Tau Upsilon Gamma [M+/M+] [update - 3/15/24] NEW POLL

Stories that have little truth to them should go here.

Who should Mason save?

NATE: plug gag, gorilla tape bonds, nipple clamps
2
9%
CODY: duct tape gag, handcuffs, Icy Hot
5
23%
LEO: Hoss' sock gag, rope bonds, tickle torture
11
50%
RAY: bandana gag, slave harness, in his underwear
4
18%
HIMSELF
0
No votes
 
Total votes: 22

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Guardianbound
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Post by Guardianbound »

Can't wait. Sounds like the new story will be full of action. And will be interesting to see if any of your characters in your expanded universe will come up
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Post by KidnappedCowboy »

wataru14 wrote: 1 year ago
And I also had an idea for a new story! A closed-end one that I will release alternating with this one. I hope everyone is ready to meet the secret agents of "The Bureau of National Defense and Government" as they face off against their sinister rivals The Cabal of Underworld Freedom Fighters..."

Chapter 1 coming soon!
Secret Agents fighting sinister rival organizations??? :o


Right up my alley! :D

Reminds me...I better update my own stories! 8-)
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Post by Volobond »

Hey there! Sorry I haven't been able to catch up for a while! Hehe, if pro-wrestling had more bondage and erotic enslavement, I think I'd watch it more often! Also, it's a little ironic that Travis really comes to terms with his desires with the most exaggeratedly macho of homoeroticism. I think I've mentioned before how similar pro-wrestling can be to drag, but I digress - I am eager for the auction, and I wonder just what Travis has in mind for his... acquisition.
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Post by wataru14 »


Chapter 5 - The Auction part 1

It had been awkward, to say the least, without the House. The pledges had their dorm rooms, but the 15 upperclassmen had been scattered to the wind. Some, like Scott, had found places to stay during the reconstruction, but a good portion had been staying at a motel just off campus that Brett had rented out for an extended period. And it was definitely not the Ritz-Carlton. Most of the other residents were extremely short-term guests, if you catch the meaning. A circumstance that most of the Brothers found quite humorous and many had taken to providing unofficial security for the working girls. Sleezy Johns thought twice about skipping out on the bill when their companion greeted several beefy men in the adjoining rooms on the way in. Takeshi took great pride in the fact that his room was the exact same one that the former Mayor had been kidnapped from by Dr. Calamity a few years back. There was a plaque on the wall and everything.

TUG had to put a kibosh on most activities since there was no staging ground or private room large enough to accommodate them all. But that didn’t mean they had shut down, it just meant that they had to do things in public instead. Danny’s group workout sessions were held on the Quad. Meetings were held in the library conference rooms. The Pledges, who were used to frat activities being behind closed doors, took some time to adjust to being out in the public eye more. Ray, of course, had no issues with it, but Nate was still rather self-conscious about it. And the procession to the athletic center on Auction Night was very public.

The 20 Brothers had met at the staging ground on Friday afternoon when classes ended. Nate and Mason were the last to arrive since they had a late-session English Lit class. When they got there, Ray, Leo, and Cody were already present and waiting in their pledge uniforms, surrounded by duffel bags. The Actives were milling around and socializing, dressed in their red T-shirts and camo pants that were customary for public displays. This was the first major public TUG outing since the gruesome DIX parade and there was an expectant air among the group. Everyone seemed different, though, Nate noticed. It seemed like the events of the past two weeks had matured everyone somewhat. And Scott was the biggest change.

Nate had never met Wade, but he could tell that he was someone Scott looked up to very much. Since he had been staying at Wade’s place, Scott had calmed quite a bit. His fashion sense definitely improved, at least. Gone were the loose-fit jeans and ratty T-shirts he normally wore, now replaced by pressed slacks and smart button-down shirts. Wade had gotten Scott’s ears pierced and he had also taken to wearing a gold chain around his neck. Occasionally, if you looked closely enough, you could see the gold padlock pendant hanging from it. Scott had also been forbidden to wear his trademark backwards caps, as Wade wanted everyone to see Scott’s new (and expensive) stylish haircut. And Scott had to carefully maintain it, which was a new experience for him. He didn’t even brush his hair on most days normally.

At the moment, Scott’s new salon ‘do was hidden under the red bandana that capped off the ritual uniform. Nate watched him catching a quick pre-activity smoke with Bryan and Trey and could see the change in his posture and bearing even from this distance. Whatever Wade was doing, it was definitely working. Nate hadn’t been around the dorm much in the past week, choosing to spend most of his free time with Hoss in the hospital. But his burly paramour had been discharged two days ago, so he was slowly getting back into the swing of things. Right now, Hoss was confined to a wheelchair and was parked on the curb chatting with Brandon and Shane.

“Yo, Earth to Nate!” Nate felt a light punch on his shoulder from behind and turned to see Leo standing there with Brett in his black shirt and bandana. “You’re finally here,” Leo said. “So now we can get started.”

“We’re heading out to the athletic center to get set up for tonight,” Brett said. “The stage is set up already, but we have to get the DJ equipment hooked up and the decorations hung. Then everyone has to get changed. So let’s move it. Alright, Pledges… PRESENT!”

At Brett’s command, the five pledges got into line, in order of their Big Bro’s position in the hierarchy. Leo, Mason, Nate, Ray, and Cody. Each squared their stance and put their hands into place, wrists crossed behind their backs and arms tensed. They had assumed this position numerous times in the TUG house, but this was their first time submitting for bondage in public. Nate felt a warm flush of excitement welling up. Playing around in private was one thing, but it was a whole other dimension being bound in full view of the entire student body. Nate watched expectantly as Brett fished a rope from his beltloop and began to fasten Leo’s hands with it. Leo rolled his eyes and yawned in a grand, exaggerated faction, earning him a playful slap on the back of the head by Brett.

“Am I boring you?” Brett chuckled. “Well then, I guess we’ll have to go a little harder to keep you entertained.” Leo shot a quick look at Nate and winked, smiling broadly. Brett had originally intended to just do a cursory wrist tie for show, but his authority had been publicly challenged by Leo, so he had to respond. Leo, of course was not complaining. He feigned offense as Brett bound his wrists extra securely, but Nate knew he was just playing. Other than himself, Leo was the only other Pledge who equated bondage with sexuality. The others were attracted to it for other varied personal reasons, but those two alone appreciated its erotic potential.

As Brett went down the line, ritualistically binding the pledges’ hands (although not as thoroughly as Leo’s), Nate felt a marked tingle float down his spine. A change in mood from all in the vicinity. It started with the Actives and the crowd on the Quad and he couldn’t help but get caught up in it, too. What they were doing wasn’t just a silly fraternity ritual. It wasn’t a show for the uninitiated to whisper about afterwards. It was a statement, and it was powerful. It said “We’re still here. You can hurt us. You can kidnap us. You can burn our house down… but you cannot defeat us. Here we are and here we remain. We got through this together and forged even tighter bonds because of it.” Even though his hands were being bound in a gesture of supplication, Nate still felt powerful. He felt respected. It wasn’t something he was used to.

After Brett finished tying Cody and gave him a brotherly tap on the shoulder, the Pledges got into line. There were 17 brothers up for bids, and that meant there were 17 bags with clothing and props. Each Brother had a little pre-sale moment with the crowd and gear in most cases, gear was needed. “And guess who gets to carry the bags?” Shane said with a grin, looking at the pledges. “Three or four bags each. With one left over. That will be Mason’s and since the gear inside that one is rented, we’ll take care of it.” Each Active came up to the pledges and chose one. The straps of the bags were looped around their arms, shoulders, and chests, since they couldn’t carry anything with their trussed hands. Luis was first, and had just strapped his guitar case to Ray’s back when the blonde wrestler spoke.

“Wait a minute,” he said. “This isn’t right. You can’t ask Mason to carry people’s stuff. He’s still laid up. I’ll carry his share.” Mason winced. He didn’t want to be babied, and wanted to prove to the others that he could pull his weight, but he had to admit Ray was right. With his still-diminished lung capacity, he couldn’t be expected to serve as a pack animal like the others. Ray’s constant babying of him was beginning to grate, but in this instance, at least, he was forced to admit he needed help.

“You’ll carry seven bags?” Shane asked, seeming pleased. “Are you sure? Some of them are pretty heavy.”

Ray was about to say that it wouldn’t be a problem for him, that he was more than strong enough, but he was interrupted by Nate. “He doesn’t have to carry all of Mason’s. We’ll split it. I’ll take one.”

