Tau Upsilon Gamma [M+/M+] [update - 3/15/24] NEW POLL

Stories that have little truth to them should go here.

Who should Mason save?

NATE: plug gag, gorilla tape bonds, nipple clamps
2
9%
CODY: duct tape gag, handcuffs, Icy Hot
5
22%
LEO: Hoss' sock gag, rope bonds, tickle torture
11
48%
RAY: bandana gag, slave harness, in his underwear
5
22%
HIMSELF
0
No votes
 
Total votes: 23

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george_bound
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Post by george_bound »

Haha, love Ray's matter-of-factness about the Doctor not being seen as matter-of-fact! And I do agree there's some clear foreshadowing going on regarding Hoss's (probable) abduction by DIX... they're gonna need lots and lots and lots of rope, would be fun if he's captured and a livestream link is sent back to TUG so they're witness to their bro's torment in real time :twisted:

BTW, congrats [mention]Volobond[/mention] on your impending graduation fine sir! The Company needs to get you a congratulatory gift ;)
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Post by Volobond »

[mention]george_bound[/mention] Thaaaaank you! :D And haha, yes, they do. I wouldn't mind if they sent me Cody, haha! ;)
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Post by george_bound »

Volobond wrote: 1 year ago @george_bound Thaaaaank you! :D And haha, yes, they do. I wouldn't mind if they sent me Cody, haha! ;)
Sorry [mention]Volobond[/mention] but I'm thinking (and praying) that Cody will be well "protected" in tight restraints within the DIX house out of the reach to any outside forces :twisted:
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Post by wataru14 »


The Calm Before – Part 5: The Siege of Goblin Hollow

“Is this where the little runts have been hiding out?” a gruff voice, accompanied by a stamping of hooves, asked, but the speaker already knew the answer. The grizzled centaur barbarian turned his greataxe over in his hands a few times and checked the sharpness of the blade.

“Verily,” said another voice, dripping with intrigue and sensuality. He placed his clawed hand on the centaur’s haunches and flicked his forked tongue, his shiny black horns glinting in the torchlight. “And they have the village’s stolen food supplies with them as well. Such plunder would fetch great coin on the black market.” The centaur nodded in agreement.

“Aye, it would,” came a third voice. It radiated command and purity, and one could almost see the holy radiance of the speaker as he came into view. His platemail shone like diamonds in the half-light. “But it will not see that market. It will be returned to the people of Mudshire like we promised. Getting them through the winter will be all the reward we need.”

From atop the back of the centaur, a tiny figure was blowing ornate smoke rings through a carved pipe. The scampy halfling was reclining in comfort, like he didn’t have a care in the world. “Ah, paladins,” he said. “Don’t you just love ‘em? But all this debate is boring me to tears. I say we head down there, carve up some greenskins, and worry about the loot later. Who’s with me?”

“I always thirst for battle,” came the fifth voice. “The treasure is of no consequence. Combat is transcendence in its own right and nothing else matters.” The speaker was seated in a lotus position a few feet away. He had been, up to this point, seemingly lost in meditation, but the other four knew he had been listening to them. He sat up and stretched, his bare torso revealing ornate tiger and dragon tattoos that seemed to move of their own accord. “Enough talk,” he said. “My fists hunger.”

The halfling hopped down to the ground and took a few steps forward. “I think it best that we try to sneak in,” he said. “At least to the front gate. Then we’ll see how we need to proceed. As much as some of you would prefer it, I don’t think alerting the entire warren to our presence would be wise right now.”

“Agreed,” the paladin said. “Let us make haste, but be stealthy.”

---

“So how do we do this again?” Hoss said, furrowing his brow and looking at the sheet on the table in front of him. It was covered in numbers and figures and calculations he could barely understand.

“You roll a d20 (that’s the big one)” Nate said, looking up from over his screen. “Then you add the number to whatever it says under ‘Stealth’ on your sheet. That’s your total. Then I compare it to the difficulty I set and see if you passed or failed. But you won’t know if you succeeded or not.” Leo and Mason looked up from their rulebooks and nodded.

“Math is hard, tee hee,” Scott said in a nasal high-pitched voice, pretending to twirl his hair and snapping imaginary gum. Hoss reached over and knocked him hard in the balls. “Hey, no PvP! Nate said so when we started!”

“Shut up, Scott,” the other four players all said in unison. Hoss picked up the die and rolled it on the table, it was a 7.

“OK,” Shane said. “You have a -1 to Stealth, so your roll is a 6. That’s not good. You probably failed, but we’ll see.” Hoss scowled. “Don’t get upset. Brett’s in full plate. He has an even worse penalty than you. No way they’re not going to hear that walking junkyard coming. I, myself, will just cast Invisibility so I don’t have to roll anything until we get closer.”

Everyone rolled their checks, Nate collected all the results, conferring with Mason and Leo. Two failures. And by a good deal. The sentry would see them when they got close. Scott and Shane would be undetectable, and Danny would be fine, but the others were going to have quite a scuffle on their hands. Mason and Leo rolled some dice behind their screens and handed Nate a paper with the results. “Hmmm,” Nate thought. “The advance guard rolled a 1, but there are some good numbers here for the VIPs inside the fort. Looks like their little assault isn’t going to go as planned.”

---

The party made their way carefully through the dark towards the wall of the goblin fortress. The walls were in disrepair, so finding an entrance point would be easy, provided they could avoid the sentries atop it who walked the perimeter. Only Shannix, the Tiefling, had darkvision, so they had to rely on the ambient torchlight from the fortress to guide their way. Scuttle the Halfling and Danarius the Monk moved to the wall like shadows in the wind and took cover behind some bushes as a sentry walked overhead nearby. Still invisible, Shannix moved nonchalantly closer, but Brock the Paladin and Hoss the Centaur were spotted right away.

The goblin sentry made a move to shout, but Scuttle was too quick. The Halfling Rogue drew his shortbow and sent an arrow flying straight at the sentry. From his hidden position, the target was caught completely unawares. Before he could signal the alarm, an arrow hit the goblin square in the chest from out of nowhere. The Rogue knew where to hit for maximum effectiveness and the goblin’s cry was cut short as he fell from the wall and hit the stones below with a sickening splat.

Thinking quickly, Danarius grabbed the body and pulled it into the bushes, concealing it from view of any other sentries. Brock spotted a hole in the nearby wall large enough for their equine companion to fit through, and waved the group over. “We can enter there. Scuttle, why don’t you do a little recon and report back.”

With a jaunty salute, Scuttle scampered off into the darkness and climbed through the hole in the wall. He stayed low, hidden among the stones, and looked around. There were signs of activity throughout the fortress, but the area around this entrance was clear. No guards or scouts nearby. And there was a small building a short distance away that the party could hide in while they made their plans. Perfect! Scuttle slipped back out and reconnected with the group.

“The coast is clear,” Scuttle whispered. “At least around the entrance. There’s some light coming from the main keep and sentries are regularly patrolling the wall. We’ll have to be careful.”

“Why do we gotta keep sneaking around?” Hoss said. “I thought this game was about fighting.”

Shannix grinned, bearing his fangs. “Oh, there will be plenty of that,” he said. “But isn’t it best to get into an advantageous position first? To maximize killing potential? And the ‘game’ works better if you don’t break character, my equestrian buddy. Excellent choice of name, by the way. Very creative.”

Hoss grumbled and made his way out towards the opening. It wasn’t easy to get him over the threshold with his multiple legs, but he managed to do it with a minimum of clamor. The rest of the party followed. As they made their way towards the shed, an oily voice rang out from the ramparts.

“Hey!” the sentry cried. “Where did Krug go? He was supposed to be on guard duty!” The party froze as a tiny green form passed overhead towards where the fallen sentry was minutes before. The goblin looked around in confusion. Scuttle drew his bow and waited for a clear shot, but the sentry noticed the light glinting off Brock’s polished armor and screamed “What? Intruders!!!!!”

Scuttle fired, felling the sentry, but it was too late: his warning had been heard. From a nearby bunker, a squad of goblins poured out into the yard.

“Looks like we’ve been spotted,” Danarius said, cracking his knuckles. “Time to kick some little green ass.”

“Big ones!” the goblin captain shouted, drawing his scimitar. “Gorm-Shazaroth will feed on their souls this night! Bring them down, but leave them alive. The master likes to play with his food!” The goblins charged.

