The Winner Takes It All
The air in our changing room was thick, full of frustration and anger. No one said a work, as we switched back to our regular clothes.
I watched Mark, our captain, as he just stood there, looking at the ceiling. Normally, he was best described as sunshine with a spring breeze, boosting our confidence with his uncrushable good mood, and firey determination. Well, not so uncrushable, I guess. Being the leader of the expected winners of the Spring tournament, and then losing it must be hard. He felt responsible, that was obvious. Always putting everything into the game, into every training session, into the team.
Seeing him like this made me feel even worse. I let my eyes wander through the room, while buttoning my shirt, and adjusting my tie. The others, while not quite as deeply hit as Mark, were also clearly frustrated. Except for Jake and Dave, who seemed so pissed off, that they went outside, after having changed. The only thing breaking the silence was the squeaking of their leader shoes on the floor.
Someone should have stopped them, but no one cared. We all were too frustrated, and probably also too nervous, of what was soon to come.
I started to shiver, thinking of our fate. It couldn't take much longer, but the other team could take all the time it wanted. They probably enjoyed, making us wait for our final humiliation. We always had a lot of fun, taking all the time in the world, before visiting the losing team.
Damn, this was nerve wrecking. I wanted this to be over, but there was nothing to do, but wait. No wonder, that Jake and Dave took a walk. Staying here, doing nothing, was the worst.
At least I had a bunch of good looking guys, all in a collar and tie, as demanded by our coach. To be honest, I didn't care much for football. Or sports in general. But watching my classmates dressed up was a nice perk. Not as nice as the other one, but it always made me enjoy game day. So, instead of sweating it, I just sat down, leaning against the locker, and watching my teammates.
Suddenly, we started to hear footsteps. Someone was coming. Or, more precisely, a whole bunch of people. It was time. I gulped, the shivering starting again. Mark looked to the door, before twisting his face into a mask of frustration. Everyone was nervous.
This must have been the feeling of all the teams we had defeated, during the tournament. I didn't expect this to feel so intense, so shameful. Facing the other team after losing, especially in the final round, their taunts and mean jokes, it felt like such a shameful, frustrating process. And if they acted like we always did, they would make fun of us, mercilessly.
The door opened, and a bunch of guys stepped inside, doing their best Cheshire Cat impression. “Hi, losers! You all ready for PUNISHMENT?!” I had never seen anyone wear such a cocky grin, as Shane, the captain of our enemies, did here. He was ecstatic, shivering from anticipation and joy. He and his team had just won the tournament, which, on its own, would be enough to make everyone feel like a king. But they would also get a chance to humiliate us. Even during a normal game, this was the cherry on top. But here, at the end of the tournament, with everyone expecting them to lose – they must have felt like Ceasar, after winning the Civil War.
It was the equivalent to us, feeling horribly crushed. Everyone, including us, expected this to be our victory. We would have to face the disappointment of our fans, while having to deal with our own. And we would do so, helplessly.
“Come on, guys, we don't have all day. Grab your stuff! Form a line, one next to each other, now!” We had to obey. With some exceptions, the losers had to do whatever the winners wanted of them. So we did. Mark positioned himself first, then Jason to his left, and so on.
“Well done, losers. Good to know that you can do something right. With your shitty football skills, I expected you to fall all over yourselves.”
No one said anything, while the other team laughed. We had to take the abuse. Rules were rules.
Mark had grabbed a bag, putting it in front of him. I gulped, getting even more nervous. Shanes team waited, as their captain approached our captain. “How does it feel, to be the big loser today? Come on, say it! All of you! Tell us how great we are, and how much you all suck!”
We grumbled, gritted our teeth, but only for a few seconds. “You heard him!”, Mark said. His face was hard and angry, but there was nothing to be done. We had to take our defeat like men. “You are all great, and we suck horribly.” Marks words stung, but we repeated them.
“Right you are! And now, apologize for playing so horribly, like the little sissies you are! How you peed yourselves before the game, because you were so afraid of us!”
Mark breathed in, hard, his teeth gritted. With a red face, he managed to look Shane in the eyes. “We are sorry for playing so horribly. We...” He had to take a breath, while looking away from the shit-eating grin. “We are sorry, that we are such sissies. Playing against you was so scary, that we peed ourselves before the game. Sorry.”
We all repeated it, as good as we could. All, while enduring the horrible laughter of these jerks.
But it wasn't over. Every member of the team was allowed to let us repeat shameful phrases, where we talked about how horrible we were, as players, as a team, and as human beings in general. I will not repeat some of the more vile stuff, but we said it all. No one should think, that we didn't accept our loss.
Suddenly, the door was pushed open. Jake and Dave were pushed inside, their hands forced behind their backs by players of the other team. With the stressful situation, I didn't even realize that four members of them weren't here.
