## There's a Soccer Born Every Minute (mmmmmm/m)

Post by Jason Toddman » Thu May 30, 2013 2:22 pm

Another one for Soccerblue
THERE’S A SOCCER BORN EVERY MINUTE
“So, Jake…” the blond captain of the Soccer team said to the prospective recruit with a not-fully-concealed sneer on his handsome face and an even less-well-concealed tone of sarcasm in his voice; “you think you have what it takes to join the Mighty Bucks?”
“You bet I do,” Jake replied with casual self-confidence; if he noticed the other boy’s rather offensive manner, he didn’t show it. “I’m the best goalie you’ll ever meet in this town who isn’t already out of high school!”
Charlie, the 17-year-old team captain, looked at the new boy up and down with a touch of disdain that he didn’t quite feel. Though only fifteen, Jake was taller than any of the other six boys present – even though these were all juniors and seniors rather than a lowly sophomore. But though he was obviously a superb athlete from what the others could see of him, his cherubic face and slender build made him look years younger than he actually was – like an overgrown twelve-year-old. This made it easier to take him less seriously than another, older-looking boy would have been. The fact that his voice sounded like that of a prepubescent added to the perception the other boys had that Jake was more suited to a children’s choir than he was to a soccer team. And those thick glasses he wore screamed “NERD!” to anyone else who looked at him.
Charlie looked at his other five team-mates; they’d just been beginning a practice game when Jake had rode up on his bicycle and asked to join the school soccer team. No one else was present on the field, which itself was isolated from view from anywhere else except for the adjacent school building – and as it was now late Friday afternoon there was no one there either. “What do you think guys?” he asked the others.
Frank - Charlie’s closest friend - was also 17, several inches shorter than Charlie’s 5’ 10” (175 cm) height, but thanks to his stockier build weighed about the same at 150 pounds (68 kg).
“Let’s give him a try, Charlie,” Frank said with a look and tone even more disdainful than the team captain’s had been; “we could use a few laughs.”
The other four boys, all of them juniors, went along with their two older team-mates with simple nods or monosyllabic grunts of agreement.
Charlie spread his team out so that they could work together to try scoring goals off this young newcomer while Jake positioned himself to guard the net. Charlie and the others still wore their soccer uniforms, but Jake was wearing similarly light clothing – an old, faded tank-top, a set of gym shorts that ran only halfway down to his knees, a pair of white socks, and a pair of new Nike sneakers. Charlie and his friends were fresh (having all arrived here in Charlie’s car) while Jake was slightly tired from having come here by bicycle, so they expected this try-out to be short, fun, and thoroughly embarrassing for this sophomore soccer wannabe.
But fifteen minutes later and twelve successful saves by Jake later, Charlie and his friends had not scored a single goal, and their smug smiles were all wiped off their faces. They called time out and asked Jake to wait by the goal net while the six of them had a private huddle to discuss the situation.
“Cripes, that kid is good!” exclaimed Chip, the red-headed, freckle-faced junior.
“But can he score as well as play keeper?” asked Greg, the slender African-American boy who wore an old-fashioned Afro.
“Yeah,” seconded Nick, the short, stocky black boy who shaved off his hair altogether; “for all we know he kicks like a little girl!”
“One way to find out,” suggested Phuong, the Asian kid; “Have him try to score some goals off each of us!”
Charlie agreed with that suggestion and called to Jake. “We’re each going to be the goalie while to try to score a goal past us,” Charlie told him. “Get all six, and then pass the initiation, and then you’re in!”
“What initiation?” Chip (who was standing just behind and to the right of Charlie) began to ask, but a solid thump in his midriff from Charlie’s elbow turned this into a rather loud “W-OOF!” as if he were trying to bark like a dog. Rubbing his suddenly sore stomach and looking at his team captain, he caught a glare that instantly warned him not to try to pursue the matter.
Phuong, considered the best keeper of the soccer team after Charlie himself, took position in front of the net while Jake prepared to kick the ball. Jake launched his kick, and the ball sailed well past Phuong almost before the boy realized the ball was even in motion.
Six boys said the same three word expression almost in unison; “What the f***?!?”
Disgruntled, Charlie took position as goalie; determined that this mere sophomore wasn’t going to score a goal past HIM!
This time, he uttered the same expression as before – only louder and more angrily. That soccer ball flew past him as if launched out of a damned cannon!
Charlie’s remaining four team-mates took their own turns, but Charlie was already certain of the conclusion and began to plan the unsuspecting Jake’s ‘initiation’ into the club!
By the time the last boy took his turn as goalie, Charlie’s plans were fully formed and he quickly and quietly gave his remaining team-mates the gist of it. Just as annoyed with this young upstart as Charlie was, the other four immediately agreed to help Charlie carry his plan out.
“That was a good game,” Charlie said cheerfully to Jake with as straight a face as he could manage. “Say, could you help us take the soccer net down? It has a few broken spots in it that need to be repaired!” This last part was true enough, and Charlie even pointed out a couple of places where the fabric had indeed been frayed.
“Sure!” Jake replied agreeably. “What do you want me to do?”
“Just stand right over there and catch the net when it falls,” Charlie asked him, pointing to a spot inside the center of the goal area, right in front of the net itself, as he and his team-mates quickly detached the net from the goal posts.
Jake complied with the request before it occurred to him to wonder about Charlie’s rather odd request. “But how will that help?” he began to ask as he turned back around to face Charlie. But all that came of his mouth was a startled “Bu-awk!” - making him sound very much like a startled chicken that had just had one of its tail-feathers pulled.
The net itself wasn’t very heavy and didn’t drop far enough to do more than startle Jake; he simply stood there in puzzlement and began trying the pull the net off of himself. But before he could get well-started, the other six boys surrounded him and began to wind the entire net around him to entangle him even further. Charlie swept Jake’s out from under him while Chip and Phuong caught him and lowered him gently to a prone position on the ground. The remaining boys eagerly entangled their victim like so many spiders pouncing on a helpless fly.
“HEY!” Jake yelled - this time in outrage rather than surprise – as he began to fight back. His arms were already hopelessly enmeshed and pinned down into almost total immobility by one of his assailants. There was no one holding down his legs however, and he now demonstrated the same power kicking against the other boys as he had kicking the soccer ball unerringly to its goal. One boy went reeling backward to fall on his rump, while another received a kick to his shin that sent him hopping around on his other leg yelling lurid profanities. A third boy just narrowly managed to dodge a heel to the groin that would have taken him out of the fight altogether had it landed. The others all received several bruises apiece to various portions of their anatomy before their reluctant victim was finally rendered almost completely immobile by the soccer-net-turned-makeshift-cocoon combined with three of the boys straddling him.
“That won’t hold him for long,” Charlie decided. He turned to one of the two boys who were still on their feet rather than pinning down their netted prey. “Greg, go to the locker room and get that big coil of rope they use to fence off areas.” As captain of the soccer team, Charlie had the keys needed to get into the school and into the locker room, and handed them over to his team-mate. With a quick nod, Greg ran as fast as he could go to carry out Charlie’s order.
By the time Greg returned with the half-inch thick, red-colored coils of rope (five coils, each about forty feet long), Jake’s struggles against his captors had become considerably weaker but had by no means ceased altogether. Five of the boys took a coil apiece and proceeded to wrap it tightly around part of Jake’s anatomy as tightly as possible while the remaining boy kept turning Jake over and over to help with the binding process. By the time they were finished, Jake’s legs were as immobile as if they were welded together, while his arms were thoroughly trapped against his sides. The most Jake could do now was wriggle feebly like a slug, glare at them angrily, and swear loudly but ineffectually against his captors.
A roll of duct tape that Greg had also thoughtfully fetched and generously applied over Jake's lower face (along with over the net adjacent to it and another donated T-shirt tied tightly around Jake's lower face over that) soon took care of the cursing, and a blindfold made from one of their shirts served equally well to deal with Jake’s reproachful glares. Jake could still thrash feebly around, but as this only aroused scornful laughter from the other boys these soon ended as well.
“Okay, fellows,” Charlie said to his team-mates cheerfully. ‘Let’s make our new team-mate feel right at home.”
All six boys got a solid grip on their captive (the net providing plenty of handholds), lifted him up, and carried him like a large sack of grain to the locker room.
TBC
Dare to be different... and make a difference.
To boldly go where no one in their right mind has gone before...

