## The Wilder Scouts Jamboree (M+/m)

Post by emcar » Wed May 13, 2015 5:34 am

David Kacey became a Wilder Scouts leader because it looked good on a resume; and because the boss at his summer internship was himself a Wilder Scouts leader, and he desperately needed to impress the guy.
The Wilder Scouts work almost exclusively with "troubled youth:" high-school drop-outs, and first-time offenders that their teachers, guardians, or parole officers think might benefit from the discipline and organization the Wilder Scout program provides. For the most part, this has proven moderately successful ...
It was the annual Solstice Jamboree at a remote, private park - two large lakes surrounded by miles of forest and trails - but David Kacey just wanted to get through the weekend.
He wasn't much for the dirt and discomfort of the outdoors, or this ridiculous Wilder Scout get-up: hunter green shorts and t-shirt, complete with red-trimmed knee-high socks and a goofy little red neckerchief. David longed to be back in his air conditioned apartment, where the slim 20-year-old business major could enjoy a nice shower and an iced cappuccino.
And he wasn't crazy about babysitting a bunch of criminals either! Luckily he didn't have his own troop ... yet. He just had to look after a handful of kids from another troop whose leader "couldn't make it" to the Jamboree. Yeah right, David scoffed.
It was just past noon on Friday, and David was having a heck of a time setting up the tent; knowing he'd be sharing it with a bunch of hoodlums for two days wasn't helping things, and neither were the constant visits from his far-too-chipper boss.
"Hey Davey!" the well-tanned Ian Morse called pleasantly, emerging into the little campsite from one of the several trails emptying into it. "Still working on that tent, hunh?"
David rolled his eyes before turning to face the Marketing Director with a paste-on smile.
"Just not used to this style," David replied.
Mr. Morse cocked a silver eyebrow, "Style?" He asked.
"Er, yeah," David stammered, rubbing the back of his neck. "My tent's different, it's smaller, I'm just not used to using the nails."
"Tent pegs?" Mr. Morse replied with a hint of displeasure.
"Right." David answered, as the two men stood for an awkward moment.
"Well, it's going to be a beauty of a weekend; lots of great activities!" Mr. Morse exclaimed, taking a deep breath with his hands on his hips. "I'm sure you're just as excited as I am!"
"Oh, definitely," David replied, managing a little smile.
"I'll let you get back to setting up," Mr. Morse continued, heading off toward another of the trails nearby, "I hope things go well, Davey, I'm still looking for someone to fill that part-time position in the fall."
David smiled until the Director was out of view and went back to work on the tent.
***
This had to be some terrible joke, David thought, his temporary troop standing in front of him. Luckily there were only three of them, but none of them looked a day under 25! Each of them sporting one of those sleazy pencil beards or heavy stubble, and most of them having some kind of cheap-looking tattoos visible. Only the smallest of them came close to David's stature, and the biggest stood nearly a foot taller than the would-be leader.
At least they were quiet. In fact, other than mumbling what David guessed were their names when they arrived at the camp, they didn't say much at all. Each of them had earbuds in perpetually, and they seemed content to shuffle around the campsite making little hand gestures and rapping to themselves.
"Ey, Mister K," one of the 'boys' called from inside the tent. David had felt weird about seeing mister in front of his last name, and in an effort to seem cool, he'd awkwardly suggested appellation.
"Yeah?" David replied, looking over the absurd number of pages outlining the weekend's activities and events. Every moment from Saturday morning to Sunday night was absolutely packed.
"Can you get dis pack open? It stuck."
David shook his head and climbed into the tent. "What's stuck?" He asked.
The attack came suddenly: two of the boys pushed David into the tent, sending him tumbling stomach-first onto the dirt. Before the stunned 'leader' even knew what was going on, they already had his flamboyant little neckerchief knotted tightly between his teeth.
David struggled with all of his strength, but the 'kids' soon had him strictly hogtied with a length of black paracord. The bound and gagged business major Mppphhhed and squirmed as the scouts leaned back on their elbows around him.
"Shit, I need a smoke," one of them sighed, scratching at his neck stubble.
"And a drink," another added, pulling a cheap-looking bottle of liquor out of his pack.
"Dis the deal, Mister K," the first boy continued, "you gonna stay here for the weekend and we gonna do our own thing, see?"
David tugged violently at the tiny length of paracord anchoring his wrists to his ankles.
"Ey, you wanna make a fuss?!" One of the boys hissed. "You want er'e one to see you all hogtied and shit?"
David sighed heavily: being found bound and gagged by a bunch of hoodlums was not going to get him that job in the fall.
"Les go sip on this down to the lake before dinner," the shortest boy suggested, standing up and tugging at his sagging green shorts.
"Hol up," the other replied. Kneeling behind the hogtied scout leader, he stripped off David's hiking shoes and socks.
"Damn, you get pedicures Mr. K?!" Shouted the tallest boy, staring wide-eyed at David's soft, pink feet.
"You got girl feet!" The shorter boy laughed with his hand on his stomach.
With David preoccupied thinking about how he was going to make it through an already unpleasant weekend bound and gagged in a stuffy canvas tent, the boys had no trouble sliding one of the socks over both of his hands.
They wrapped his other sock around his head, over his eyes, and the lacing from one of his boots was wound tightly over the sock covering his hands, making even the slightest movement of his fingers impossible. The other lace was even used to tie David's big toes together, eliciting a sharp squeal and foot-wriggling from the remarkably ticklish scout leader.
Now David was barefoot and tightly hogtied, blindfolded with one of his socks, and gagged with his neckerchief, now spit-soaked and far too tight. Even in the tiny shorts and shirt, the still air in the tent was becoming oppressively hot: small beads of sweat were forming and running ticklingly down his face. He'd already been taken hostage by his troop and it wasn't even Friday night!
Continued in Part 2

### Re: The Wilder Scouts Jamboree (M+/m)

Post by xtc » Wed May 13, 2015 6:51 am

An intriguing start.
Boxer shorts are cool,
but little speedos rule!
More by the same author: viewtopic.php?f=5&t=22729

### Re: The Wilder Scouts Jamboree (M+/m)

Post by NemesisPrime » Thu May 14, 2015 11:42 am

Oh my, I wonder what shall transpire!
Everyone speaks in multiple languages...But gag talk is universal and a sock in your mouth is the perfect translator!