Shane grinned, even more than before, if such a thing was possible. “You know the rules, captain. Your whole team has to wait inside their changing room, after the game is over, so that they receive their fair punishment. So, why did we find these two running around, outside?”
Before Mark could answer, Dave snapped angrily “Fuck off, we don't want to be made fun of by you jerks! Just leave us alone, losing against you was bad enough. Just go!” He and Jake tried to break free, but didn't get anywhere. Mark seemed unsure, how to react here. He wanted to say the same thing, for sure, but it just wasn't the way it was supposed to go.
“Dave! Jake! Get in line! We lost! Just behave, dammit!”, our captain barked. I had never seen him this angry, or angry in general, before. His nervousness and frustration broke through, probably to avoid making the situation worse for us.
The rest of the team just watched, as our two teammates wouldn't stop fighting back. But as more of our enemies walked over to them, the less point there was to them resisting. Soon, they lay on the ground, with knees on their backs, their arms forced behind them. They breathed heavily, sweating through their dress shirts.
Knowing that my two teammates were secured, Shane shifted his focus back to Mark. Or, more precisely, to the bag in front of him. “You brought everything?”, he asked. Mark nodded, his eyes avoiding any contact with Shanes.
The leader of our enemies opened the bag, rummaging through it for a bit, until he took out a pair of obviously dirty socks, in a little plastic bag that read Marks name on it. He took them out, sniffing a bit, and immediately moving his head away, in disgust. “Gross, man, these are disgusting. Did you really just wear them for the game? I mean, come on. They are crusty!”
It was a direct question, so Mark had to answer. He gulped. “No, we...haven't washed them, since the start of the tournament.” Shanes eyes glowed, as he heard this news. That was like a present for him, and it was probably one of our worst ideas.
“You haven't washed them in weeks? No wonder they smell so horrible.” He thought for a bit, as he realized Marks plan. “You assholes. You wanted, to use them to gag us, didn't you? You expected to win, and wanted to use your own, awful socks, to torture us, while we would wait for release inside our lockers. Oh my god, I can't believe how stupid you all must feel now. Your plan backfired spectacularly, haha!”
This was one of the reasons, why we all felt so nervous. Everyone had shared this plan, all our socks were horribly disgusting. Normally, the enemy team got their own socks stuck inside their mouths as gags, so they would get them back, afterwards. But we were so sure, and we didn't care for a pair of socks, and thought it was a great idea. And now, we all would be forced to smell the worst, most stinking socks imaginable. A cold shower ran down my spine, and I was sure everyone else felt the same way.
These things hadn't been washed in weeks, used at every training session, and for every match. They were already pretty disgusting to wear, but we were looking forward so much, to stuffing them inside our enemies mouths. And now, we would literally taste our own defeat. I shuddered at the thought.
But as the captain, Mark had the “honor” to be gagged first. The whole enemy team, except for the guys who held down Jake and Dave, started to clap, and shouted “Gag! Gag! Gag! Gag!”. Shane looked delighted at Mark. “Well, open up, captain. Time for something delicious.”
And Mark, honorable as always, opened his mouth, accepting the disgusting present. As his tongue touched the fabric, he grimaced, and closed his eyes, as well as a small gagging sound. The sounds continued, but he held out. Losers just had no choice, and he certainly didn't want to be the first to defy his fate. There were always players who fought against what awaited them, but no captain would ever do that.
Carefully breathing through his nose, Mark closed his mouth, awaiting the rest of the gag. Shane grabbed a role of duct tape, also out of Marks bag, and started to apply it on our captains mouth. I couldn't help but shiver visibly, as I watched him get humiliated like this. The disgusted face was still there, but now his mouth was hidden behind the silver material, denying him even the basic right of talking. Multiple rounds were made, some from under the chin to the top of the head. Mark shouldn't be able to get the socks out, without outside help.
“You know, you should thank me, for being so nice that I didn't force you to gag yourself, captain. Come on, say it. Thank you, great master.” Mark closed his eyes for a second, probably trying to ignore the horrible taste in his mouth. “Mmm mm, mmm mmmhm!”, he grumbled. It felt so humiliating just watching this, I couldn't imagine how it must have felt for Mark.
“Very nice”, Shane said, petting his victim on the head, ruffing up his hair and then even pinching him in both cheeks. “Mmm!”, Mark screamed, before being let go. But he never moved the rest of his body. Whatever happened, happened.
With that, Shane put the tape down, and grabbed a bundle of rope. “Hands in front. Come on, you know how this works, captain.” Marks eyes would have shot out daggers, if that were possible, but he did as he was told. Shane, obviously well versed in how to do this, used the rope to tie Marks hands together, in front of his body. There was still some slack, the hands could be moved individually, but the amount of rope between them was maybe two feet, if that.