### Re: There's a Soccer Born Every Minute (mmmmmm/m)

Post by xtc » Thu May 30, 2013 3:27 pm

Hooray, The Man is writing again!
I'll even forgive the awkward bit of grammar towards the beginning. That'll annoy him!
I'd like to be able to explain the subtleties of the differences between proper football (that is the game that he entire world, except for a certain sub-continent, calls football) and five-a side or seven-a-side but, in truth, I find the game that the Americans insist upon calling "soccer" completely boring. It would be safer to assume that the youngsters were using a full-size goal.
Sorry, my friend, I just couldn't resist it but, Christ, (Oops, I'm supposed to be a Pagan) It's good to see you writing again!
Wassail!
Xtc
Boxer shorts are cool,
but little speedos rule!
More by the same author: viewtopic.php?f=5&t=22729

### Re: There's a Soccer Born Every Minute (mmmmmm/m)

Post by Jason Toddman » Thu May 30, 2013 5:12 pm

> xtc wrote:Hooray, The Man is writing again!
> I'll even forgive the awkward bit of grammar towards the beginning. That'll annoy him!
> I'd like to be able to explain the subtleties of the differences between proper football (that is the game that he entire world, except for a certain sub-continent, calls football) and five-a side or seven-a-side but, in truth, I find the game that the Americans insist upon calling "soccer" completely boring. It would be safer to assume that the youngsters were using a full-size goal.
> Sorry, my friend, I just couldn't resist it but, Christ, (Oops, I'm supposed to be a Pagan) It's good to see you writing again!
> Wassail!
> Xtc

Actually I was originally going to compare the two sports myself by saying that Jake was built heavily enough that he should be trying out for football rather than soccer, but decided to make him slender rather than brawny for reasons unclear even to me.
Hopefully I can get back into the groove of writing again after several abortive attempts these past two years.
Dare to be different... and make a difference.
To boldly go where no one in their right mind has gone before...

### Re: There's a Soccer Born Every Minute (mmmmmm/m)

Post by FelixSH » Fri May 31, 2013 4:53 pm

I agree, it´s good to see you writing again. And it seems like you didn´t lose any of your writing skills, that was a fun and promising beginning.

### Re: There's a Soccer Born Every Minute (mmmmmm/m)

Post by Veracity » Fri May 31, 2013 7:26 pm

Great start. Can't wait to see what's next! Love the title, too.

### Re: There's a Soccer Born Every Minute (mmmmmm/m)

Post by Jack Roper » Sat Jun 01, 2013 2:38 pm

I agree. Great start; please do continue.
Question: How did they duct tape Jake's mouth--was it over or under the netting?

### Re: There's a Soccer Born Every Minute (mmmmmm/m)

Post by Jason Toddman » Sat Jun 01, 2013 2:50 pm

> Jack Roper wrote:I agree. Great start; please do continue.
> Question: How did they duct tape Jake's mouth--was it over or under the netting?