“So will I,” said Cody. Even Leo agreed. And so, the four were laden with their Brother’s luggage. The weight was indeed heavy, but for Mason, it was a burden they each would bear gladly. When everything was secured and loaded, and the Pledges looked like mules carrying grain to market, the TUG brothers got in formation and began their chants and call/responses as they proudly walked the Quad towards the athletic center.

---

“You ready, brah?”

“Huh? What?” Mason sat up with a jolt. The green room behind the auction stage (really just a wrestling room adjoining the main gym floor of the athletic center) was buzzing with activity and last-minute preparations. The mood was so electrified that Mason was getting a slight head rush. That, and his own rising nervousness, had made him retreat into a corner with his notes, hoping he could crawl into a hole in the floor and die.

Danny sat down on the folding chair next to him and out his arm around his little bro’s shoulder. “It’s almost time,” he said. “Everyone is just finishing up their costumes. You OK?”

“What’s the crowd like?” Mason asked before chugging a bottle of water. He adjusted his oxygen tube in frustration and nervousness for the hundredth time.

“Talking like a true showman!” Shane said as he sauntered over. “Forgive me if I don’t sit, but the wardrobe won’t allow it.” He indicated his impossibly tight leather pants and gave Mason an encouraging smile that helped melt the butterflies away slightly. “We know you’re nervous. It’s standing room only out there. But you’re going to be great. Brett wouldn’t have asked you if he didn’t think you’d be able to handle it. We all have the utmost faith in you. But if you need help all you have to do is slip the phrase…”

“None of that shit,” Danny said, cutting Shane off in mid-sentence. “My boy is going to do it himself and he is going to SLAY out there. No safewords.” Mason chuckled at Danny’s word choice. “Consider this part of your training. I know it can be scary to be in front of a crowd, but this is something you need to do. And I know you think they’re going to be hostile, but they’re not. They’re going to love you as much as we do. You’ll see.”

Mason appreciated Danny’s tenderness. It wasn’t a side of his Big Brother that many people saw. He leaned in and gave Danny a big hug. “Thanks, man,” he said. “I can do this. I know I can.”

“That’s the M-Dawg we know and love,” Shane said, putting his hand on Mason’s shoulder. “Now it’s time to show all of them what we see every day.” He picked up Mason’s helmet from the floor and handed it to him. “I’ll tell Scott to get the music started.” Shane grabbed his phone and texted Scott while Danny walked Mason over to the stage entrance, kneading the tension out of his shoulders. Mason closed his eyes and calmed himself one last time before putting his helmet on. Danny gave him a quick fist bump and then hurried over to where the other Brothers were waiting. After what seemed like years, Mason saw the lights through the curtain dim and the crowd explode as Scott started playing his entrance music.

---

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Scott said into the mic, his voice echoing through the darkened room. “Tau Upsilon Gamma is proud to present the 75th annual Auction. Tonight we have 17 slabs of prime college meat on the block and we want to see those wallets opening wide. As always, half the proceeds go to charity, so spend spend spend!” The crowd cheered in response. “And now let’s get this party started! Join me in welcoming our host and master of ceremonies: the man, the king, the muthafuckin’ legend… M-Dawg!!!”

Behind the curtain, Mason hesitated for a second. His senses dilated and he couldn’t hear anything. His vision narrowed until all he could see was the curtain entrance inches in front of him. But then everything exploded. The dim roar of the crowd at the mention of his name snapped him back to reality. They were cheering. For him!!! Filled with a confidence he didn’t know he had, Mason pushed the curtains away and stepped onto the stage like he owned the building.

The rap song Scott had been playing as background music under his into stopped with a record scratch effect and the Star Wars Imperial March began playing. The crowd was on its feet as Mason, dressed as Darth Vader in full cape and helmet, strutted out. The hissing of his oxygen machine echoing through the mask in a perfect impression of Vader’s heavy breathing. He took his place on the stage and held out his hand in an impression of Vader. Scott tossed the wireless mic perfectly into his grip from the DJ table. “I find your lack of cheers disturbing,” Mason said in a throaty bass voice. “I want to hear some muthafucking screaming!”

He lifted the mask on his helmet and the crowd went wild. “We love you!!!!” came a high pitched scream from a group of Delta sisters as the initial crowd cheer subsided. Mason absolutely glowed. “And I love you, too, sexy,” he crooned. “But unfortunately I am not on the block tonight. Doctor’s orders. He said I should refrain from strenuous activity and pleasing the ladies always makes my blood pump harder.” The crowd booed. “I know, I know, I’m disappointed, too. But we’ll try to get through this together. Big Man Hoss is also too laid up to participate.” The spotlight whirled down to illuminate Hoss, seated in his wheelchair in the front row of the crowd. He did a simple nod and wave, before spitting into his plastic jug. “But don’t let that discourage you. There are 17 men back there waiting for your bids.”

“As you know, we had a disastrous house fire recently,” Mason continued between deep breaths from his oxygen tube. “The half of the proceeds that we keep will go towards the rebuilding fund. And, as DJ Snazzy Scott said, the other half goes to charity, so please give generously. I mean, it’s your parents’ money, anyway.” The crowd laughed. They were eating out of his hand. “But before we continue, here are the rules. It’s an auction like any other livestock sale. We bring out one of our studs, you all bid, and the winner gets the services of that Brother from the moment the gavel hits the table until midnight Sunday. He is yours to use for whatever dastardly purposes you see fit. Of course there are limits, but we’re not idiots out here. I shouldn’t have to explain that you’re not allowed to beat, injure, or otherwise maim our boys. Each brother has set his own boundaries, all of which are spelled out in the merchandise booklet you got with your ticket.”

“And since this is TUG,” Mason continued, “we’re adding our own spin on things.” He walked over to the auctioneer’s table and the lights above it came on full. Spread across the front were restraints of all types: chains, cuffs, manacles, leather doodads of all strains… and a metric shit-ton of rope. “You get to wrap up your purchase yourself. A special perk to show how much we appreciate your patronage. Once you’ve got your prize trussed to your liking, he’s yours. Bring him back to the crowd to watch the rest of the show, bid on another, or take him home right away to get started. Whatever tickles your fancy.”

“But enough boring rules shit, we all know why you’re here!” Mason took center stage as the crowd cheered again. “We’re going to start things off with a bang! First on the block is someone very special to me, so you better treat him well. Mess with him and you will answer to me, you got it?” Mason did a Force choke move on the crowd, who roared with laughter. “Our first lot of the evening is none other than our Chapter Vice-President, muscle stud extraordinaire, my Big Bro… DANNY!!!!”

As the curtain opened, Scott started playing the chorus of Dennis Leary’s “Asshole” from the DJ booth. Danny, rolling his eyes, shot his brother a double middle finger as he passed the DJ table. With a chuckle, Scott switched the track to Danny’s preselected rap song. Danny was clad in vinyl track pants, workout shoes, a black tank top, and backwards black snapback baseball cap. As he came out on the stage, he gave the crowd a wink and a double thumbs up before he dropped to the floor and started performing one-handed pushups.

“Looking for a personal trainer?” Mason said into the mic. “Or a rock-hard set of abs to rest your head on while you do your homework? Danny’s your man. One of last year’s top sellers, this hunk isn’t just a pretty face.” Danny jumped up to his feet and grabbed the neck of his tank top with both hands. With a grunting shout he tore the shirt to shreds and tossed the discarded rags aside. The crowd went wild! “He’s the total package. With the emphasis on ‘package.’”

Danny smirked and did an early-2000’s WWE “Suck It” gesture. Then he flexed for the crowd, drawing a vast surge of “oohs” and “ahhs.” His definition and bulk were at peak level. He had clearly been preparing for this in the gym. “We’ll start the bidding at $10,” Mason called, and there was a sea of signs being raised from all over. People were clearly ready to blow their loads early. Danny continued to strut around and flex as the bid count rose to about $250 before stalling. “We’re at $250. Equaling his price from last year!” Mason called, “but we can do better than that! Ladies and gentlemen, Danny is not just a piece of beef, he’s got a brain behind that beautiful face. You heard it here first, folks, my boy here has decided to enroll in medical school after graduation! Anyone want to be Dr. Danny’s first patient?”