Scuttle popped up from his hiding place behind Hoss’s haunches and fired an arrow straight at the captain, but the goblin deflected it with his shield. Then Shannix suddenly popped into view as his invisibility faded. Fire flew from his outstretched hands, searing three goblins and reducing them to steaming piles of ash and ichor. “Barbecued goblin smells even worse than the live ones!” he quipped “I’d not have thought it possible.”

Grinning, Danarius assumed a fighting stance and did a jump kick towards the captain, connecting with full force and sending his target staggering back. He followed up with a hard elbow slam. “You hit hard, tall one,” the captain said, spitting blood from his mouth. “This will be fun!” Danarius didn’t have time to respond, however, as a goblin arrow hit him in the arm.

“Ouch!” he shouted. “That stung. Wait your turn, greenskin. Once I’m done with your boss I'll give you your due!”

At this point, two more goblins emerged from the bunker. But these were not normal goblins. One was clad in furs and bones and carried a wicked staff. The other wore fine fitted armor and stood two full heads taller than the others. “He’s not the boss,” the tall one said. “That would be us!”

“And they have a caster among them,” the staff-bearing one said. “Let’s see what we can do about that.” The shaman raised his staff and an inky blackness began to form around Shannix. The Tiefling smirked and opened his mouth to say that darkness was no bane to him, but the mass coalesced into an eldritch tentacle and shot forward. It inserted itself into Shannix’s mouth and expanded, filling his jaws tightly. The long end began to wrap around his head, pulling itself in tighter and tighter. Shannix’s words died on his hips as the writhing, rubbery gag pressed firm both in and against his jaws, sealing away any attempt at speech. Shannix reached up and tried to dislodge the gag with his hands, but it was too strong for him to budge.

“Can’t have you using your Bard’s tongue to beguile or cast spells,” the Shaman scoffed. “A little Silence spell will see to that!”

The captain and the armored goblin did a coordinated strike together and charged at Brock from either side. Faced with two opponents, Brock was able to deflect the captain’s strike with his shield, but was unable to prevent the armored foe from smashing his arm, causing him to drop his Warhammer. Now unarmed, Brock was in a bad position. Nearby, two goblins each took aim at Hoss with their bows, one hitting.

The Centaur grimaced, but pulled the arrow out and snapped it like it was nothing, snorting in anger at his assailants. Stamping his hooves, he charged and swung his greataxe with such force that it took one of his attackers’ heads clean off. It’s terror-stricken expression frozen in place as Hoss kicked the severed head into a hay bale. Another goblin stood a distance away, hurling taunts and insults at Hoss. The big man seethed and turned his attention towards him, feeling his rage growing. “You want to be next?” he shouted. “OK, pal, say goodbye to your fucking head!”

Caught between two assailants, Brock couldn’t risk grabbing his weapon. If he tried, they would both take advantage of his distraction and strike him while his attention was diverted. Instead, his hands began glowing with holy radiance. He wound up and launched a powerful punch at the armored goblin, but it went wide and the light dissipated.

“Nice try, tall one,” the captain hissed. “But you will not smite Leofirl the Mighty that easily. He has bested 1,000 humans!”

Seeing Brock in trouble, Scuttle drew his daggers and raced over, hoping to capitalize on the goblins’ distraction and land a sneak attack. But luck was not on the little man’s side, he failed to notice his surroundings, and tripped over Brock’s discarded hammer. He fell flat on his face at Leofirl’s feet, dropping his blades.

“Hey guys!” he said. “How’s it going? Look, this is all a big misunderstanding. I’m sure we can…” but his words were cut short as Leofirl’s greaved foot pressed him down into the dirt. He squirmed valiantly, but didn’t have the strength to free himself. Slowly his hand reached for the concealed dagger in his boot…

Across the field, Shannix continued to struggle with his tentacle gag. But try as he might, he couldn’t dislodge it. Silenced as he was, he couldn’t call upon his spells or his Bardic powers. “You like May-Zon the Shaman’s Silence spell?” the caster goblin mocked as he approached. “Changed it up, I did, using the power of Gorm-Shazaroth. But you will meet him soon enough!” The May-Zon raised his staff and tendrils of darkness enveloped Shannix. They started at his booted feet and slowly wound their way up, forcing the Tiefling’s legs together as they rose up his body. Frantically he tore at the threads, but his hands became stuck to them as he grabbed. Up and up, the threads inched, pinning Shannix’s arms to his sides. He was very nearly enveloped!

Brock and Scuttle were too busy with their foes to come aid him and Danarius and Hoss were facing the other direction and couldn’t see him. And with his tentacle-stuffed mouth, he couldn’t cry out to alert them. Shannix flailed and struggled valiantly, but in the end, his fate was sealed. The threads of darkness had reached his chin now, and began wrapping around his face. His eyes grew wide with fear as they disappeared behind the inky black miasma. When the threads stopped, only Shannix’s nose and horns were uncovered. Losing his balance, the Bard fell onto his back in the dirt. Try as he might, he couldn’t free himself. All he could do was pathetically wriggle like a worm on a hook. May-Zon cackled and turned his attention to the remaining heroes.

Seeing a goblin across the field take aim at the disarmed Brock, Danarius raced over and unleashed a flurry of fist strikes. Sickening crunching was heard and the goblin archer fell, his head now on backwards. Danarius turned towards Brock, just in time to see the captain and Leofirl raining heavy blows on him. The paladin’s armor shielded him from most of the harm, but he still felt the strikes and wouldn’t be able to hold out forever.

Two of the goblins broke rank and fled, each hiding behind a building on either side of the square, as Hoss bellowed and charged at the taunting goblin across the field. The little creature stood firm as all 500 pounds of Barbarian rage galloped towards him. Hoss was in such a blind fury that he didn’t notice that the two other goblins had not abandoned the field after all. From their hidden positions nearby, they raised a tripline directly in his path. In his mad rush, Hoss didn’t see it and went down hard.

As soon as he was down, all three greenskins were on him. They raised a thick and twisted net and threw it over him. Hoss’ enraged attempts to stand and strike out at them only served to entangle him further. He could have easily thrown all three assailants normally, but the cursed net made him unable to reach them. Unable to feed his bloodlust with an act of violence, Hoss felt his rage draining away, leaving only sluggish fatigue in its wake. As exhaustion washed over him, the proud Centaur felt his fabled strength ebbing away. His flailing movements became slow and feeble. He was tired. So tired. He could barely lift his arms as the three goblins cautiously advanced on him, cackling evilly and holding ropes in their hands.

Brock was black and blue from the onslaught of punishment being levied on him, but still he fought on. In desperation, he grabbed the goblin captain and whirled him around, smashing him head-first into a nearby stone wall. The captain’s neck snapped and he collapsed at Brock’s feet. Scuttle took advantage of the distraction to deliver a quick dagger strike to Leofirl’s leg, which gave him enough leverage to wriggle free and retreat to a more advantageous position.

Danarius raced forward, ready to come to Brock’s aid, but stopped halfway as May-Zon stepped into his path. “A squishy mage, huh?” Danarius taunted. “I’ll take you out first and then pummel your boss into next week.” He raised his fists and advanced.

But May-Zon was not intimidated. He raised his staff and gazed into Danarius’ eyes. “Why would you hurt May-Zon?” he cooed. “May-Zon is your friend. Your brother! The other tall ones are your enemy. They want to kill May-Zon! You must help us capture them.”

Danarius stopped and his eyes slowly glazed over. “They want to hurt my brother!” he said. “I must stop them!”

“Yes!” May-Zon said. “See the little one? Even now he readies a sneaky attack at May-Zon. Sneaky! Sneaky! You must protect me!” A short distance away, Scuttle had recovered his shortbow and was nocking an arrow, eyeing May-Zon murderously. Instantly, Danarius turned and ran to intercept.

Brock and Leofirl were still engaged in melee as Scuttle raised his bow. But his shot was blocked as Danarius filled his field of view. “Get out of the way, jerkwad!” Scuttle cried. “I can’t get a clear shot with your meathead ass in the way!” But Danarius didn’t move. He reached down and grabbed Scuttle’s bow, snapping it in half. “What the hell are you doing?” Scuttle cried. But Danarius didn’t answer. He grabbed the little Halfling and pinned him in a tight sleeper hold. The tiny Rogue flailed and scratched, but Danarius’ grip was too strong. He struggled to get air into his lungs, but it was a fool’s errand. His movements slowed and his eyes fluttered shut as unconsciousness flooded over him.

