## WHEN THE WORMS TURNED

Post by xtc » Sun May 11, 2014 7:04 am

So, there I was minding my own business and I noticed that I had received a new private message. Checking it out I noticed that it was from Chris12. And thus the "conversation" proceeded:
C12: Hi, um would it possible to make a story request to you?
Xtc: It won't hurt to make the request. After all, you have starred in the past!
However, please do not be too upset if I can't accept it.
Fire away!
C12: Of course
I was thinking about something of a freshmen's revolt. Freshmen are always being picked on so I thought maybe a little brother would rally his classmates to take revenge on his big brother and some of his friends.
And so things got underway.
What follows is the first installment.
Boxer shorts are cool,
but little speedos rule!
More by the same author: viewtopic.php?f=5&t=22729

### Re: WHEN THE WORMS TURNED

Post by xtc » Sun May 11, 2014 7:10 am

WHEN THE WORMS TURNED
The First Day at Blackwood Manor
Alright, we knew that the first day at the "Big School" would inevitably involve a lot of bogwashing but they just took it too far.
There was me (Allen), Dave, Chris and Francis. We'd all come up from the same prep school to start at Blackwood Manor in September. The chance of being in the same dorm seemed like a good idea to Chris, Dave and me even if we did have to share with Francis. We'd got settled in on the Friday afternoon ready for the weekend "Getting to Know the Manor" events before lessons started on Monday.
I won't bother with all the tedious bits; just suffice it to say that the older boys, who were supposed to "show us the ropes", took their jobs seriously. All newbies expect some sort of "welcome" but just read this account and see if you don't think it was excessive.
-----====00000=====-----
My brother, John, was a year ahead of me so I knew I could expect quite a "welcome" from him and his friends and, sure enough, after the tour of the grounds, I felt this hand over my mouth and this arm pinning my own arms to my body. The other newbies that were with me took the advice of the guy that had hold of me and made themselves scarce. Funny; he didn't smell like John.
"OK, worm, stop struggling. Your brother said that he'd like to welcome you." I recognised Richard's voice from when he'd come round ours visiting my brother. If anything, he was even rougher than John in spite of being thinner. I kept struggling. "Oh, bad decision, worm." Richard emitted a piercing whistle.
Before long, Edward, stockier than Richard and his constant side-kick, appeared. I was helpless enough against one of them, let alone both. I sagged in Richard's arms.
"Wha's up, Rich, the worm givin' you trubbuw?"
"Oh, nothing we can't put right, I think."
Well, the short version is that they grabbed an arm of mine each, twisted it and made be rush, bent over to my own dorm. They knew that the others wouldn't be back for quite some time. I know now that Induction Weekends were better organised by the pupils than by the staff, but this was only my first day.
So. They forced me into my own dorm and introduced me to the efficiency of the flushing system of the (fortunately recently cleaned) toilet bowl. -- Three times!
At least after the bogwashing I thought my ordeal would be over until Richard told me that John had said that I shouldn't go away until he'd had the opportunity to welcome me personally - - and my mates! Things weren't looking good.
So. That's how I came to be crucified on my study station.
All of us had a study station in the dorm. It consisted of a bunk bed over a desk with a wardrobe at one end. Unfortunately, the other end was an open, ladder-like wooden construction which I soon discovered was an ideal framework for securing uncooperative younger pupils or even those who had displeased a couple of us. You'd really think that the staff would have replaced them, wouldn't you?
I must have been there for about fifteen minutes before anything else happened. Just stretched out, facing the woodwork, with my wrists tied to the foot of my bunk and my legs spread so that the bastards could tie my ankles to the bottoms of the vertical supports.
They even used my own school tie, judo belt and shoe laces to tie me. Do you know that shoe laces hurt? I won't even go into details about how they got me stripped down to the tighty whities that the school insisted on as underwear.
-----00000-----
I can't fill in all the details of what happened to Dave but he was "escorted" in. I could hear him receiving the same bogwashing that I'd received but he didn't re-appear. His mum certainly wouldn't have approved of his language!
I was a skinny little thing with no muscle definition whatsoever but Dave already had a deep chest, broad shoulders and a narrow waist. We both had spots! Mine were liberally scattered but his tended to be prize-winners especially the one on his nose that spoiled his otherwise handsome looks. The life of a young teenager is hard enough without extra complications!
That pipe that ran through all the toilets in the block just below the ceiling provided the big kids with just what they needed. Dave was eventually found upside down with his hands on the toilet bowl trying to relieve the stress on his ankles that were bound to the pipe. I knew he was strong because he was my judo partner but even his stomach muscles couldn't allow him to reach the belt that secured him.
-----00000-----
Chris was a skinny kid, just like me, but he was wiry and his slender muscles were well defined. About twenty minutes after Dave had arrived, he was carried in hanging from his own hockey stick. He'd had his hands bound behind him, his ankles tied and he'd been put into a loose hog-tie. The hockey stick had then been threaded between his legs and between his arms and his captors carried him sideways. That must have hurt as he was carried. Needless to say, he was also sporting only his underpants. He decided to be quiet as soon as the big kids offered to put him on the floor if he did so or to prop the hockey stick between a couple of chairs if he didn't.
-----====00000=====-----
Eventually John arrived. "Hi Maggot, hi worms, welcome to the mad-house. Now let's play a little game."
I'd rather not detail the nature of that humiliating game that Chris won but we couldn't help wondering how that little weasel, Francis, seemed to be escaping the torments that the rest of were suffering. No, he wasn't a weasel, not slim enough, more like a water rat.
Once we had eventually worked our way free, we started to make our action plans.
The First Half Term
Well, do you think they went too far? I do. OK, a bogwashing would have been fair enough; that was a sort of tradition and we certainly made sure that Dave's little brother got a ducking when he came up the next year; but three times? No. And as for leaving us stripped and bound, that was inhuman. As I said, we decided to take action.
The three of us (and Francis in a sort of way) had been friends for years. People would remark that we even looked like members of the same family. We were about the same height, an average height for our age and all had mousey hair. Chris's parents insisted that he have an old fashioned, almost short back and sides, haircut but I fancied myself as Illya Kuryakin. Lots of parents at that time thanked their lucky stars when their sons decided to have their hair cut neatly. Dave, being better filled out than the other two of us always looked smart but he also looked more mature than we did, an appearance that was enhanced by a premature case of a slightly receding hairline.
Francis? He was the odd one out. Not only was he a little rat, a water rat really, he spent most of his summer holiday lazing by the Lido trying to attract girls. His dark brown hair was cut in a college boy fringe and his naturally slightly dark complexion was extensively tanned at the start of term. He had a reasonable physique but the girls didn't exactly seem to flock to the little short-arse. We couldn't help thinking about how he managed to avoid the "welcoming committee" by hanging around the PE Department in order to get himself signed up for various water oriented teams. We wondered whether he hadn't received a tip-off.
-----=====00000=====-----
We decided that there was no hurry as we plotted our revenge, especially as we didn't know the school as well as our adversaries. Taking our time would also allow us to gather any special equipment we would need and to make sure that any venture we initiated was foolproof because we'd only get one chance.
The obvious time to strike would be when none of John, Ed or Richard had weekend passes and preferably when at least one of them had been gated, not an uncommon occurrence with those three. We also debated whether we ought to "talk to" Francis as well.
The supplies were gradually acquired and stowed in our lockers. The plan came together along with several emergency alternatives and there was an ideal opportunity on the last weekend of the first half term. Francis would have to leave early on Saturday for a junior water-polo tournament and wouldn't be back much before dinner time in the early evening, John had got himself a morning detention that would keep him out of circulation until at least eleven o'clock and Ed would be on community service off-site until well gone mid-day. That left just Richard to be dealt with immediately after breakfast.
Richard Receives His Invitation
Richard registered at breakfast time and, its being a weekend, he wouldn't be registered again until lights out at eleven o'clock in the evening. All we had to do was to get him disappeared. Being the slightest of the enemy, the three of us thought we should be able to deal with him as long as we could enjoy the advantage of surprise.
By the time Richard had returned to his dorm after breakfast, the three Masked Avengers were kitted out, tooled up and ready for the fight. We decided to wear our uniform black tracksuits, our Cadet boots and three-hole balaclavas. That should make it difficult for our intended victims to identify us.
Richard was predictable, he might have been a complete prick as far as the way he treated us younger kids but he was also sad enough to make sure he got straight down to his weekend prep before doing anything else. His room-mates, Ed and John, were out of the way and the other one, Will, soon made himself scarce to give him peace and quiet to work. Or at least the sort of peace and quiet that was provided by the loud playing of the latest Rolling Stones offering. We were glad of the rule about no locked doors inside the building and merely had to hang around outside bare-headed until a minute or so after the music started (Well, if you call it music; we were all Beatles fans.)
We casually walked into the block, approached the door to Dorm 4c and took a casual look inside as we passed. Score! There was Richard, head down with his back to the door oblivious to all except Mick Jagger's band and the riveting algebra exercise that he was attempting to complete. He liked getting good marks and his parents expected him to do so.