Over. I'll edit that to make it clearer.
Thanks for the feedback, everyone.
*****
Jake wasn’t feeling too confident anymore. Of course, it’s hard to feel confidence when you’re all wrapped up in a net like a freshly caught fish and being hauled away to an uncertain fate by a bunch of boys who had you completely at their mercy. It’s even worse when you were the new kid in town and didn’t know any of your captors - and therefore couldn’t appeal to their sense of friendship even if you could utter a coherent word in the attempt.
Jake had possessed every confidence in his soccer skills, and had thought a simple demonstration of these would win over any skeptics in the school’s soccer team and win him a place in the Mighty Bucks. But if this was their idea of an initiation, then he was going to have more trouble joining the team and being considered one of them than he had thought.
Jake still had no idea just how much trouble he was in for!
Charlie released his grip on the net as the boys came close to the school, and ran ahead to open the door leading to the vacant gymnasium. The remaining five boys carrying Jake hauled him quickly to the door but thankfully were careful enough not to bump or scrape their helpless captive against the door frame. Still, the moment they were all inside and the door to the outside was closed and latched behind them, Jake felt a sinking feeling of doom within his gut. The quiet, bare corridor of the hallway behind the gymnasium reminded him of a prison he’d seen on TV once.
The boys came to another door and paused while Charlie unlocked it. Through the netting and the thin material of his makeshift blindfold, Jake dimly saw a clean but vacant boy’s locker room beyond. The layout was similar to a small-case letter ‘t’, with the entrance along the curly part at the bottom; making the rest of the locker room invisible from the doorway or outside for privacy reasons. Beyond the bend at the entrance, a set of benches were flanked by a row of lockers on either side up to the bar of the‘t’. On the left bar were the showers, while the right-side bar contained another bench and more lockers; out of sight even from the main part of the locker room. It was to this bench that Jake was hauled up to and then – somewhat but not too – gently set down upon, lying on his back and facing upward.
“Okay, let’s make our guest… ummm… reasonably comfortable,” Charlie suggested to his team-mates as he removed the shirt covering the net over Jake’s eyes.
Apparently Charlie’s idea of making Jake more comfortable involved taking yet another coil of rope about 100 feet (30 m) long and winding it all around Jake’s body and the bench he lay upon together. The rope wasn’t too tight, but it ensured that Jake would be unable to rise up (or fall) off the bench.
Jake was then alarmed to see Charlie flick open a jackknife he had stowed in his locker and approach him with it. Seeing Jake’s wide-eyed look of alarm (accompanied by nervous squeals and renewed but fruitless struggles to escape), Jake stopped. “Relax, kid,” he said to Jake with a friendly (if still mischievous) grin and a quiet, even tone of voice. “I’m not going to cut you with this; provided you don’t wiggle around so much I do it by accident! I’m just going to cut the net off from around your head s you can breathe better.”
Jake relaxed somewhat but still looked warily at the older boy as Charlie crouched down beside him and got to work. Charlie was careful and methodical; always keeping the edge of the knife-blade away from any adjacent portion of Jake’s anatomy as he sliced a hole just larger than Jake’s head from the fabric of the net. Once he was done, Jake’s head was clear of the net; though none of the rest of him was. But though he could not move, he could see and breathe a lot better, since the net had previously squished Jake’s glasses into his cheeks and nose and made it difficult for him to do either very well up to now.
“Better?” Charlie asked with evident concern as he clicked his knife shut and out it away.
“A bit,” Jake admitted quietly; wishing to do nothing to show the outrage he was feeling inside of him. Protesting all this would certainly do him no good and might even make things worse; whereas if he just took this with good grace they’d be satisfied and let him go free before very long.
Jake was still very naïve about some things.
“Good!” Charlie replied as he stood up, walked to the other end of the bench, and squatted down again. “Now let’s see about making you a bit more comfortable.”
Out came the knife blade again, but this time Jake wasn’t quite as concerned as before as he watched the older boy sliced away at the net around his feet. Before long, Jake’s sneaker-covered feet were sticking out of the confines of the net as well. Charlie put away his knife again. “Okay Chip, Nick… care to do the honors?” he asked the two boys in question as he stepped away from the foot of the bench.
Jake watched warily as the two boys Charlie had named walked up to the foot of the bench, crouched down, and carefully began to untie Jake’s sneakers. Once they were done, both boys pulled off a sneaker from Jake’s feet at the same time and tentatively sniffed it. “Yeah, these will do,” Chip announced as if checking vegetables for freshness and gently tossed the sneaker he held over to Charlie.
Jake’s look of puzzlement was ignored as the two boys then pulled off his socks and sniffed those as well. “*Phew!* that stinks!” Nick said cheerfully as he and Chip tossed the socks they held over to Charlie as well.
“What’s going on?” Jake asked nervously as Charlie proceeded to roll the socks together into a ball and crouched down beside him again.
“Open your mouth and close your eyes; and you’ll get a great big surprise!” Charlie replied with a taunting smile and equally taunting tone of voice.
But Jake did the reverse; his eyes widened in alarm as he clamped his mouth tightly shut.
“That never really works, you know,” Charlie insisted as he pinched Jake’s nose shut.
But Jake wasn’t as simple as all that; he simply breathed in and out rapidly through the corners of his mouth; giving Charlie no leeway to insert the socks. Charlie tried to pry Jake’s jaws open, but Jake apparently had strong jaws; his attempts only got him bit in one finger.
“You know what to do, guys,” Charlie indicated to the boys at Jake’s feet.
Grinning happily, Nick and Chip resumed their posts at the foot of the bench and slowly stroked their fingers along the undersides of Jake’s feet. “AHHH! AHAHAHAHAHA!” Jake bellowed with sudden laughter. “OH NO! Don’t! STOP!”
“Wow! He’s even more ticklish than my kid brother!” Chip said gleefully as he continued to tickle Jake’s feet. “Can’t we keep doing this for a while?”
“Not just yet!” Charlie replied as he took advantage of the available wide-mouthed opening to stuff Jake’s own socks into the helpless boy’s mouth. “We don’t want him to choke, now do we? Anyway, there will be plenty of time to play with him later.”
Jake had ceased being tickled the moment the socks had gone into his mouth, and he tried to spit the nasty, stinking things out in disgust. Before he could do this however, his mouth was sealed over with a fresh Mighty Bucks soccer shirt one of the other boys had brought. “Here’s your new team shirt,” Charlie said to his captive as he tied several tight knots into it to make a crude but tight and effective gag. “Wear it in good health!”
Once that was done, Charlie took an equally, fresh set of team uniform shorts and stuffed it down over Jake’s head like a ski-cap. Jake’s facial features were now totally obscured and the effectiveness of his gag was somewhat further enhanced, but his nose was still clear (poking out of one leg of the shorts) and he could still breathe quite freely – more so than he could when he head was wrapped inside the net anyway.
“We’re going to go string up a new net and resume our practice,’ Charlie told his captive. “Sorry you have to be benched for the duration, but we’ll make it up to you when we get back!”
Charlie and his team-mates cheerfully high-fived one another as they grabbed a new net and walked out of the locker room; turning out the light as they went. The locker room was now completely dark, as there were no windows anywhere. Jake tried to call to them, but what few feeble sounds he managed to utter were completely ignored as the boys left the locker room. The sound of the lock turning and the sound of the boys’ voice fading into silence filled him with gloom and despair.
It was soon as dark and as silent as the tomb, except for Jake’s muffled, subdued sighs of resignation spaced with an occasional moan, sniffle, or an especially deep exhalation of air through the nose in sheer frustration.
TBC
Dare to be different... and make a difference.
To boldly go where no one in their right mind has gone before...

### Re: There's a Soccer Born Every Minute (mmmmmm/m)

Post by sarumansauron » Sun Jun 02, 2013 5:37 pm

Great! Great story! Thanks Jason!
I love TUGS and TICKLING Torture!!!!!

### Re: There's a Soccer Born Every Minute (mmmmmm/m)

Post by boozer » Mon Jun 03, 2013 6:21 pm

Great story

### Re: There's a Soccer Born Every Minute (mmmmmm/m)

Post by Veracity » Wed Jun 05, 2013 9:24 pm

Excellent.