“Good!” May-Zon cried. “Bring him here.” Danarius carried the unconscious Halfling over to the shaman, who held out a thick leather sack. “Put him inside. It is enchanted to be unbreakable. It will hold him fast!” Danarius obediently slipped the limp form of Scuttle in the bag and May-Zon tied it shut. “Now,” May-Zon said. “You must help me to capture the knight.”

“Yes,” Danarius said in a dreamlike stupor. “What should I do?”

“You must let me bind you,” May-Zon said. “It’s the only way.”

“The only way,” Danarius agreed. “I see your wisdom. Yes. Do it!” Danarius obediently crossed his wrists behind his back and stood at attention. Cackling evilly, the shaman enchanted a pile of rope on the ground, which began to crawl up Danarius’ shirtless body like a viper. It wrapped his wrists and arms into an inescapable prison of knots. It crisscrossed his chest, pinning his elbows to his sides. It encircled his feet, making his legs unable to kick apart. As a final stroke, it wrapped around his forehead, over his bandana, and pulled his head back. All Danarius could do was stare straight up. “Every part of you is a weapon,” May-Zon cooed. “In order to capture the knight, we must make sure you cannot strike with any part of your body. Fists, elbows, feet, knees, even your head.”

“Yes,” Danarius said sluggishly. “It is the only way.”

Leofirl stepped back and took a defensive stance. “It’s over!” he shouted at Brock. “Your companions have all been defeated and captured. See for yourself.” Brock looked around in horror. He saw Shannix rolling on the ground, mummified in strands of unholy darkness. He saw Hoss, sluggish and tired, yoked like a milkmaid with a heavy beam and being dragged by three goblins, pulled him by a leash around his neck. All his strength had abandoned him when his rage subsided. He saw a squirming leather sack, effortlessly resisting dagger strikes from inside that could only be from Scuttle. And he saw Danarius, standing in supplication, wickedly bound all over his body by the grinning shaman. “If you surrender,” Leofirl said. “You may yet live. Resist further and you and your companions will perish.”

Faced with no other alternative, Brock bellowed like a mad bull and dropped to his knees, discarding his shield. He raised his hands and clasped his fingers behind his head. “I surrender,” he said, his voice weak with shame. Leofirl snarled and took a set of sturdy manacles from his belt. Slipping behind the proud paladin, he grabbed Brock’s arms and wrenched them cruelly behind his back. Brock snarled in impotent rage as the locks on the manacles clamped shut and sealed: rendering his powerful arms all but useless. As a final insult, Leofirl clamped a heavy iron collar around Brock’s thick neck and locked it closed. He took up the chain that hung from a ring on the collar’s front and dragged Brock to his feet.

The remaining goblins cheered as Leofirl paraded the fallen knight around the yard like a showdog. “We have won, my brothers!” Leofirl shouted. “And we have five new slaves to play with. We will have great fun with them before we sell them to the salt mines for a tidy profit!”

“We cannot,” May-Zon said. “Gorm-Shazaroth is hungry. We must offer at least one as a sacrifice. But which one will it be?”

“We will decide that later,” Leofirl said. “For now we take them to the cells!”

---

“We’ll stop there,” Nate said. Leo and Mason put down their dice and papers as well.

“Huh?” Hoss said. “Just like that? You mean we lost? This game sucks!”

“And yet it's getting you all worked up," Scott joked. "It’s only the end of the session, Mungo. I’m guessing we’ll pick up next week with us in prison. We’ll have to come up with an escape plan before one of us becomes monster chow.”

Hoss nodded and said, “Oh, I get it. It’s like the end of the chapter.”

“Chapter?” Scott teased. “You know what that means? Does that mean you actually read a book?”

“Well, not next week,” Nate interrupted before Hoss could get physical. “I’m going to be away for Rosh Hashanah. Unless Leo and Mason want to continue in my place. The week after that is Parents’ Weekend so we definitely won’t be able to play. That’s all assuming you guys had fun and want to continue, though.”

“Nate, my boy,” Shane said. “You don’t have to worry about that. Based on how everyone’s acting, I don’t think the Tarrasque could drag us away from your table.” Everyone else agreed. Even Hoss.

“Great!” Leo said. “I’m definitely looking forward to putting you guys through the ringer. You on board, M-Dawg?”

Mason looked over at Danny with a smirk. “Of course,” he said. “And don’t think we’re going to go easy on you.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Leo said. “Now, gentlemen, we must go back to our lowly dorms. Don’t forget the truce expires tonight at midnight and there are fouler things than orcs in the dark places of the world.”

“You want an escort?” Brett asked.

“Nah,” Nate said. “The three of us will be fine together. We’ll be home before midnight.” And with that, the three pledges gathered their books, said their goodbyes, and left. As they passed the DIX house, they saw that a large makeshift clock had been erected on the front lawn, facing the TUG house and counting down to midnight. Clay and Travis were sitting on lawnchairs beside it, evil smirks on their faces. When they saw the pledges, both pointed at the countdown and made a neck-slitting gesture that gave all three pledges the willies. Clay and Travis laughed and clinked their beer bottles together as the three TUG pledges ran off into the night.

Coming Soon: The Calm Before Interlude: The Intervening Weeks
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Post by Bradstick »

Oh….is this a foreshadowing with DIX? Will someone in Tug betray the house in order for someone else to get captured? This was an excellent chapter and a lot of fun to read! The bondage scenes were hot as well, I loved the mummified and the enchanted bag! Super creative and personally wouldn’t find being on the wrong end of those spells/enchantments ;)
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Post by george_bound »

Though I'm not really into D&D (gasp) I did find the action and the fantasy bondage to be lots of fun. Also, I like how all the character names were variants of the person's name except Hoss, almost as if everyone developed their own character name but Hoss just didn't have the imagination or interest to do it... there's always one in the crowd, haha!

Oh and are we to assume Cody and Ray are missing due to work and play practice, respectively, or should we be more concerned about their absences? (I find myself always wanting the absences to be concerning, haha ;))... Perhaps The Company was successful in snatching up our pal Volo's graduation gift 8-)

Departing from the imaginary, the truce is almost up and that makes me very happy :twisted:
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Post by wataru14 »

george_bound wrote: 1 year ago Though I'm not really into D&D (gasp) I did find the action and the fantasy bondage to be lots of fun. Also, I like how all the character names were variants of the person's name except Hoss, almost as if everyone developed their own character name but Hoss just didn't have the imagination or interest to do it... there's always one in the crowd, haha!
Shane commented on that. In Hoss' defense, he's really out of his element here, so he decided to play it safe. The others picked up on the mechanics quickly, but it's a lot of math, and that's not his strong point. But he'll probably bone up on the rules to be better prepared for next session.

And Cody and Ray don't know a thing about D&D, so they decided to take some private time: Cody at work, and Ray at the gym. The truce is still in effect, so nothing nefarious has happened to them... yet.
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Post by Volobond »

I LOVED the DND interlude - a beautiful combo of bondage fun and of awesome gameplay. As mentioned, the variant names were a nice touch, and I love the scenario and creative bondage!
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Post by gag1195 »

This chapter feels tailor-made for me! Bravo! It was so well done and felt very real- the table talk and teasing, the double checking and confusing mechanics, the breaking character while staying in character? Fantastic!

I also love that the seniors are playing to type in their characters. That's definitely typical for newer players. Though I have to say, letting Hoss go centaur right of the bat seems a bit cruel. I never like to ban or limit player creation, I definitely would have recommended a less weird race for someone so new to the game. I trust Nate, Mason, and Leo though, and in the end, Hoss and the other had a good time, so I guess it was a non-issue.

I'm very nervous for DIX's retaliation plans. But I am looking forward to future interludes with this adventuring party!
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Post by wataru14 »

Hoss playing a Centaur was his choice. Nate recommended half orc, but Hoss watched LotR and said "they're bad guys. I don't want that." Leo tried to explain that race doesn't dictate behavior, but Hoss was firm on that. Everyone's decided to ignore the weird mechanics of the race for now. Although his inability to easily climb may come back to haunt them.
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Post by gag1195 »

wataru14 wrote: 1 year ago Hoss playing a Centaur was his choice. Nate recommended half orc, but Hoss watched LotR and said "they're bad guys. I don't want that." Leo tried to explain that race doesn't dictate behavior, but Hoss was firm on that. Everyone's decided to ignore the weird mechanics of the race for now. Although his inability to easily climb may come back to haunt them.
That makes a lot more sense! Hoss is so adorable, I love it! I'm glad Nate and Leo tried to explain things for their new player, even if Hoss held firm. I've certainly had similar conversations with my own players!
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Post by KidnappedCowboy »

I'm with [mention]gag1195[/mention]. Hoss playing a Centaur was pure brilliance.

