## My High School Years - Year 3

Post by Jason Toddman » Fri Apr 13, 2012 7:46 am

Since it's been a while since I last posted one of my true stories, and my previous ones have all wound up in the Archived section, I've decided to resume my stories in a new thread. The previous chapters of my True Stories can be found here: http://tieupgames.net/viewtopic.php?f=3 ... 39778018c2
‘TIS THE SEASON
A week after Carlos and I played TUGs at my house for the first time, I started my junior year (11th grade) in high school. I usually rode the school bus back and forth each day, as I didn't have my own car yet and lived too far from my cousins to get a ride from either of them. Riding the bus was enjoyable, though, as most of my friends lived on the same bus route as I did and many of them also took the bus.
Morgan was now a freshman and George a sophomore, so we often sat together on the bus. Tom and Carlos were also freshmen and joined us as often as not. These two had met recently during one of Carlos’ visits to Morgan’s house (Tom lived between them) and had become friends as well. I wouldn’t have been surprised to learn that TUGs had become part of their relationship but there was no indication of this.
Michael and Brian rode the bus with the rest of us at first, but David had gotten his own car by then and soon was driving them to school himself. My cousin Randy was a senior who also had his own car, so we rarely saw him on the bus at all unless he was having mechanical difficulties or was short of money for gas. Ron and Al had purchased cars as well; each took turns driving the other to school. Sho had gotten a car the previous school year and drove Ichiro to school. Walter and Gary had already graduated. My remaining friends were not old enough for high school yet.
So riding the bus wasn’t the huge reunion with friends I'd expected it to be, but George, Morgan, Carlos, and Tom were enough to keep me company on the rides to and from school, and I saw and interacted with many of the others during school hours. For example, Ron and Al were in the same grade as I was and we often ended up seated close together in “Home Room”.
However, though we chatted amiably enough on the bus or in classes about matters of common interest to teenage boys, the subject of TUGs was never among them; that was something one simply did not discuss in public where one could be overheard. But Al and Ron remained friendly with me and I was hopeful that there might still be renewed TUGs activity between us at some point.
As it turned out, though, my first conversation with anybody about TUGs after school began was with Carlos, and it was on the very first day of the school year.
Being two grades apart, we didn’t have any classes in common. However, we had lunch period at the same time. Once we realized this on the first day of school, we immediately sat at the same table together as far from anybody else as we could get. Tom was also in line. a bit behind us; it took him only a minute to get what he wanted and join us.
As soon as Tom sat down, Carlos quietly asked me, “Can Tom and I visit you after school today?”
I looked rapidly from Carlos to Tom and back to Carlos again. “Umm… okay, sure,” I replied quickly, just before several other students joined us and made further conversation all but impossible. But I was certain I knew what Tom and Carlos wanted to do.
Sure enough, mere moments after I got off the bus with Tom and Carlos and led them into the house, they had ropes in their hands and were tying me up. I’d only managed to give my dog a quick petting after his usual exuberant greeting before I was bound hand and foot, laid on the bed, and straddled by my two friends; Carlos astride my chest and Tom on my belly.
“I take it you two have been talking to each other about me,” I remarked dryly. This seemed obvious as they were clearly at ease doing this together.
“Actually, it was Morgan who told me about Carlos joining the ‘club’,” Tom told me. Of course, he was using the term “club” rather loosely as, strictly speaking, there was *no* club as such any longer. Whatever loose organization we'd ever possessed had completely disintegrated by this time. However, Tom was still talking; this overrode my normal inclination to point out errors of this type.
“So Morgan introduced me and Carlos,” Tom continued, “and both of us tied him up and played with him for a while. After that, you were a natural topic of conversation.”
This seemed too obvious to require a response, so I merely grunted in agreement.
“Morgan wanted to come with us today too, but he and George had chores,” Carlos added. “Maybe when we get together tomorrow, we can really make this interesting.”
I cocked my eyebrow at his choice of words: “when”, not “if”, we got together the next day. I didn’t comment aloud about this, however – I decided simply to enjoy the moment.
Sure enough, on the way home the next day, Morgan got off the bus with us at my house. After giving me the chance to pet my dog, he joined the others in tying me up as soon as I got to my room. And then there were three of them sitting on top of me for a pleasant two hours before my mother came home and they had to leave.
After this, for a considerable while, the four of us would get off the bus at my house, Carlos’s house, or Morgan’s house an average of two to three times a week. If we were at Morgan’s house George would join us too. Usually the guest of honor would be the one whose house we were staying at (which was mine about half of the time).
Like my mother, Morgan’s parents both worked for a living and were out every weekday until past five; this gave us plenty of opportunities to play TUGs at his house. Likewise, Carlos (who lived only with his mother as she was divorced) had the house to himself after school; his mother worked weekdays as a housekeeper.
Tom's parents were different; they worked at home tending their farm. We therefore went to his house after school only rarely because of the lack of privacy there. In addition, Tom sometimes couldn't join the rest of us playing TUGs because of a heavier load of farm chores he had to do than the rest of us, though by this time his parents were cutting him more slack than they used to for the sake of his social life.
Weekends were different as far as Tom was concerned. Most of the time, Tom’s parents were away much of the day on Saturday (for business reasons of some kind) and so some of us would get together at Tom’s house for TUGs fun. On Sundays, it would be George and Morgan’s parents who were away visiting relatives (often their company-loving grandmother). And so many times, unless George and Morgan were compelled to join the visit, or their sister Julia was visiting home from college, we'd adjourn to their house on Sunday for the same purpose. My house was unsuitable on weekends because my mother was often home then… and sometimes her new beau Bob would be there visiting as well.
Weekends were therefore better than weekdays because we usually had more time for an extended TUG. On warmer days, we'd go outdoors somewhere and one of us (usually but not always me) would either be tied upright to a tree or staked out on the ground and subjected to the worst torments the others could dream up and actually dare to do to a willing (or semi-willing) victim. As the weather got cooler (but not *too* cold) the torments would include the victim being clothed just enough to cover his modesty but little else… and then liberally dosed with water from a nearby pond.
If I was the chosen victim I'd often get sat on too; not only because I liked it but because it helped warm me up. I was also chosen most often because I'd put up without complaint with things no one else would. But sometimes doing it to somebody else was more fun for the others *because* I didn’t complain; the howls of outrage from the victim were part of the fun for the others too.
As the school year progressed and the outside weather got colder, our TUGs activities during the weekdays became less frequent and weekends became more of a certainty. Little Fred began joining us on occasion when we were at Tom’s house, though it was usually Tom he tied up and tended to rather than any of the rest of us.
In addition, Stevie and Matt rejoined our circle and started attending the festivities as well; they offered their own house for our base of operations when Matt's mother happened to be out for the day (as she often was). Matt was always one of those who was tied up on these occasions, but he usually had me (and often one or two of the others as well) for company.
Josh and Craig sometimes joined us when we convened at Stevie and Matt’s house; I rarely saw them otherwise.
Ron and Al occasionally visited me as well, or I visited them when none of the others were around. However, these visits were usually TUGs-free and became rarer over time. I am unsure why, but they seemed to be steadily losing their interest in playing TUGs – at least, with me. By the end of the fall semester, they stopped this altogether – though we remained friends for the rest of our high school years. We still interacted socially at school fairly often, but ever afterward it was as though there had never been any TUGs between us at all. I tried asking about it a couple of times, but they always changed the subject abruptly (though politely). So we never talked about TUGs again.
Sho and Jirou remained friendly with me at school. However, Sho seemed to spend all his time with J.J. and Jirou visiting a new circle of friends in his own grade, so my relationships with these three cooled as well – at least, for a while. Things would eventually heat up between us again, but that’s a story for another time.
Randy continued to remain friendly in school but, like Sho, he seemed to develop new, stronger friendships with his classmates (seniors in this case). So I almost never saw him outside school except when my mother and I visited his mother at their house; he never came with his mother when she visited us. This made me feel a little lost; I started to miss his (and his older brother Walter’s) tie-up-and-torment pranks keenly.
I missed Sho, Al and Ron even more; though they weren't relatives of mine, they were closer to me in age than any of the others were.
David and his brothers remained friendly and interested in TUGs, but I didn't get to visit them very often, and of the three, only David visited me and even then only occasionally. Michael and Brian took to visiting Jirou more often, while David was active in various sports, in the Boy Scouts, and with other activities that kept him too busy to spend as much time with me as before.