### Re: There's a Soccer Born Every Minute (mmmmmm/m)

Post by Jason Toddman » Thu Jun 06, 2013 8:33 am

Thanks as usual for everyone who gave me feedback.
*****
Charlie and the other five boys carried a fresh net back out to the soccer field and installed it onto the goal net frame before resuming their play. Then, although their minds were more upon the fun they were going to have later with their helpless captive, they engaged in a vigorous practice session for the next hour or so… working up a lot of sweat in the process. As they kicked the ball around to one another, they laid plans about how they would torment Jake for his ‘initiation’… which was going to last somewhat longer than Jake had anticipated. With any luck, they could get away with keeping him tucked away inside the locker room and at their complete mercy for the entire night.
“Good thing dad wanted us to replace that net anyway,” Charlie told his friends as he scored a goal right past Chip, who was serving as the goalie at the moment. “It sure came in handy to trap that prat!”
“You sure no one will find Jake in there before we’re done with him?” Frank asked Charlie more than once. “What if one of the teachers comes in, or the coach, or…”
“My dad’s the coach; remember doofus?” Charlie reminded him with a grin that took the potential sting out of his sarcastic reply. “He trusts me with the keys, so he won’t be coming by tonight. The assistant gym teacher is recovering from that injury to his shoulder. The janitor is visiting his in-laws this weekend, so he won’t be by either. No one else – not even the principal - would have any reason to go near the locker room at all until Monday. We’re perfectly safe.”
“But what about his folks?” persisted Frank. “Aren’t they likely to look for him here?”
“Nope,” replied Charlie. “I’ve met Jake before; even came to his house once. Guess that’s gave him the idea to try out for the team in fact, because he figured we were friends. Anyway, his dad’s not in the picture at all and his mom is either out working as a waitress somewhere or spending time with her friends. Jake’s a latchkey kid. Bet you anything his mom won’t even notice he’s gone.”
Charlie had no sooner said this when the distinct sound of a cell-phone playing the (USA version) of the Dragonball Z theme could suddenly be heard from the backpack and bicycle Jake had stowed to one side of the field upon his arrival (and which had been left untouched ever since). “We’d better move this junk out of sight too, come to think of it,” Charlie told the others as he broke off playing and casually strolled toward the still-ringing phone. “Better shut that thing off too while I’m at it, so it won’t attract attention or be traced.”
He opened Jake’s backpack and pulled out the phone. It had stopped ringing, and there was a text message written on the screen:
Out for weekend. Use up leftovers in fridge. Stay with friend if U like. Luv, Mom.
“See?” Charlie said to the others with a sardonic laugh. “This will be even smoother than I’d figured. Let me just make sure mommy dearest has no reason for concern.”
Charlie typed a simple message in reply (OK. Luv U2. J) and sent it to the number Jake’s mom had called from, and then shut the phone off before tossing it back into Jake’s backpack. “We’ll just take Jake’s bike and stuff back to his house sometime tonight and no one will be the wiser. Then we’ll have all weekend for his initiation, instead of just the evening as we thought!”
Charlie’s friends gave a unanimous cheer at this announcement and resumed their soccer practice. There was no hurry to get to Jake now. Just playing soccer while knowing there was a helpless captive awaiting their return filled them all with keen anticipation… and more than one of them felt a certain other part of them than their heart grow harder as they continued to play.
-----
It was a very long hour-and-a-half for Jake as he lay all alone inside the locker room. He was as hot and sweaty as his captors by now, as he had all but exhausted himself in frantic (and futile) efforts to get free of his bonds. Wondering how long they intended to keep him trapped here all alone (surely not until school started on Monday?); he lay quietly (except for some rather heavy breathing at first) on his prison bench contemplating the future with considerable dread.
At first Jake had not been too afraid. He’d figured Charlie and the others would let him stew for a while, have a few laughs at his expense, and finally let him go free. But as what seemed like many hours (instead of a mere 90 minutes) passed with no sign that the others were returning, he began to wonder if they had forgotten all about him – or perhaps deliberately intended to leave him tied up right here all weekend long until school resumed Monday morning.
Oh no! Jake had just remembered… it was Labor Day weekend! School wouldn’t resume until Tuesday! He’d be trapped here for three-and-a-half days until someone stumbled across him on Tuesday morning unless Charlie and the others returned sooner. But what if they didn’t? Anticipatory pangs of hunger, thirst, and a sudden need to use the restroom immediately began to assail before any of these needs really became manifest as his imagination suddenly conjured up all the dire possibilities of what might happen to him in that long interval!
Jake’s imagination was just getting started in adding to his already real torment when the sound of approaching voices suddenly came to Jake’s attention. He quieted down his still loud and ragged breathing so he could listen more carefully. Yes, those were definitely the voices of the same boys who had trapped him so neatly and left him here. Thank goodness, they hadn’t forgotten him! They would come in, unwrap him, let him go, and bygones would be bygones.
“You sure you can get your parents to let you stay out tonight?” Charlie’s voice asked someone as the boys were still well outside the locker room door.
“Sure thing, man,” replied one of the other boys; Greg, Jake believed his name was… the thinner of the two black kids. “My folks are so used to my staying over with one of you other guys over the weekend that they don’t even check with your parents anymore. They’ll probably be glad to have me out of the house! I’ll just tell them the truth… that someone needs me as a babysitter!” This was followed by laughter that sounded positively evil to the now pensive Jake.
“And Nick and I can stay with him overnight tomorrow,” Phuong’s voice added at about the same time the locker room door was being opened. “So he won’t be too alone much… though he might eventually wish he was!” This last comment elicited more evil-sounding laughter as the boys strolled into the locker room and looked over their captive.
Even with the fluorescent lights back on, Jake could not see his captors looking him over, as he still had a blindfold around his eyes, a set of shorts covering his entire head over that, and the net itself beneath these covering his face. But he could hear them as they gathered around the bench he was fastened to and began snickering.
“Should we remove his blindfold so he can see?” Nick asked out loud.
“Nah, leave it on him a while longer,” replied Phuong. “I don’t want him watching us as we shower anyway. It might get him excited!”
The six boys laughed good-naturedly at this as they prepared for their shower.
TBC
Dare to be different... and make a difference.
To boldly go where no one in their right mind has gone before...

### Re: There's a Soccer Born Every Minute (mmmmmm/m)

Post by henry1001 » Thu Jun 06, 2013 12:30 pm

Nice.
Reminds me of my first real tug.... Shockingly similar actually, good that you are writing again Jason.
You are unique, Just like everybody else!

### Re: There's a Soccer Born Every Minute (mmmmmm/m)

Post by Jason Toddman » Sat Jun 08, 2013 12:04 pm

> henry1001 wrote:Nice.
> Reminds me of my first real tug.... Shockingly similar actually, good that you are writing again Jason.