Hoss is learning to survive, while his skills are definitely animal handling.

Making him a centaur was ironic. As a farm boy and college lad, he's hardly otherworldly ("fey").

Nice mixture of fantasy within a fantastical tale! 8-)
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Post by Guardianbound »

I love how you always come up with creative ways to get characters tied up, D&D just provides so many options and you have used them perfectly. Hopefully it isn't foreshadowing how DIX is going to get all the seniors in their 'jail'. Can't wait to see how the gear DIX bought will be put to use, and on who. Don't make us wait for too long more, please.
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Post by blackbound »

This is one of two stories right now where the wait is KILLING me with anticipation.
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Post by wataru14 »

blackbound wrote: 1 year ago This is one of two stories right now where the wait is KILLING me with anticipation.
Well, this section is "The Calm Before," so it's a little more low-key. The next section is "Conflagration," if that's any indication of what's going to happen.
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Post by george_bound »

wataru14 wrote: 1 year ago Well, this section is "The Calm Before," so it's a little more low-key. The next section is "Conflagration," if that's any indication of what's going to happen.
"Conflagration" you say? That doesn't sound enticing at all!
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The Calm Before Part 6: The Intervening Weeks

When the true expired at midnight, the pledges were expecting firebombs through the window of their dorm rooms or something. DIX members patrolling the streets of campus in skull masks carrying spiked clubs. But what happened instead was even more eerie. Nothing at all.

Nate and Mason would see their usual pair of DIX Sophomores standing around across from the Physics building before class, but there was no posturing, no threats, no nothing. They actually smiled and waved. On a few occasions, they came over and tried to strike up casual conversation. One even complimented Mason’s hairdo. He had been maintaining it, as per Danny’s order, and by now it was feeling comfortable for him. The whole situation was unnerving. Nate and Mason were cordial in response, but still, they kept their guard up.

During a break in pledge activities one night mid-week, in between the housecleaning, forced exercises and bondage endurance challenges, they had asked Brett about that. The advisor was going to be MIA all week, only scheduled to pop in once – to observe the History Project assignment on Thursday. He was keeping to his task of maintaining a low profile for a time. Brett had told them to return any friendly actions by DIX, but to keep their guard up. It was possible that the rival fraternity had just been blowing hot air last week and wasn’t going to actually DO anything, but Brett said that it was more likely that this was an attempt to lure them into a false sense of security. To keep them off guard until the real offensive was launched. All the evidence pointed to that.

Ray’s daily examinations had, as threatened, become more intense. For the second test, he was bound with his hands behind his back, as before, but his elbows were bound together, too. This position would have been impossible for anyone with less athleticism, but Ray’s natural physical prowess allowed him to take it without his shoulders dislocating. Danny, of course, was monitoring the situation closely. He had been entertaining Mason’s suggestion of going into pre-med after graduation, and the idea had been growing on him. Ray managed to get the required 80% correct, but just barely. And Hoss didn’t go easy on the paddling for wrong answers, taking great pleasure in delivering heavy swats across Ray’s rump. Ray couldn’t sit in the pledge chair afterwards. His ass was swollen and red from Hoss’ paddle strokes: a throbbing reminder of his need to do better next time.

Each test added 5% to the required score and it took the combined efforts of all five pledges to get Ray up to par. But they managed it. And it helped them to learn the ins and outs of the book, as well. While Ray was the only one being tested, they were all required to learn it, after all. Each subsequent test also increased the intensity of the bindings, the previous day’s ties being repeated and augmented. Nipple clamps were added on day 3, and by day 4 Ray was suspended by his ankles upside-down from the ceiling. Getting 90% while hanging in that position was a Herculean labor, but he just managed it. Hoss seemed disappointed that he was getting fewer and fewer opportunities to wield “The Board of Education,” but if it meant Ray was learning his lessons, it was worth it.

Day 5 would require 95% accuracy, but Ray was determined to get 100%. He was dreading to see how he would be bound up for it, knowing it would be the harshest of the week. He had already endured the Spy Treatment, and doubted they would go THAT far for this, so it would be something he knew he could handle. But that would have to wait a day. After test #4, Ray was carefully lowered down and released from his suspension, and the nipple clamps were removed, but his arms were left bound as they were. He would be freed fully, along with the others, for workout time. But for the evening’s announcements, his arms would remain pinned behind his back, excruciatingly fastened together by the elbows.

He had only received two swats from Hoss that night, so he was able to sit reasonably comfortably. And he was glad for that, because this was a long meeting. The advisor was present, but was wearing Bermuda shorts and Hawaiian shirt, complete with straw hat and colorful lei. “Tomorrow morning the husband and I will be taking a much-needed vacation in Hawaii and will not be returning until Parents’ Weekend,” he said. “At the conclusion of the activities, I will be hosting a garden party/Texas-style barbecue at my home. You pledges and your parents will be the guests of honor and, in a shocking reversal of roles, the seniors will be acting as the servants. Keeps that group of entitled lunkheads humble. You can be as exploitive and domineering as you wish, but…” The advisor shot a quick look at Leo, who was grinning wickedly and rubbing his bound hands together behind his back. “They are under no obligation to forgive and forget. So if you fuck with them beyond what is reasonable, they will most assuredly return the favor afterwards. Capisce? And besides, do you really want to look like assholes in front of your parents? And pledge uniforms will not be required for this. It is not a ‘fancy dress’ event, by any stretch, but please look presentable. My HOA will kill me if you boys make a scene.”

The pledges nodded and voiced their agreement. Cody was excited about the prospect of a Texas BBQ, but was a little leery about how authentic it would be out here in the Heartland. His dad was quite a connoisseur of such things and it would take a lot to impress him. Nate was a little worried about his mom, but the advisor was quick to assure him that all dietary preferences would be fulfilled. He rested a little easier after that.

“The pledge process is not all roping and pushups,” Brett said. “As Ray can attest, learning the history of the fraternity is also of utmost importance. There will be several projects you must complete in that regard in the coming months. For your first, I want each of you to select one alumnus for a biographical paper. They must have graduated at least 10 years ago. You will all go to the living room and select someone from the class photos. You will be making this decision based on appearance only. We will collect the relevant basic and (if available) contact information on your choices to give you, but any research beyond that is up to you. The papers will be handed in at the start of Parents’ Weekend.” With a nod from Brett, the Sophomores stood up and helped the pledges stand, then escorted them to the living room, where the class photos, dating back to the Chapter’s founding in 1925, hung on display.

Nate immediately knew who he was going to pick. He had decided that after the Bid Night party. He stood at the Class of 1995 picture and smiled. The jubilant man in the thigh-high boots and pink bouffant wig stared back at him through the glass, almost seeming to wink at him. “Oh, yeah,” Nate said. “No question at all. It’s you.”

The others took longer to decide. Cody eventually settled on one of the members of the Founding Class. He chose a skinny man with a weathered face. His clothes were noticeably less dapper than his four classmates’, and a bit too large. Probably hand-me-downs. “This guy’s seen some shit,” Cody said to Nate, who had wandered over after making his selection. “Look at his eyes. There’s a story there.” He signaled to Pablo, who was cataloguing the pledges’ choices, and locked in his selection.

Leo was drawn right away to the oddballs. The ones who looked like they were added to their respective photos as a joke. He had a deep affection for the odd man out, the loner, the rebel. TUG had always been known for its acceptance of alternative lifestyles, so he wanted to delve deeper into that. He had actually looked at Nate’s choice for a second (how could you NOT notice him?), but Nate seemed very proprietary over that one, so he backed off. As he wandered past at the Class of 2015, he stopped, noticing a familiar face. “Officer Santucci!” he said with a smile. “The only cop in town who caught me. All three times, I might add. Haha. Figures he’s an alum. Too bad I can’t pick him. Too recent. That would be a fun interview. Oh well.”