However, David remained interested in TUGs and still enjoyed tying me up when he had time for a visit. He even remained somewhat interested in other, more intimate games with me as well… the only one of my friends besides George and (occasionally) Brian who was interested during this time. But these games were less intense and rarer than they used to be.
Matters continued in this way until December, when there was a sudden upheaval in my life… my mother and Bob decided to get married!
I felt as if the entire world had gone insane. Bob was going to be my stepfather! My only knowledge of stepfathers (or stepmothers, for that matter) came from Grimm’s Fairy Tales, where they usually turned out to be spectacularly rotten people. None of my friends had step-parents, so they couldn't offer me any worthwhile guidance on the matter. My father had had a stepfather (and a stepbrother who he’d gotten along with better than he had with his own full brother), but he was deceased and couldn’t tell me what that had been like. I didn’t particularly like Bob to begin with, he had no children I might make friends with, and now I was afraid things would just go downhill.
Mom and Bob decided to get married in the middle of December and spend a week on a honeymoon up in Canada. The only real sticking point was where *I* would spend the week; the only thing we all agreed on for certain was that it wasn’t going to be with *them*!
At first Mom wanted me to spend the week with my Aunt Yvette and my cousins Randy and Walter (Walter would be home from college). But while I'd have enjoyed that the previous year, the recent coolness of my cousins toward me made me unenthusiastic about the idea this time. Besides, I was 16 now; from my point of view, surely I was old enough to take care of myself at home for a week!
Mom and Bob pointed out that I couldn’t drive to get groceries. I responded that it would be simple enough to stock up on groceries, and though I wasn't in Mom’s league I *was* a good enough cook to feed myself. Aunt Yvette could always check on me every so often, and I could call her if I needed anything. Surely that would be easier for everyone concerned than her having to put me up for a week – to say nothing of boarding my large and rather frisky dog as well.
I think it was the point about the dog that convinced Mom. Aunt Yvette loved dogs; in fact, she used to have one. However, she was used to quiet, well-behaved poodles. Not big, frisky retrievers who demanded frequent petting, had boundless energy, and shed all over the place!
And so I got my way and had the house all to myself for the week. The wedding would be on the Friday before Christmas vacation (I had an excused absence for the day), and Mom and my new stepfather would be home on Sunday the following week, the day before Christmas Eve. There would be no school, so I’d be home alone all day with presumably just Blackie for company most of the time.
Not once did it occur to me that I'd set up a remarkable opportunity for myself. Not until the week actually arrived.
It was a very nice wedding – at least, for something that was going that was going to change my life in so many ways. However, I enjoyed it about as much as I'd have enjoyed being in a rickety building during an earthquake. But I put on a brave front, smiled at everybody, and kept out of the way as much as I could manage.
My Aunt Yvette and cousin Randy (also excused from classes for the day) were there, of course. Randy, who was apparently bored, kept me company for the most part – proving friendlier on this occasion than he’d been since mid-summer – and this helped me shake off feelings of gloom and doom.
The reception was a relatively modest and mercifully brief one. It was still early afternoon when Mom and Bob drove off to begin their honeymoon. I expected to get a ride home with my Aunt Yvette but Randy had driven to the reception in his own car and offered to take me home instead. There was no reason to be suspicious under the circumstances, especially as we’d had no TUGs together in several months, so I readily accepted.
“So, how do you like your new step-dad?” Randy asked me cheerfully on the way home.
I rolled my eyes and made gagging noises; this seemed eloquent enough to express my feelings.
“Don’t like him much, huh?” Randy replied just as cheerfully, but without any apparent attempt to needle me. “He’s an all-right guy, though. I’ve known him for years. A bit of a stiff, but he’s all right. Still, I’m glad he’s not going to be *my* step-dad!”
“Thanks,” I replied dryly. “That makes me feel *so* much better!”
“I know what’ll make you feel better,” Randy said with a sly grin. “Want to have a tie-up when we get to your house? I’ve got the time if you do.”
This was the first time Randy had expressed any interest in spending any time with me – let alone playing a TUG with me – since mid-summer. As I'd honestly missed having TUGs with him, I agreed without hesitation. He smiled and nodded, and I smiled and felt better than I had all day.
We arrived at my house, where Blackie greeted me (and Randy) with his usual vigorous canine fanfare, and we went up to my room where I began to change out of the suit and tie I’d worn for the wedding.
“Aw, don’t bother with all that,” Randy said as he opened my secret stash of bondage materials without even bothering to undo his own tie or remove his jacket. “You can change clothes afterward.”
I’d only managed to get my tie, shoes, and jacket off and had unbuttoned my shirt before Randy came up to me, jokingly pushed me down onto my bed, made me lie down on top of it in the usual spread-eagle, and handcuffed my right wrist to the bedpost on my right. With a few brisk movements, Randy circled around me and my bed and quickly and efficiently cuffed my remaining hand to the other head-post and then secured my feet to the further bedposts with a couple of pieces of rope (I had no cuffs that would fit my ankles at the time).
Without a word, Randy immediately climbed onto my bed, straddled my chest, and playfully began slapping my face with both hands. He was, incongruously it seemed to me at the time, still wearing his shoes, suit, and tie – the first time I’d ever had a TUG with someone wearing full formal wear when it wasn’t my birthday.
Oddly, it somehow felt more thrilling that way. Even so, I couldn’t help but ask, in a sly sort of way, “So, aren’t you going to make yourself more comfortable?” After all, I was used to seeing him wear considerably less than this when he was playing TUGs with me, and, frankly, I enjoyed looking at his slim and athletic form when it had less clothing concealing it.
“Nah, I’ve got to get home now,” Randy said to me with a laugh and, without warning, got up off of me and started to walk out of my room… without freeing me!
“Hey! Wait a minute!” I yelped in some surprise, too stunned to be certain whether he was joking or not. “What about me?”
“Don’t worry, you’ve got other company coming!” he told me cheerfully as he hastened down the stairs. “Bye!”
“What? Wait!” I called out in disbelief and frustration. “HEY!!! Come back here!”
But Randy was already out the door, and though I was probably still vaguely audible from outside he simply got into his car, started it up, hooted the horn a couple of times, and drove away.
I swore out loud to myself. *Now* what was I going to do?
Blackie wandered uneasily up to my bed, whining a bit with concern as he sensed my mood; but all he could offer me was moral support. There was certainly nothing he could do to get me free.
I didn’t have long to wonder what prank my cousin had in mind for me this time. After just a little while, I heard the school bus stopping at the road in front of my house. “Why the heck is it stopping here?” I asked Blackie in puzzlement. “I’m not even *on* it!”
For an answer, Blackie went to my window and began to bark. Moments later, I could hear familiar voices talking and laughing outside. It was George and Morgan.
I expected that I'd need to yell for help when they knocked on the door and wouldn’t be able to come in. I was a bit slow on the uptake. They didn’t knock; they simply opened the front door – which Randy had purposely left unlocked – and walked right in. I could hear them clearly as they headed right up the stairs to my room without calling out to me or talking between themselves. They simply approached, laughing quietly, as if it was their own house they’d entered rather than mine.
They opened the door of my room and came right in, looking not a bit surprised to see me alone and secured to my own bed. “Hi, Jase!” George said to me cheerfully as he and Morgan took off their jackets as casually as you could imagine. “How was the wedding?”
I stared at them, goggled-eyed and in slack-jawed silence for a moment. “You…” I sputtered and had to start over. “You two knew about this, didn’t you?” I accused them.
“Sure we did,” Morgan replied happily as he removed his shirt and T-shirt – revealing his fit, athletic torso underneath – and then straddled my chest precisely as Randy had. “Randy set this up with us weeks ago!”
“Should’ve known,” I groused, though actually I was feeling much happier by this time. I complained more because of the casual way I’d been set up (yet again!) than the (to me, pleasurable) consequences of it.
“We thought you’d like it,” Morgan said happily as he began torturing my face in the usual ways; twisting my nose, flicking my ears, and so forth.
“Some of the others are going to come along for a visit while you’ve got the house to yourself, too.” George told me as he removed his own shirt and then proceeded to tickle my feet, which of course made me laugh like the Joker from Batman. “I thought *that* would make you happy,” he added wryly as he continued tickling me and I continued to laugh almost insanely. Morgan meanwhile started tickling me along my ribs; this rendered me incapable of any coherent response because I was laughing too hard.
Seeing that I was in a better mood and had some friends with me, Blackie went to his own doggie bed and took a nap. He was used to this kind of thing by now.
There was no intimacy involved, but Morgan stripped down to just his boxer shorts before long while George wore gym shorts and a tank-top. The two brothers kept me pleasantly under their control for the next few hours while we watched TV in my room. They cooked me a TV dinner and fed it to me by hand while each had a sandwich for himself. Morgan fed Blackie for me too, as I was obviously unable to feed him myself.