We nodded to each other, pulled on our balaclavas and crept up behind him. I jammed a pillow case over his head (Well, two pillow cases inside one another, actually. During planning we found out that it was possible to see through one in good light.) and Chris quickly fastened it round his neck with Sellotape whilst Dave, the strongest of us, held him in place. He'd had no real time to resist by the time I'd tightened a leather belt round his arms. Dave let go and an enraged Richard rose from his chair making ineffectual attempts to reach his hood. Dave took him down and sat on him while I held onto his legs so that Chris could bind them with another belt. Still our captive's somewhat muffled language failed to out-volume his record player but, even if the rest of the residents hadn't already left for their recreational activities, they wouldn't have been able to hear him very well.
I put on my best disguised voice. I thought it was like a tough American cop but any tape of it showed the unstable voice of a teenager with a dreadful mid-Atlantic drawl. "OK, Mister, just behave and you won't get hurt." Not only was the accent appalling but the statement was obviously a lie. We just hoped that Richard would believe otherwise.
As I settled onto Richard's legs, Chris wrapped more Sellotape round where he assumed his eyes to be. You might think that wasn't necessary but we'd planned this capture very carefully. We didn't want to leave anything to chance. By that stage Dave had started forcing his arms behind him. Judging by the yelping, that must have hurt. Once the Fourth-Year boy's wrists could cross once more, Dave readjusted his seat so that he was higher up on Richard's back and facing them. Chris gave him another belt that, by a process of experimentation, we had contrived to be doubled but still capable of being buckled tight. Richard wasn't giving up and Dave had considerable trouble, even with Chris helping, in getting his hands through the loop in opposite directions. After about five minutes they managed and the strap was pulled very tight indeed by our resident muscle monster.
The American cop spoke again. "You, Buster, are our prisoner. Just shut up and take what's coming to you." Richard didn't see things our way and seemed to object to being pinned to the floor by boys whose parents weren't married. "Last chance; you gunna shud up?" I bit my lip because I had let my accent slip.
I'll just cut the rude words from Richard's reply, "******* get off me, you ******* little ***** or I'll ******* rip your ******* ***** off and stuff them down your ******* throats."
"OK. You had the chance." According to our pre-arranged plan, Chris started cutting the Sellotape that was holding the hood against our prisoner's neck.
"That's right, untie me and it might not be so painful for you." We sat him against the wall and Chris rolled the pillowcases up to the remaining Sellotape. Richard threw his head back, trying to see under the blindfold whilst continuing to use every foul word he knew.
"Ta-da!" Richard suddenly went much quieter as Chris crowed in triumph. "Oh, I like it, I like it!" Chris did a little jig to the Freddie and the Dreamers tune as he held the rubber ball firmly in the enraged dark-haired kid's mouth. It was then my turn with the Sellotape. I used lots. We knew it wasn't the most secure of gags but it was easy to apply and we reckoned it would hold for long enough. Or at least it had done when my two "friends" tried it out on me!
I rolled the pillow cases down again and Chris was back on Sellotape duty.
-----00000-----
We decided to have a little rest before continuing with the torment of the first of our "Welcoming Committee". We just left him rolling round on the floor, bumping into things, and completely failing to offend us with his foul language. It was good of him to supply the biscuits that we were enjoying.
"OK, boys?" Dave's disguised voice, being deeper than mine, sounded more like an adult - but I sounded more like a Yankee! Dave was right, it was about time to move our prisoner. It would be safer to accommodate him in our dorm. Anyone who found him there would probably have a score to settle but, if anyone found him here, it was more likely to be one of his friends. I removed my mask and went to get the transport.
When I returned, Dave was seated on Richard again and reading him his fortune. Even Richard had given up yelling and threatening. It wasn't unknown for boys to be seen pulling skips and bins round the school; some held rubbish and some collected laundry, and defaulters often had to report to either the Caretaker or the Housekeeper to ask for one so that they could serve their punishments. No one turned a hair when I explained that I was on jankers and needed a bin. I thought that I'd be kind and get a laundry bin for Richard; the rubbish bin could wait until it was my brother's turn!
On my way to Dorm 4c, I collected a certain amount of the bedding that had been left by the dorm doors and which was destined for the laundry so that, by the time I'd got back to my fellow conspirators, the plastic bin was about half full. Dave had more or less completed his improving lecture by the time I wheeled the bin into the dorm and I still don't really know everything he'd said but Richard was keeping still and surprisingly quiet.
"Taxi for Dickhead."
Richard protested. Dave gave him a little warning kick. Richard shut up.
Between us, we stood our prisoner up. Bad idea. We levelled him again and Dave held him under the armpits while Chris grabbed his ankles. They lifted him and started swinging him backwards and forwards. Dave started counting, "One - - two - - threeee!" and Richard was thrown over the lip of the bin. He immediately forgot whatever Dave had so carefully explained to him previously. Dave climbed in and "reminded" him. The last thing I saw before Dave climbed out again and slammed the lid shut was a seemingly very contrite boy nodding frantically but almost silently except for a pathetic little whining noise.
Stopping only long enough to collect a few things that might be needed, I asked, "Ready to go?"
"Commandos are go."
On Chris's cue, and without our balaclavas now, we started one of those stupid chants that we used when we were playing soldiers. (Sorry, I meant, 'being cadets'.) As we pushed the bin past other dorms, collecting more laundry to cover not only Richard but also ourselves once we returned the bin, not all of them seemed to appreciate our chanting. We just picked up whatever was thrown and tossed it in with Richard. They could go to the laundry and claim their property later.
We wheeled our trophy into Dorm 3a, became the Masked Avengers once again, and started digging Richard out of the accumulated bedding. - And the odd shoe. Once he was standing, Dave climbed in with him again. He had long ago abandoned the disguised voice.
"Going to behave?" Richard obviously remembered Dave's previous visit because he simply nodded his head. Dave grabbed him from behind and I reached in and grabbed his legs. We lifted him out of the skip, dragged him into the bathroom at the rear or the dorm and sat him on my study chair that we'd previously left in the shower. By the time I had replaced any laundry that had become displaced and left to return the skip, Dave and Chris were deep into a very one-sided conversation with our guest. I asked them not to start enjoying themselves too much before I got back.
-----00000-----
By the time I had returned, Dave and Chris had removed Richard's shoes and his jeans (It was the weekend, remember.) revealing his little yellow mini-briefs and white sports socks. They had also used plenty of our substantial stock of rope to bind his legs to the front legs of my chair at the ankles and below his knees.
I had to know: what did Dave say to convince Richard not to make a noise while we wheeled him between his dorm and ours? "Oh, I just offered to stay in there with him, clamp my hand over his mouth and pinch his various bits. He didn't even need too many demonstrations. Bit of a shame really." Only one person in the room didn't seem to find that funny.
Chris appealed to reason and, following his offer to cut his undies from him along with the rest of his clothes and to dump him in the middle of the athletics track where many people would see him, Richard agreed to remove his favourite sweat-shirt without assistance. Dave just reminded him not to attempt to remove his hood and unstrapped his arms and wrists. Richard identified the characteristic sound of my Polaroid camera as it delivered the print but I assured him that no-one needed to see it as long as nothing untoward happened to us following his punishment. By now, I had abandoned all pretence of being an American cop.
Richard rubbed his wrists, which were already sporting some red marks from Dave's and Chris's handiwork as were his arms. He then dutifully lifted both his sweat-shirt and his white vest in one movement over his head and held them in his lap. That left him in just his little white socks and his little yellow briefs. Chris gathered up his discarded garments, stuffed them into a black refuse sack and threw them into the corner of the shower.
We had already decided that we were going to tie Richard's wrists with more of our considerable store of rope so that we would still have the leather belts for use in our future abductions. His arms were forced behind the back of the chair and his wrists were tied individually to two of the vertical struts with the rest of the rope being brought round Richard's belly and tied off near his elbows pulling him very close to the metal chair-back.. With our prisoner helpless, we could start torturing him. We'd already ruled out interrogating him to find out who'd tipped Francis off because that would have given our identities away. (I know: just as if he wouldn't know who we were eventually.) so we wouldn't have to remove his gag.
Chris said it was a shame that we didn't have a movie camera to record the way the pillow cases were alternately billowing and being sucked towards Richard's face. It would have been very humiliating. Unfortunately, we didn't have time to do much more than shove a couple of ice cubes from our small fridge down the front of his underpants and try to locate some of his more ticklish points if we wanted to make sure we weren't going to be too late to "welcome" John back from his detention. Although, I must say that it was great fun seeing his reaction as Dave toppled the chair so that Richard was laying on his arms as Chris just confirmed that the soles of his feet were, even though they were still socked, indeed, two of those points he was searching for. Richard was still grunting and struggling for breath for some time after Dave and I had righted his chair again.
We needed to get going and wondered if we shouldn't reinforce the improvised gag that was at least rendering our guest reasonably quiet. Dave, always a practical man, just spoke gently to our prisoner. "If I was you, I'd keep quiet." he advised him, "The only people who are likely to hear you are Third-Years and I think that they might be only too happy to help us. What do you think? How many of them have you bullied so far?" Richard snorted again. "OK, I'll leave it to you to decide. We'll be back soon. Ciao." and Dave gave him a couple of little backhanders to the gut just before he picked up his bag and left with Chris and me. We made sure to close the bathroom door.
TO BE CONTINUED
Last edited by xtc on Sun May 11, 2014 11:34 am, edited 1 time in total.
Boxer shorts are cool,
but little speedos rule!
More by the same author: viewtopic.php?f=5&t=22729