Strolling idly by some more photos, Leo stopped dead in his tracks around 1986. The class was what you’d expect from the mid-80’s (bad clothes, bad hair, bad everything), but there was something striking about one of the Brothers. Spiky blonde punk hair, slender frame, ripped t-shirt and dog collar. Right up his alley. Very Billy Idol. But why didn’t he see an Adam’s Apple? And wasn’t that bulge in the super-tight jeans slightly misshapen and a little out of position? “’Brother,’ huh?” Leo smiled. “Social Fraternities are gender segregated,” he thought. “Only service and professional fraternities are co-ed. Especially back then. Someone’s not only breaking the rules, she’s smashing them and pissing on the pieces. That’s too badass to pass up!”

Mason had been drifting around the photos from the 50’s. Mostly your usual crew-cut and horn-rim glasses types, but one member of the Class of 1957 caught his eye. He certainly stood out against his straight-laced classmates. He was of average height and athletic build, but full of life. Leather jacket, engineer boots, cigarette behind his ear, greased hair… He was the epitome of old-school cool. Someone that everyone wanted to be like. He had a devil-may-care smirk on his face, a stark contrast to the prim-and-proper faces of his classmates and was flipping the middle finger at the camera in between two of the square Brothers next to him. He was a rockstar. “It’s him,” Mason thought. “No question.”

The last of the five took the longest. No one really jumped out at him. Ray wandered and looked, and he noticed some striking people with obviously interesting stories, but he wasn’t really feeling that. “Some of these guys must have 20 papers about them already,” Ray thought. He could write something about Business Douce #27 or The Guy in the Gorilla Suit, but that wasn’t going to be very interesting either way. Everyone else was waiting for him, squirming awkwardly in their bonds and tapping their feet in impatience. “Let ‘em wait,” Ray huffed.

But he still needed to choose someone. He had stopped around 1968, his eyes drawn to the psychedelic color scheme and odd-looking people. Among the hippies and someone who looked suspiciously like a Black Panther, Ray saw someone so average he almost didn’t register. Amid a sea of long hair and loud clothing, he almost looked like a time traveler. Dude could have been plugged into any photo on the wall and looked like he belonged there. His average-ness was so profound it was almost frightening. TUG usually chose people who stood out in their own way. Or people who needed something in their lives. This guy could have blended into a crowd and never be noticed. Why would TUG offer one of their precious five slots to someone like this? That was it. He found the story he wanted to hear.

When the pledges returned to the meeting room and Brett looked over their selections, they were all approved without question. Leo’s, in particular, drew a smirk. “I picked him, too.” Brett said. “But not for the reason I assume you did. I think you’ll like what you find out.” Everything was fine until he looked at Nate’s choice. He shot a worried look at the advisor, who seemed alarmed, as well. “Are you sure?” Brett asked.

“One million percent,” Nate said. Then his expression soured. “Why? Is there a problem with him? You didn’t second-guess anyone else’s choices. I wonder why that could be…” There was an edge to his voice that still seemed out of place for him, even if he was getting more comfortable using it. Nate immediately thought he sounded like his mother and composed himself.

“Not at all,” the advisor said icily. “And I know what you’re implying with that tone. Don’t get saucy with me, Bearnaise. You’re not quite the crusader you think you are in that regard. I’ve been playing THAT game a lot longer than you. I swear, kids these days… Anyway. All I’m saying is that if you follow that particular story to its end, you might not like where you find yourself.”

“Is he… you know?” Nate said, a little humbled. His mind conjured up all sorts of horrific violent ends that made his stomach turn.

“HIM?” the advisor cackled. “Not a chance in hell. It would take a lot more than a gaggle of guidos to do HIM in. No. But all I’m saying is that not everyone gets a happy ending. Brett, it’s OK. I’ll get him the info he needs.”

“Very well,” Brett said, banging his gavel. “The alumni biography projects have been assigned. Cody, unfortunately your subject is no longer with us. He passed away back in the late 90’s. But for the others, we have contact information if you want to reach out to them. I look forward to seeing what you all find.”

The rest of the evening went off as normal. Work detail, calisthenics, some minor imbibition of illicit liquids. The usual. When the tired pledges were finally released for the evening, each was handed a folder containing basic biographical info on their alumni and some suggestions on where to find more. Nate’s folder was bright pink. “Luther Harris,” he said. “Time to find out what your big secret is.”

---

Nate wasn’t present for Friday’s meeting, which featured Ray’s last test. By the time his classes ended around mid-day on Friday, his parents swooped in like a tornado and bundled him into the car for the ride home. While not particularly orthodox, they still observed the “no driving on High Holy Days” thing, so they had to hurry home to beat the sun. They exchanged a few pleasantries with Cody as he helped carry Nate’s bags to the car. And he certainly turned on the country charm when he met them. Tipping his hat and giving warm smiles and handshakes. Nate’s mother, in particular, was more than a little flustered by their meeting, but in a VERY good way. “What a charming young man!” she said after they pulled away. “I’m glad to see you making such good friends. I’m still not completely sold on this fraternity thing, but if all the members are like him, I just might change my mind.” Nate wondered what she’d think of Leo. And Scott. And Hoss. But that would have to wait until Parents’ Weekend.

Back at the TUG house, the other four pledges filed into the Ritual Room, awaiting Ray’s final test. Tonight he needed to get 95%. Leo was doubtful about Ray’s chances, and suggested some sort of earpiece where the others could feed him answers, but Ray nixed that idea. “I need to do this myself,” he said. “I’ve done OK so far. I have to see this through on my own. Besides, do you think you’re going to fool Shane with a hidden earpiece? He’d know. Whether he’d say anything is a whole other question, but I’d rather not find out.” Leo grudgingly acquiesced, but still had some misgivings.

After the pledges were ritually bound and Ray had the previous four days’ extra add-ons applied, he prepared himself for the worst. He hung inverted in his ropes, the blood rushing to his head, for another layer to be applied, but he was surprised when the other Actives approached him empty-handed. “What are they doing?” Ray thought, “No one has rope or anything. What’s going on?” That’s when the first fingers made contact with his exposed ribs.

He felt Shane’s light touch fluttering against his skin. Hanging upside-down, his pledge shirt had balled up around his neck, leaving his midsection exposed to the air. The touches were feathery at first, then slightly harder. Ray started to giggle as Shane’s fingers upped the intensity of the tickling. He couldn’t help himself. After the first initial laugh broke the seal, the others started in. Within seconds, Ray felt hands tickling every inch of his exposed skin. His ribs, his shoulders and arms, his back, everything. He convulsed with laughter, barely able to keep his mind focused. Nearby, Hoss gave the paddle a few warmup swings in the air with a hungry look on his face.

“All the years that had a four-man class instead of five?” Omar barked, running his hands up and down Ray’s forearms.

“1934, 1945, 1960, 1972, 2001, and 2006!” Ray shouted in between bouts of uncontrollable laughter, his suspended body swung this way and that as he instinctually tried to squirm away from the probing fingers all around.

“First Social Chair?” Scott said, attacking Ray’s abs. “Say it and spell it!”

“Oh, harsh, dude!” Jean-Marc said with a chuckle while he tortured Ray’s left ribs.

“Anton Grzegorczyk!” Ray shouted. “G-R-Z…” The crowd cheered over him when he said the first “Z” but didn’t relent in the tickling. When Ray finished spelling the name, Hoss whistled in amazement and placed the paddle down on the table.

“Won’t be needing this,” he said.

And he didn’t. Even faced with the merciless tickling barrage from all sides, Ray didn’t miss a single question. The relentless tingling distraction running through his body could shake his focus. Even when the Brothers got tired and switched out, he still answered every question. When Ray got the correct answer to Brett’s final question (“All the Fortune 500 companies with TUG alumni as CEO?”) he was finally let down from his suspension. He gently came to rest on the carpeted floor and was allowed to get the last bit of laughter out of his system. He was red and flushed, and absolutely dripping with sweat, but he had done it.

“100-fucking-percent!” Danny shouted. Shane bent down and started to undo Ray’s bindings. He left the nipple clamps for last, Ray noticed, but he didn’t mind so much as Shane also undid the ropes around his elbows and wrists. When Shane helped him up to his feet, Ray was completely unfettered.