It was just before seven o’ clock when they finally made preparations to go back home. It wasn't until they started to put their coats on that it began to dawn on me that they were making no attempts to free me of my captivity.
“Hey, you’re not going to leave me handcuffed to my bed while I’m alone all night, are you?” I asked with genuine concern.
“Of course not, Jason,” George told me with a grin that made me suspicious, and still making no move to unlock my bonds.
“…But?” I asked suspiciously after a long pause.
“You won’t be alone,” Morgan told me with a grin as he put on his cap and gloves. “Carlos is going to spend the night with you. He’ll be here any moment. Don’t worry; we won’t leave until he gets here, just in case he can’t…”
He was interrupted by Blackie rushing suddenly downstairs and barking at the front door. A moment later I could hear someone scraping snow off their boots outside, come on through the front door, close it, and take off their boots. Blackie, meanwhile, could be heard running playfully about, as he often did when one of my friends came in, and I heard sounds indicating that whoever was downstairs was petting him. I relaxed, as Blackie reacted differently with people he didn’t know; friendly as he was, he’d have continued barking if it was someone he didn’t already know was a friend.
“That you, Carlos?” George called downstairs.
“Si!” Carlos’ now-familiar voice answered. “Be up in a minute. How’s everything?”
“Just fine!” George answered. George and Morgan then turned to face me. “Have a nice night,” George told me.
“Try not to get athlete’s face,” Morgan told me wryly. Then, before I could reply (if indeed I’d had anything to say), they went downstairs, exchanged a few quick words with Carlos, called “Good night!” back up to me, and headed out the door. A moment later Carlos walked up the stairs and greeted me at the door as he came in.
“Enjoying your Christmas vacation surprise so far?” Carlos asked me as he proceeded to remove his shirt.
“Umm, yeah… it’s quite a surprise all right,” I replied in agreement as he casually sat on the edge of my bed and began to pull off his boots. “But how long are you guys going to keep me chained up like this? Not that I mind!” I added hastily, “But I’ve got to go to the bathroom!”
“Oh, we’re going to keep you like this all week while your Mom’s away,” Carlos told me cheerfully. “Not just us, either. Randy, Stevie, Tom, David, and Brian are all going to come by and take turns keeping you company and entertain you, too. Randy thinks Walter might stop by too. As for the bathroom, don’t worry, amigo; I’ll take you there myself after I’ve relaxed a bit!”
And with that, Carlos climbed up on top of me, sat on my belly, planted his still sweaty socked feet on top of my face, and watched a repeat episode of Star Trek on my TV.
Once the program was over, Carlos freed me from my bonds so I could take a quick bathroom break. No attempt was made to keep me partially restrained or on a leash like my cousins used to do; he simply escorted me to the bathroom, let me do my business in private, escorted me up again, and chained back me back down the moment I returned to my bed. After all, we both knew I didn’t want to “avoid capture”, and he was more interested in making me smell and worship his feet than in humiliating me in other ways.
Removing everything he wore but a set of briefs, Carlos resumed sitting on me and using my face for a foot-stool as we watched more TV for a while. Afterward, when it was time for lights out, he lay on top of me as we slept. Other than a little hugging, though, there was no physical intimacy between us.
Even so, a relevant part was quite hard much of the night.
The next morning Carlos released me briefly for another bathroom break, tied me back to my bed, and straddled my chest while hand-feeding me breakfast. We then watched some Saturday morning TV programs for a while until Stevie arrived just before lunchtime to take over for Carlos. Then, with a wave and a jaunty “Adios,” Carlos left me to the tender mercies of my next guest / babysitter.
Still just shy of being thirteen, Stevie was by then almost two inches taller than me but was still many pounds lighter than I was and otherwise looked his own age. He was about as tall as Rusty had been but even skinnier, weighing perhaps 140 at most. He reminded me of Rusty in other ways, too, even though he had little physical resemblance to Rusty and was, as far as I know, unrelated to him. It was at about this time that everybody began to call him “Beanpole”.
Unlike Carlos, Stevie insisted on keeping me tied up virtually every moment he was with me. Bathroom breaks were still private, but I was kept hobbled and my hands cuffed in front of me (unless I needed to wipe myself) whenever I went inside the bathroom. Instead of keeping me in bed for lunch, Stevie tied me to a kitchen chair while I ate (it was sandwiches Stevie had brought himself). We watched TV in the afternoon and then went for a walk in the woods together. I was hobbled and leashed and walked with my hands cuffed behind my back. Blackie went with us, of course, and ran free wherever he wished to go.
It was pleasurable to be kept so tightly under the control of a boy nearly four years younger than I was, so I obeyed Stevie better than Blackie obeyed me. Unlike many of the others, though, Stevie wasn’t into torture; so usually I was left un-tormented for the most part except for the occasional foot tickle.
Randy took over for Stevie late in the afternoon, and Walter – home from college for the holidays – dropped in for a while as well but couldn’t stay. Randy stayed overnight and kept things lively and interesting in his inimitable fashion. He left me standing inside my own closet – gagged, blindfolded, almost naked, and with my arms held suspended above me by an iron pipe that ran just a few inches underneath the ceiling – while he watched TV. Fortunately I was tall enough that I couldn’t be held semi-suspended off the floor on my tip-toes that way… even though that was clearly his original intent.
Tom took over the day shift on Sunday. Unlike the others, he let me stay untied most of the time. He apparently figured I needed a break from being tied up or lacked the nerve to keep me bound like the others did. So we played checkers, took a walk, shot some hoops, and watched a football game on TV. I was no football fan but he was, and he sat on top of me the whole time so I didn’t complain.
But after this pleasant start, things rapidly went south. Tom had tied me to a kitchen chair and was just about to feed me dinner when the phone rang. Tom hesitantly answered the phone himself as I was quite literally tied up with other matters. I’d expected him to bring the phone to me so I could talk with whoever was on the line – figuring the caller was Mom or one of my friends. Instead, Tom uttered an astonished “What?!”, turned pale as he listened to whoever was calling, replied “I’ll take care of it right away!”, hung up, and hurried over to me.
“That was Walt,” Tom told me as he hastily began to untie me. “Your brother is coming home on leave! Walt saw him as he passed through town. He’s just up the road and he’ll be here any moment!”
“What?” I yelped, even more astonished – and chagrined – than Tom was. “What’s *he* doing coming here while Mom’s out?! I wasn’t expecting him at all!”
The sound of Blackie barking outside told me that I’d soon find out. Fortunately Tom had gotten me untied by this time and we were able to hide my bondage materials and all other evidence that anything unusual had been taking place.
My brother Ike came in through the front door; announced only by the canine reception committee of one dog, who seemed much gladder to see him than *I* was at the moment.
“Hi, Ike,” I greeted him with a half-hearted attempt to sound cheerful. “How come you’re here while Mom’s away for a week?”
“Because Mom *is* away for a week and she thought you’d be lonely all by yourself,” Ike told me somewhat more cheerfully.
“Oh!” I replied, lamely. “That was thoughtful of her,” I almost added, even more lamely; but I kept this thought to myself.
“And because I wanted to spend Christmas at home instead of in a naval barracks.” Ike added wryly.
Well, even *I* couldn’t blame him for *that*.
Although Ike used to play TUGs with me himself when we were younger (and in fact he’d introduced them to me and played them steadily with me from the time I was 5 and he was 9), I wasn’t really expecting (or wanting) him to want to play them with me now. So I didn't let him in on what Tom and I (and the others) had been up to. Instead, we simply talked about what he’d been doing in the Navy and so on. It was a pleasant enough conversation – the friendliest we’d had in years, actually, as we’d not been on good terms since I’d turned 12 – and I soon managed to get over my disappointment that his arrival had spoiled things so badly.
Ike would be staying in the room that had been set aside for him, which was upstairs and next to my own room. With him around, the upstairs was no longer my sole domain and any further TUGs my friends had planned for me were therefore aborted. For a while, this made me even more resentful of my brother than I’d been in years, and I couldn’t even give myself the satisfaction of telling him so.
But though Ike had inadvertently spoiled my plans by volunteering to come home for the Christmas holidays to keep an eye on me, our relationship soon turned more cordial than it had since I was 12. We’d both matured somewhat, I suppose, and we were able to put past differences behind us. He’d even brought me a few musical cassette tapes as a Christmas present, including a couple of albums by the Moody Blues, one by Jimi Hendrix, and two others by a proto-heavy metal band called Uriah Heep. I was notoriously difficult to buy presents for, but I enjoyed all the tapes and listened to them several times while he was visiting. I don’t recall what I gave him, but it probably wasn’t as nice as his gift to me.
We had many pleasant conversations during his stay, both before and after Mom and Bob came home from their honeymoon. But we never once discussed our own TUGs history and there was no hint from either of us that the other was still interested in the subject. If Ike suspected I still played TUGs with our cousins or with any of my friends (and in hindsight I think he probably did), he never said anything about it. More importantly, though, he never mentioned any of that to Mom or Bob either.
But now, with Bob living with Mom and me, my TUGs life would never quite be the same ever again.

