TUGS ROCK!!!
My name is Gary Tucker, and I’m 16 years old. My older brother is Harry. He’s 22 and the lead singer in the rock n’ roll band Tugboat. Yeah, that’s the band where the act includes a couple of mannequins dressed in Speedos and tied to St. Andrews crosses in the background while the band performs. It’s become their trademark; along with the songs like “I’ve Only Got Ties For You†that extol the virtues of tie-up games and the fun of bondage.
I also have a younger brother named Terry; he’s 14. Harry is our legal guardian since our parents passed away. He makes a six-figure income with his albums and live tours, and uses Terry and I as roadies so we’re always with him. He takes care of all of our needs, including a tutor who travels with us to see to our education. Life is great for Terry and me; we get to travel a lot and we don’t really have to work too hard for the money Harry pays us (about $600 a week). The only real downside to our life style is that we don’t really get to make any friends (because we’re always moving), and Harry himself almost never had any time for us anymore. He’d either be away practicing with the other band members or off partying somewhere; leaving Terry and I pretty much to ourselves.
Terry and I have been into tie up games since we were little, since Harry used to time us up all the time. Once Harry stopped having time for us, Terry and I started to play TUGs with each other. But it wasn’t quite the same. We were getting bored. We wanted Harry to start spending more time with us and less with the band; or, failing that, to let us become part of the act. After all, Terry and I can sing almost as well as Harry can.
Things came to a head when we had a tour in Las Vegas; this was going to be the most important gig we’d ever had, and Harry thought it would lead to even greater success – and more lucrative road tours. Terry and I decided we wanted nothing to do with something that would take even more of Harry’s time away from us, and so we secretly schemed to sabotage the act. An important part of the act had been for Harry (dressed in some black leather outfit and a mask) to tie the mannequins to some kind of wooden frame where they’d be hanging from their wrists, and he would flog them with a riding crop. Terry and I hid the mannequins where no one could find them, and made it look like someone else (perhaps unscrupulous fans) stole them away.
Harry was livid when he found out the mannequins were gone, but we’d carefully set it up so that terry and I had rock solid alibis. Terry and I were certain that it would never occur to Harry that we might be to blame for what had happened. Our plan worked like a charm, and we were sure he’d have to cancel the act so that we could spend some time with him.
Instead, Harry made us part of the act.
We were talking to Harry and the other band members when suddenly the bunch of them grabbed us and handcuffed us together. “You two once told me that you wanted to be part of the act,†Harry told us. “Now you will be!â€
Terry and I were forced to strip and put on a set of Speedos. Then we were hooded and ball gagged so that no one could see our faces nor hear us speak. We were then tied to the frames the mannequins had formerly been tied to; only much more securely since the mannequins had been unable to try to escape as we might. We were tied so securely that we could barely move more than those mannequins could have. All our struggles were for nothing, and we soon gave up from sheer exhaustion.
As they say, the show must go on.
We remained tied to those frames as we heard the band get set up and the audience gathered inside the auditorium. We stood on stools, so we weren’t really uncomfortable even though our arms were securely tied over our heads and we couldn’t move them down.
The curtains opened up and the act began. No one in the audience appeared aware that those ‘mannequins’ were live performers this time. Not until Harry came to the part where he kicked the stools out from under us and started to flog us with that riding crop. Then, as tightly as we were bound, we still reacted enough to make it obvious to the audience that we weren’t lifeless dummies after all.
The pain in our wrists wasn’t too bad; Terry and I are light and wiry, and the wrist cuffs were thick and well padded. But that riding crop hurt like hell! And the more Harry whipped us, and the more Terry and I writhed and thrashed within our bonds, the more the audience cheered!
Harry didn’t whip us hard enough to draw blood of course, but it sure hurt a lot all the same! But what felt even worse was the audience cheering Harry on as he beat our backsides with that riding crop! Mercifully, that bit was the closing portion of the act, so we hung there and got whipped for only a minute or so before the curtains closed. Harry then immediately placed the stools back under us for us to stand on and immediately freed us before the pain in our arms and shoulders got too bad.
We promised Harry that we’d learned our lesson and retrieved the mannequins from where we’d hidden them… but it proved to be a waste of time.
The show featuring live dummies was so successful that Terry and I became permanent replacements for the mannequins in every subsequent show.
Our stupid plan made REAL dummies out of us!
But at least now Harry was paying attention to us again!
THE END