Mason nodded at Danny, who turned around and flexed his back muscles while doing a double-bicep pose. The bidding started climbing again. But it reached new heights when Danny grabbed the sides of his track pants and tore them off in a fluid motion. He looked back over his shoulder with a coy smirk and flexed his ass cheeks, perfectly framed by the white jock strap that now constituted the bulk of his clothing. He gave it a few playful slaps before turning around and doing some jumping jacks. His package, barely contained by the cotton cup of the jockstrap, bounced alluringly with each jump. When Mason finally banged his gavel on the table, Danny had raked in $400.

“And we have a winner!” Mason cheered. “Come on up and claim your prize!” Danny raised his arms in triumph as he waited for his new master for the weekend to ascend the stairs onto the stage. He had set a new record for First Lot. At first, the winning bidder didn’t want to come up, but after some encouragement from Mason, he finally did. The winner was a slightly portly Sophomore with glasses and mousy, unkempt hair. Mason recognized him from Math Club. He was rather timid and uncomfortable in front of the crowd. “And here’s the lucky winner now!” Mason said, holding out the mic. “What’s your name?”

“Um, Paul,” the nervous winner stammered.

“Well, Paul, you’ve managed to set the bar very high and we appreciate your generosity,” Mason said putting his hand on Paul’s shoulder encouragingly. “So tell me, what are your plans for your new slave?”

“…Well… I’ve been looking to maybe start going to the gym and I figured he’d be the best one to help with that,” he said.

“You made the perfect choice!” Mason said, grabbing Paul’s hand in solidarity. “Danny is a workout buddy par excellence. I can personally attest.” Mason lifted the front of his shirt, revealing the early beginnings of a six-pack forming. “There’s no one better. Just don’t let him near hair clippers!” Mason made a mohawk on Paul’s head with his hand. The crowd chuckled and Danny and Paul both joined in, as well. “And now, sir, he’s all yours. Bind him up and take him home for the weekend. So what dastardly devices are you going to choose?”

Paul looked the supply table over. His initial nervousness had subsided somewhat, partially from the rush of expectation of having Danny all to himself and partially because of Mason’s encouragement. Mason knew the feeling of being sheepish in front of a crowd all too well and was determined to help Paul out with that. “Well, since he’s going to be a doctor, how about some surgical tape?” Paul said, picking a roll of the stretchy white adhesive off the table.

“Excellent idea!” Mason said. Danny smiled at him and flexed his pecs alluringly. “Want to grab a feel before you do him up? Let me tell you it’s quite an experience.” Blushing all over, Paul haltingly reached his hand up and placed it against Danny’s right pec. Danny gave a seductive snarl and growl, which made Paul’s stomach flutter. Pulling himself away, Paul started to unroll the end of the tape while Danny turned around and crossed his hands behind his back in a ready position.

Paul put the edge of the tape over Danny’s crossed wrists and began to stretch it out and over. Mason had to guide him a little, but soon he got the hang of it. And even started to enjoy himself. Danny flexed his biceps and triceps as the tape looped around his wrists, drawing more snug with each pass. When he finally finished, Danny’s hands were secured behind his back in the stretchy tape, but it wasn’t a particularly impressive job. After turning around and flexing for the crowd one more time, Danny leaned in and whispered to Paul. “Not bad for a beginner,” he said, squirming a little in the tape to feign helplessness. “I’ll show you some expert techniques over the weekend.” Paul’s nervousness melted away a little and he smiled.

“And that’s it folks, Lot 1 is complete!” Mason cheered as he placed a lanyard with a SOLD sign over Danny’s neck. “Let’s hear it for Paul!” The crowd applauded as Paul took Danny by the arm (giving a not-so-subtle squeeze of his rippling bicep as he did so) and led him down the stairs back to the transaction table on the side of the stage. Jaquan was waiting, ready to run Paul’s card and secure the payment. When the sale was complete, Paul returned to his place in the crowd with his new trophy.

“That was a fantastic start to the evening,” Mason said. “But we have 16 more studs chomping at the bit to please you. So let’s not waste any more time! Now presenting Lot 2: your favorite slacker and mine, the top skater on campus, the laid-back boy who just oozes cool… JEAN-MARC!”

Coming Soon: The Auction – part 2


This story will be alternating new installments with my new tale "The Bureau of National Defense and Government," which you can check out here.

https://tugstories.com/viewtopic.php?f=17&t=18745
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Post by gag1195 »

Mason is a natural at this! Danny must be proud at how far his lil bro has come since the beginning of the year! And speaking of... wow! Danny sure is killing it! I wonder if the crowd is in an extra giving mood. I wonder if the rest of the guys will earn such impressive numbers! Also, poor Paul being so nervous. He's sure to have a fun weekend with Danny, even if he'll be extremely sore from all the working out! Also, it's clear that Paul doesn't frequent sites like these. I immediately thought that the surgical tape was going to wrap around that puffed up chest and those impressive arms! Oh well, maybe Paul will indeed get a lesson or two by the end of the weekend! A great start to the auction!
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Post by Guardianbound »

I can see a rich guy going on a spending spree. Gotta collect them all
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Post by DeeperThanRed »

The auction is so much fun! Everyone is having a good time and I liked that they are working so hard to protect the auctioned frat members. Mason is great as the announcer and it's so nice of him to help Paul. I hope his jock-clad purchase will volunteer to be used as a guinea pig to teach him some "expert techniques". :)
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Post by Volobond »

I'm loving the auction thus far! Mason's impressing us all with his style and panache, and the TUG flair is wonderful - even if you don't win a bid, you still get to see 17 hot dudes trussed up! Here's hoping it's not too late to bid! ;)

Also adorable to see Scott's subtle collaring.
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Post by wataru14 »


The Auction – part 2

Bidding for Jean-Marc wasn’t as furious as it had been for Danny, but the skater boy did manage to rake in a few hundred. Beating his price from last year, as well. It seems that people were in a very charitable mood since the fire, and Jaquan, in particular, was seeing dollar signs flash before his eyes as he ran the winners’ cards and took their cash. Jean-Marc had been snatched up by a gaggle of rather rough-looking ladies. Leather, tattoos, and piercings all the way. Just how he liked it. They were members of a Wendy Lightning cover band and were in search of a combination roadie/boi to display for their shows this weekend. Recreating Wendy’s stage antics with bound-up men was always a crowd pleaser, and Jean-Marc had just the look the ladies were seeking. He gave a cocky smile as his new owners ascended the stairs like an invading army.

“Looks like Jean-Marc has some rocking and rolling in his future,” Mason said. “Let’s hope it’s in both the literal and figurative sense. These maneaters will surely get some good use out of our favorite slacker!” The drummer grabbed Jean-Marc’s face and planted a huge, hungry kiss on him. Almost like she was going to devour him for lunch right there on the stage. And she was quite a woman! She looked like she did roller derby in her spare time (which she did, incidentally). She held Jean-Marc in place, groping him as her bandmates perused the wares on the table. They selected an assortment of chains and advanced on Jean-Marc with sadistic glee in their eyes. The crowd cheered in support as the chains were applied to Jean-Marc’s wrists, ankles, and waist. He looked like a convict being locked up for transport in a prison van. His wrists were held in cuffs connected to a chain cinched tightly around his waist. A chain dangled from that, as well, and snaked down his legs to where it joined up with the shackles that hobbled his ankles. He could only take small, halting steps in his fetters. Not that he wanted to go anywhere at this particular moment. He was glowing in the ladies’ attentions.

And they were giving him plenty of attention. They took turns prodding and feeling him, both over his clothes and under, as they locked the chains around him. After another hungry kiss from the bass player, Jean-Marc felt a Hannibal Lechter mask and gag being buckled around his face. “This one’s going to be a roadie for us before we lock him down onstage,” the lead singer said into the mic. “But he needs some more piercings and ink before that. Good thing this profile says that’s OK with him. We’ve got plans for his boi!” She growled into the mic hungrily before handing it back to Mason, who was too intimidated to say anything in response. The lead guitarist had undone Jean-Marc’s shorts and was in the process of securing a leather cuff around the base of his junk. Once it was buckled, she threaded a chain out of his fly and took hold of the leash handle. With a snarl and a quick nibble on Jean-Marc’s neck, she tugged the chain and lead her prize down the stairs. This group didn’t return to the audience, however. Throwing devil horns at the cheering crowd, they hurried Jean-Marc out the doors and into the parking lot.

“Let’s hope they bring him back in one piece!” Mason said, drawing laughs from the crowd.