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Dare to be different... and make a difference.
To boldly go where no one in their right mind has gone before...

### Re: My High School Years - Year 3

Post by xtc » Fri Apr 13, 2012 9:16 am

I see you are now truly into your stirde again and posting multiple stories.
Welcome back properly and I hope your renewed posting vigour is symptomatic of your improved health.
Wassail!
Xtc
Boxer shorts are cool,
but little speedos rule!
More by the same author: viewtopic.php?f=5&t=22729

### Re: My High School Years - Year 3

Post by TUfriend » Fri Apr 13, 2012 6:32 pm

Interesting story. I just have one question and don't feel like you have to answer it. I know you say that you and your friends never had any intimacy, but did you enjoy that they were boys and not girls?
Heil Toddman, the Wonderful Wizard of Odd
I'm a nerd with a dangerous side.
See my most recent TRUE story, "SPL Initiation", here.
Read my most recent FICTIONAL story, "The Birth of a Whovian", here

### Re: My High School Years - Year 3

Post by Jason Toddman » Fri Apr 13, 2012 6:43 pm

> TUfriend wrote:Interesting story. I just have one question and don't feel like you have to answer it. I know you say that you and your friends never had any intimacy...

Really? Are you sure that's what I said?

> TUfriend wrote: but did you enjoy that they were boys and not girls?

yes; very much so. And not all my friends were boys either; though my gf Julia was something of a tomboy. She may have been tougher than me, but she was definitely a girl!
Dare to be different... and make a difference.
To boldly go where no one in their right mind has gone before...

### Re: My High School Years - Year 3

Post by sarumansauron » Sun Apr 15, 2012 3:04 pm

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

### Re: My High School Years - Year 3

Post by skdj » Thu Aug 16, 2012 12:09 am

I've been going through this series of stories and it's like a fantastic journey. So much attention to detail, and so many characters described vividly it is easy to picture them. It's also clear where the inspiration for some of your ficitional characters came from. I hope you continue to write when the mood strikes you.

### Re: My High School Years - Year 3

Post by Jason Toddman » Thu Aug 16, 2012 6:42 am

Hadn't put any effort into this series lately for two reasons:
1. Hardly anyone else seemed to be interested anymore judging by the scant amount of feedback.
2. Shortly after the events of this last story I posted was a rather painful episode in my life where my cousins and I had something of a falling out that still bothers me to even think about even after all these years; after which my relationship with them was never the same again. But I suppose I'll need to do that story too sooner or later, just to get past it both in terms of story writing and inside myself.
Dare to be different... and make a difference.
To boldly go where no one in their right mind has gone before...

### Re: My High School Years - Year 3

Post by TUfriend » Thu Aug 23, 2012 9:07 pm

I've been reading them. If I don't comment, it's because I've been using my iLod and comment takes a while and is often annoying. If I don have a lot of time to read a bunch of stories, I often just look for the ones by you or xtc because I know I'll get a good one first try.
Heil Toddman, the Wonderful Wizard of Odd
I'm a nerd with a dangerous side.
See my most recent TRUE story, "SPL Initiation", here.
Read my most recent FICTIONAL story, "The Birth of a Whovian", here

### Re: My High School Years - Year 3

Post by Jason Toddman » Thu Aug 23, 2012 9:11 pm

I appreciate the encouragement, Tufriend. Currently doing a (non-TUGs) project that's engaging my interest but perhaps I'll do a new installment in this series within the next month or two. It IS a story I've mentioned elsewhere before, but I have never told in detail before.
Dare to be different... and make a difference.
To boldly go where no one in their right mind has gone before...

### Re: My High School Years - Year 3

Post by Rogeroo » Mon Nov 26, 2012 8:02 pm

I thought about your cousins and your falling-out and it reminded me of myself.
I was the youngest of our extended group, and also the most ill-mannered and immature until I was over 20. I have no idea why, but I was a generally terrible kid, but my cousins (that what we called each other, but 2 were my nephews and 2 were my uncles and 2 were so far-away related that the common ancestor was my great-great-great grandfather ) seemed to tolerate me and didn't seem to mind my behavior too much.
As they matured to dating in high school I was left behind and there was no one left in our group. It was during this period that we had a falling out and several of my cousins never spoke to me again from the time I was 14 until I left home at 18. While I was in the service I had a few investments that paid off and by the time I got out I was pretty wealthy and had other big ideas.
It was at that time that I went back to the creek where I had had some much fun (Although I hadn't known it then - & THAT, I really don't understand at all) and set re-reading some old Heinlein books. One of them had one of Anson's clever lines: "In any domestic argument, should you suddenly discover that you are in the right; you should apologize immediately."
Walking home, I decided that I should apologize because I missed the old camaraderie and had not built any close friends in the military. My one-close college friend, Mike Taylor, had had a break-down and his mother and his psychiatrist had totally isolated him and I've never heard from him again. So, I wasn't convinced I was right, I just wanted my old TUG friends back, although we did a lot of hunting, swimming and fishing, it was the TUG that I really missed.
I was leaving for the Mid East in 6 days (for a 1-Year trip) so I composed hand-written letters and apologized deeply to all 14 cousins. I filled each letter with personal up-beat items, told each how nice they had been to me and what a jerk I was, and admitted that I still was, but was working on it. In short, I told the truth and bared my soul. I was long gone before anyone could answer, but my parents and grandmother had my address. I was more curious than anything how the letters would be received.
I am going to skip a lot of stuff that you can fill in yourself. The consensus was that some of my cousins had missed those days and had met back by the old watering hole, and tried to revive then, but could never capture the spirit, and realized that YOU CAN NEVER GO HOME. Life has lots of little sadnesses, like the evolution of friends and there is nothing that can be done about it. Time and Life both move on.
I remember how great it was to always be in the group that got tied up. It was personal; I must have really loved to be scared and to have lost all freedom(s). I always fought when they tried to capture me; but then I never cried or bellyached, no matter what they did to me.
Once there was this huge tree leaning over the old swimming hole and someone had climbed up to a limb near the top and attached a huge rope that we would swing from. The bank on that side of the creek was higher than the peak of my house. On the first occasion of this event I was already tied securely: My hands snugly behind me and then around my waist and my elbows touching. I was about 8 or 9, bare-footed and only wearing my swimming trunks. It was decided that someone would be tied to that rope.
When everyone looked at me I took off running (and screaming). Having a head start, I was exhausted by the time I was caught. I fought what I could and was gagged because of my noise. I lost my pants during the fight and a collar was placed on my neck and I was marched back to the camp on a leash, breathing heavily through my nose only. (Truthfully I was quite scared.)
The plans changed a little when 'they' decided that my wrists were too little to be hanging from them and decided that I would be hanging from my ankles. I broke and ran again, but was quickly caught and led back, fighting the leash all the way. A thick belt was wrapped around both legs maybe three times and then a rope was tied between my legs to the belt. It was adjusted to make as comfortable as possible.
Then I was blind folded and spun in a circle not being allowed to fall, until I was unable to stand. I was then attached to this huge long rope, which had been twisted and twisted. I was picked up by several people and attached to the rope. And then they dropped me. I expected to hit the ground but I missed it and was suddenly upside down spinning like crazy and swinging in a long long arc. The swinging was a minor thrill, but I was still spinning and even thought I might be right side up because I was so dizzy.
After a long time, When The spinning finally stopped I realized I had wound the rope up the other way, and was beginning to spin in the opposite direction. This continued back and forth long after the swinging had stopped. It continued until finally I was only doing a half spin one-way and then a half back the other way. It was then I realized that no one could reach me, I was hanging over the middle of pond upside down, naked, tied, gagged and blindfolded and no one could get me down.
Last edited by Rogeroo on Thu Dec 06, 2012 10:58 pm, edited 1 time in total.