Well, actually it's deliberately similar to one of mine as well (in fact, the *only* TUG I ever had on public school grounds), though some major differences between what I experienced and what Jake will experience are coming up soon.
*****
Jake could hear the various boys open up their lockers to get what they needed for their showers. At one point he suddenly felt the weight of one of the boys settle down (more or less gently, at least) on his chest, while another seated himself a trifle less gently on his belly. Being unable to see, Jake couldn’t see what their current state of undress was but hoped fervently that they were not doing this to him in the altogether. Because of all the material that covered his own face and body however (including the net and all that rope that was wrapped all around him), he couldn’t tell by feel… and decided that this was just about as well.
In any case, neither boy sat upon him for more than a few seconds – perhaps finding the net too uncomfortable for them – but quickly got up and ran to the shower. His captors took their time with their shower and totally ignored Jake; not that he could do much to attract their attention at the moment even had he wanted to. Besides, he still held out some hope that once they had finished their showers and got dressed, they’d decide to let him go free.
In that he was only partially right.
After a few minutes, Jake could hear the distinct squishing sound of wet bare feet on tile as a couple of the boys left the shower and approached his bench. “All right, Jake,” Charlie’s voice said to him from right beside him. “It’s time to get you out of there!”
Jake felt unseen hands loosen and untie the rope that bound him to the bench, and then help him to sit up – turning him to one side at the same time as his legs were still bound together by the net. Much to Jake’s relief, his gag and blindfold were immediately removed as well.
Jake blinked – his eyes no longer used to the light – and looked around. Two of the boys were still showering, while the other four stood around him. None of these were naked any longer (if they had been at all), but all they wore were a set of red speedos with blue stripes (the school colors) such as the swim team wore. They were all still dripping wet as well.
The boys then helped Jake to stand on his feet. “Hold still while we get this net off of you,” Charlie told him kindly. Then, while one boy helped brace him so that he wouldn’t keel over while one of the others unwrapped the net from around his upper body. Jake sighed with relief; not hearing a slight metallic rattle from directly behind him as one of the boys quietly removed something from his locker.
Jake’s sigh of relief turned into a squawk of outrage as the remaining two boys – who had been standing behind him – suddenly grabbed his arm and forced them close together behind his back. Before Jake knew what was happening, he heard and felt the distinctive sensations of a set of steel handcuffs being closed and locked around his wrists. He tried to fight, but it was too late – and the fact that his legs were still thoroughly netted would have hindered him too much for any effective self-defense in any case.
“What’s going on?” Jake asked; trying to sound tough but sounding more like a child only half his age instead. “I thought you were letting me go!”
“Heck, no,” Charlie told him with a grin. “Your initiation is only getting started.”
“But I have to be headed home soon,” Jake told him with a sliver quiver in his voice.
“Don’t worry Jake old boy, you won’t be missed,” Charlie assured him with an even more mischievous grin. “Your mom left a message saying she’d be out all weekend. So now you won’t be lonely. You’ll have us for company the whole weekend.”
While Chip and Phoung held Jake by the arms, Frank and Nick were unraveling the rest of the ragged net from around their captive’s legs. Then, before Jake could take any advantage of having his legs free and unencumbered, a set of ankle-chains was fastened on him as well.
“Now then, this is how we’re going to do this,” Charlie told Jake firmly but with his smile still in place. “We’re going to remove the handcuffs from you for a moment so you can get that sweaty shirt off. Once you’ve done that, we’ll remove the leg irons so that you can shuck the rest of your clothes and put on these speedos before you take a shower. Try to put up a fight or get away at any time, and not only will we have some fun wrestling you to the floor and beating the fight out of you, but we’ll toss you into the shower with nothing on at all, chain you to the railing here, set the water temperature as high as it’ll go, and leave you there until you’re redder than a boiled lobster. Is there any part of this you do not understand?”
A wide-eyed and very quiet Jake shook his head vehemently. “I won’t fight,’ he added hastily just to make absolutely sure he wasn’t misunderstood. He didn’t like the sound of those consequences Charlie had outlined for him one bit.
His handcuffs were taken off of him, and Jake removed his shirt – revealing a well-toned (and well-tanned) upper body. Jake’s captors grunted with mingled admiration and envy as they released his legs so that Jake could finish undressing. Jake’s socks and sneakers had already been removed. He turned his back to his captors so that he could not see his private area as he removed his shorts and put on the speedos (which at least matched those his captors wore). Charlie and Frank caught a glimpse anyway, and each had feelings of jealousy that they found hard to conceal from their team-mates. Damn, this guy was sure built! What would he be like when he was their age?
Charlie and the others kept close behind Jake and kept him cornered against the lockers; ready to act immediately if Jake was to try to get away despite his state of under-dress. But Jake made no foolish moves, put on the speedos briskly, and submitted without complaint to having the handcuffs and ankle-cuffs replaced on him.
“Time to hit the showers, Jake,” Charlie said with a smile. The older boy locked his left arm within Jake’s right and Frank locked his right arm around Jake’s left arm, and together the two boys frog-marched Jake to the still-running shower.
TBC
Dare to be different... and make a difference.
To boldly go where no one in their right mind has gone before...

### Re: There's a Soccer Born Every Minute (mmmmmm/m)

Post by FelixSH » Sat Jun 08, 2013 1:35 pm

I guess I should tell you from time to time that I enjoy your story. I´d like to be more specific, but all I can think of is that I like your writing style.
You were tied up with a net at one point? You really had all the interesting experiences, I think I´m a bit jealous.

### Re: There's a Soccer Born Every Minute (mmmmmm/m)

Post by Jason Toddman » Sat Jun 08, 2013 2:17 pm

well, actually yes I was tied up with a net at one time, but NOT at the same time as the incident where my cousins hoodwinked me into getting tied up at the school locker room. That was a separate incident entirely, but saw no reason not to work it in here where it seemed so appropriate. In real life though, it was I believe a fishing net rather than the net they use for sports - at least, judging by the way I remember it smelled!!! If I ever learned where they'd gotten the thing, I've long since forgotten it.
Dare to be different... and make a difference.
To boldly go where no one in their right mind has gone before...

### Re: There's a Soccer Born Every Minute (mmmmmm/m)

Post by fratboydanny » Mon Jun 10, 2013 4:33 am

This is really good Jason. Thank you for writing and sharing it.