### Re: WHEN THE WORMS TURNED

Post by xtc » Sun May 11, 2014 7:14 am

Feedback would be appreciated on the understanding that, if there are any mistakes, they're all Chris's responsibility for not noticing them!
(Buck neatly passed, I think.)
PS I would merely point out that my invoice has still not yet been settled and I might have to make arrangements with the Professor to get his associates to go round and have a "woordje" with the commissioner.
Boxer shorts are cool,
but little speedos rule!
More by the same author: viewtopic.php?f=5&t=22729

### Re: WHEN THE WORMS TURNED

Post by FelixSH » Sun May 11, 2014 8:09 am

I had thought about writing a story about victims punishing their tormentors myself, but I guess it would have taken at least a few month more for me to even start. So, thank you for writing my request without knowing about it.
The quality of the writing is, of course, of the expected standard. Well done, professor.

### Re: WHEN THE WORMS TURNED

Post by TLR » Sun May 11, 2014 8:53 am

Fantatic! I'm eager for the next one to get payback! Revenge is always best when they don't see it coming!

### Re: WHEN THE WORMS TURNED

Post by xtc » Sun May 11, 2014 9:19 am

Dear Felix,
The Professor I have ways of knowing these things. You are welcome.
Wassail!
Xtc
Dear TLR,
I assure you that we ensuredthe Third Years would have tried to ensure that neither of the other Fourth_Years saw it coming. Pillowcases have their uses.
Wassail!
Xtc
Dear Chris,
Thanks for making me get down to writing again.
Blessed be,
Xtc
Dear Xtc,
Has he paid yet?
Let me know.
X
Boxer shorts are cool,
but little speedos rule!
More by the same author: viewtopic.php?f=5&t=22729

### Re: WHEN THE WORMS TURNED

Post by chadmc90 » Sun May 11, 2014 10:50 am

Great story! Will there be more?
Check out my latest story A Cowboy's Dream!
Feedback highly appreciated! Feel free to Private Message me if you prefer to not post on the public forum!

### Re: WHEN THE WORMS TURNED

Post by xtc » Sun May 11, 2014 11:33 am

Yes, I'm afraid so!
Thanks for the hint, I've edited the post.
Boxer shorts are cool,
but little speedos rule!
More by the same author: viewtopic.php?f=5&t=22729

### Re: WHEN THE WORMS TURNED

Post by chadmc90 » Mon May 12, 2014 12:54 pm

> Dominik wrote:

> > chadmc90 wrote:Great story! Will there be more?

> He wrote "TO BE CONTINUED", so there is at least some hope.

Huh. I don't remember seeing that when I read it. He might of edited it in after my post. Oh well.
Check out my latest story A Cowboy's Dream!
Feedback highly appreciated! Feel free to Private Message me if you prefer to not post on the public forum!

### Re: WHEN THE WORMS TURNED

Post by xtc » Mon May 12, 2014 2:23 pm

Hi Dominik. Nice to see you on board.
Yes, the story is completed and, as long as I don't go into a sulk, it will be posted over the next month or so in about six episodes.
Chad, yes, sorry, I did edit it after you had posted and thanked you for the hint. Anything for your embarrassment and discomfiture!
Boxer shorts are cool,
but little speedos rule!
More by the same author: viewtopic.php?f=5&t=22729

### Re: WHEN THE WORMS TURNED

Post by chadmc90 » Mon May 12, 2014 5:10 pm

> xtc wrote:Hi Dominik. Nice to see you on board.
> Yes, the story is completed and, as long as I don't go into a sulk, it will be posted over the next month or so in about six episodes.
> Chad, yes, sorry, I did edit it after you had posted and thanked you for the hint. Anything for your embarrassment and discomfiture!

Another chapter?
Check out my latest story A Cowboy's Dream!
Feedback highly appreciated! Feel free to Private Message me if you prefer to not post on the public forum!

### Re: WHEN THE WORMS TURNED

Post by Veracity » Mon May 12, 2014 8:23 pm

Excellent as always. I always love it when the tormentor becomes the tormented, so this is right up my alley. Of course, your stories are always right up my alley.

### Re: WHEN THE WORMS TURNED

Post by xtc » Tue May 13, 2014 12:44 am

> Veracity wrote:Excellent as always. I always love it when the tormentor becomes the tormented, so this is right up my alley. Of course, your stories are always right up my alley.

Thank you, your support is always appreciated.

> chadmc90 wrote:

> > xtc wrote:
> > Chad, yes, sorry, I did edit it after you had posted and thanked you for the hint. Anything for your embarrassment and discomfiture!

> Another chapter?

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

### Re: WHEN THE WORMS TURNED

Post by Mister Mistoffelees » Tue May 13, 2014 2:14 am

There's always something satisfying about turnabout stories! Looking forward to more, old sport!...
Welcome to Snowden! Enter at your own risk...

### Re: WHEN THE WORMS TURNED

Post by tony2 » Tue May 13, 2014 4:48 am

As usual, very well written and very visual.
Now if you could only convince yourself that you are being read by an international audience instead of just a British one, we would not have to appeal to Rod Serling And the Twilight Zone for definitions. Nonetheless, a just revenge has long since been a world favorite since before the Merchant of Venice. Although I suspect Shakespeare may still remain unchallenged, his stuff was never as funny as yours. Keep them coming Mr. Chips.
If you believe in yourself enough -
nobody else will figure out you're faking it.
ANTS viewtopic.php?f=85&t=22496
Talk is cheap viewtopic.php?f=78&t=21971

### Re: WHEN THE WORMS TURNED

Post by xtc » Tue May 13, 2014 5:30 am

Never write in anything other than proper, British English; it only encourages them!
Have you red Launce's speech from "Two Gentlemen of Verona", the one with the dog? Now THAT's funny; fart jokes don't age. I always wonder if Billy Kemp actually wrote that part.
Boxer shorts are cool,
but little speedos rule!
More by the same author: viewtopic.php?f=5&t=22729

### Re: WHEN THE WORMS TURNED

Post by Chris12 » Sat May 17, 2014 6:48 am

I'm glad my request is so well written, and well received.