### Re: My High School Years - Year 3

Post by xtc » Tue Nov 27, 2012 3:36 am

Hey, Rogeroo,
How about turning this into a thread of its own and continuing it? Or hare you still hanging over the pond/creek?
Boxer shorts are cool,
but little speedos rule!
More by the same author: viewtopic.php?f=5&t=22729

### Re: My High School Years - Year 3

Post by Jason Toddman » Tue Nov 27, 2012 7:44 am

If someone like Rogeroo is going to shanghai my thread, I'd better get around to continuing my story sometime soon so I can take it back!!!
Dare to be different... and make a difference.
To boldly go where no one in their right mind has gone before...

### Re: My High School Years - Year 3

Post by xtc » Tue Nov 27, 2012 9:19 am

Woould be nice to see you posting stories again.
Boxer shorts are cool,
but little speedos rule!
More by the same author: viewtopic.php?f=5&t=22729

### Re: My High School Years - Year 3

Post by sarumansauron » Tue Nov 27, 2012 3:13 pm

> xtc wrote:Woould be nice to see you posting stories again.

I agree!
I love TUGS and TICKLING Torture!!!!!

### Re: My High School Years - Year 3

Post by TUfriend » Tue Nov 27, 2012 3:41 pm

Make it three votes for new stories.
Heil Toddman, the Wonderful Wizard of Odd
I'm a nerd with a dangerous side.
See my most recent TRUE story, "SPL Initiation", here.
Read my most recent FICTIONAL story, "The Birth of a Whovian", here

### Re: My High School Years - Year 3

Post by Jason Toddman » Tue Nov 27, 2012 9:41 pm

Okay. After the nice long rest I've had (during which I've been busy with non-TUGs projects such as revising and expanding and modifying a Jonny Quest webcomic I did at ComicFury a few years ago - making it more appropriate for general audiences), I guess I'm ready to get back to doing TUG stories again. I'll start resuming serious work on those sometime in the coming week... I hope.
Dare to be different... and make a difference.
To boldly go where no one in their right mind has gone before...

### Re: My High School Years - Year 3

Post by Rogeroo » Thu Nov 29, 2012 6:37 pm

TO: xtc - U R Right I was making a comment about "losing friends" and "You can't go back home" and got carried away.
To: Jason Toddman - Enjoy Your writing. Check for your updates often.
To: Everyone else. Sorry for the long story. I was thinking about the exhilaration of the moment and the fact that, that particular exhilaration can never be achieved again. It was done again, It was fun again but it was never quite the same. My older cousins were never the same either... they grew up and changed individually ... as we all do through several stages in life and always leave something behind, and while there is is nostalgia I Love looking forward even if its only to dream. I enjoy all the TUG's here.
Last edited by Rogeroo on Sat Dec 15, 2012 12:03 am, edited 1 time in total.

### Re: My High School Years - Year 3

Post by Jason Toddman » Thu Nov 29, 2012 7:37 pm

> Rogeroo wrote:TO: xtc - U R Right I was making a comment about "losing friends" and "You can't go back home" and got carried away.
> To: Jason Toddman - Enjoy Your writing. Check for your updates often.
> To: Everyone else. Sorry for the long story. I was thinking about the exhilaration of the moment and the fact that, that particular exhilaration can never be achieved again. It was done again, It was fun again but it was never the same. My older cousins were never the same either... they grew up and change.. as we all do through several stages in life and always leave something behind, and whil thuis is nostalgia I Love looking forward even if its only to dream. I enjoy all the TUG's here.

Ironically my next installment in this series will have very much the same basic theme you just described, Rogeroo. I've started writing it now after a much longer hiatus than I'd planned, and should be ready to post it in a couple of weeks.
Dare to be different... and make a difference.
To boldly go where no one in their right mind has gone before...

### Re: My High School Years - Year 3

Post by Veracity » Fri Nov 30, 2012 9:46 pm

> Jason Toddman wrote:Okay. After the nice long rest I've had (during which I've been busy with non-TUGs projects such as revising and expanding and modifying a Jonny Quest webcomic I did at ComicFury a few years ago - making it more appropriate for general audiences), I guess I'm ready to get back to doing TUG stories again. I'll start resuming serious work on those sometime in the coming week... I hope.

So glad to read this. I've missed your stories.

### Re: My High School Years - Year 3

Post by Jason Toddman » Sat Dec 01, 2012 8:46 am

Yes, I remember your enthusiasm for What's a Prisoner Among Friends? I'll need to get back to that again eventually too, now that I am not quite so busy on other projects elsewhere and not feeling so burned out concerning it.
Dare to be different... and make a difference.
To boldly go where no one in their right mind has gone before...

### Re: My High School Years - Year 3

Post by TUfriend » Sat Dec 01, 2012 10:15 am

> Jason Toddman wrote:Yes, I remember your enthusiasm for What's a Prisoner Among Friends? I'll need to get back to that again eventually too, now that I am not quite so busy on other projects elsewhere and not feeling so burned out concerning it.

more WAPAF?! Yay!
Heil Toddman, the Wonderful Wizard of Odd
I'm a nerd with a dangerous side.
See my most recent TRUE story, "SPL Initiation", here.
Read my most recent FICTIONAL story, "The Birth of a Whovian", here

### Re: My High School Years - Year 3

Post by Rogeroo » Mon Dec 03, 2012 10:41 pm

I did a few parts to a story that happened as a young adult in
Requested Scenarios (Answers)
It seems so far away from the post above that its hard to believe its the same person and that person is me.
I also answered LEE in an elaborate ruse that he requested in
From Lee1107: Attachment(s) Tie me up?
I tried a different writing style and wonder what you think [?]
Is there anyway to make a link to another article ?
Would appreciate you comments and in-put in either forum.
Thanks
Last edited by Rogeroo on Thu Dec 06, 2012 11:08 pm, edited 2 times in total.

### Re: My High School Years - Year 3

Post by bondagefreak » Thu Dec 06, 2012 1:30 am

> Jason Toddman wrote:Yes, I remember your enthusiasm for What's a Prisoner Among Friends? I'll need to get back to that again eventually too...