As the chaos settled, a lone figure crept into the room. He had waited for the heavy metal procession to pass by before showing his ticket to the attendant at the door. Once he had been given his bidding paddle and program, the figure slipped in the doors and took an empty seat in the back. He quickly scanned the program as the next lot was announced, but there was only one man he was interested in. Travis’ program said that Ray was one of the final lots, and he was interested in no others that night.

Mason didn’t say anything to introduce the next lot. Instead, the lights dimmed and a single spotlight illuminated the stage. From the darkness, the crowd heard a guitar strumming a sensual Mexican love song and Luis stepped into the light. He was clad in black leather boots with long, curved, upturned toes, adorned with rhinestones. His pants were similarly decorated, and so tight it looked like he needed a wedge to get into them. Only the wide flared bottoms didn’t cling to his flesh like a second skin. His mariachi jacket was open and he wore no shirt underneath, accentuating the fine dusting of dark hair on his sculpted pecs and abs. A red bandana hung around his neck at a jaunty angle, and atop his head was a rhinestone-covered black sombrero.

“Te amo, mi amor, mi amor…” Luis crooned as he paraded around the stage, winking at the crowd seductively. He almost broke character when a pair of panties sailed out of the darkness and landed at his feet, but he continued playing and singing. “Persigues mis sueños, agitas mi alma…”

“Our Latin heartthrob is available for romantic candlelight dinners, music lessons, and much much more,” Mason said. “It’s no wonder why Luis is one of TUG’s most popular members. With a voice like melted chocolate and a face like a supermodel, Luis is quite possibly the perfect boyfriend…”

The crowd sat in rapt silence as Luis sang, almost mesmerized by his voice. When he finished and took a small bow, they erupted. And the bidding brought down the house. Luis brought in even more than Danny, and when the gavel finally went down, he had set a new record. It seems that a group of four sisters from Delta Omicron Mu had pooled their resources to reel him in. Three of them were VERY well known to Mason. He smiled and winked as they approached the stage.

The four girls were weak in the knees as they tremulously came up on stage. Luis shot them his patented “hot guy half smile” and they nearly fainted.

“The Sisters of DOM once again proving they have excellent taste,” he said cheekily. “How ya doing, Chelsea? But you won’t be disappointed by this studly crooner. How are you going to take him home?”

“Well,” Chelsea said. “First off, that mouth is for us only. No freebies for those who didn’t pay for it.” And with that she undid Luis’ bandana and cleaved his mouth with it, the red fabric contrasting nicely with his dark lips. The crowd jokingly booed at this, but Mason quieted them.

“Now now,” he said. “They paid good money for those pipes, so they get to decide when they get used. We’re off to a good start. What’s next, ladies?”

“Now those hands are magic,” one of the other Sisters said. “I can tell. So we don’t want to damage them. I want those fingers to be at their best…” The crowd whoa-ed. “So I was thinking we’d do this.” She took a ludicrously long rope off the table, already tied into a lasso loop on one end, and carefully encircled Luis’ torso with it. Once it was pulled tight, she wound it around and around his body, starting at his collarbone and moving all the way down to his waist. Each revolution was pressed tautly against the one above as the rope wound around and left no space between. Luis’ ultra-tight pants did nothing to hide his happiness as his upper body disappeared into a tight wall of white rope. When the rope finally ran out and the girls tied off the end, his hands hung uselessly at his sides.

“One more finishing touch,” Chelsea said. She took out a pair of fur-lined handcuffs that Mason immediately recognized. She gingerly moved Luis’ hands in front of him and locked his wrists together in the cuffs.

“A gentle touch,” Mason said. “Very nice. I can’t help but think dear Luis is going to experience quite a lot of gentle touching this weekend.”

“Not too gentle,” one of the Sisters chuckled. Luis grinned through his red cleave gag as the girls gave him quick kisses on the cheek and led him down the stairs and out the door.

“At this rate we won’t have any audience left!” Mason joked. “Everyone seems to want to break in their purchases right away. Well, for those who are left, we have a special treat for you up next.” A marching band fight song blared over the speakers. “All-State running back all four years of high school. Body like a Greek statue, but with much more hiding under the fig leaf. A jock who, shockingly, ISN’T a complete asshole… three cheers and a rah rah rah for Brandon!”

Resplendent in his green-and-gold MCU football uniform, Brandon ran out and did a few running drills. Falls, pushups, squats, running in place. He took off his helmet, placing it on the floor and revealing the distinctive black marks under his eyes used on the field to reduce sun glare. When his show of athletic prowess was finished, Brandon stood center stage and stripped off his jersey, tucking it into the waistband of his football pants and letting it hang like a flag. His chiseled abs peeked out from under his protective pads teasingly. As the bidding started, he did some more football running drills in place, his sandy brown hair beading up with sweat from the exertion.

When all was said and done, Brandon had raked in $300 – slightly above his sum from last year. The winning bidder was, surprisingly, a faculty member. A rather slight and spindly philosophy professor in his 50s who looked like a stiff breeze could blow him over. “Always a pleasure to see one of our illustrious education professionals in attendance,” Mason said. “Congratulations on your win, sir. Now, what are your plans for poor Brandon here?”

“I’m actually looking to pick up a second at some point tonight,” the professor said, adjusting his glasses to get a better view of Brandon’s musculature. “I have to put some sheds up in my yard this weekend and this is much cheaper than hiring a contractor. Slave labor does have its benefits,” he smirked.

“Well, you made a great choice,” Mason said. “If you’re looking for strength, dedication, and a can-do attitude, you hit the jackpot.”

“I had this one in my sights all night,” the professor said, walking around Brandon like he was appraising an antique in a flea market. “I had hoped to pair him with Hoss, but unfortunately he’s not for sale this year. Pity. I’m sure I can find another suitable workhorse, though.”

“We have quite a selection that’s perfect for weekend labor,” Mason said as the professor strode right over to the table. “Ah, a pro at this, I see,” he chuckled.

“I should be,” the professor said. “I make a purchase every year.” Looking over the supplies, the professor stopped and grabbed an oversize roll of stretchy black adhesive tape. The exact type used on the Spy on Bid Nights. Travis shuddered from his seat remembering it. Taking that in hand, the professor grabbed a handtruck from the side of the table and wheeled it over to Brandon. “If you would be so kind as to step back onto the lip, please.”

Brandon nodded and strode onto the handtruck, standing with his back against the struts and his arms flush at his sides. The professor started at his ankles and slapped the end of the tape firmly over Brandon’s tall athletic socks. With a loud squelch, he wound the tape around and around, sealing Brandon’s feet to the handtruck and inching his way up the football stud’s lower body. Each layer overlapped with the previous, forming a tight and impenetrable shell. Inch by agonizing inch, Brandon’s body began to disappear behind a wall of stretchy black gauze. When the professor reached the top of the handtruck, Brandon’s arms were adhered to his sides under the tape, which came up to just above his mid-pecs, forming an odd bulge over his football padding.

“A three-quarter mummy will have to do,” the professor joked. “I’d do a full, but there’s not enough handtruck. Maybe next year I’ll bring a larger one of my own.” The professor took a souvenir TUG bandana from the table and held it in front of Brandon’s mouth. With a smile and a nod, Brandon opened his mouth and accepted the balled-up fabric. The professor pushed it in with his fingers, making sure none of the red cloth was sticking out, and then put the end of the tape across Brandon’s mouth. Again, the gauze went around and around. But he didn’t just stop at Brandon’s jaws. He pressed the tape higher and higher over Brandon’s face, leaving his nose uncovered, and continuing all the way up to the crown of his head. After tearing the tape off, he put the new end under Brandon’s chin and went vertically around until the young jock’s head was totally encased in a black stretchy hoodlike mask. Only his nose was visible. After putting the tape back on the table, the professor grabbed Brandon’s football helmet from the floor and placed it on his prisoner’s head over the mask.

“Now that’s the kind of thoroughness we’re used to,” Mason said, tapping Brandon on the shoulder and giving the “are you OK?” signal. Brandon grunted the affirmation code, letting Mason know that he was fine with his trussing. “Since you are looking for a work partner for poor Brandon here, let us assist you in getting him back down to the crowd. Give you a preview for your second purchase.” Mason gave a quick wave offstage and Omar and Trey hurried on. They picked up the handtruck and carried it down the stage stairs back to the arena floor, the professor following behind with a satisfied look on his face.