### Re: WHEN THE WORMS TURNED

Post by xtc » Sat May 17, 2014 10:12 am

Thanks for the reply. I appreciate that especially in the light of the fact that we've already communicated about it.
Boxer shorts are cool,
but little speedos rule!
More by the same author: viewtopic.php?f=5&t=22729

### Re: WHEN THE WORMS TURNED

Post by tony2 » Sun May 18, 2014 5:06 am

I'm sure Her Majesty is about ready to toss you a garter for doing so well at preserving the Queen's English. Cute story otherwise.
If you believe in yourself enough -
nobody else will figure out you're faking it.
ANTS viewtopic.php?f=85&t=22496
Talk is cheap viewtopic.php?f=78&t=21971

### Re: WHEN THE WORMS TURNED

Post by xtc » Sun May 18, 2014 7:10 am

There are very few Knights of the Garter. Plebs like me have to settle for OBE's.
Boxer shorts are cool,
but little speedos rule!
More by the same author: viewtopic.php?f=5&t=22729

### Re: WHEN THE WORMS TURNED

Post by tony2 » Sun May 18, 2014 3:08 pm

Is that still in the horn section of the Symphony?
If you believe in yourself enough -
nobody else will figure out you're faking it.
ANTS viewtopic.php?f=85&t=22496
Talk is cheap viewtopic.php?f=78&t=21971

### Re: WHEN THE WORMS TURNED

Post by xtc » Mon May 19, 2014 12:52 am

No, woodwind!
According to my late (Communist) Father in law, it stands for "Other Buggers' Efforts".
Boxer shorts are cool,
but little speedos rule!
More by the same author: viewtopic.php?f=5&t=22729

### Re: WHEN THE WORMS TURNED

Post by tony2 » Mon May 19, 2014 3:10 am

laughing loudly, roar of applause in background faint chant heard "workers of the world, Unite" (IWW Everett and Seattle Shingle workers unions circa 1920s)
If you believe in yourself enough -
nobody else will figure out you're faking it.
ANTS viewtopic.php?f=85&t=22496
Talk is cheap viewtopic.php?f=78&t=21971

### Re: WHEN THE WORMS TURNED

Post by FelixSH » Tue May 20, 2014 2:31 pm

I think I like Chas. What a noble person.
Nice continuation.

### Re: WHEN THE WORMS TURNED

Post by xtc » Tue May 20, 2014 2:37 pm

Oh, I think he just needed bringing out of himself.
Boxer shorts are cool,
but little speedos rule!
More by the same author: viewtopic.php?f=5&t=22729