Finally, this is some good news !
Take the time you need though...I am just glad to see it mentioned here. I was beginning to think you had resigned to shelfing that project

### Re: My High School Years - Year 3

Post by Jason Toddman » Sat Dec 08, 2012 11:36 am

Sorry for the long delay in adding to my story. This chapter was difficult for me to write for several reasons; some of which will be evident within the story itself. The incidents described here were major (and unpleasant) turning points in my life, ands essentially marked the end of what had been a relatively care free time in my life although not the end (not by a long shot) of my TUGs experiences.
A FALLING-OUT IN THE SPRING
After mom married Bob, my home life changed considerably; mostly for the worse, although there were some compensations. Mom was happier and more easy-going now. Also, Bob owned a plow, so I no longer had to shovel out the several-hundred foot long driveway we had by hand all by myself (with some occasional help from my friends) every time it snowed, which was a major relief! With Bob there, all I had to shovel out was the short stretch from the driveway to the kitchen door facing it; which only took a few minutes instead of hours like the other job did. That alone helped me to adjust to Bob’s presence in the house.
Also, Bob was a hard worker whose job brought in enough money so that we could afford a few more luxuries around the house – such as air conditioning.
Bob himself wasn’t bad for a stepfather. At least he wasn’t like the kind of stepparent usually portrayed in old fairy tales. He wasn’t really a positive influence on me either; showing no particular interest in me one way or another. He was simply there. However, his presence was enough to foul up my social life, as it was now awkward having company over for the usual reasons.
Bob was what most people would call a lumberjack, and was away from home for much of the day. However, he was home every night, making it impossible to have friends over for TUGs anymore. It was possible before even with mom home because – like her sister Aunt Yvette – she was hard of hearing and slept like a log, so as long as we weren’t too rambunctious she’d be oblivious to anything that happened upstairs in my private domain. But unlike mom, Bob was not hard of hearing (though his hearing was not especially keen like mine was either) and slept lightly; worse, he snored loudly and frequently! This didn’t bother my half-deaf mom, but it seemed to bug the bejezus out of my friends! So overnight-visits for me became a thing of the past, although I supposed we felt we were ‘out-growing’ such things as sleepovers anyway.
Worse, although Bob worked away from home during the day, mom had now taken up working at home, doing slip-covers and furniture upholstery for the same employer as before. I was no longer a latch-key kid, as there was always someone else home now other than my dog. This was great on some levels but, for someone who had enjoyed the privacy of their home after school for a while, it was terrible when it came to continuing to play TUGs with my current core group: Morgan, George, Carlos, and Tom; all of whom lived on the same road as me and within a mile or so of my house.
(Fred also lived on the same road but was considered too young to hang around with all of us on a regular basis. However, he and Tom still hung out together every so often when none of the rest of us was around, and sometimes either or both of them would visit me or I them to read some of my vast collection of old comic books - the real ones that is; not the ones I drew myself).
Although my mother couldn’t hear very well (and even less so while using a loud and rather antiquated sewing machine), all too often she’d ask me to do some errand or ask my friends who happened to be visiting if they’d like some refreshment or something. So even though she was oblivious to our TUGs activity, her continued presence at home soon put a complete damper on everything TUGs related… at least, while the weather was still too cold to make outdoors TUGs at all fun. This wasn’t a problem with normal ‘social’ visits however, but they became rather infrequent over the winter.
Occasionally we tried a change of venue and tried to play TUGs at someone else’s house, but this soon proved impossible as well. George and Morgan’s perpetually-ailing and lonely grandmother had now moved into the house with them and never went out – and always seemed to want to be the focus of attention of everyone else present. Tom’s parents were always home as well. Carlos mother had given up her housekeeping job and was home much of the time now too. And all the others either lived too far away from us or were no longer actively playing TUGs with us – leaving us with no safe haven at all. Moreover, my mom began wanting me to go straight home after school more often than not to help around the house. All this combined to seriously cramp my style, and for months TUGS were few, far between, rather short and unmemorable.
Occasionally, mostly on weekends, I’d get to see my friends outside of school only when
I visited them while walking my dog, but most of those visits were of necessity TUGs-free. It was all very frustrating.
I had never liked winter much and had always looked forward to spring, but that year I wished for spring more fervently than usual so that outdoor TUGs would be possible and school would not occupy so much of the weekdays. Until then, outside of school, I saw more of my dog than I did of my friends; and those outside my ‘core group’ I rarely saw or even heard from at all. I especially missed my cousins, but also missed David and his brothers almost as much.
Spring finally arrived, and I was finally able to have a few outdoor TUGs sessions with my nearest friends. But my memories of these is pretty much faded out because of one TUG that went so disastrously wrong that it (along with an unrelated event I will also mention in due course) made that spring one of the worst times of my life ever.
It was April, and Walter was home from college on spring break, and he and Randy decided to catch a movie in town together. I wound up being invited to go along with them for stated reasons I no longer recall and for hidden reasons I didn’t learn until later. The movie was a Walt Disney feature called “The World’s Greatest Athlete,” which wasn’t one I normally would have picked to see on my own and which I’ve recall almost nothing about since. However, it was nice to spend some time socializing with my cousins again after such a long hiatus and so I didn’t complain.
I found out then that Walter was not doing all that well in college and had decided to join the Air Force instead after the upcoming summer vacation. Randy, who was going to graduate from high school in June, was thinking of joining the military himself – but favored the Army rather than the Air Force. I couldn’t imagine two less undisciplined people than my cousins, and wondered what “Boot Camp” was likely to do to them.
By the time the movie was over, it was dark outside. Randy and Walter suggested we go to a certain restaurant in town that was placed relative to the theater that the best way to get there was a short walk through a small park flanked by forest along one side. It was a comfortably warm and dry night for April and, being the unsuspecting dupe I usually was, agreed to walk along with them through the now-deserted park to the restaurant.
Somewhere along the way we came close to the edge of the woods, and the conversation took a turn in a direction I’d wanted to take it to but had been afraid to do so myself.
“Hey, Jason,” Walter said to me casually. “Remember all the fun we used to have tying you up to a tree?”
“…Uhhh… yeah,” I answered hesitantly; unsure whether or not I liked where this conversation was likely to go; after all, it wasn’t summer-time by a long shot and the location wasn’t quite as secluded as what we were used to using. I was also rather lightly dressed for an extended session of being outdoors and unable to move around to keep myself warmed up.
“Wanna have a tie-up now?” Walter asked with a grin.
“Here? NOW?!” I asked with some incredulity as I looked around the empty park, which was only dimly lit by distant streetlights and even more distant houselights. There were no people around at this hour but there was no reason why someone else couldn’t wander by at any time just as we had done.
“Sure! Why not?” replied Randy as he steered me toward a tree of medium size about a hundred feet away from the walkway we had been following.
“But we’re out in the open here!” I protested while still letting myself be led along.
“Aw, it’s dark and nobody’s around!” Walter said casually. “It’ll be fine!”
I was still feeling doubtful; this wasn’t like doing it in the woods behind their house, where the chances of being spotted by casual passers-by was virtually non-existent even in broad daylight. Those trails were generally deserted year-round except during deer-hunting season; when we had generally avoided outdoor TUGs anyway. But this was in the middle of a public park, which itself was surrounded by houses on three sides, and a wide-open body of water with boats in it on the remaining side.
But Randy and Walter weren’t in the least worried. They simply led me a little ways into the narrow strip of woods where any view of us would presumably be cut off by the trees (though it was too early in the season for leaves), poor light, and the topography (there was a moderate-sized hill between us and the street on the nearest side of us); grinning and talking encouragingly to me all the while. Since I had been wishing precisely for something like this with them (although in more familiar surroundings) for a long while, I let myself be persuaded against my better judgment.
We came to a secluded spot where a small paper bag had been carefully concealed under some mulch – proving that this set-up had been planned well ahead of time rather than being a spontaneous decision on their part. This was hardly surprising, as I’d been fairly sure they had no bondage gear on them (that’d have been hard to hide for long and awkward to explain, I am sure). But here was enough material to keep me good and immobile for as long as they chose.
They had me stand between two small trees and asked me to remove my jacket and shirt. For once I was reluctant; it was a warm night for early-to- mid April, but considering the local climate that wasn’t saying a whole lot! It was still chilly enough outside to be mildly uncomfortable standing around shirtless – especially as there was a slight wind blowing at the time from off the water. But at least it was dry outside.
I couldn’t help but remember a time when I was eight and my brother had left me tied to a tree all night (on a night rather warmer than this one) – causing me to get bitten by a horde of mosquitoes and catching a bad cold before it was all said and done. I warily pointed this out to my cousins. They grinned and promised me they wouldn’t walk off and leave me without untying me first; nor would they keep me tied for more than an hour or so.
With these assurances, I let myself be talked into doing what they said. Mischievous and somewhat deceptive they might be, but as far as I knew then (or know now) they never outright lied to me in any important way. Hide important details, yes (as in fact they were going to do this time… of course!); but lie to my face, never. Of course, I knew enough by now (despite my naiveté) that they were planning *something* they weren’t telling me… they wouldn’t be themselves if they weren’t. But by this time I didn’t care so much; it’d been much too long since I’d had any TUG sessions with either of them that I threw caution to the winds and let them do what they wanted.
I removed my shirt and jacket as I was bidden and stood at a particular spot between the trees they had picked out for me facing in a particular direction. Randy took a pair of handcuffs and locked one end around my left wrist. He then hauled handcuffs and my wrist with it upward to a tree branch overhead and carefully closed the other end of the handcuffs around it.
I experimentally moved my arm downward and found that the handcuffs were caught against a smaller side branch just below them – preventing me from moving my arms down. The steep angle of the branch kept me from moving my arms upward much either.
Putting my weight into my arm enabled me to bend the branch downward somewhat, but for all intents and purposes, my arm was immobilized.
While Randy was doing this, Walter stood behind me and proceeded to gag me by the old method of first stuffing something into my mouth (something similar in size to a tennis ball but smooth and made of hard rubber which bounced quite readily when dropped) and then covering the lower half of my face with duct tape. He then topped this off with a medium-sized towel tied around my neck and the lower half of my head. Once he was finished, I was almost (though not quite) incomprehensible and (more importantly to them) my voice wouldn’t carry more than a few feet.
While Walter was still doing this, Randy took another set of handcuffs, enclosed my right wrist with it, and lifted that up to handcuff it to another branch from the adjacent tree. Both my arms were now out-stretched with only a slight amount of ‘give’ and reasonably immobile. However, my feet were both still firmly on the ground, so it was not too uncomfortable, all in all.
I even experimented with a suspension by pulling my feet away backwards to see what would happen. Well, the branches sagged underneath my weight a few inches but that was all. My arms became taut as they began to help support my weight. It became very uncomfortable very quickly however (the unpadded handcuffs dug at my unprotected wrists very painfully) and I quickly got my feet back under me; glad not to have to endure that for any length of time!
Then Randy and Walter began tying separate lengths of rope around my ankles, and I began to get the dread feeling that I might have to endure some kind of suspension after all. I began to protest in gag-talk about this. Despite the gag, I managed to make the details of my concerns fairly clear, for both were by then fluent in gag-talk.
“Don’t worry, Jason,” Walter said to me reassuringly; “your feet won’t leave the ground; I promise.”