“Now,” Mason said, “I think it’s a good time to recognize one of our biggest sponsors this evening. All the restraint gear has been generously provided by Wade’s Pleasure Emporium. If you’re seeking something help to spice up a romantic evening, look no further than Wade’s. All his gear is TUG-tested and TUG-approved. Say hello to the good folks, Wade.” From his seat in a darkened corner of the crowd, Wade stood up. He gave a quick wave as the spotlight caught him, glinting brightly off the polished leather of his motorcycle jacket. “So tell me, Wade. Are you going to be bidding tonight?”

“I have my eye on one particular specimen,” Wade said slyly. “But who knows? There’s so much prime beef on display I might take a few more to add to my collection. My dungeon has plenty of room.” The crowd chuckled as Wade returned to his seat.

“And that brings me to our next lot,” Mason said. “And this one is special. We have a secret bidder!” Jaquan came up onstage holding a closed briefcase, which he handed to Mason. “A certain someone has put a secret amount in this case. The bidding will continue until it is reached. If none of you match or exceed it, our mystery bidder will win. A bit of a silent auction, no gag required.” Mason opened the case out of the audience’s view and took note of the amount. “OK folks, here we go!”

“The next lot is someone very special to me. Someone who has really helped me grow and bloom into the man about town I am. Someone who has helped me crawl out of my shell a little and live life. I owe him a great debt and he deserves your bids. Lot 5, all the way from the wrong side of the tracks, is our favorite bad boy, Leomund Mordenkainen Bucknard!”

Accompanied by a blazing rock riff, Leo appeared from out of nowhere as if by magic. Unlike the others before him, there was no costume. No pretensions. He took a cocky pose and smoothed out the sleeves of his leather jacket before taking out a hackey-sack and kicking it around for a bit.

“Looks like someone’s too cool for school,” Mason joked. “But that’s Leo. If you’re looking for a wild night on the town, he’s your man. Raising some hell, tagging some walls, pranking some fools? This fun-loving bad boy will not disappoint. But he’s got a brain behind all that, too. A master of wordplay and closet nerd, Leo can carry on an intellectual conversation on any subject you wish. And his D&D skills are second only to mine.”

Nate popped his head out of the curtain and loudly cleared his throat.

“Wait your turn, you!” Mason teased. Nate shot him a playful middle finger and popped back behind the curtain.

“He’s not big, he’s not brawny, but he’s a true prize among men,” Mason continued. “A friend to those in need and an enemy to those who would hurt the little guy. Let’s see those bids!”

Bidding for Leo was moderate. His slender build wasn’t as big a draw as the beefcakes that preceded him, but his fiery charisma earned him a few eager bidders. But each time a paddle went up, Mason said that didn’t exceed the secret bid and kept going. Bidding capped at out $200, which was pretty good for a Freshman, and when there were no more bids, Mason banged his gavel and announced that the secret bidder had won. Mason took out the card with the max bid of $300 and showed it to the crowd. “And now let’s see our secret bidder!” Mason said. “Come on out!”

Scott played the sound of a police siren over the speakers and changed the song to “Bad Boys” from that old COPS show on TV. The curtain opened and Officer Santucci strode out onto the stage in full uniform and mirrored sunglasses. He took the mic and said, “I’ve been given a special request by a certain TUG VIP to teach this little hellion some manners,” he said with a smirk. “So this one is going to be my special guest for the weekend at the Metro City holding facility downtown. Hope you look good in orange, punk!” Santucci gave the mic back to Mason and took out his cuffs, twirling them on his finger alluringly as he advanced towards Leo.

“It had to be you,” Leo said with a sigh. “Still bitter over me getting away all those times?”

“Something like that,” Santucci said as he grabbed Leo by the lapels of his jacket and planted him against the wall face-first. He moved Leo’s hands up and interlocked his fingers behind his head, and then started patting him down.

“You’ll never take me alive, copper!” Leo joked as Santucci snapped the bracelet of his handcuffs over his left wrist in a carefree, fluid motion.

“Save it for the judge, perp!” Santucci joked as he brought Leo’s hands behind his back and locked the other bracelet around his right wrist. “Now, as per my instructions, you are going to get a crash course in obedience. Think of it as a ‘Scared Straight’ sort of thing. So you’ll get to see what your future will hold if you don’t start flying right.”

“I wonder who gave you those instructions,” Leo said, shooting a quick look at Brett, who had popped his head out of the curtain to watch the show. Brett was grinning from ear to ear and gave Leo a sarcastic wave goodbye as Santucci started to perp walk Leo down the stairs.

“Wait, officer!” Brett said. “This little felon has a venomous and lying mouth. If you want any peace on your ride back to intake, you might want to do something about that.”

“You are very right!” Santucci said. He snatched a red ballgag from the table and held it menacingly in front of Leo’s face. “OK, inmate. Open wide.” Leo hesitated, but Santucci slowly began lifting his baton from his beltloop.

“Oh, I see how it is,” Leo laughed. “My lawyer will hear about this!” He opened his mouth wide.

“Shut it, punk,” Santucci chuckled and plunged the gag behind Leo’s teeth. Leo made a grand show about grunting and gurgling as Santucci buckled the clasp behind his head. He made a bolt for it, but Santucci was ready and grabbed him in a tight headlock. He waved to the crowd and gave a quick flex or two himself as he pulled Leo down the stairs and out the door to his waiting squad car.

“That’s one to you, boss man,” he thought. “But I’ll pay you back for this.” Leo put up a pretend, playful struggle for the crowd as Santucci led him outside, where Sgt. Gonzalez was waiting with the rear door open and a big smile on his face.

“Stay strong, Leo!” Mason called out as they disappeared into the parking lot. “I’ll send you a file in the prison mail. Now ladies and gentlemen, we’re going to take a quick break, but when we come back we have even more men for you to bid on. See you in 5!” Mason turned and headed back through the curtain as the house lights came up and crowds started heading for the bathrooms.

Travis tapped his feet nervously. He buried his face in his program as people passed by, afraid someone would recognize him. There was nothing that said DIX members weren’t allowed to attend, but he was worried what people might think if they saw him. It wouldn’t be good, that much he knew. But luckily, no one seemed to pay him any mind. As he looked out into the milling crowd, he saw Paul and Danny having a conversation by their seats. Brandon was just sitting unattended, as the professor had skipped off to the restroom. But as he looked to his left, across the aisle, he got a chill up his spine.

Seated in the back row was a boy in his late teens. He was dressed in workwear and a cowboy hat was dipped low over his face, obscuring his features. He had the program opened to near the back, and Travis could see he had it bent open on Cody’s page. The boy’s fingers absently stroked Cody’s smiling picture. “Something’s not right here,” Travis thought. “I don’t know who that guy is, but I’m getting a really weird feeling about him. Should I tell someone?” Travis looked over to the DJ booth. Scott had slipped out for a smoke, but Jaquan was seated nearby, going through the logbooks. Nate had come out and was standing with Hoss in the front row, as well. He was about to get up and head down there, but decided against it. “No,” he thought. “They wouldn’t listen to me, anyway. Nate might, but the others will think I was sent by DIX to disrupt the show. If they only knew what Clay would do to me if he knew I was here…”

But Travis wasn’t going to let this rest. He moved his seat closer to the aisle and kept the boy in his peripheral vision. “You’re up to something, and I’m going to find out what.”

Coming Soon: The Auction – part 3
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gag1195
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Post by gag1195 »

This auction is so much fun! Though I'm a bit worried we may never hear from Jean-Marc ever again! Not that I think he would complain, but still, his TUG brothers may just want to make sure he actually is returned!

I loved Brett's prank on his Little Bro Leo! I'm sure Leo will have a lot of time to plot his revenge while behind bars this weekend! Have to admit though, I suspected that the anonymous Sponsor was actually Wendy Lightning herself, but no such luck!

The others were great too! Sexy Luis serenading the audience and Brandon (and maybe another) will get wheeled away for a weekend of hard labor! These audience members are about as creative with their tie ups as the TUG brothers are!

And of course, that sinister cliffhanger! Will Travis be able to warn them and protect Cody? Will they believe him? Maybe Ray will vouch for him! And of course, who will the rest of the brothers end up with? Can't wait!
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DeeperThanRed
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Post by DeeperThanRed »

I love how Jean-Marc and Luis's purchasers were extremely thirsty for them but still maintained a fun, friendly banter with them.