“Congratulations, Ray,” Brett said. “You outdid yourself and your penance is over. In recognition of your achievement, there will be no exercises tonight. There’s a small party planned in the rec room to celebrate, but we have one item on the agenda first. Sophomores, please release the pledges from their ropes and bring their seats to the end of the table.”

Leo, Cody, and Mason were relieved to be unbound, but were more curious as to why they were being asked to the table. Other than Brett’s “should I stay as president” vote, they weren’t consulted when things were being planned. Each took his seat at the far end of the table, facing Brett.

“We have our first charity volunteer day on Monday since there are no classes,” Brett said. “There are several charities that we signed up for, so we’re splitting up. One class to each event. Seniors will be working with Habitat for Humanity, building houses in Northtown. Juniors will be working the animal shelter, cleaning cages and socializing the animals. Sophomores get the community food pantry, organizing shelves and receiving and unloading donations. Pledges? We’ll start you out easy. You guys get the car wash for LGBT outreach.”

“When’s the Auction this year?” Brandon asked, but Brett feverishly banged his gavel to cut him off.

“Hey now!” Brett cautioned. “No spilling the beans just yet. We have to get these boys out in the public eye before we can think about that. But since you asked, it’s after Halloween.”

“What kind of auction?” Cody asked, but Brett shushed him.

“Talking out of turn, Pledge Cody?” Brett said, smirking. “That will be 50 pushups. And since you are being so nosy, I want to see nose touching the ground on each one. Go!”

Laughing, Cody got up and began his pushups. He had seen many auctions during his time traveling with the rodeo, but those were all livestock auctions. A thought flashed through his mind, one that made him chuckle, but that would have to wait. Brett would reveal all in due time.

---

Miles away, Nate sat silently in the back seat of the car, next to his duffel bags. He was trying to do some sketches, but it wasn’t easy in a moving vehicle. He was making a passable attempt at drawing the subject of his paper in charcoal pencils, but it would have been better if he was still and not having to make small talk with his parents at the same time. Shane had emailed him the meeting agenda and he was rolling his eyes at the car wash idea. “What are we? The middle school cheerleading team?” he chuckled. “Are we going to have a bake sale next? And what’s this ‘auction’ about? If they’re raising funds for charity I might have a few pieces I could donate. But a car wash???” Suddenly the image of Cody and Ray, shirtless and leaning over the hood of a car like 80’s video vixens, dripping wet, flashed through his brain. “Well, maybe a car wash isn’t SUCH a bad idea…”

Coming Soon: The Calm Before part 7 – Parents’ Weekend part 1
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Post by KidnappedCowboy »

Strolling idly by some more photos, Leo stopped dead in his tracks around 1986. The class was what you’d expect from the mid-80’s (bad clothes, bad hair, bad everything)
I take exception to this statement!! :shock:

Can't wait for that Texas BBQ, however.Plenty of rustling, I'm sure!!! :twisted: :twisted:
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Post by wataru14 »

KidnappedCowboy wrote: 1 year ago I take exception to this statement!! :shock:
Hey, you're not much older than I am and I remember those days very well. Personally, I love 80s couture. However, an 18-year-old of today would definitely think that.
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Post by Bradstick »

[mention]wataru14[/mention] I just want to take a moment and say how fabulous a writer you are. I read/listen to a Lot of books in my free time and this story feels like one of those published books. You are doing a fabulous job!

You set up so many different plot hooks now. There is DIX as the overall villain, then smaller hooks like parents weekend, the bbq, the charity event, researching alumni project, and the auction. It’s clear you have thought a lot about where this story will go and I can’t wait to see what happens next!
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Post by KidnappedCowboy »

wataru14 wrote: 1 year ago
KidnappedCowboy wrote: 1 year ago I take exception to this statement!! :shock:
Hey, you're not much older than I am and I remember those days very well. Personally, I love 80s couture. However, an 18-year-old of today would definitely think that.
Just kidding, my friend! :lol:

Hope the pledges line dance at the BBQ before the roping commences! :D
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Post by gag1195 »

► Show Spoiler
What a great chapter! It's wonderful seeing Ray rise to the challenge, and helping the other pledges with their own studying in the process! I'm glad Brett has seemingly calmed down after the previous incidents. I'm very nervous and excited about Parent's Weekend. It will be very interesting to see how all the parents interact with the frat and the drama that can some with it. I wonder how Nate will introduce Hoss to his parents. Also, I can't wait to see the advisor and his husband! It's been too long!
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Post by Guardianbound »

Advisor's husband eh... can that be who I think it is... so they finally made it official :lol: Can't wait to see how you put everything together, the conflict with DIX, alumni interviews, Parent's day, so much can happen! So many opportunities to get these guys tied up
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Post by Volobond »

Proud of Ray for making it, and especially pleased that tickle torture featured in his ordeal. A good old fashioned bachelor auction seems adorable, though I hope they don't let any DIX members in, or the Mayor! But also the unnervingly polite new facade from the DIX boys seems like it should be enforced through captivity and conditioning! ;)

Can't wait to see the advisor with his husband, but also seeing Nate end up interviewing someone so, shall we say, fabulous... heheh, perhaps Leo may not be the only protege to a villain here. Speaking of, I don't know the story of the alumnus Leo chose, but if the Brother is a transgender member, it's quite disrespectful for Leo to misgender him with the wrong pronouns.

Super excited about this story and loving the new threads opening up!
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Post by wataru14 »


The Calm Before part 7 – Parents’ Weekend part 1: Calf Rustling

Nate returned to campus Sunday night. The holiday itself was rather nice, but all day Saturday he had to entertain visiting family and play gracious host. Hear how much he had grown from Grandma Esther. Get his cheeks pinched by Aunt Ruth. Congratulate his bratty cousin Joey on his upcoming Bar Mitzvah. It was draining. And Saturday night was worse. After the guests had all left, Nate’s parents decided to sit him down for a “little talk.” He suspected something like this was coming, and he had his hackles raised about it all day.

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“We want to talk to you about this fraternity thing,” his father said. “I’ve been doing some research and there’s a lot of rumors floating around out there about this Tau Upsilon Gamma.” Nate’s blood froze. Exactly what had they heard? From what Shane and Danny had said, the alumni would never spill secrets. And the group was very careful about keeping their bondage practices under wraps. Other than the “Binding of the Spy” and a few public events like the one on the hill, most of their activities were confined to the House in private. None of it was done near the uninitiated. But if his parents had caught wind, somehow, about TUG’s behind-the-scenes dealings… The thought of explaining to his parents why he was ritually bound three to five nights a week was not on his to-do list this weekend. Things could potentially get very bad very quickly.

Nate braced himself for the worst. “They say they’re known as a party group,” his mother said disapprovingly. “Supposedly there’s a lot of drinking and drugs going on there. Have you seen anything like that?”

Nate relaxed a little. If they knew something, they weren’t leading with it. That was a good sign. “There was a party at the end of Orientation Week,” Nate admitted. “And I did drink a little. But I didn’t get drunk! Honest.” The fact that he didn’t get drunk was quite true. Only Cody really did, but that was by Scott’s design. He thought it best not to mention that. “I was actually helping Hoss fix his car for most of the evening.” That part was half true, at least.

“Now I know we let you drink wine on Sabbath,” his father said, “but I don’t want you to go crazy at college. You hear all sorts of things about Freshman in fraternities getting hospitalized for alcohol poisoning. And worse. If you want to have a beer or two, that’s fine, but remember to keep your head about you.”

“We worry about you, Nathan,” his mother said. “And we want you to be happy. I just want you to know that we trust you.”

Nate was truly touched. “Thanks, Mom!” he said, feeling a little guilty he had fibbed to her.

“But we still want to know what you’ve been doing there,” his father said. “We’re going to meet these boys next weekend and we want to go in fully prepared. We want all the details. And leave nothing out.”

Nate froze. He felt his mother’s eyes boring into him like an oil derrick. A mother’s disapproving gaze could melt the strongest of resolves. Nate started to speak, in spite of himself. “Actually…”

Nate blinked. “Actually,” he said, “there isn’t much to say. They make us do housework and exercises, but that’s not really out of the ordinary for pledges, is it? And they never go too far. Danny is looking into becoming a doctor and he knows all about sports training. He makes sure we don’t push ourselves too hard. And there’s good stuff, too. We’re having some charity fundraising events next Monday since there’s no classes. Look.”