### Re: WHEN THE WORMS TURNED

Post by xtc » Sun May 25, 2014 4:48 am

WHEN THE WORMS TURNED
After John's Detention
By the time John had got back to his dorm, The Stones had finished long ago but still hardly any Fourth-Years had returned from morning activities and certainly there were none like Richard, who wanted to get their prep completed in good time. John was surprised not to see his friend still at work when he returned and, after calling out and getting no reply, he went into his normal routine. I know my brother and that routine could be guaranteed.
He would remove the uniform that he would have had to wear for his detention, strip to his underpants, grab his towel and his toilet bag and head for the shower. I waited behind the door with Dave and Chris hid in the bog. John entered the bathroom, slammed the door without looking and threw his gear onto the bench. By the time I had forced the new set of pillow cases over his head, he had already slipped his hands into the waistband of his loose white boxers ready to step out of them. Dave slipped the belt over his head and shoulders and quickly fastened it too tightly for comfort before taking him down and Chris immediately pounced and taped the fabric round his neck.
By the time John had got round to saying, "What the fuck . . .?" he was stuffed.
"Listen, Mister, just behave and you won't get hurt." The American cop was on duty again.
"If that's you, Maggot, you're a fucking dead man."
"Ooooha, crap!" Our parents wouldn't have approved of our language at that stage.
"Now let me up and I'll only beat the crap out of you once." Even though I was used to my brother's terms of endearment, I also knew he meant them and it had become very important that he shouldn't escape before we'd finished with him. At least now I could remove my balaclava.
Even with both Dave and me sitting on him and tying to push him into the tiles, John was bucking much too violently for Chris to fasten his ankles and the amount of noise he was making might well have drawn unwanted attention to what was going on. Chris left us to it and dropped the stylus onto the Rolling Stones once more.
OK, desperate illnesses require desperate remedies. It was time for dirty tactics. Chris came back from his disguise mission, positioned himself between John's flailing legs and wrapped his right arm around his right calf so that it was tucked firmly into his armpit . "Right, Big Man, last chance." John suggested that Chris should make love elsewhere. "Is your big brother ticklish, Al?"
"Don't you fucking dare, you scrawny little dick!" There was genuine panic that John could not quite disguise by belligerence. He was suddenly anticipating imminent humiliation.
"Perhaps you'd better investigate, Inspector." Chris put just a little more stress on John's leg and held on a bit more tightly and set about satisfying his curiosity with the fingers of his left hand.
"Experiment one. Result: one hundred percent positive." Dave and I were having some difficulty riding the bucking bronco that was John Goddard.. The threats were subsiding. "And now, experiment two, what about this bit here?" John really panicked in the few seconds while Chris leaned forward a bit more and started his treatment on the inside of his thigh. "Bingo!" By now John had started pleading. My big brother was strong for a fifteen year-old but his almost all-pervading ticklishness was the only chink I had ever managed to discover in his armour.
"Should I stop now, Al?"
"Do you think he'll do what we want - if we ask nicely?"
"I think he might. Perhaps just one more little go on his sole."
Chris assumed the words, "Aa - h aa - hu ssss fucking yes! Pleeease." constituted a promise, or at least he stopped his more intense tickling and settled for just a gentle stroking of the trapped sole while Dave issued his instructions.
Even with my brother's assumed surrender, we still thought it was better to play safe and Chris repositioned himself to put his subject into a Boston crab. Dave would have been the better choice but the hand-over would have been very insecure. Good as his word, while Chris (and John's back) took the strain, Dave managed to strap his wrists behind his back in the approved manner without needing to force his arms to move against the strap securing them to his sides. How fortunate it was that he was about to remove his boxers when we attacked, it had positioned his elbows in a most convenient manner.
Chris decided that, if he strapped John's ankles so that they were forced to cross, it might be useful in case either of us wanted to confirm his experimental results. Now all that was left was to ensure that John couldn't attract unwanted interest to our venture. I wasn't sure that we could trust his word to last any longer than a polo mint. However, we did find it very useful to have Richard shouting the odds when we needed to gag him.
Dave and I pulled John to his knees and Chris positioned himself in case any further persuasion was necessary. My sweaty big brother was now trapping his own ankles very conveniently in case our scientist needed access to them. He just thought it might be instructive if he staged a slight demonstration. John promised to behave almost before Chris got started.
I still thought it would be wise to Sellotape round his eyes before rolling his hood up to clear his mouth. As I did so, I just chattered away smugly interrupted only slightly by my brother's warnings that his time would come. I even thought I might have to do something to provoke him into shouting before I could gag him.
Dave waited for me to be ready and tried what he had found to work on me when he wanted to test the device he had made and which I now held in my hand. "John"
"What!!? The next part was pure timing: as soon as John opened his mouth, Dave pulled his head backwards by holding on to the pillow case and I shoved the thing in. John's reflex reaction was to bite down on it so, once Dave had pulled his head forwards again, all I had to do was to thread the strap and tighten the thing almost before John could figure out what had happened.
"Yes! It worked!" I announced, "Just like it worked on your little brother!" Dave was very pleased with himself. He had drilled through a dog's ball and threaded it onto a bit of thick doweling. He had threaded two large split rings through holes that he'd drilled near the ends and buckled a leather strap through one of them. It was a matter of seconds to undo the buckle, thread it through the other ring and pull as tight as I could. That hurt!
John immediately started protesting. That was no surprise, really. He tried straightening his legs and fell forwards straight away. Once the initial outburst had subsided, Dave put it to him. What it boiled down to was that, if John stopped shouting, he would loosen the strap by one notch. If that didn't meet with John's approval, he would try to tighten it again and find something to force behind the ball. That was pure bluff but, when Dave suggested that John might be wearing that something at the minute, he seemed to believe him. His body flopped, in as much as it was capable of flopping, to the floor. We had him!
-----00000-----
"OK, Chris, your turn to call the taxi. Don't bother to find a clean one." Chris displayed his renowned dimpled grin while I taped the open ends of the pillow cases round the neck of our new guest.
Dave explained to John that he was about to go on an adventure and I pointed out that, OK, he could make a noise and try to get rescued but that, if he did and I got into trouble for it, he needn't think that I wouldn't dob him in to mum and dad for what he'd done to me. Dave took over and pointed out that there was no way he could tell who he might be asking to rescue him and wouldn't it be a shame if the person he called on was one of those kids who him and his thugs had ducked and tied up a few weeks ago. My turn again. I told him that, if he manned up and took his beats this time, perhaps we wouldn't recruit a few more of his victims who we were pretty sure still wanted a little word with him for a later revenge attack. We thought he was coming to see things our way.
By the time Chris returned with one of the large wheeled bins that were kept by the kitchen doors, James was sitting quietly against the wall, resigned to his fate. That bin had been emptied but it certainly hadn't been hosed out or disinfected. It was ripe and redolent of all our least favourite bits of the past few days' menus.
Obviously, it wasn't the sort of container that would have been brought into a dorm block so Chris flipped the flexible lid and pushed it up against the window. Dave didn't seem to be so keen to climb in the skip this time. I can't think why. However, someone had to lay down his life for his country and the other two pointed out that John was my brother and therefore my responsibility. Mine not to reason why, mine but . . .
We pushed a table against the window and I climbed out of it and into the fragrant bin to await the imminent delivery of my brother. Chris and Dave hauled him up onto the table and between the three of us we manoeuvred him through the window and, somewhat unceremoniously, into the bin. In an attempt to retain what was left of his self-respect, John did manage to subdue his cries of surprise and anguish. I even put my mouth close to is ear. "Awright?" John grunted and pulled himself away from me. I took that as a 'yes'.
I climbed out of the bin and, with more "When they ask us (When they ask us ) who we are (who we are), we're from Blackwood (we're from Blackwood) migh'y, migh'y Blackwood, etc." the bin made its noisy way to the widow of our dorm. There was no one around so we decided that it would be easier to tip the bin slightly before fishing John out and simply carrying him round to the door and along the corridor to our dorm. Any of our own year who saw us would only have wanted to join in when we told them who our tightly wrapped prisoner was. We would probably have been only too pleased to allow them to do so.
The transfer was uneventful and we dragged John into the bathroom where Richard was still struggling to free himself from the chair. The ice had melted but he'd made very little progress towards freedom.
"Oh look, he's wet himself. Naughty baby!" Chris grabbed the Polaroid camera and took another photograph. He'd never been known to be nasty to anyone previously but he was prepared to make certain exceptions in the light of his welcome to Blackwood Manor.
Obviously neither guest knew who his fellow sufferer was but they'd soon work it out. We looked at John and, for what was probably the first time in my thirteen years, I felt sorry for him. For all of, perhaps, ten seconds before I remembered all the cruel things he'd done to me. I still thought I should loosen the strap that was digging viciously into his arms but only by one hole. I did it and checked that he was still secure. He grunted.
-----00000-----
It would have probably been safe enough to leave my big brother lying on his belly on the toilet floor but Dave didn't think that was good enough so he got a length of rope and drew his crossed wrists towards his crossed ankles. The hogtie wasn't particularly strict but it did just make a point to reinforce what we hoped were John's feelings of helplessness. He wasn't even bothering to try to speak any more. I started to worry about what he was planning for the holidays. Dave planted his foot on his trophy and the sound of the Polaroid was heard again. Following his trophy photograph, the White Hunter used the rest of the length of rope to tether John loosely to the toilet bowl.
Chris needed to get the bin back to avoid suspicion and we'd even prepared for that. Over the past few weeks we'd been storing rubbish in Chris's locker so that we could at least fill the bin sufficiently for it to look as though someone had done a punishment litter collection. I said that the locker didn't smell as bad as it did when it contained Chris's dirty socks. Early on we'd refused to let him keep them in the dorm. He replied that, judging from where he was standing at the minute, standing anywhere near either of the Goddard brothers was only slightly less popular as a way of passing the time than gouging his own eyes out with a spoon. He had a point!
We were elated: two down, one to go. We emptied several plastic refuses sacks into the skip and Chris said that he might be a while returning the thing as he would find a few waste bins on the way to make it look more like a proper job. He also asked us to make sure to remind him that Kevin owed him one at a suitable time. Kevin was a Third year from Dorm 3f and Chris had offered to do his litter collecting punishment for him without explaining why. Kevin couldn't care why as long as Chris did as he had promised.
We didn't have much time to entertain our second visitor if we were to be in time to receive Ed but we did turn up the Beatles tape I had recorded just so that they could enjoy some real music for a change.
Ed Has a Surprise
Being fourteen already, Ed had signed up for the Duke of Edinburgh's Award and spent a couple of hours every other Saturday on a voluntary project that usually involved him working for lesser-able people. He was basically a nice kid, except for when he was hanging around with Richard and my shit-bag brother. He was strongly built and very fond of most physical activities (including the girlfriend who he got only some Sundays to spend with in term time).
Even though it was October, it was an Indian Summer with temperatures well above average. Ed completed his commitment for the day and started running back to school. He wanted to get into the school pool before it closed so he'd even used his swimming trunks as underwear to save time. He ran in his Adidas three-stripe shorts and some old plimsoles (That's what we had before trainers) but, being a warm day, he'd stuffed his top into his back-pack. He looked good but he was aware of it.
Dave and I could only hope that he would need to return to his dorm before jumping in the water. If he didn't, we would never be able to get our revenge on him. We couldn't even ring his "client" with a bogus message. We just had to hope. We waited. And we waited.
Eventually, Chris arrived stealthily and said that he thought he'd seen Ed running up the drive. The first activity sessions had still not finished so the Fourth Year Dorm was still more or less deserted. The Masked Avengers waited once more.
Ed arrived, panting heavily after his run, threw his back-pack, that he had already discarded, onto is desk and grabbed for his beach towel before he fell to the ground hooded with Dave and me pinning him down. Three out of three, not bad.
If Ed had not been working so hard outside and not taken a five mile run, he probably would have been more difficult to handle but, in spite of his muscles, he wasn't much taller than Dave and the element of surprise lasted until we'd had him hooded, his arms bound and the little running shorts slipped off him. They snagged a bit on his plimsoles but it didn't take much longer before he was wearing only his red nylon swimming costume.
None of us could be bothered with the disguised voices any longer but Ed was surprisingly easy to imprison. We only had two belts so we had to tie his ankles with yet more of our generous supply of rope.
Obviously Ed wasn't quiet throughout the process but he certainly wasn't making as much noise (or being as foul-mouthed) as the other two. He seemed to know that his fate was sealed and perhaps didn't even realise at that stage that we were only Third-Years. Chris proceeded with the usual application of Sellotape round Ed's eyes. He even seemed quite cooperative. "I suppose you're going to gag me now?" Hang on, was he enjoying this? A careful look at him confirmed that he probably was. "It's OK. Whoever you are, you've got me and I know you'll have to let me go soon so why should I make things difficult?"
-----00000-----
We were somewhat surprised and not a little annoyed: the dark-haired skinhead wasn't supposed to be enjoying this! Oh well, if he insisted . . .
Chris cut the Sellotape round Ed's neck and rolled up the hood. He didn't even throw his head back in an attempt to see. He simply opened up. I pushed another of Dave's specially made gags behind his teeth and strapped it quite tightly behind his bowed head. I couldn't really tell if his next statement was a protest or a statement of appreciation. I even asked him if he was alright. He nodded positively so Chris rolled the hood down again.
"Should I tape it?"
"Doesn't look as if it's necessary."
"OK." Chris started to pack the by now much depleted roll of tape. Ed started wriggling and trying to speak, not to shout, just to speak. "What? Do you want it taped round your neck again" Ed stopped struggling. Chris finished his work and expressed the hope that we had another roll back at base.
"OK, whose turn is it to call the taxi?" It was obviously Dave's turn and he said that he'd go for that huge wheelbarrow that the gardener always left propped up near the compost heap. He'd also seen some large sacks.
Dave soon returned with his desired trophies and wheeled them into the dorm block We had to hurry, it was getting near lunchtime and we needed to get Ed out of there soon.
We loaded the muscular kid into the wheelbarrow, hitched his feet inside and loaded our packs on top of him. Once we'd tucked the large sacks carefully around him, we got the distinct impression that he wouldn't give us much trouble as Dave lifted the handles of the barrow and made his way quickly to Dorm Block 3. He pushed the barrow into the block and straight into Dorm 3a. We got a few looks from the early returners but Chris just said we were doing some indoor gardening. I thought the aside about me being the compost heap was a bit mean.
-----00000-----
"Revolver" had stopped playing some time before and Dave tipped Ed onto the floor, picked up the sacks and ran off with the barrow before it could be missed. Chris and I checked up on Richard and John. John's straps had not given any more than sweat and use would have allowed but Richard had made some progress towards freeing his right wrist.
"Naughty boy." I admonished him, "Needs more rope." Richard resumed his attempts to make himself heard. I clapped my hand over where his mouth obviously was and suggested that he keep up the noise because some of our Year were going to be back soon and they would really want to come and see what was happening. I suggested that we might even remove the hoods so that the little kids could recognise our prisoners. He took the hint. So did John.
By the time Dave had returned, Chris had shoved Richard's wrists back where they were supposed to be and was still tying his right arm to the back of the chair.
So far, we had ignored Ed who had made hardly any noise since he'd been dumped on the floor. Now I expect he was feeling somewhat left out. Dave lifted him onto Chris's study chair and started tying him to it. He forced a rope between his right arm and his body several times so that Ed's right arm was secured to the chair. Following a repeat procedure on his left arm, Dave decided that he ought to remove the belt round his arms. Looking at the angry red marks, we thought Dave had made the correct decision.
"You finished?"
"Nah, not yet. Think what would happen if he stood up."
"What could he do? He can't see."
"Imagine being hit by that chair if he was thrashing around even if you got hit by accident." As if to demonstrate, Ed started to stand up. Dave and I forced him down again. When I say, "forced", he didn't seem to resist much and Dave went for another rope. He tied it like a belt round Ed's narrow waist twice and the twice more round not only his waist but a couple of the spars of the chair as well. Ed's hands were now firmly trapped between his back and the chair. Dave tied the rope off tightly in front of Ed's waist, held the ends together and forced them between his legs and under his bum. For the first time since his abduction Ed squealed loudly. He could obviously imagine what was about to happen.
As Ed continued to protest, Dave reassured him that, if he cooperated, he'd make sure that the ropes didn't pinch too much. Ed seemed to believe him because he calmed down and breathed in even more than the ropes were forcing him to do already. Dave pulled the ropes trough and saw Ed tense as he pulled them tight against his privates. Dave, being an honest kid, pulled one strand to pass each side of Ed's now rather too prominent bulge. Ed half groaned, half sighed. Dave pulled tight again and asked Chris to pull his new guest's feet back so that he could pass the ropes between his ankles.
When the two of them had finished, Ed had been forced right back against the back of the chair with his feet unable to reach the ground. Dave must have learnt that technique somewhere!
Chris took another Polaroid. Ed wouldn't want anyone seeing that one.
TO BE CONTINUED
Boxer shorts are cool,
but little speedos rule!
More by the same author: viewtopic.php?f=5&t=22729