Meanwhile, the professor wraps Brandon in tape and hauls him away like a slab of meat. :lol:
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cj2125
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Post by cj2125 »

I'm loving this arc of the story! It's nice seeing more of the other guys from TUG! Outside of the main cast Jean-Marc has to be mt favorite :D, also love seeing how Travis character is evolving from just another DIX jerk! And the cliffhanger in the end! Ready to see what happens next!
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Volobond
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Post by Volobond »

Goodness me! Yet another chapter I will definitely be revisiting! I love how each TUG boy has his own flair, and I especially love each and every creative tie we see!

And of course, the sneaky goings on in the audience!
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Post by KidnappedCowboy »

So much to write about with the past two updates!!!

More to follow, but for now...

I am so jealous of the professor. I loved the way he made Brandon into a 3/4 length mummy!! :D
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Post by wataru14 »

Sorry for the slight delay. I was working stage crew for a show these past few weeks and we just had closing weekend. So I've been busy. But the good news is that I'm now free, so things should be back on schedule.


The Auction – part 3

“Welcome back, everyone,” Mason said after lifting his mask and taking a quick drink of water. “I just came from the waiting room, and believe me, those boys are hot and ready for you. Twelve more hunks are still up for purchase. Now, Jaquan has been diligently going over the books and our 75th auction is already looking to break all records! So let’s not waste any more time! Our next lot is a real success story.”

Victorian harpsichord music began to play and the stage curtain parted to reveal Pablo, resplendent in old-world scholar robes and classical mortar cap. He carried a quill and parchment and mimed writing. “Our Dreamer, Pablo, came to this country as a child all the way from Peru and taught himself English at the age of five! But he didn’t stop there. By the time he started middle school, he had also learned French, Arabic, and Tagalog and now speaks all five languages like a native. Graduating high school at 13, Pablo went right to work to help support his family, but after they all got their citizenship, Pablo enrolled here at MCU. He’s the only person I know who MIGHT be smarter than me.”

The crowd laughed and Pablo gave a sly smirk as he put down his writing implements. As he did, the music abruptly changed to a raunchy Reggaeton song and he began to unbutton his robes in a grand, exaggerated fashion. “But he’s more than just a brain… oh yes.” And with that, Pablo tore the robes from his body, revealing a slim, but perfectly cut physique. He was buck naked, except for a red TUG bandana tied around his upper thigh, serving as a sling for his clearly ample endowments. He started to strut around and gyrate to the music as the crowd went wild. Mason jokingly took a $20 bill and stuffed it in Pablo’s makeshift loincloth. “He has to pay the bills somehow,” Mason joked. “But he’s no amateur. Some of you ladies may know that Pablo here is the headliner at The Den of Iniquity on Friday nights. Scholar by day, earning those dollars by night.”

The music started pumping hard. Pablo grabbed a folding chair from the side of the stage and slid it dead center. He spun it around in an almost choreographed manner, straddled it, and started undulating like a snake. “Need some help with a tricky math assignment? Want someone to write that big term paper for you? Or do you just want to learn some of these killer moves… for purely academic purposes? Look no further. Pablo here is a true Renaissance Man! He’s Neil Degrasse Tyson, Shakespeare, and Magic Mike all rolled into one. Now let’s open those wallets!”

Bidding was, unsurprisingly, fast and furious for Pablo. Paddles shot up from all over, but many had to drop out as the price kept soaring higher and higher. As the bidding became more fierce, another group had decided to take a tip from the Delta Sisters and pool their funds to complete. And that strategy paid off. When the gavel came down, it was another big cash sale for TUG.

Mason peered out into the darkened crowd, shielding his eyes from the glare of the lights with his hand. “The winners are out in back,” he said. “I can’t quite see who won, but you know who you are. Come on up and claim your prize!” From his place in the crowd next to Paul, Danny full-on belly laughed as three hulking figures loomed out of the darkness and ascended onto the stage, “Hey! I know these guys!” Mason cried happily. “Everyone, welcome a trio of standup guys, our ROTC buddies Tony, Victor, and Benjamin!”

Benjamin took the mic as his two meaty pals moved into position ominously on either side of Pablo. “What up, M-Dawg?” he said, giving Mason a hug and a fist bump. “We started off tonight bidding on that fool Danny down there, but Mr. Paul’s got some deep-ass pockets. When you’re done with him, bro, give us a call and we’ll take him off your hands.” Danny laughed again as Paul blushed awkwardly. “We were going to leave, but when we saw this one, we just had to get him,” Benjamin said. “Just between us and god, those two meatheads are one failed math test away from academic suspension. So we’re in need of a top-grade tutor. And this is the man.”

“Sounds like he’s getting off too easy,” Mason said. “Tutoring a trio of standup guys like you? That’s… rather disappointing.”

“Oh, that’s not all we’re buying him for,” Tony said. “We got the Officers’ Ball coming up and… well…”

“You need a dance teacher,” Pablo said, his face lighting up. “Hahaha! You want to learn the waltz? The mambo? Hell, I’ll even teach the Cha-Cha Slide. You three will be… wait a second!” The gears in Pablo’s head spun as he processed the data he was taking in. “That’s not the kind of dancing you’re talking about, is it?”

Victor clamped his hand quickly over Pablo’s mouth with a rakish grin. “Let’s just say that our Senior prank involves some g-strings, little bow ties, and the captain’s wife.” Pablo chuckled and mmppgghed “I got you” through Viktor’s hand.

“Coming soon, MCU’s all-male revue!” Mason laughed. “Tell me when your show is and you can bet TUG will have front-row seats. But enough jibbajabba. It’s time to give these people what they came here for!”

The three military hunks whispered to each other for a second, and then Tony reached under the table and pulled out a heavy fire blanket while Benjamin grabbed several thicky and sturdy leather belts from the top. Pablo moved aside as Tony spread the blanket out on the stage and opened it wide. “OK, recruit!” Victor bellowed. “Drop and give me 20!” Pablo chuckled and moved over onto the blanket before turning upstage, dropping down, and doing a few pushups. There were whistles from the crowd once they realized Pablo’s makeshift loincloth left no cover from this low angle.

“One, two, twenty!” Tony said. Pablo stopped his exercises and, sensing what they were planning for him, laid down face-first on the edge of the blanket with his hands flush against his sides. Victor grabbed the top corner and Tony grabbed the bottom, both flipping the leading edge over Pablo’s back. Victor and Tony laughed like kids as they began to roll Pablo over and over, wrapping him tighter and tighter in the blanket with each revolution. When they reached the far edge, and Pablo was completely sealed up inside, Benjamin handed two belts each to his friends and they got to work.

Benjamin cinched his belts around Pablo’s ankles and knees and ratcheted them tightly closed. All the way to the last rivets. Tony secured Pablo’s lap and waist, while Victor did his ribs and arms. When the three burly Army men had finished, Pablo was completely immobile inside his heavy canvas cocoon. The cloth wall surrounding him was several inches thick and compressed his toned body into a tight parcel. He wriggled a little in jest, resembling an olive-drab colored caterpillar, thoroughly impressed at the snugness of their work. “Nice job,” he said. He teasingly wiggled his feet, the only part of his body other than his head that was outside of the fire-blanket prison.

“Nah, this is standard issue rookie initiation stuff,” Benjamin said, grabbing several TUG bandanas from the table. “It happens to everyone sooner or later in ROTC.” Pablo laughed again and held his mouth open wide for Benjamin to stuff the balled-up cloth inside. Once it was in, the other two ROTC men slapped two more folded bandanas over his mouth apiece. Each one was folded into a thicker band than the previous, and when all the cloths were placed and knotted, Pablo’s entire lower face was submerged in an ocean of red and gold fabric. He mpppgghhhed, but his grunts were barely audible to even Mason, who stood less than three feet away.

“A five-layer gag!” Mason said. “Quite impressive! Careful or you’ll give the boys back there some ideas. But how can he teach with his mouth stuffed like that? Well, that’s his problem. Good job, boys! Now carry your merchandise back to your seats and we’ll see if anyone can top that on our next lot!” Mason patted Victor on the back as Benjamin and Tony each took one end of Pablo and hoisted him up onto their shoulders before carrying him off down the stairs.

As soon as they cleared, the revving of an engine was heard and the curtains slowly parted as a thrashcore punk song echoed through the speakers. A floodlight blinded the audience for a moment as Takeshi coasted out on his off-road sportsbike. He was clad in a red-and-white leather racing suit that clung tightly to his wiry frame, complete with matching gloves and mud-stained boots. He took his helmet off, smoothed out his flyaway spiky hair, raced the engine a few more times, and then stepped off the bike with a swagger.