Nate opened Shane’s email and passed his phone to his dad before he realized what he had done. How much did Shane say about Ray’s test? Did he talk about the bindings? The paddle? He couldn’t remember! His face turned pale white as his father scanned the message.

“Hmmm,” he said. “A car wash? Sounds kind of basic. The others are doing much more worthwhile things, but I guess they let the Freshmen do the easy stuff.”

“Let me see,” his mother said, grabbing the phone. “Animal shelter?” she said, pleasantly surprised. “Well, it’s good to see that they have priorities. So many shelter animals need help. I donate every month. That Sarah McLaughlin commercial just gets to me.” She continued scanning. “Ray passed his test. 100%? Good for him. Wait, what’s this? ‘Hoss was disappointed he didn’t get to use the paddle.’ Paddle? What paddle?”

“Um,” Nate stammered, nearing panic. “It’s a fraternity joke. They have this big wooden paddle that they like to wave around. If you get a question wrong they give you a light tap. It’s all a big joke.” Nate remembered how Ray walked after only a few slaps Tuesday night. “Light taps” was the understatement of the century. He waited for a response, barely able to breathe.

His mother looked concerned, but didn’t get a chance to say anything before Nate’s father guffawed from across the table. “Oh, calm down, Sarah,” he said. “It’s just a joke. Let the boys play a little.” Nate gave a quick chuckle that he hoped would convince his mother that dad was correct.

“Hmph,” she said, sliding the phone back to Nate. “Well, I noticed you didn’t bring your camera home. I wanted to see some of the pictures you’ve been taking. Make sure you show me next weekend.”

Nate’s stomach churned. Most of his camera’s storage was full up with the Hill Ritual, the cheesecake shots of Cody, and the evening with Hoss at the studio. He hadn’t gotten a chance to dump the drive. He’d have to make sure to do that before Friday. As well as take some more real shots so he had something to show her. “Sure, Mom,” he said. “I guess with all the rush to leave I forgot about it. But don’t worry. Cody won’t let anything happen to it while I’m gone.” That seemed to satisfy her.

“OK, then,” she said. “That’s all. We just wanted to talk a little. It’s been hard without you here. The girls missed you.” Nate looked over into the living room where his younger sisters were watching TV like he wasn’t even home. “Go call them and we’ll have cake.”

With a relieved sigh, Nate got up and fired off a quick email to Shane while he collected his sisters. “We need to put our best foot forward next Sunday,” he wrote.

---

There were no pledge activities the following week. Ray had some scenes to shoot and wrestling practice, Cody had some shifts at Wade’s to work, and everyone had to work on their papers. Nate got back to the dorms Sunday afternoon. Thankfully, his sisters had been left at home with grandma and Aunt Ruth, so the ride back to campus was much more comfortable – and quieter – than last time. He had been trying to do a little research on Luther Harris in the car on his laptop, but there wasn’t much information. He attended graduate school, but there was some sort of accident in the chemistry lab and he left school shortly after. From there it was like he dropped off the face of the earth. The advisor had given Nate a special Zoom account to contact Luther, and he did so on Wednesday. The conversation was brief, but the aftermath was something Nate would have never suspected.

---

When Parents’ Weekend finally arrived, Nate went to dinner with his parents Friday night after classes. They headed to their hotel shortly after, as they had a full day of meetings with Nate’s professors on Saturday. The TUG reception and garden party/BBQ was Sunday. So the rest of his night was free. The door to the room was open when he got back to the dorms. Cody was there, running the vacuum cleaner borrowed from the front desk, when he got in. Someone was also in the bathroom.

“How was it?” Cody asked, giving Nate a fist bump.

“The usual,” Nate replied. “And cleaning is a good idea. My parents would freak if they saw how this place normally looks. They’ll be here early tomorrow. Let me put this stuff down and I’ll give you a hand.” Nate put his bags down on his unmade bed and started picking things up off the floor. “Who’s in the bathroom? Is Leo here?”

Just then there was a flush and a cry of “Hot damn!” The voice was deep and heavy, not like Leo’s at all. After a few seconds of water running, the bathroom door opened and Cody’s father stepped into the room.

“Jesus H, I feel about 10 pounds lighter,” he said. “Truck stop food goes right through you, don’t it, boy?”

Nate’s eyes grew wide. The man standing before him was slightly above average height, but thick, strong, and ruggedly handsome. Hands weathered with hard work but eyes that sparkled with a precocious warmness. A neatly-trimmed beard covered his broad chin. It was like looking into Cody’s future. The heels of his cowboy boots clicked on the tile floor as he made his way into the room, wiping his hands on his jeans. He walked with a slight, barely noticeable limp.

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“Well shit!” the man said, his face lighting up in the same warm and inviting manner as Cody. “You must be Nate! Come here!” Mr. Jessup reached out and grabbed Nate’s hand, shaking it with enthusiastic force before pulling him in for a warm hug. Then he slapped Nate hard on the shoulder and chuckled. “Cody’s talked so much about you I had to see you for myself.”

“Hello, sir,” Nate said, rubbing his hand. “Glad to meet you.”

“Sir?” Mr. Jessup laughed. “Do I look like a teacher to you? Haha. Call me Mr. Jessup. Or LJ. I ain’t particular.”

“The hotels are all booked up, so Dad’s going to be staying with us tonight and tomorrow night,” Cody said. “He brought his own air mattress. I hope that’s OK?”

“Sure,” Nate said. “Not a problem. Let me help you clear the floor so we can get it set up.” Nate grabbed his discarded pledge clothes from the floor and hung the shirt on a hanger in his closet. He wouldn’t need to wear it again until Monday and seeing the condition the Sophomores’ shirts were in during the Hill Ritual, he was trying his best to protect it from too much wear and tear when not in use.

“We can wait on that,” Cody said. “It’s still early and there’s no need to fill up the room with the mattress just yet. Hey, pa? Why don’t we make a quick 7-11 run? Grab some snacks and a movie from the Red Box? I’ll pay.”

Mr. Jessup folded his arms and gave Cody a suspicious look. “Sounds to me like you want me to pick up a six pack or two for the room,” he chuckled. “You already got plenty of snacks.”

“Haha!” Cody laughed. “Guilty as charged. So whaddaya say?”

With a belly laugh, Mr. Jessup waved Cody out of the room and into the hall. Cody told Nate they’d be back in a little while and took the vacuum with them to return to the front desk. As soon as they were gone, Nate hooked his camera up to his computer and dumped the memory card. He had been so busy with his paper that he forgot to do it before. There were a ton of pictures on there, so it would take a while. He just hoped that it would be done before they got back. Last thing Nate needed was for Mr. Jessup to see him and Hoss in a compromising position, plastered right across the screen in full resolution. As if by providence, the files finished transferring and he confirmed the delete from the camera’s card as soon as Cody walked into the room, carrying some bags.

“Dad stayed outside to have a smoke,” Cody said. “He’ll be in in just a second. Hey, whatcha doing?”

“Just dumping the memory card on my camera,” Nate said. “I want to free up space for the weekend.”

“Those shots we did on the first day still there?” Cody asked. “I never did get to see ‘em.”

Nate squirmed. “Yeah, I still have them,” he said. “I haven’t had time to go through them yet. But when I do, you’ll be the first to see.”

Cody laid out the beer and snacks on his desk and popped a DVD into the Playstation as Mr. Jessup returned from outside. “We picked up the new Brute Squad movie,” Cody said, hopping onto his bed and reclining to watch. “Lots of fights and explosions. Looks pretty cool.” Mr. Jessup took two beers, handed one to Cody, and sat in the open desk chair, then handed one to Nate. Nate raised his bottle and took a swig as Cody started the movie.

---

The movie was a secret agent flick, and didn’t disappoint in the action department. The combat was directed by a guy named only “Tank,” who was apparently considered to be the best in the business. The three viewers had finished the first six-pack and two bags of chips by the time Act Three started. Nate watched the movie, but he also watched how Cody and his dad interacted with each other. They seemed more like old pals than father and son. Cody showed his father great respect, but there was genuine affection and camaraderie there. They had a closeness that Nate was a little jealous of. His relationship with his own father was good, but not like theirs. He wondered what it was like for Cody, growing up on the road like he did.