### Re: WHEN THE WORMS TURNED

Post by xtc » Sun May 25, 2014 4:54 am

WHEN THE WORMS TURNED
The Worms Burrow In
It was getting towards lunchtime and, although it was hardly a major meal, it was a chance to eat fresh doughnuts and rather less fresh sandwiches and even fresh fruit for the health freaks. It was also a chance to grab a hot drink for those who wanted it. The main reason for not missing lunch, however, was the opportunity to meet up with friends before getting down to prep or getting the freedom of the town for a few hours.
Obviously we couldn't all go at once all the while there was a danger of someone bursting in and seeing our guests. We weren't so much worried about our prisoners being released but more about vengeance being exacted upon them while they were helpless to a greater extent than was safe. Not that they didn't deserved it but we thought we knew where to draw the line. So it was agreed that I should go first, gab a quick lunch (I wouldn't be allowed to take it away from the 'Fect') and then return to relieve the other two. No one gave a thought about leaving our guests hungry, indeed we were only sorry that we wouldn't be allowed to bring our food back and eat it in front of them.
I'm not all that fond of exercise (except for judo and swimming) but I ran to the lunch "queue" and spent very little time waiting. Kevin was also near the front of the scrum. Now that he'd enjoyed his unexpected freedom, curiosity had eventually got the better of him. He really wanted to know now why Chris wanted to do his litter collecting for him. I told him that, if he scoffed his lunch quickly and came with me, I'd show him. I knew that Kevin had been framed for that graffiti and I had a good idea who was responsible. So did he but there's no way he could dob the culprit in. Let's be honest, getting a detention is no disgrace but dobbing in the true culprit is and letting a innocent man do your time is inhuman. I'd had thirteen years to come to the conclusion that at least one of our guests was inhuman. What a good job it doesn't run in the family.
We chucked our apple cores, undetected, in the approximate direction of the bins and ran back to the Third Year Dorm Block. As we approached the entrance steps, I made Kevin promise not to make a sound and to stand only just inside the door to the Dorm while I closed it and until he was told he could move. I told him it was a safety matter and, in the light of what I assumed he would like to do to my brother, I suppose it was.
Kevin was as good as his word. We entered Dorm 3a and I closed the door. "Have you met my brother?" I asked innocently as I opened the bathroom door. Kevin stood his ground; he was dumbstruck seeing what was obviously John hogtied and hooded on the toilet floor. He failed the other condition after a few seconds and there was then another schoolboy whose parents wouldn't approve of his language.
Kevin was delighted. He approached the squirming bully, knelt near him with his arms spread in amazement.
"Come on, lads, be fair, we can't let a civilian torture our prisoners without a fair trial." Chris was always a spoilsport.
Dave was of an almost equally fair frame of mind. "OK. Is he guilty or not guilty?" Three voices delivered the completely unbiased verdict.
"Sorry, mate, I did try." said Chris disingenuously, clapping my brother on the shoulder. By now John was really giving it some again.
"Allen, why don't you go and open the door? Let's see who else might want a word with these three?"
"You know, you're such a considerate kid?" I turned to do as Dave suggested. John's frantic wriggling and head shaking seemed to indicate that he'd rather that didn't happen. Richard seemed to concur.
"If you don't want to attract attention, then, you'd better shut up." Immediately silence reigned; a silence interrupted only by the laboured breathing of the prisoners and reinforce by an extremely smug silence of its own on the part of the four of us. It was still more than slightly amusing to see the pillow cases alternately hugging the faces of our guests and billowing grotesquely.
"OK, you two, better go and grab some scran. Kev'll help me look after these three."
"Happy to." Kev offered me his right palm. I slapped it.
"OK, won't be long."
"Don't start torturing them till we get back."
"Aaah, as if we would."
"Just don't. That's all." With that Dave and Chris ran off to join the bun-fight.
-----00000-----
Kevin still couldn't really believe what he was seeing. I introduced him to Richard with a stealthy tickle of his belly-button not that it was really necessary and Kevin declared, "Edward Livingstone, I presume" giving each of the rubicund boy's nipples a vicious twist. That did nothing for Ed's "composure".
We left the bathroom to make ourselves more comfortable until Dave and Chris returned. Kev moved Dave's study chair to where he could keep an eye on the prisoners and sat on it. I sat on my bed and I brought Kevin up to date with our plans. Each new proposed indignity met with renewed protests from our guests.
"Y'know that little kid in my Dorm?"
"What? Little Chas?"
"Yeah." Richard's head moved as though he was interested. "D'y' know he got bog-washed four times last week?" All the Fourth Years became noticeably still and as completely quiet as their breathing and their hoods would allow.
"D'y' know who did it."
"I found him on Wednesday crying in the bog but he wouldn't squeal."
"Yeah, can't blame him really."
"That's not all. I found him again on Thursday."
"What, bog-washed again?"
"And the rest. They'd made him strip and throw his clothes, except for the bits they wanted to use, out of the window. I found him sitting in just his pants with his ankles tied round the toilet bowl with his tie. He couldn't reach round to undo it because they'd used his own shoelaces to tie his wrists behind him and even to tie his thumbs together. By the time I'd found him, the laces had dug into his wrists so badly I could still see the marks yesterday. Daft little oik didn't want to show me, though.
"Poor little sod. He's even shorter than Chris and scrawnier than either of us." Richard appeared to be trying to make a point. Kev went across to reason with him. After the muffled squealing stopped, Richard settled down again.
Things remained peaceful until Chris and Dave returned and I went for that much needed shower and change. When I re-emerged, I was complaining none too seriously that Richard was taking up too much room in the shower. Being a boarding school the Dorm showers were large and intended for communal use so my complaint about Richard taking up room was completely disingenuous. I had changed into another pair of black trackie bottoms but was still bare-chested as I completed towelling off what was left of my hair after the regulation school haircut. Richard didn't seem to enjoy having been left to drip dry, especially after I had dutifully rinsed the shower with cold water after I'd got out of it.
Kev had shared Chas's story with the other two and the three of them had decided upon a course of action. Even though I hadn't been consulted, their decision was obviously the correct one and, as long as he agreed to it, it had certain advantages for our plans.
Meet Chas
Once I had agreed to the new plan, Kev left us to see whether Chas would agree. It took him about half an hour of reassurances before the little guy would agree to come and meet our guests. He was somewhat reassured when he found out that they were all blindfolded, and Kev told him that he could back out at any time.
Chas was probably the shortest, and certainly the skinniest kid in the year. He had large, dark eyes that always seemed to be on the move and an unruly shock of very black hair that contrasted with his almost translucent pale complexion. We all carefully avoided using his name, not that any reasonably intelligent tormentor would have had much difficulty working it out but, of course, it was much too late to continue trying to disguise our own identities.
As soon as he saw the three bullies bound, blindfolded and helpless, Chas squealed with delight but he still seemed reluctant to approach them. He had certainly recognised his hooded tormentors even though he had still wouldn't confirm their identities when Kev named them. Just his recognition was enough to confirm what we knew.
"It's alright mate, don't be afraid, look." I went over to my brother, gave him a warning scrape right down the length of his left foot with my well-bitten right thumbnail. His reaction was unavoidable and Chas giggled while still keeping very close to Kevin. "My big brother here loves being tickled. See? Chas's delight deepened as the bigger kid writhed completely helplessly under my subsequent tickling assault. "Wan' a go?"
Chas still seemed to be a bit reluctant so Kev put his arm round his shoulders and urged him gently towards the creature that was frantically trying to wriggle away from where he thought I might be in spite of his still being tethered to the loo. "Dave, you're the strong man. Why don't you and I just hold John-Boy still so that my little mate here can have a go safely?"
Dave was certainly not reluctant and soon he was sitting on the floor with Kevin as they put stress on John's legs and back as they held his shins immovably, "OK, mate, come on, have a go." Chas plucked up courage and mounted a concerted ten digit assault on John's undefended soles. Kevin had even better defined muscles than Dave, although he was smaller, and even those two had difficulty holding firmly onto their victim.
"Just lean back a bit, that should stress him enough to make him easier to handle." I was full of good ideas, especially when it came to torturing my brother. It was almost as if he was in a Boston crab again when an increasingly confident Chas straddled his back and renewed his most extreme assault.
"No subtlety, some people."
"No, great, isn't he?"
After a few minutes Chris called Chas off and Kev and Dave let go of John and checked to see that he was still secure.
"OK, Champ, get your breath back." I wanted our man rested before he entertained his next subject. "Which one do you want next?" Chas pointed to indicate his choice. "Aaaalrighteee! Just sit down for a few minutes, gather your strength and we'll get him ready for you." By the way they were behaving, you'd have thought that being silent alone would allow Richard and Ed to find out whose turn it was next. We tried to give no clue as Kev drew a glass of water for the little kid. Thinking back now, that was the first time I had seen Chas so much as smile since he'd joined the school.
-----00000----
"I expect you two want to know who's next." Dave was obviously keen for the torture to continue. He'd obviously worked out his next move quite carefully so that he would get the right decision. "OK Kev, help me get this creature into the shower next to his skinny mate and we'll dip for it." Between the two of them there were soon two boys tied to chairs in the shower. Dave stood behind them and delivered light slaps to their heads as he dipped out, "Eeny, meany, miny, mo . . ." When he got to the ". . . you - are - not - it." he slapped Ed last leaving Richard knowing that he was to be next to suffer God only knew what torment.