I quite struggling; whatever their other faults, my cousins had never broken a promise to me and I doubted that they intended to start now. It was obvious from their mood that they were just out for a little prankish fun as usual but nothing malicious.
My ankles were pulled apart until they were as widely separated as possible under the circumstances and then tied off to the same trees my wrists were handcuffed too. My feet were still firmly underneath me with no danger of slippage, but separated enough so that the main part of my body was a few inches lower down than if I was standing erect. The effect was to increase the pull on my arms until they were now quite taut and what little freedom of movement I’d had in them was lost. The handcuffs pulled against my wrists a bit, but while keeping them utterly trapped did not dig enough too badly. They were more than a bit uncomfortable but not actually painful.
I was, in short, tied into a vertical spread-eagle while standing on my own two feet, with my limbs splayed out to form a rough X-shape.
I figured at that point that they would now begin to tickle me, since in former days that was often the first thing they did to me once my arms were spread-eagled out of the way and my ultra-ticklish underarms and rib cage were exposed and vulnerable. But I guess they figured they had outgrown such soft tortures as that. Instead, they brought two short lengths of rope with knots tied at one end and began to whip my exposed back with them.
I squealed as they began; more in surprise (they were behind me and so I didn’t see it coming) than in pain. It hurt somewhat, but far less than what I imagine a whipping with real whips would probably feel like. In fact, the whipping (or, more accurately, switching) I’d gotten from Jirou nearly two years earlier had hurt rather more than this did, as Jirou had put more muscle and energy into it than my cousins were doing. This was more a game than an attempt to actually hurt me; so, despite my muffled squeals and my thrashing around, I was enjoying the experience rather than otherwise.
Years later, when I first saw the scene in Roots when Kunta Kinte received a whipping, I’d remember this incident even more readily than the other involving Jirou – even though this time was by far the less painful or humiliating of the two incidents.
They beat at me for such a long time that both of my cousins removed their own jackets and then their shirts before they were finished. However, I sometimes think it wasn’t just their exertions that were making them sweat the way they were. In fact, despite my situation I was beginning to sweat a bit myself.
Randy came around from behind me and stood in front of me shirtless, sweating, and smiling impishly. “Ready for something else?” he asked me suggestively.
I nodded hesitantly while making a noise of uncertainty through my gag.
Without warning, Randy reached out, undid my belt, unfastened my pants button, zipped down my fly, and let my pants sag down my legs as far as they would go while my legs were spread apart as far as they were. This was far enough to leave my undershorts completely exposed, at any rate.
“Oh, you’re wearing boxers now, huh?” Randy asked me with a grin as he suddenly undid his own belt and let his own pants slide down to his ankles… leaving his own boxers in full view. “Well, that’ll make things a bit easier.”
I abruptly heard a sound right behind me matching the sounds made when Randy had let his pants drop, and immediately realized that Walter had done the same.
I suddenly felt another set of hands on my waist and looked down and backward; Walter’s hands were rubbing along my belly and waist while Walter himself stood just behind me. His trim front (still covered by his own boxers) began to rub against my somewhat more-padded behind in a suggestive way that even someone without my experiences with them could misunderstand.
I began to shiver with mingled apprehension and anticipation.
“So what would you like first… giving it in the front, or receiving it in the rear?” Walter asked me as he pressed in on me harder. At the same time Randy’s hands were beginning to stray into what many would consider forbidden territory.
But before I could decide what to do, I heard something that dashed my anticipation to cold ashes and fill me with pure apprehension; the sound of approaching footsteps from a considerable distance away.
Had the footsteps been on the hard walkway, my cousins would have heard it themselves soon enough to take warning and take appropriate action. But the person approaching was walking on the grass instead and making much less sound as a result, so I was the only one of us three who could hear them. It was far from being the only time my relatively keen ears picked up sounds that other people could not, but it was perhaps one of the most dramatic demonstrations of this I have ever experienced.
I began exclaiming urgently through my gag and trying to indicate to my cousins what was happening. Unfortunately my initial attempts at communication were misunderstood and they thought I was just feigning distress – something I often *did* do, so their misunderstanding was perfectly understandable. However, although the gag effectively muffled my words, it didn’t render me *entirely* incomprehensible, and after a few precious seconds were wasted I managed to get across the idea that someone was coming.
They still heard nothing themselves, but long before now I’d demonstrated to their complete satisfaction that my hearing was as unusually keen as my eyesight (without my glasses) was rotten. Thankfully then, unlike some people I have known, they wasted no further time debating whether or not I was imagining things; they believed me when I’d indicated someone was coming and reacted at once by pulling their own pants back on.
By that time they could hear the sounds of footsteps too; whoever it was out there was no more than about forty feet away by that time but still invisible in the darkness and with trees in the way. My cousins then quietly whispered whether they should free me or try remaining completely still and silent in hopes that whoever it was would simply go his way – hopefully totally oblivious to the three of us.
Unfortunately, before they could do much of anything else, there was a stern shout from the still-unseen person calling to us from a direction off to the side. “Who’s in there? This is the police! Step on out where I can see you!”
At the same moment a flashlight abruptly lit up and began searching all about in the darkness. It wasn’t long before the light shone on the three of us – and particularly me.
“What in Hell is all this?” the figure holding the flashlight inquired with semi-muted outrage. “What are you punks doing to that kid?” Then, considerably louder and moiré forcefully, he added, “Get him down from there!”
With a marked absence of their usual bravado, Walter and Randy did what they were told without saying a word. I’d never seen them so subdued in my entire life.
“Now just what’s been going on here?” the cop asked rather truculently as my cousins were getting me freed from my bondage.
No one answered.
“Well? Speak up!” the cop demanded again even more loudly and impatiently. I would have answered myself except that I was still gagged. It was evident he was upset at my plight. Personally, I was upset with his interference; his well-intentioned rescue had ruined the entire evening and I wanted to tell him so. By the time I got the gag off my face though I decided that this might not be a good idea.
“We’re just playing a game,” Randy answered rather lamely.
“A game?” the cop replied with derision. “What kind of game do you call this?!”
I might have answered ‘cops and robbers’, but I was still gagged – which was perhaps fortunate.
“Why are his britches down?” the cop asked even more querulously. “And what in hell are all those bruises on his back?!”
No one attempted an answer.
“So, what’s your story?” the cop asked me the moment my mouth was clear and I could talk again.
“Just playing a game, like they said,” I replied mildly as I pulled my pants back up and fastened my belt. “They’re my cousins. They’ve done it before.”
“Oh?” the cop asked in a tone of voice I was too naïve at the time to recognize as being dangerous. “How many times?”
“I don’t know,” I replied blithely as I got my shirt. “I’ve lost count.”
“Really, now?” the cop asked me with deceptive mildness. “And what else have they been doing to you while playing these ‘games’ with you?”
A low moan of “Shut up!” from Randy went unheard by the cop, but my keen hearing picked it up at once. I’m a bit slow on the uptake sometimes but I’m not entirely foolish. Suddenly realizing I was making things worse rather than better for my cousins, I suddenly became wary and more careful of what I was saying.
“Oh, you know… just harmless pranks.” I stated quietly. And that’s all I would say, even though the cop kept pressing me for details.
“Well, this is all very peculiar,” the cop insisted. “I’m afraid the three of you are going to have to come down to the station with me.”
The details of the remainder of the evening are rather a nightmarish blur in my mind. The three of us were ‘grilled’ separately. However, by this time I had become more aware of the situation my cousins were in. These cops weren’t talking about mere pranks here. They were talking about charges of lewd behavior, indecent exposure in a public place, attempted sodomy, unlawful restraint, and half a dozen other horrible things I didn’t even understand at the time. They also made a big deal of the fact that Walter and Randy had turned 18, whereas at 16 I was technically still a minor. The way they were talking, you would think my cousins were the most depraved monsters imaginable in human form!
All this time, all I could think about was how all this would jeopardize my cousins’ plans to enlist in the military if this situation got any worse. Everyone seemed I was the victim, but as far as I was concerned Walter and Randy were being victimized by a rigid legal process that couldn’t see the difference between harmless TUGs and a kidnap situation.
My mom came to the police station to pick me up. Aunt Yvette tried to take Walter and Randy home too, but was told they were being held and charged with attempted sodomy and several other things. I tried to explain to them both that it was just a terrible misunderstanding; a simple adolescent prank gone wildly wrong. They believed me of course, but it was still an incredibly awkward evening I’d rather not describe in detail.
Worse was yet to come as my cousins were both charged with attempted sodomy (still a crime regardless of age in those days), but they were released on bail. However, there was only one witness: me. And I absolutely refused to cooperate with the police. I insisted it was a harmless tie-up prank and nothing more. Various people tried to make me admit to being a victim of abuse and God knows what else, but I stated that was all nonsense, that it was all a mistake, and that they were wasting their time.
In the end, because I would not press charges and because the policeman who had caught us could prove nothing more than that I’d been tied up, gagged, and had had my pants pulled down below my waist, most of the charges were dropped. One that lingered was indecent exposure (namely, pulling y pants down) but this was also dropped on some technicality (I forget what; perhaps because I wore dark boxers and my privates were not exposed). All that finally remained was a charge of creating a public disturbance; a misdemeanor rather than a felony.
With plea bargaining, my cousins got six months all suspended with a year of probation – which was also dropped when it was learned they both planned to join the military (not unheard of in those days).
This close call had lingering effects on us all. Naturally, everyone in the area had heard all the juicy details of what happened, which was a major source of embarrassment to us all. But because Walter and Randy had generally good reputations (honor roll in school, star athletes, boy scouts, voluntary community service, 4H club, and so on) and were well liked, the matter was soon forgotten (or at least no longer a source of local gossip) outside of the family.
Inside of the family was a somewhat different matter. My mom and their mom together thought Walter and Randy had been guilty of a terrible indiscretion and were quite upset with them. The fact that I had been a willing participant seemed to be forgotten – and also ignored and disbelieved even if I brought it up. It caused a strain between mom and Aunt Yvette for a while, but that eventually healed over. However, it caused a much greater rift between my cousins and myself – aggravated by the fact that I’d initially complicated the situation by talking too freely with the cop when we’d first encountered him.
Attempts on my part to patch things up between us failed; somehow, I’d become persona non grata with Walter and Randy as a result of all this. Not only would they not speak to me, but they treated me as if I’d betrayed them somehow. It got so bad that I soon began to feel this way about the matter myself.
This situation was alleviated somewhat because of an even worse situation. Shortly before my junior year in high school ended and summer vacation began, my older brother Ike died in an early morning automobile accident driving to work. He was still in the Navy at the time and was a thousand miles away from us, so we didn’t learn about what happened until late evening, when a state trooper and the local Catholic priest (a family friend) came and told us.
I was in shock. My brother and I hadn’t gotten along too well lately, and my mind was suddenly filled with many regrets. Could I have been a better brother? Why did we have so many arguments? I was little better than a zombie during the funeral; scarcely aware of my surroundings. Someone tried to speak with me once, and I acted as dazed and as confused as if I’d been strung out on drugs or had been woken from a sound sleep.
Walter and Randy were present too and, perhaps imagining what it’d feel like had I (or each other) had been the one to die, they became much more like their former selves towards me immediately afterward. At the very least, they could speak civilly to me again, though it was a while before we were fully at ease with each other again.
But though we patched things up between us by the time my cousins left to join the service, I never had another TUG session with either of them ever again.

