”
“But…“
“Ok, punch me.”
“What?!”
“Punch me!” I ordered.
“I’m not going to – “
“Come on!” I opened my arms exposing my stomach.
I remained in that position for a few seconds. He hesitated. I nodded.
“You’re not leaving me alone till I do something, right?”
“Yup.” I grinned.
He rolled his eyes and clenched his fist, threw his arm back and plunged it straight into my body. I stumbled and fell on my butt, but barely felt the strike.
Collin instantly crawled up to me, noticeably worried.
“Nick?!”
“Ok, that was pathetic,” I said. “You punch like a girl.” He frowned and I chucked.
“I think there’s no point in trying again, but I still feel I owe you, dude.” He’d told me the day before he lived pretty close to my house, so I came up with an interesting idea. “Let’s do this: I tied you up for no reason, so it’s only fair you get to do the same. I’ll give you a free tie-up coupon. Anywhere, anytime, just text me.” I smiled.
He opened his eyes wide and opened his mouth, ready to protest.
“No buts.”
Before he said anything else, I offered him my hand. “Deal?”
I looked right into his eyes. Collin looked away, curled his lips into a sheepish smile and blushed slightly, as thought a sudden thought had crossed his mind. He stared at me, struggling to sound casual.
“Ok, but only ‘cause you said so!”
I grinned back and shook his hand.
“Deal,” he said.
We spent the rest of the afternoon hanging out, doing random stuff, playing cards or swimming in the creek. But it quickly became late so we called it a day and got our things ready to go back to the farm (as lenient as Mr. Silva was with us, he wouldn’t want us disappearing for two entire days).
Also, I sensed the others were secretly looking forward to returning - we still had a traitor to punish. Things were basically pretty screwed up for Phil now. I almost felt sorry for him! Almost…
The End
Thanks for re-publishing this, @Bondwriter.
A sort of nostalgic trip.
Did @Dominic not have a pic for this story as well?
A sort of nostalgic trip.
Did @Dominic not have a pic for this story as well?
They all say boxer shorts are cool,
but little Speedos always rule.
but little Speedos always rule.
I just wanted to thank everyone for their comments. It's been so long since I wrote this story, back in my mid/late teens, that most details are now foggy to me. It began with a kernel of truth—the TUGs my cousin and I played—but quickly took a life of its own.
Recently, I found more chapters I did not get to post back then. I will be sharing them in this new thread:
http://tugstories.com/viewtopic.php?f=8 ... 8760689eae
As an editor, I cannot help but at least proofread my disorganized writing before posting, so bear with me for a couple of days.
Recently, I found more chapters I did not get to post back then. I will be sharing them in this new thread:
http://tugstories.com/viewtopic.php?f=8 ... 8760689eae
As an editor, I cannot help but at least proofread my disorganized writing before posting, so bear with me for a couple of days.
I write and edit stories: https://www.deviantart.com/nchlsh