### Re: There's a Soccer Born Every Minute (mmmmmm/m)

Post by Jason Toddman » Tue Jun 18, 2013 1:03 pm

*****
Jake was wondering how he was supposed to shrub himself while his hands were cuffed, but he need not have worried; his captors had already planned for this ahead of time.
Once he was inside the shower area – a communal area with several shower-heads and no privacy curtains – Jake’s left wrist was released from the handcuffs. This proved to be only a momentary respite however as his wrists were then placed against a stout metal tower rack bolted into the tiled wall in front of him and then abruptly cuffed to it. Jake tugged on it experimentally, but the metal towel rack did not even budge. Even a gorilla would be hard put to tear that metal bar out of the wall; Jake certainly stood no chance of doing so at all.
With Jake facing the wall, his back was exposed and vulnerable. Before he knew it, no fewer than three separate shower heads on the opposite wall were aimed at his back and set on full blast and at a temperature level that seemed just short of freezing. A fourth shower head directly in front of him was also turned on and aimed for his face; this one was also icy cold. Jake spluttered and spat as he tried to get his head and face away from the icy spray, but it was too close and the spray too wide. It was all he could do to breathe without sucking water droplets up his nose. At the same time, his near-naked body began shivering almost uncontrollably. Forgotten now was the fact that it was a hot and rather humid day and that it’d been rather stuffy inside the locker room prior to his captors’ return.
Charlie and the others stood by at a reasonably safe distance and laughed at Jake’s evident discomfort for a few minutes. Then, once they figured Jake’s sweat had been well washed off, they turned the temperature up on the shower head in front of Jake to a tepid level, aimed it lower to spray his torso, and shut off the other three along the opposite wall.
At this point, Frank grabbed a bottle of shampoo, squirted a generous dollop of it into his hand, and began to massage it into Jake’s scalp from behind.
“Hey!” Jake protested.
“Hold still!” Frank told him. “You wanna get this stuff in your eyes?”
Jake groused but submitted to having his hair shampooed as if he were a baby.
Once Frank finished shampooing Jake’s hair, Nick and Phuong began scrubbing the rest of Jake’s body with soapy water applied to some sponges… not in any kind of overtly personal way but more as if they were washing a dirty and reluctant dog. Despite Jake’s initial fears, there were no attempts to fondle him anywhere, and a few incidents where he was lightly and briefly tickled appeared to be more accidental than otherwise. Even when a couple of the boys began to towel him dry, no one took the kind of advantage of his helpless position that Jake had begun to halfway expect.
All the same, Jake was glad when this embarrassing ordeal was finally over and done with. At least, he thought it was over. How wrong he was he learned only a few moments later when he was led from the shower – still handcuffed and hobbled and taken to one of the nearby benches. “Sit down,” Charlie told him. “It’s time to get you ready for your nap!” So saying, he placed a swimmer’s cap onto his captive’s head; entirely covering his hair but leaving his (rather puzzled) face still fully exposed.
“Nap?” Jake lamely inquired just before he saw the rubber ball that his captors intended to stuff into his mouth. Jake briefly fought against the inevitable before the rubber ball was placed snug and secure inside his jaws, and his mouth sealed shut with a generous portion of duct tape. After that, further inquiries were rendered totally incomprehensible.
“I trust you were thanking me for placing the shower cap on you first to protect your hair!” Charlie told him with a smirk. “Getting the tape of your hair would've ruined your nice ‘do!”
Jake muttered a response through his gag, but it didn’t sound particularly thankful.
“Now keep still,” Charlie continued a trifle more sternly. “We’re going to wrap you up in tape. Stay still and don’t fight us, and this can go smoothly. Fight us, and we’ll simply lay you on the floor, sit on top of you, and pound the stuffing out of you until you learn some sense!”
Jake sensibly decided to stay still. Even so, most of his legs from thighs to shins were firmly welded together with a mass of tape before his ankles were freed from their shackles. Once his legs were entirely covered except the soles of his feet, his arms were securely taped to his torso. His handcuffs were removed only when his arms had already lost so much of their power of movement that they became superfluous (and, indeed, were getting in the way of further taping) anyway. Even his hands were generously taped over, and his fingers bound together so that they had virtually no flexibility at all. Securely bound to his sides, Jake resembled a living mummy (albeit one wrapped in silvery bandages) from the shoulders down.
Taping Jake’s head required a bit more care to avoid covering his nose or eyes. It was unanimously decided to not blindfold Jake because it was felt by all that seeing his predicament unfold would add to his feelings of helplessness more than a blindfold would. And so by the time they had finished taping him up, Jake indeed looked like a 21st century mummy – complete with modern glasses – and was just about as capable of movement as an old-fashioned one (outside of horror movies) as well.
While the boys had taken turns wrapping Jake in duct tape, each had one at a time taken a turn in changing into regular street clothes. By the time Jake was fully dressed in his speedos and duct tape, all six of his captors were fully clothed and ready to go home.
“Time to go into your sarcophagus, mummy!” Charlie announced as several of the boys grabbed onto Jake’s nearly-immobile form, lifted him up, and half-carried half-dragged him into a wide-open locker directly behind him.
Realizing what they were about to do, Jake struggled anyway despite literally having less than a snowball’s chances in the hot place of succeeding. He was of course successful only in eliciting more laughter from his captors as they pushed him backwards into his waiting receptacle. The locker was just wide enough to accommodate the younger boy’s shoulders as he was stood up facing outward at the others. All saw the pleading look in his eyes and heard the pitiable moan in his throat, but these only struck them as being incredibly funny.
“Sleep in your crypt, creep!” Charlie told Jake with a cheese-eating grin as he closed the locker door shut with almost dramatic slowness, clicked it shut, and then (with as much noise as possible for dramatic effect) locked the padlock into the hasp and closed it shut.
All six boys laughed, pounded on the locker with their hands, peered in at Jake through the tiny grille set inside the locker door (although they couldn’t really see inside it), exclaimed “Sweet dreams!” or variations thereof in mocking voices, and then left the locker room to go home to relax. The light inside the locker room was shut off (Jake could see a little through the grille until they did that), and the door closed and locked tight. Once again Jake listened with growing despair as the voices of his captors slowly faded into the distance until all was once again silent… save for his own breathing and occasional muffled groans.
And he still hadn’t even been given a chance to use the bathroom from the moment he’d been taken prisoner and brought in here!!!
TBC
Dare to be different... and make a difference.
To boldly go where no one in their right mind has gone before...

### Re: There's a Soccer Born Every Minute (mmmmmm/m)

Post by henry1001 » Tue Jun 18, 2013 1:21 pm

Awesome, but seriously Jason stop writing stories about my life!!! xD
How you wrote something so close to what happened to me is creepy, oh-well!
Awesome Story, Please continue.
You are unique, Just like everybody else!

### Re: There's a Soccer Born Every Minute (mmmmmm/m)

Post by xtc » Tue Jun 18, 2013 1:30 pm

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

### Re: There's a Soccer Born Every Minute (mmmmmm/m)

Post by FelixSH » Tue Jun 18, 2013 2:07 pm

Mmmh, mummification. I guess it´s a good thing that I still have no idea how to do that alone.
Nice one, thanks again.

### Re: There's a Soccer Born Every Minute (mmmmmm/m)

Post by Jason Toddman » Tue Jun 18, 2013 2:58 pm

> FelixSH wrote:Mmmh, mummification. I guess it´s a good thing that I still have no idea how to do that alone.
> Nice one, thanks again.

Which reminds me that i have to resume my Mummy's Curse story sometime soon as well!

> henry1001 wrote:Awesome, but seriously Jason stop writing stories about my life!!! xD
> How you wrote something so close to what happened to me is creepy, oh-well!
> Awesome Story, Please continue.

Well, actually some (not all) of this is based on stuff that happened to ME! Maybe my friends became the fathers of (or are at least closely related to) your friends!

> xtc wrote:Entertainig as ever. Thanks.

Thanks, xtc. Same with your own stories.
Dare to be different... and make a difference.
To boldly go where no one in their right mind has gone before...