Then, some rope was added to the body and the upper arms, pinning them to the side. A final bit was used to connect the feet, but, similarly to the hands, there was enough slack for a slow walk. Running, though, would have been impossible.
Shane looked over his prisoner, who did his best not to betray his feelings. But our enemies' leader looked satisfied. “You look great, captain. Subservient, like a good slave should. But...”
His look moved back to Jake and Dave, who were still forced to the floor. An evil grin appeared on his face.
“You know, it's obvious that we need to punish these two”, he said, pointing back to my two teammates. “But as their captain, I think it's only fair, that you share their punishment.”
“MMM MM!”, Mark tried to shout, but to no avail. Shane told something to one of his teammates, who ran outside. While waiting, he walked behind Mark, untugging the back of his shirt. A bit of his underwear was visible – enough for Shane, who grabbed it, and pushed it upwards, forcefully. “MMMMMMPH!”, Mark screamed, not expecting the wedgie. Shane tugged on it two more times, and both times, Mark screamed in the same, painful noise.
But Shane ignored his suffering rival. “Cole, give me a bit of that tape.” One of the enemies did as he was told, and Shane used it to hold the wedgie in place. After putting two more pieces of tape on there, he tugged the shirt back in, and no one could see that Mark was painfully wedgied. He still made silent noises of light suffering, which only made Shane and his team laugh.
The sent-away team member had already come back, and had brought three other, dirty socks with him. Not as bad as ours, but dirty enough. Shane took one, dangling it in front of Marks face. “This here is one of mine. I'm not as horrible as you, it's just dirty from this one game. But I'm sure, it still has a decent smell.” And with that, he pushed the sock onto Marks nose. Who desperately tried to wriggle his head away, but, when stepping back, Shane simply followed.
“Hold it in place, Cole, and give me the tape.” Cole did as he was ordered, and soon, the stinking sock was held in place through layer of tape, that covered Marks face. “Well, what do you think, guys? Is he pretty enough?” The whole enemy team cheered and laughed.
I felt bad for Mark. Just because two of our team were idiots, he had to suffer additionally. The gross gag was fair, as we just got to taste our own medicine, and being tied up was part of the humiliation you faced, after losing a game. But he also had to deal with a pretty bad wedgie, and couldn't even focus on breathing, to escape the stink. This evening would be horrible for him.
But at least, Shane seemed finally satisfied. “I'm done, guys. Play with the others, and don't forget to give our two fighters the same treatment as their captain. Have fun!”
And with that, chaos ensued. Well, it probably seemed that way, as each member of our enemy team chose one of us, and prepared him the same way as Mark, except for the wedgie and the sock near the nose. I didn't have time to focus on my teammates anymore, though, as a very happy guy got my pair of socks, and stuck them inside my mouth.
The taste was godawful. That guy was careful enough, to put the crusty part of my socks directly on my tongue, making me nearly puke that instant. I heard others having the same problem, but no one seemed to actually lose it. With rope, he tied me the same way as my captain had been before. He had to wait for the tape though, as there were only two rolls. So he spent some time gleefully pushing the socks down onto my tongue, so that I couldn't avoid the horribly taste.
When finally getting his hands on one of the rolls, he suddenly got inspired. “Where is your water bottle?” He asked. As this was a direct question, I was obliged to answer, and pointed at my bag. It took a few scary seconds, before he returned, and told me to take the opening of the bottle into my mouth.
I didn't want to believe, what this jerk was obviously planning to do. But this was a direct order, and, as it didn't put me in actual danger, I had to follow it. So I did as I was told, and suddenly my taste buds exploded from the worst thing I had every experienced inside my mouth. The water filled out my socks, and when they were finally completely wet, it made it out again, taking with it the horrible, disgusting taste. Which now filled out my whole mouth. I had to swallow a bit, which was, somehow, even worse. But the really bad part was that, whenever I moved anything in my mouth slightly, water got out of my socks, feeding my taste buds so much better than the dry sock ever could. It was as ingenious as it was torturous.
Thankfully, I was spared the sock in front of my nose, and could therefore focus on breathing, ignoring my mouth as much as possible. Not easy, but if I didn't move my tongue, it was helped a lot.
But even when the smell wasn't overwhelming, I just felt so defeated and ashamed. Our gags and bonds didn't just make us unable to do anything against the mean jokes of our enemies, they just made it so obvious to everyone, that we had lost.
Normally, we were the ones on the other side. Who forced the enemy team either to stay this way inside their lockers, until someone felt the urge to free them. Or who made them ride home, bound and gagged, so that everyone who looked into the clearly labeled school bus, could see their gagged faces, and would know that they had lost.