“Need some danger in your life?” Mason announced. “Well, if thrills and chills you seek, no one beats our own Takeshi! Tak, for short. When he’s not filming parkour videos for social media, he’s racing his mean machine all over the track. Life is a banquet for our favorite daredevil, and if you spend your weekend with him, you’ll dine like a queen!”

As the bidding started, Takeshi ran over to the nearby tower of speakers and hopped up on top so he could grab the steel trellis that supported the stage lights. He effortlessly hauled himself up to the top crossbar and started hand-over-handing commando style until he reached the center. He dangled by his arms for a second with his back to the audience, did a few pullups, and then swung his legs up. He caught the bar behind his knees and held tight, releasing his handgrip. Now hanging from the bar upside-down, Takeshi started doing aerial situps. As the crowd applauded, Takeshi grabbed the bar with his hands, unhooked his legs, and did a full backflip back onto the stage. He landed like Iron Man, crouched with one hand on the ground.

“And that athleticism can be channeled into multiple areas,” Mason said with a wink at the crowd. “And I know from experience that he makes a mean Jungle Juice.”

After some more flips and tumbles, the bidding began. When it finally plateaued and Mason closed the sale, Takeshi’s new owner had forked over $450 for him. He hadn’t raised that much the previous year when he was a slightly awkward Freshman, but now that TUG had instilled some confidence in him, Tak was a hot commodity. And the winning bidder was eager to claim her hard-earned prize. Mason came over to the stairs and escorted her up, recognizing her as a girl he had seen at the Bid Night Party. She was one of the eager dancers in Cody’s country line dance, but not one of his Delta Sister companions. He couldn’t quite place her name, though.

“And what’s your name, beautiful?” Mason asked.

“Karinn,” she said. But she wasn’t paying much attention to him. Her eyes were focused on the contours of Takeshi’s leather racing suit and how it moved with him. How it creaked and groaned with each movement. How it showed nicks and scrapes from intense usage. Not just a fashion accessory. “I’ve had my eye on this one for some time now,” she hummed, licking her lips. “And now he’s all mine.” She advanced on Takeshi hungrily and threw her arms around his waist. Her hands landed solidly on his leather-clad ass cheeks and gave both a husky squeeze.

“Wow! It seems Karinn here is all business,” Mason chuckled. “And with a purchase like this, who can blame her? So let’s get to the nitty gritty. How are you going to wrap him up? Tak here is one of our best escape artists. He’s a wily as a cat. Has a playlist devoted to escape challenges on his Youtube channel and everything.”

“Oh, I’m well aware,” Karinn said as she released Tak’s posterior and scanned the wares on the table. “So we’ll have to take some heavy precautions. Don’t want this hot rod getting away before I can take him out for a test ride.” She selected two heavy steel bars and held them up with a wicked grin.

“Ooh, the spreaders!” Mason said. “Going hardcore, I see. Well ‘Harcore’ is Tak’s middle name, after all. But I don’t think he’s ever tried to escape from those! Let’s see how he fares, shall we?” Karinn knelt down and spread Takeshi’s legs shoulder length apart after making him place his hands on top of his head like he was being arrested. She laid the heavy steel bar on the ground between his ankles and took one of the reinforced steel manacles in her hand. Tak’s racing boots made his ankles much wider than usual, but Karinn compensated by ratcheting the cuff extra tight. The crowd whistled and hooted with each click of the teeth. When she was satisfied with the tightness, Karinn locked the other cuff closed, helplessly hobbing her prey. She stood up and called Mason over for assistance.

“This part requires two people, I think,” she said, “Care to help a sister out?” She opened the yoke and handed it to Mason, who smiled and held it up in front of Tak for her. With a gentle nudge, Karinn fitted Tak’s throat into the collar ring and slipped each wrist into the arm holders. When he was fully in place, she took the rear of the yoke and closed it behind Tak’s neck, trapping his throat and hands in the special-made slots along its length. As Mason held it closed, she took several heavy padlocks from the table and applied them to the holes that ran along the length of the yoke, securing the neck and wrist holes. When Mason and Karinn stepped back, Takeshi stood erect and squirmed a little. His arms were bent up, similar to a double bicep pose, but they were held immobile by the steel yoke. All he could do was impotently jangle the heavy metal that encased his neck and hands.

Karinn scanned the table once more and quickly swiped a leather muzzle/headgear device from the wares. Takeshi’s eyes twinkled as she inserted the plug into his mouth and began to buckle the intricate series of straps behind his head. When the last buckle locked, Takeshi’s jaw was enclosed behind a thick wall of black leather. Sturdy straps ran up over the bridge of his nose and between his eyes, continuing up over the top of his head. More straps were pulled back over his cheeks and above his ears, all joining together neatly behind his head.

“That should do it,” Karinn said. “And like this, he can’t stop me from doing anything I want, can he?” Karin placed her hand on Takeshi’s leather-covered chest and started to slowly slide it down. She began to teasingly unzip the front as her hand glided down his body. But just before she reached his beltline, she pulled away. “But not just yet,” she said teasingly. “I’m going to make him beg for it.” As the crowd cheered and hooted, Karinn led Takeshi down the stairs and back to her seat.

“Looks like those two are going to be having plenty of thrills and chills this weekend! Hope all your pistons fire, Tak! But now it’s time for our next lot,” Mason continued. A rumbling was heard from the DJ booth, followed by a deep guttural chanting and heavy drumbeats. “The orcs are restless and that can only mean one thing! It’s time to pwn some noobs. Up next is our resident keyboard king, the champion raider of Everdark and the best damn alien killer in three galaxies – the gamer par excellence… Bryan!”

Bryan was wheeled out by Trey and Omar in his orthopedic gamer chair with his headset on, miming keyboard and mouse gestures as he glided on. He jumped out as his escorts retreated to the back, grabbing a sword from a compartment on the side of the chair and holding it aloft, shouting “For the Alliance!”

“Looking for a ringer on your next raid?” Mason said. “Need to make that 13-year-old who keeps teabagging your characters cry for his mama? Or even turbocharge your PC for a myriad of COMPLETELY LEGAL activities? Bryan’s got you. He can turn your home theater system into something NASA would be jealous of. He can even program your grandma’s universal remote so she won’t miss a single show on the Murder Channel. And also block Fox News for no added charge! You got tech issues, this geek’s got your back.”

When the bidding started, it was clear that there was another group at work. Several guys in a mass a few rows back were aggressively lifting their paddles every time a bid was placed. Bryan gazed into the darkness and he got a rather unpleasant shock when he saw the grinning faces looking back at him. When Mason banged the gavel, Bryan just dropped his sword and said “Oh shit.”

Mason nearly doubled over with laughter. “Oh shit is right, my man!” he said, slapping Bryan on the back. “For those of you out there joining us for the first time, let me explain something. You saw the Sisters of Delta Omicron Mu here before, but Sororities aren’t the only Greek groups invited. Let me introduce you to several brothers of one of our Fraternity Row neighbors. Bryan, say hello to the men of Tau Kappa Lambda!”

Five men in green TKL shirts raced up the stairs like a shot. Bryan tried to back up and bolt, but he was blocked from behind by Trey and Brett, who had emerged from the back.

“Uh uh, bro!” Brett said. “You know the rules. All sales are final.”

One of the TKL brothers grabbed the mic. “This one has been raiding our server for months and causing chaos. I lost a level 95 Paladin to you and all you could say was ‘get gud?’ Well, buddy, we’re gonna get you REAL gud!”

Brett and Trey released Bryan and shoved him, pleading for mercy, into the waiting arms of the Brothers of TKL. From the audience’s perspective, all they could see was a whirling melee of hands reaching and tearing, and articles of clothing being torn and thrown aside. After a few moments, the crowd parted and Bryan stood, buck naked, covering his junk with both hands. Before he could escape, the TKL gang had surrounded him again, each one holding electrical cords.

“Come on, guys,” Bryan pleaded. “It’s just a game. No need to… urgh!” And with that his hands were wrenched away and forced behind his back.