### Re: There's a Soccer Born Every Minute (mmmmmm/m)

Post by Jason Toddman » Wed Jun 26, 2013 11:01 am

Time passed… how much time, Jake did not know.
It was as dark and quiet as a tomb…
No, no, don’t think like that! You’re not dead, dammit! You’re in a locker room, not a mausoleum!
You’re alive… you’re healthy… you’re perfectly fine.
You’ve been left all alone for a while, that's all!
But at least someone knows where you are. You’re in no real danger… except from sheer boredom perhaps. The idiots who stuck you in here don’t intend to harm you in any real way. They’ll have their little fun with you, and then they’ll let you go!
Of couse they will!
Eventually.
Now focus!
It was as dark and quiet as his own room when everyone else in the house was fast asleep. It was quite peaceful, actually. There were none of the usual sounds that usually irritated him in the middle of the night. His dad’s snoring… his little sister playing that accursed Justin Bieber music too loud… that dull-witted dog next door that barks at everything that moves… the occasional sound of a passing car… the crickets… the wind rustling through the leaves and branches of the tree that overhung his bedroom… the tic-tic-tic of the clock in the hallway… the dripping faucet in the bathroom… the occasional whir of the kitchen refrigerator as it started up at irregular intervals to keep the food fresh… the sound of raindrops… they were all gone.
Funny how we don’t really notice things until they’re gone, and then we miss them.
It was so quiet that his own heartbeat sounded like a bass drum in his ears, and his breathing loud and stentorian. The only other sounds were also those he made himself; such as the aimless shifting of his body rubbing against the metal door and walls of the locker, or the slight sound of duct-tape as it flexed against his skin. Jake had never experienced such a total absence of sound before. It disturbed him. It was if the entire world outside the locker – or at least the locker room itself – had completely vanished from existence.
Stop thinking like that, Jake! The world is still there. And you’ll rejoin it again soon.
Eventually.
Although apparently not tonight.
It was so dark! Not like a tomb, exactly…but close. There was a slight glow coming from somewhere outside the locker… probably an LED somewhere along the wall. It was dim and unwavering; so slight he hadn’t noticed it at all for a long time. It wasn’t enough to see anything by; it was just... there! Still, it was enough to make Jake realize that something still existed besides himself, his bonds, the locker he was trapped inside of, and the dark, quiet space of the locker room beyond.
At first the darkness and the quiet were frightening… as if there were something unseen and unheard lurking out there – aware of him and preparing to do something horrible to him. But once Jake had adjusted to the idea that he’d be stuck in here for the foreseeable future, things didn’t seem as dark figuratively as they did literally. There was a sort of beauty to the peace and quiet; to the lack of distracting sights, sounds, scents, and touches of the usual sort. The dark was serene now; not scary. The quiet stillness made a relaxing counter-point to the usual cacophony that prevailed in most waking moments of his life; even moments when he was alone in his room or walking outdoors or using the bathroom…
Why did you have to think about the bathroom?!? (Groan!)
There was an almost total lack of sensation that Jake had never imagined before. No light. No sound. Nothing to feel but the tape which wrapped him and the metal walls and door of the locker that trapped him. No smells – except maybe a little of his own sweat and the glue of the duct tape right under his nose and over his mouth. No taste except the dryness of his mouth; man, he could use a drink of water right now!
Nothing. He’d never felt anything like this before… at least, not since the day he’d left his mother’s womb anyhow, and of course he remembered nothing about *that*!
But a womb... yeah, womb is better than tomb, any day!
It was so strangely peaceful, not being able to move. It was like being just another inanimate object. A statue, say.
No decisions. No responsibilities. No demands. No motion at all.
It was kind of restful, really. It was… was…
*Zzz-zzz-zzz!* Unh!? (Snort!) Whawuzzhat?!?
What the hell? Did I just fall asleep? In here? Like this?! For the love of…
Gosh though, it’s so peaceful in here. Never knew the dark and quiet could be so nice.
Wish it wasn’t’ so stuffy in here though. And my feet are beginning to hurt standing on them for so long.
How long *have* I been standing in here, anyway? Can’t tell. No way to keep track of time. Might have been just a few minutes… or a few hours!
Gawd, my bladder is sure starting to feel full though. Yeah, I must’ve been in here for hours; it feels *way* worse than it did before. In fact, I’ve never felt such a need to go so badly before in my entire life! Oh! Oh! Omigod, I can’t stand it!!!
Jeez… what am I gonna do if they don’t come back and let me outta here soon? I’m not sure I can even *go* with all this damned tape wrapped around me! And assuming I manage it, it’s gonna feel really, really funky! Especially with all this tape around me to keep it in…
Man, I’ve got to hold on… but I’m not sure if I *can*!
Come on you guys! Come back! Let me out! This isn’t funny!
Come on, Jake. Focus. Ignore the full sensation down… there.
Focus on how peaceful it is. How calm. How quiet. Nothing can hurt you here. Just relax.
That’s it. Relax. No worries. No cares. No strife.
So tranquil here. Yeah. So nice. So quiet.
So… so…
Zzz-zzz-zzz!
TBC
Dare to be different... and make a difference.
To boldly go where no one in their right mind has gone before...

### Re: There's a Soccer Born Every Minute (mmmmmm/m)

Post by henry1001 » Wed Jun 26, 2013 11:55 am

Yay finally not copying my life xD
I just broke out of the locker... that was expensive to pay for...
Awesome post like usual Jason.
You are unique, Just like everybody else!

### Re: There's a Soccer Born Every Minute (mmmmmm/m)

Post by xtc » Wed Jun 26, 2013 1:59 pm

A well written short episode. I like both!
Boxer shorts are cool,
but little speedos rule!
More by the same author: viewtopic.php?f=5&t=22729

### Re: There's a Soccer Born Every Minute (mmmmmm/m)

Post by tiednw » Sun Jun 30, 2013 12:33 pm

Nice story!

### Re: There's a Soccer Born Every Minute (mmmmmm/m)

Post by SlipKn05 » Thu Aug 15, 2013 1:41 am

Please finish! loving this story
If I say 'Don't gag me' ..... gag me <3

### Re: There's a Soccer Born Every Minute (mmmmmm/m)

Post by tiednw » Thu Aug 15, 2013 10:37 am

> SlipKn05 wrote:Please finish! loving this story

Maybe better. Just keep writing new chapter, without an end.

### Re: There's a Soccer Born Every Minute (mmmmmm/m)

Post by mikeybound » Thu Aug 15, 2013 10:27 pm

Still have no idea what the title means, but this is great as usual!

### Re: There's a Soccer Born Every Minute (mmmmmm/m)

Post by Ossassin » Thu Aug 15, 2013 10:59 pm

This is really great
Roses are Red
Violets are Blue
Give me a minute
I'll duct tape you

### Re: There's a Soccer Born Every Minute (mmmmmm/m)

Post by Jason Toddman » Sun Aug 18, 2013 11:05 am

> mikeybound wrote:Still have no idea what the title means, but this is great as usual!

Didn't i explain this already? It's a play on the old expression, "There's a sucker born every minute." Only, since it's about a boy wanting to join a soccer team, and soccer and sucker sound very much alike, I altered it slightly. It's not all that deep.