I didn't even want to think of that. Not only would we have to face our fans, families and friends, all disappointed by our loss, despite the fact that we were clearly the favorites. But we also had to do so tied and gagged, fully at their mercy. Both, losing and being seen this way, was extremely humiliating. Both at once made me want to sink into the floor.
After every single one of us was tied and gagged, our enemies got their phones out, and started making pictures. This was to be expected. The winners always made pics. But it felt so much worse, when you were the people who couldn't defend themselves. There would be proof of us, bound, gagged and losing, forever. I didn't even want to think of that.
But there was still more to be done, before we could go home. With this being the last game of the tournament, there was a ceremony for the winner team. It was a Saturday, and all the other teams had been invited. And, considering that they all had suffered, either by our hands, or the hands of our enemies, they all at least wanted to see us or the other team be humiliated. So, there were a ton of people watching.
The winners stepped into them middle of the field, celebrating their victory with cheers, screams and pumping their hands into the air. They were ecstatic, and the following applause ignited them even further.
We, though, were tasked with grabbing one of the medals on a table at the side, and bringing them to one of the winner team. It was the worst day of my life. I was forced to let everyone see me tied and gagged, and had to fulfill the role of a servant for the very people I just had lost against. Being the winner team would have been amazing. But this? I can't even begin to describe my embarrassment.
But at this point, it was certainly too late for fighting anything here. It wouldn't have been a good idea, even in the locker room. If you didn't accept the way things were, you would be kicked off the team. But you had a choice, at least.
Here, there was no choice. We were bound and gagged. Even if the rope wasn't too strict, it would have been easy to physically hold us back, and humiliate us further. Mark, Jake and Dave might wear wedgies, and be gagged even stricter than the rest of the team, but no one could see it.
Even after the ceremony itself, we were forced to either stand behind a table and prepare snacks and drinks, or walk around and it to others. Did I mention, that this evening was deeply humiliating? Because this was even worse, with us having to physically feel how our feet were only allowed small steps, and having to go up to people, in the full knowledge that they could see our bonds and gags.
That said, after some time, it actually stopped bothering me, at least to some degree. It got normal. The jokes stopped, after everyone had made theirs, and the feeling of being restricted became normal. With others stopping to recognize us, we could just focus on our work, and forget our situation, at least a bit.
Some time later, the party was over, and we were finally allowed to go to our bus. Our enemies came along, adjusting our bonds one more time. When finally sitting in our seats, our hands were tied strictly behind our backs, and the slack between our legs was taken away, with some more rope added above the knees. Finally, more rope was used to tie us to our seats. One more piece was tied to our feet, with the other end drawn back to the grips at the seats back, so that we couldn't move our legs anymore. And even our heads were restricted. Some more tape was used to stick them back, too.
Completely immobilized, our enemies wished us a nice evening, made some final pics and left the bus. And with that, we started the travel home.
The drive would take one hour, and I actually hoped that it wouldn't be over too soon. Yes, I wanted to get freed, especially from this position of complete immobility, but I was also exhausted, and actually enjoyed the peace in here. No one would have talked, even without the gags, but it was good to know that there I would have this time to calm down.
But, while this was the only way to get freed, I was scared of getting home. Sure, people outside would see our gagged faces, and know that we had lost. But we couldn't see them, anyway, so they didn't matter. But when finally home, how long would people take to untie us? Maybe they were angry. I had heard of a team, that had to wait for two hours inside their bus, after they got home. I also had heard, that one team was only freed from their seats, but had to wear dress shirts with a tie, the word LOSER visible on it, for the next month. And one team was forced to work on one more party, just at their school, still tied and gagged.
I don't know, if this were just myths. I had heard even more outlandish things. This just happens, things get made up, and it's normally impossible to know what is true, and what isn't. We never experienced any of this, as we had never lost.
Finally being able to relax a bit, I started to grin, thinking back on why I even joined the team. Despite being pretty good at football, I never liked the game much, and couldn't care less about sports in general. But having an excuse to dress up once a week, and tying others up, or even be tied? That made the boring games worth it.
It's not like I didn't do my best. Losing would have meant, that we would stop playing, which would mean one less chance to tie someone up. So I did all I could to ensure our victory.
But this was the last game, anyway. And I was just too curious about the other side. How did it feel, to be tied and gagged, humiliated? Especially in front of such a big crowd? How would our friends and fans react? I needed to know.
I wasn't sure, if I should let it slip, that I sabotaged the game a bit. Or, maybe a lot. I'm sure no one noticed. And if I told them, they might throw me off the team, which would be a shame. But maybe, they would take revenge. And, considering how much my teammates had suffered today, that might be a whole new level, even worse than today.
Thankfully, no one could see me grin under my gag.