"Wait a minute, safety first." Chris took Dave's place and checked Richard's bindings carefully. With his arms bound to the chair, he hadn't managed to come anywhere near slipping his wrists from the rope this time.
"While you're in there Chris, just undo that hood and check his gag, he was starting to sound funny when he was swearing at me just now."
"OK. I'll just try to find the end of the Sellotape." This was a guy speaking who bit his nails for England. Judging by Richard's vocal reaction, it must have caused him considerable distress while Chris mauled his head and scrabbled around against is neck trying to unstick the clear tape.
"Come on Chris, let me help." Dave was the only one of the three original conspirators with any nails at all.
"Nah, this is fun. Isn't it Rich?"
Richard's reply of, " 'Un' ", was rather more recognisable than it should have been.
Eventually Chris loosened an end and unwrapped the tape as quickly as he could. Richard qualified his original assertion adding an only too recognisable participle.
"Oooo look, who's been a busy boy, then." The Sellotape in Richard's mouth still held but he must have put in a lot of tongue work to squeeze that ball and force it into the cavity formed by the top of his mouth and the constriction provided by the tape. No wonder Chris could nearly understand him well enough to take exception to what he was being called. "Now let's just put that thing back into a more comfortable place." Chris wasn't stupid enough to operate without 'anaesthetic' because Richard could certainly close his jaws enough to bite him quite hard so he asked both me and Dave to help. "Now, open wide."
Dave held his head firmly from behind and Richard thought it would be better to do as he was asked, especially as I had also done what I had been asked to do: I had positioned the heel of my recently replaced right army boot on the front of the seat between Richard's widely spread legs and put just a little pressure on that which was thus exposed with the toe. Richard may have been a thug but he was not a stupid one, that was my brother's job.
With his patient safe, Doctor Chris operated and moved the saturated ball back behind the Sellotape. "Should do until we get finished, shame we only made two proper gags."
"Don't bother taping that hood down again. You know what we said." Chris just rolled the pillowcases down again and left them flapping. At least Richard would be able to breathe more easily now but the, "You know what we said." had obviously not gone without notice.
The Doctor and his Nurses retired and Kev silently indicated that it was time for Chas to take his revenge. He was obviously getting into his role because he realised that if he delayed his assault, it would build up the apprehension in his subject. Richard obviously realised that there was somebody standing over him and almost wished that whatever assault he was to suffer would start. Chas giggled.
You could see Richard tense up. The panther pounced. His fingers were all around Richard's midriff as the chair clanked around the floor of the shower. Chas took a break. Chris pronounced himself satisfied with how he had readjusted Richard's gag. Chas appraised his target. He approached again and deliberately gave a little cough, Richard tensed up again and Chas drew his index fingers slowly up the insides of his thighs until he was touching cloth (as they say). Then he stopped. Richard's recent opportunity to breathe more easily seemed to have been unappreciated. Then the wildcat struck again. Alternating assaults upon the victim's lower torso and upper thighs left him no way of knowing where he would be attacked next. Up 'til then we didn't realise what an evil little git Chas really was.
By the time he decided to take a rest, Chas was cackling like a hyena and Richard was left snorting gently and making that funny noise that is half way between a moan and a sigh as he recovered.
"OK Champ, I think he's had enough." Chas disagreed although he'd still managed not to say anything that might identify himself. He really had it in for Richard. After a few minutes, he stood in front of him again. Richard whined. Chas turned his head to look at us and pointed to Richard's feet.
"Yes, why not" Dave didn't seem to like Richard much either. He tipped the chair backwards. "Go on then, take his socks off first." That previously unknown smile stretched from one of Chas's ears to the other. Dave laid the chair on the floor of the shower and Chas tried pulling both socks off at once. All Richard's attempts to jerk himself free prompted Chris to go and sit on his chest. That pushed his bodyweight and that of Chris against the spars that formed the back of the chair and they in turn were pushed heavily onto his bound arms. I couldn't help remarking that the design the school had chosen could have been made specially for accommodating bullies. Richard didn't seem to appreciate such fine points.
Chas was left kneeling on the tiled floor with a rather nasty, short white sock in each hand. Chris thought he'd just seen somewhere that they'd fit quite nicely. He rolled up the pillow cases again and held up his right hand up behind his head for one of the socks. While he went to work stuffing it into the very tight space that was available to him between the tape and the ball, he asked me to go and get 'that special first-aid kit I showed you'. When I returned with it, he had arranged the other sock across Richard's mouth and was trying to tuck it into whatever space remained.
He held it into place while I opened the small cardboard box that I'd retrieved. You know, it would have been much more effective if Richard could have seen what was inevitably about to happen to him. Never mind, you can't have everything. Chris had 'obtained' about a two foot length of that really sticky fabric-based, dark pink Elastoplast. (You must remember, this was before the days of all this hypoallergenic nonsense that doesn't stick to bugger all.) He suggested that I be his guest so I stripped the backing strips off of the first few inches. Dave knelt and squeezed the unfortunate kid's head between his knees and I carefully applied the tape by the point of his jaw. I smoothed it into place as the plaster reached his lips, stripped more of the protective backing free and smoothed it over his well-stuffed mouth. It's a good job that Dave has strong thighs! A further application of pink plaster left Richard taped from ear to ear. I couldn't finish the job unless someone gave me a pair of scissors or unless Dave released Richard's head.
A short committee meeting decided that Dave should be allowed to get up off his knees so Chris leaned forward and grabbed our victim's ears through his hood. It's a good job that Chris had no nails. He pulled Richard's head clear of the floor and complained that the hood didn't allow him to hold on to the short hairs on his temples, you know: the ones that really cause pain when you twist them. In spite of that handicap Chris held the head still enough for me to plaster the Elastoplast round the back of Richard's neck and to overlap it in front once more.
"Just keep hold a minute, mate" As Chris continued to secure my target, I made sure to rub the plaster firmly against the short, dark hairs at the back of his neck. That would hurt when he tried to remove it. Chris released his hold allowing Richard's head to fall back again but I did make sure that my hand was behind it; alright, I wanted to hurt him but not to concuss him. "Tell me how kind I am. Oh, that's not very polite. OK, Titch, over to you."
I got up and stood with my foot on one of the back legs of the chair that was restraining our guest and Dave secured the other one. With Chris still more or less comfortably seated, that chair was going nowhere.
Just as well!
The rattling against the floor, snorting and eventual subdued screaming must have gone on for ten minutes before Chas announced himself satisfied. He still didn't speak, merely gave us a double thumbs up.
Chris dismounted and Dave and Kevin righted the chair again. It was tempting to check to see that Richard was alright. Well, not all that tempting really.
-----00000-----
Chas sat on the free study chair and Kevin massaged the "Champ's" shoulders and cooled him with a towel (- MY towel!-) just as if he was a boxer between rounds. Chris produced a celebratory Tizer bottle that had somehow resisted the predations of his Dorm-mates (He was getting sneaky!) and passed it round. The sweet, bright red fizzy confection was certainly well received. "Well, if you two hadn't filled my locker with rubbish, I wouldn't've had anywhere to hide it, would I?" Our good humour grew with the sugar hit, a hit that was reinforced by our enjoyment of the Jaffa Cakes that 'someone' had liberated from our guests' dorm.
Dave soon got itchy digits again. "OK, Livingstone, looks like your turn now." But Chas held his hands out in front of him, palms forwards and shook his head. Four other Third Year pupils looked puzzled. Chas beckoned Kev to listen to him and whispered in his ear. Kev nodded.
Once he had closed the bathroom door, Kev spoke very quietly, well, I suppose it had to happen sometime, "Chas said that Ed wasn't involved except in his first, simple bogwash on the first day and he thinks, in the tradition of the school, that he was fair game what with it being his first day and all." We all agreed that that was reasonable. "He just thinks that it isn't fair to torture Ed for no reason."
We looked at Chas as though he'd just told us that the Christmas Holidays had been cancelled. He hunched his narrow shoulders and held out is hands in a 'what more can I say' gesture. "My little mate, you've got a lot to learn." Dave saw absolutely no reason that mere innocence should stop Ed being tortured and anyhow to let him off wouldn't be fair on the others. Kev, Chris and I couldn't fault his logic.
Dave opened the bathroom door again and Ed had obviously realised what was about to happen. It would have been coarse to point out the increased tightness of Ed's swimmers in the circumstances - so obviously we did. Ed moaned.
The way that Dave had tied the athletic kid meant that any move he made with one part of his body put extra stress on some other part. At least it wouldn't be too easy to get access to the insides of his thighs. Dave settled on the floor behind him and reached under the chair to grab the rope that was pulling his feet off the ground. He asked me to hand him the toothbrush that the mysterious 'someone' had taken from the bathroom in Dorm 4c and left on the shower floor against need. He scraped the end of the handle cruelly down each of his soles before subjecting each of them to a protracted scrubbing. He didn't even neglect the 'inter-toe' areas.
"Take it easy, mate, it looks as if he might be enjoying it." Ed squealed and jerked around uncontrollably. I still don't believe that he really thought the humiliation was worth the guilty pleasure, especially now that his secret was out. Dave eventually had mercy and abandoned his subject to his embarrassment and exhaustion.
Now we had to decide whether our original plan for the continued entertainment of our guests was still feasible.
TO BE CONTINUED
Boxer shorts are cool,
but little speedos rule!
More by the same author: viewtopic.php?f=5&t=22729