> SlipKn05 wrote:Please finish! loving this story

Thanks. Had meant to but have been dealing with distractions lately. Also, having trouble with describing what the boys were planning to do him next. Nothing kinky; but it involves exercise equipment and it occurs to me that exercise equipment has changed a lot since i last used (or even saw) any, so may have to do some research first. But here's what I;ve got short of that point anyway.
*****
A dim light shining into his eyes and the sound of voices and approaching footsteps gradually roused a sleepy Jake. But before he was quite reoriented to his surroundings and situation, loud metallic banging mere inches in front of him jolted him fully awake. Jake would likely have jumped right up and yelled in surprise if he hadn’t been so thoroughly taped up that he could do neither one.
Jake’s awareness of his current dilemma flooded back into his sleepy brain as the sound of a combination padlock being dialed open and then unhooked reached his ears. He had just come fully awake when the padlock was removed and the locker door was flung wide open. The sudden surge of fluorescent light hitting his dark-adjusted eyes dazzled Jake. He shut his eyes and tried to avert his gaze until his eyes could adjust to the light, but whoever had opened the locker door was apparently too impatient to wait for that. Before Jake knew what was happening, two sets of hands grasped him none too gently by the shoulders and waist and immediately pulled him right out of the locker as if he was simply a piece of luggage.
Jake opened his eyes again and blearily looked around to identify his tormentors. Even though he still wore his glasses, his vision was too unfocused at first to make anything out except that there were two boys with him; one dark-skinned and the other red-headed. But as his eyes slowly began to adjust and the two started talking, he realized that it was Chip and Greg who had roused him from his would-be sarcophagus.
“Wake up, sleepyhead,” Greg’s voice called to Jake as an unseen hand gently slapped him across the face several times; more to rouse him than to cause him any pain. “It took us longer to get here than we’d planned, so you’ve had plenty of time to sleep.”
“Hope you enjoyed it,” added Chip sardonically; “because that’s all the sleep you’re gonna get for the next two or three days.”
Jake looked wearily up at the small glazed window along the far wall, and saw that it was still pitch dark outside. His eyes cast around for a clock, and eventually found it; it read 1:15 – presumably in the morning. Good lord, it was the middle of the freaking night! No wonder he still felt so tired!
“Lemme ‘lone,” Jake muttered into his tape gag. “Lemme lie down. Wanna sleep.”
Although his words were mostly muffled, Greg and Chip got the gist of what Jake was trying to say.
“Awww… the little baby wants to lie down,” Chip said sarcastically.
“So, let’s give him what he wants,” Greg suggested.
Jake found himself led to the nearby bench he’d been strapped into before and then lifted up bodily to lie face up on top of it. A rope was tied around his lower legs and another around his arms and chest to keep him firmly in place, with no danger of falling off.
Jake was much too sleepy to really think things through and realize that this wasn’t really at all a good sign. He simply closed his weary eyes and attempted to go back to sleep.
A weight suddenly settled down on Jake’s chest. He opened his eyes in sudden wakeful alarm, and saw Greg straddling his chest; removing his own shirt and tossing it casually to one side. At the same time, Chip was casually arching a leg over him and sitting down on Jake’s midriff; removing his own shirt as well. Both boys now wore only a set of gym shorts, short ankle socks, and sneakers. In addition, Greg wore a bandanna while Chip wore a Saint Christopher medal around his neck.
“Whaddaya doin’?” Jake exclaimed barely audibly through his gag.
“You wanted a lie-down, so we’re letting you lie down,” Greg answered slyly. “No reason why we shouldn’t relax as well. So relax and enjoy your rest.”
As soon as he finished saying that, he proceeded to flick Jake’s nose with the forefingers of both hands; flicking both sides as hard and as fast as he could. To Jake, it was like getting stung by a swarm of angry hornets one at a time in rapid and relentless succession.
Jake cried out as loudly as he could (which could barely have been heard even from inside the locker room door, let alone anywhere outside of it – not that anyone was outside who could hear anything going on in here anyway). He tried to nod and shake his head in a vain attempt to get his nose away from those flicking fingernails, but it was no use. Jake could barely move his head in any direction, taped up as it was – and Greg was easily able to adjust his fingers to compensate and keep on flicking without a miss and almost without a pause in the rhythm of nose flicks. In fact, Jake’s feeble and futile attempts to evade his barrage of flicks only seemed to amuse Greg.
Jake began to squeal even louder in outrage as his mercilessly assaulted nose began turning a bright shade of red.
“You like that? Huh? You like that?” Greg asked Jake with a taunting smile as he continued his nasal barrage with apparently limitless energy and enthusiasm.
Jake could also see Chip’s smiling face looking down at him from over and behind Greg’s shoulder; evidently highly amused by Jake’s discomfort. “Too bad I can’t do much to him myself while he’s all taped up like this though,” Chip commented.
“Well, let’s get sleepy-head fully awake and then we can see what we can do about that situation,’ Greg suggested as he abruptly ceased flicking Jake’s beleaguered nose. But before the captive boy could begin to relax, Greg lifted up the palms of his hands and began to slap Jake in the ace; much harder than before – putting a good deal of force into every slap.
Jake’s squeals of protest grew even more pronounced, and his entire body began to writhe and thrash around in a futile attempt to get away. Were he not strapped into the bench with the weight of the other two boys pinning him firmly down, Jake’s thrashing around would likely have caused him to fall right off of the bench within seconds.
When Jake’s eyes began to fill with tears, Greg stopped slapping him. “Okay, we want to get that tape off of you and re-secure you in a different way,’ Greg told him. “So, do you prefer to cooperate and do exactly what we say, or shall I resume slapping while Chip here finds some creative way to torment you too? I’m sure he wouldn’t mind bouncing on that nice soft tummy of yours like one of those rubbery cushion toys for little kids like what you see on TV.”
Jake shook his head as much as he could (which wasn’t much) to indicate his willingness to comply with Greg’s directives. He was in fact ready to do anything to keep the youth (who had the trim but muscular arms of a welterweight boxer) to resuming slapping his face (which already felt like they were being jabbed by a thousand red hot needles on both sides).
Whether Greg honestly had trouble understanding Jake’s message or simply enjoyed slapping his face too much to give it up so easily, it would be hard to say. But, noticing an increasing swelling in Jake’s groin that his tight shorts didn’t really conceal very well, Jake was certain Greg was continuing to slap him just for the enjoyment of it.
Greg finally tired of the game however and desisted. He and Chip got off of their helpless captive and undid the ropes that held Jake securely onto the bench. Then the two boys each took a pair of scissors and – with great care – cut most of the tape off of Jake’s body. The task was rendered easier by the fact that Jake had been sweating rather profusely for hours; causing the tape adhering to his skin to lose most of its stickiness. However, this also released an odor into the room that made them decide to haul Jake back into the shower for additional de-odorizing.
Jake’s feet were hobbled and his wrists once again cuffed behind his back. He still wore only a set of speedos, his glasses, his restraints, a pair of socks inside his mouth, and the generous dollop of tape that had been left covering his mouth and lower face. After Greg and Chip changed down into their own speedos, Jake was led into the shower. His glasses were left on him but got steamed up immediately; preventing him from seeing much of anything. But he didn’t really need to see what he was doing, as he was really not doing anything; his two escorts bathed him themselves without any assistance from Jake just like before. Jake endured this with ill grace but kept silent, as the shower *did* make him feel much better and he didn’t want to give his captors reason to torment him further than they already planned to.
Chip and Greg toweled Jake dry and sat him on a bench and warned him sternly not to move while they changed back into the clothes they had arrived in. Then they each grabbed him by an arm and led Jake out of the locker room into the deserted hallway beyond; their way dimly but adequately lit by the occasional fluorescent bulb that was still glowing up in the ceiling.
Jake wondered where they were going, but he couldn't ask and his captors weren't volunteering the information.
tbc
Dare to be different... and make a difference.
To boldly go where no one in their right mind has gone before...