Nate looked back at the screen in time to see the hero being dragged to a chair by thugs and roughly tied up. Typical for these kinds of movies near the end, he thought. The actor, in this case, was actually being bound for real, not just fitted with obviously loose cable ties he could slip out of with minimal effort like you saw on TV crime shows. This was pretty rare for movies nowadays, and it looked like the director was doing a pretty realistic job of depicting the tying. It was interesting, but Nate knew that it was still just Hollywood make-believe. He and Cody immediately shot each other knowing glances and smirked. “Something funny over there?” Mr. Jessup asked.

“No, pa,” Cody said with a chuckle. “It’s just that in movies they’re always doing stuff like that to the hero and it’s always stupid fake. If this guy is such a badass he should be able to get loose right away. But they never do.”

“You think it’s that easy?” Mr. Jessup smirked.

“Pretty much, yeah,” Cody said, full of swagger, which Nate echoed. The fact that he and Nate had experienced much more severe and thorough ties than the hapless movie hero was experiencing was without a doubt. The fact that, so far, neither had been able to escape without help didn’t occur to either at the moment.

“Is that a fact?” his father remarked. “Well, whaddaya say we test out that theory?”

“Huh?” Cody said. “What do you mean, pa?”

“You got your rodeo ropes with you, don’t ya?” Mr. Jessup asked. “In your closet, I’m guessing?”

“Yeah. So?”

“So get ‘em out. Let’s see how good you are before you go making judgements about people’s skills.”

Cody hesitated, but a quick “go on, git!” from his smiling dad got him up out of the bed and over to the closet. At the bottom, his leather jacket hanging on a hanger above, was his box of rodeo ropes. Nate watched in dumbfounded silence as Mr. Jessup took the box from Cody and started rummaging around inside. He tossed a pair of thick, lasso-grade ropes on the bed and set the box down next to them. What was going on here?

“OK boys,” he said. “Shirts off and chairs in the middle of the floor. We’re gonna do this right.” Cody and Nate looked at each other awkwardly for a moment, and then grinned. Who could resist a challenge like that? The skills they had learned from their weeks with TUG would serve them well, they both thought. They’d be free in a jiffy. Especially with the thick rodeo ropes. Both knew the thicker and less flexible the rope was, the worse it held knots. With confident smirks, the two boys stripped their shirts off and slid their chairs side by side into the middle of the room. “Hands behind the backs, if you please.”

Nate and Cody obliged, rolling their eyes and puffing their chests. But their confidence immediately disappeared when they felt the bindings start. Mr. Jessup wasn’t using the lasso rope! Buried deep in the bottom of the box were multiple lengths of thin rawhide. Normally they were used for lacing up chaps and vests, but that wasn’t their only use, as the two boys found out to their dismay. Cody winced as the strong cords looped around his crossed wrists and pulled taut. They cut in a little, but not painfully. Cody’s bravado cracked as the rawhide was threaded around and through his wrists, creating a study and snug web. When his father had finished tying him and moved on to Nate, he squirmed a little to test the bonds. He folded his thumb down and tried to slip out of the cords, but found that the knots were supremely secure and the rawhide strips held firm! There was no give and no slack to wriggle out. No matter how hard he tried, the cords held fast!

Nate’s confidence melted when he came to the same realization. But the boys really started to worry when Mr. Jessup dumped a pile of more rawhide cords onto the bed. “You thought that was just for your hands?” he smirked. “Hell naw! There’s plenty in here and I’m gonna use it all!” With an evil grin, Mr. Jessup bound each boy’s biceps separately to the vertical sides of the chairbacks. Then he secured their ankles to the chair legs similarly. Nate was barefoot and wearing only pajama pants, so he felt the full tightness of the bindings. Cody, thankfully, was wearing jeans and his weathered cowboy boots, which somewhat protected his legs and ankles from the severity of the cords. But only a little. Mr. Jessup used more rawhide to secure the boys’ knees to the tops of the chair legs, and then used the last pieces to fasten their already-bound wrists to the slats in the back of the chairs.

When the rawhide was exhausted, Mr. Jessup took the rodeo ropes and looped them around each of the boys’ chests, pulling them flush against the chair backs. This rope didn’t need to hold knots as well. It was more about creating a thick and heavy prison to hold their bodies down. Mr. Jessup threaded the rope in and out of the chair slats with each pass before tightening, and when he finally knotted it off, each boy’s torso was submerged in a sea of coarse, heavy rope. It chafed against their bare chests as they moved and wriggled – vainly attempting to free themselves.

Mr. Jessup stepped back from the chairs after Nate had been fully secured and crossed his arms over his chest. “OK you two,” he said, grinning. “You think you’re regular Houdinis, huh? Writing checks your butts can’t cash? Well get cracking!” Immediately the two boys began to writhe and squirm, feverishly trying to escape their rope prisons. Mr. Jessup watched them impotently wriggling for a few minutes, grinning from ear to ear and giving a few taunting verbal jabs. Satisfied the boys were quite up shit’s creek, he turned and headed into the bathroom.

“Shit!” Nate said. “I didn’t think he’d be THIS good at it!”

“He’s been a rodeo man all his life,” Cody said, grunting as he tried unsuccessfully to pull his wrists out of the rawhide. “He knows his way around ropes. I should’ve known better before running my mouth.”

“Well powering out isn’t going to work,” Nate said. He was currently sliding his wrists back and forth, trying to work up some slack and loosen his bindings, but not making any headway whatsoever. “We need to try more finesse. Can you slip yours?”

“I’ve been trying,” Cody said, squirming and arching his back for leverage as much as the rodeo rope over his chest would allow. “But it ain’t working. We shoulda kept our mouths shut. I think we’re sunk this time.”

“That you are,” Mr. Jessup said, emerging from the bathroom. He had stripped down to just his boxers and socks, and held his folded-up jeans and shirt in one hand and his well-worn cowboy boots in his other. He strutted triumphantly over to Cody’s bed and placed his clothes and boots on the floor beside it. “Not so easy, is it?”

“No sir,” Cody said. “You made your point. We learned our lesson about boasting. We’re not getting out of this on our own, no way. Could you let us loose now so we can get ready for bed?”

“I still think you boys need to learn a lesson in humility,” Mr. Jessup said with a snicker. He bent down and pulled of his socks, balling each of them up separately in his hands.

“Whoa,” Nate said, “wait a minute, you don’t have to… mmmpppggghhhh…” His words were cut off as Mr. Jessup’s soggy left sock was crammed deep into his mouth. It tasted of sweat and the thick leather of his well-worn cowboy boots. Nate found it somewhat alluring, even as he retched from the smell.

“Yeuch!” Mr. Jessup said, holding his nose as he stuffed his other sock into his son’s mouth. “Been wearing those all day and my dogs sure were barking!” As the boys blanched and lightly dry heaved, Mr. Jessup opened Cody’s sock drawer and took out two bandanas. He folded each into a wide band and plastered them over the boys’ mouths before tying them tightly behind their heads, sealing the rancid socks inside and making their cheeks bulge out. “Gotta keep you two quiet for the night. I need to get me some sleep for all those parent-teacher conferences tomorrow.”

The two boys grunted and shouted through their gags as they realized that their captor intended to leave them mercilessly bound to their chairs and gagged like this all night. But Mr. Jessup ignored them as he took the empty box off Cody’s bed and placed it on the floor beside his clothes. He walked over to the switch on the wall and turned out the lights before heading back over to Cody’s bed and sliding under the covers. “Woo-ee!” he said tauntingly. “This sure beats the air mattress! Thanks for letting me use your bed, Cody. I mean, I’m guessing it’s OK because you ain’t gonna be using it tonight. If you don’t want me to sleep in it, though, just say so.”

Cody grunted and mumbled through his gag. “Nothing?” his dad joked. “Then I guess it’s OK! Nighty-night, boys. I’ll let you loose in the morning if you can’t free yourselves on your own. You probably won’t but I thought I’d mention it anyway. Either way, breakfast is on me.” Mr. Jessup laid his head down and turned to the side, falling asleep almost immediately. Cody and Nate looked at each other after their eyes had adjusted to the darkness and realized that any more struggling was a futile waste of time.

“Best try to get some sleep,” Nate mumbled through his pungent sock gag, his eyes watering from the smell. His words were unintelligible, of course, but Cody caught his meaning. With a sigh, the two boys sat back for a long and uncomfortable night.

Coming Soon – The Calm Before part 8 – Parents’ Weekend part 2 – An Officer and a Gentleman
Last edited by wataru14 1 year ago, edited 1 time in total.
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