### Re: WHEN THE WORMS TURNED

Post by xtc » Sun May 25, 2014 4:56 am

Sorry about the mystery of the comments about Chas appearing before he did; I posted chapters in the wrong order!
Right, everything is now i the right order.
Sorry about that.
Boxer shorts are cool,
but little speedos rule!
More by the same author: viewtopic.php?f=5&t=22729

### Re: WHEN THE WORMS TURNED

Post by tony2 » Sun May 25, 2014 6:17 am

> xtc wrote:Right, everything is now i the right order.
> Sorry about that.
> Anyone who is following and thinks they have read this part before, - you have!
> Please look at the NEW episode posted above this one.

And here I thought the computer hated only me! Nice to have company.....
Cute descriptions, very visual.
I see you are getting a lot of use from that British slang thesaurus. I suppose you could write it in Old English to be even more obtuse but then only a few of us would understand it.
Good job though as usual
If you believe in yourself enough -
nobody else will figure out you're faking it.
ANTS viewtopic.php?f=85&t=22496
Talk is cheap viewtopic.php?f=78&t=21971

### Re: WHEN THE WORMS TURNED

Post by xtc » Sun May 25, 2014 6:28 am

I don't need the thesaurus; I am a native speaker!
The main difficulty is remembering which terms were not current a few decades ago.
Boxer shorts are cool,
but little speedos rule!
More by the same author: viewtopic.php?f=5&t=22729