Attachments

Dare to be different... and make a difference.
To boldly go where no one in their right mind has gone before...

### Re: My High School Years - Year 3

Post by TUfriend » Sat Dec 08, 2012 8:57 pm

Wow. How unfortunate. What a shame.
Heil Toddman, the Wonderful Wizard of Odd
I'm a nerd with a dangerous side.
See my most recent TRUE story, "SPL Initiation", here.
Read my most recent FICTIONAL story, "The Birth of a Whovian", here

### Re: My High School Years - Year 3

Post by Jason Toddman » Sat Dec 08, 2012 9:46 pm

> TUfriend wrote:Wow. How unfortunate. What a shame.

I assume you mean the ending; not the TUG.
I've pretty much gotten over it (I guess); after all, it's been nearly 40 years.
Dare to be different... and make a difference.
To boldly go where no one in their right mind has gone before...

### Re: My High School Years - Year 3

Post by NemesisPrime » Sun Dec 09, 2012 3:33 am

The ending made me tear up man.
*hugs tightly*
I'm sorry that happened to you and your cuzs!
Everyone speaks in multiple languages...But gag talk is universal and a sock in your mouth is the perfect translator!

### Re: My High School Years - Year 3

Post by xtc » Sun Dec 09, 2012 3:57 am

It's good to see your elevation has re-ignited your passion for writing.
Boxer shorts are cool,
but little speedos rule!
More by the same author: viewtopic.php?f=5&t=22729

### Re: My High School Years - Year 3

Post by sarumansauron » Sun Dec 09, 2012 7:55 pm

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

### Re: My High School Years - Year 3

Post by Jason Toddman » Mon Dec 10, 2012 4:52 pm

> NemesisPrime wrote:The ending made me tear up man.
> *hugs tightly*
> I'm sorry that happened to you and your cuzs!

Thank you for the kind words.

> xtc wrote:It's good to see your elevation has re-ignited your passion for writing.

Actually I was already planning to resume being a bit more active here anyway before that 'elevation' took place, but it does help reinforce my determination in that regard.
Dare to be different... and make a difference.
To boldly go where no one in their right mind has gone before...