“We’re gonna go old school for this,” one of Bryan’s new owners said as he held up an old wired NES controller. As Bryan continued to try and talk his way out of it, he felt his hands being held in place and his wrists being wrapped in the cords. As this was going on, extension cords were being looped around his legs in several places. Bryan was unable to cover his nakedness, which made things even more humiliating for him. And to make matters worse, as the cords flew around him from all over, Bryan would double over laughing as fingers would occasionally dart in from somewhere or other and gently rub his skin.

“Come on… hahaha!” he shouted. “We can talk… hahaha!!!! Oh shit! Stop! Please! HAHAHAHAHA!!!!” Bryan was nearly doubling over with laughter. So relentless was it that he didn’t even feel the wires and cables growing tighter and tighter around his body. “I can design some mods for you that will get you back… HAHAHA!”

“And get booted for cheating?” the lead TKL man said. “No way, Jose. You’re going to work your ass off to get Sir Studmeister 2.0 back to where his predecessor was, even if it takes all weekend. And I’m getting sick of your lip!” Bryan begged in vain for freedom once more, but the hands all around made coherent speech impossible. As he opened up for one last entreaty, all he got for his troubles was a kitchen sponge shoved into his open maw. Quivering with laughter, Bryan gave up all resistance as the packing tape was slaphazardly pressed against his lips and wrapped around his face. Finally, completely defeated, Bryan slumped down and was hoisted aloft by the Brothers of TKL. With a shake of Mason’s hand, the green-clad group hurried down the stairs and with their whimpering prisoner.

“Not the cleanest job,” Mason said, “but effective. And deliciously ironic, don’t you think. Well, maybe Bryan will learn to play nice with his neighbors after this. Although I wouldn’t want to be his ribs and feet come Monday. I hear TKL has their own set of display cases in their House. After one last desperate squeal from Bryan, the group disappeared into the parking lot.

“Men on a mission, it seems,” Mason joked. “Best of luck to you, Bryan. You’ll need it! And now for someone very near and dear to my heart,” Mason said. “The very first friend I made when I came to MCU and a truly wonderful guy. The gentle soul of an artist with the face of an angel. Let’s all do a mitzvah for our very own Nate!”

Scott started playing the Bottle Dance song from Fiddler on the Roof, but stopped when a water bottle sailed past his head and smashed into the curtain. With a chuckle, he switched to an arthouse techno song as Nate emerged from the curtain. Nate was clearly terrified and completely out of his element. He tried to dance a little, but his movements were stiff and awkward. To cover, he got down on one knee and started snapping pictures of the crowd with his camera. Now in his element, the tension began to melt away and he grew more comfortable.

“Want him to paint you ‘like one of your French girls?’” Mason said. “Or maybe do a steamy private photoshoot? I hear he’s quite good at those. There’s beauty in this world all around and there’s no one better to experience it with than Nate here. Let’s start the bidding at $20.”

Silence. Not one panel went up. From anywhere in the crowd. All that could be heard over the deep beats of the music was the rustling of programs and the uncomfortable shifting of weight in the seats.

Shocked, Mason scanned the crowd. “No one? Come on, people! This is a real prize find!”

More silence. Nate was aghast. His face turned bright red and he froze. His hands dropped to his sides, the camera landing against his chest with a dull thud, supported only by the straps around his neck. No one? Not one person? This was his greatest nightmare. Humiliated in front of everyone. A sold-out audience of guests and the people he cared most about in the world. He wanted to run, but his shame and despair held him immobile. And then it got worse. A chuckle started from somewhere in the crowd. And it grew. And spread. Soon the entire audience was trying to suppress laughter. Nate’s heart dropped further when he saw Scott start to laugh from the DJ booth. He looked frantically at the crowd. The lights were too bright to see Hoss, but he did catch a glimpse of Wade, who had an extremely angry look on his face.

Nate couldn’t stand it. Cold shivers ran down his spine and he felt his diaphragm contracting. No! Not now! He was about to start crying, here in front of everybody! Finally, he managed to force his legs to obey him and took a step backwards towards the curtain. Then he felt a hand on his back. Turning around, he saw Cody. Nate, his eyes getting puffy, nearly collapsed in his roommate’s arms.

Wait. Even Cody was holding back a smile. Nate could see the tension in his face.

Nate stopped for a second. Something was going on here. If Cody was… then… He looked back at the crowd and visually scanned them, the gears in his mind turning. Cody was about to say something but Nate shushed him. Something had caught his attention. All over the crowd, audience members were rustling their programs awkwardly. Programs? Wait a second.

Nate hopped off the stage and hurried over to the box of spare programs near the door. He snatched one and tore through it, coming to a stop near the central fold where his bio was. When he opened it, he saw a small white paper inside. An insert. What was this? It wasn’t in any of the souvenir programs left for the guys in the dressing room. Nate started to read and was too caught up in the moment to notice the spotlight flying over and illuminating him.

“I’m bidding $500. If anyone else even thinks about bidding for my boy, I’ll get out of this chair and kick your ass all the way to San Pedro.” – Hoss

Confused, Nate looked over at the crowd, which had fallen awkwardly silent. But there was an underlying tension in them. Like they were waiting for something to happen. Nate looked over at the stage.

Hoss had wheeled out onto the middle of the stage and sat holding a bouquet of roses. “Ain’t no way I’m letting anyone get their hands on you,” Hoss said into the mic. “Now get your ass up here!”

Nate dropped the program and lept up onto the stage in one bound. His heart was already fluttering as he raced over to Hoss, but stopped in his tracks when the big man stood up from the wheelchair. Before Nate could scold Hoss for ignoring his doctor’s orders, he felt himself being swept up into Hoss’ arms.

“You shouldn’t be…” Nate said, but his scolding was cut off as Hoss planted his lips on Nate’s. Full out in front of everyone! The crowd hooted and cheered as Hoss pulled away.

“I feel fine,” Hoss said. “I can barely feel it anymore.” Nate knew Hoss was lying, but he was too swept up in the moment to say anything.

“Ah, young love,” Mason said. Hoss put Nate down and got back into his wheelchair. Trying to hide his pain, he adjusted himself in the seat as Nate got behind and pushed him through the curtain into the back and down the ramp to the audience. Mason grabbed a bale of rope from the table. “Uh, guys, you forgot… Oh well. I’ll wager there will be plenty of this tonight after the festivities are over.” With a chuckle, Mason put the rope back on the table.

“We’ve reached the halfway point and things are showing no sign of slowing down, let me assure you,” Mason said, taking center stage. “So while our lovebirds get back to their seats, let’s turn things up a bit. Everybody put your hands together for…”

Coming Soon: The Auction – part 4
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DeeperThanRed
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Post by DeeperThanRed »

While my favorite bachelor of this chapter was definitely Tak with his biking leathers, I loved the hilarious comeback Bryan got and Pablo's military burrito predicament. You're really knocking it out of the park with all the fun auctions and hot guys.

The big twist of Hoss courting Nate is just the sweetest. That's the kind of romantic move that would sweep me off my feet. :lol: those two are so lucky that they found each other and I'm glad Nate's night got a happy ending.
25-year-old bondage enthusiast who likes cute guys, underwear, and bondage, preferably together.

You can reach my list of written work here: https://www.tugstories.com/viewtopic.php?p=38808#p38808
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gag1195
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Post by gag1195 »

I really love this auction. Not only is the bondage great, and reading about all the hot studs on display is amazing, but I really like it for another reason: It further fleshes out this already very detailed world! We get to see the sophomores and juniors of TUG, and see more of their personalities, their interests, even some relationships. We also get to see more of the college's culture, its own little social ecosystem!

And of course, ending things with more Nate and Hoss sweetness was just perfection! Hoss found his own way to still participate in the auction!
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KidnappedCowboy
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Post by KidnappedCowboy »

Omigod, I loved this chapter.

Nate and Hoss: Hoss daring anyone to challenge his claim on Nate. It may be old-fashioned chauvinism, but -- FRACK -- it's frackin' hot!!! :D

Tak in his leathers claimed and chained by a woman who is in all respects of the word -- a true Mistress!!! 8-) 8-)

And Pablo in a Blanket...what a delectable hors d'oeuvre! :twisted:
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Volobond
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Post by Volobond »

Oh, I'm sorry. I think my squealing got so high pitched it may have set off all the neighborhood dogs. I'm loving the continued auction! I really need to save up so I can buy my own weekend bondage toy haha!

Pablo and Tak had some hot time onstage (Tak's bondage was especially appealing to me), but my winner was Bryan and the boys of TKL! I'm sure everyone will be hearing the gagged laughter over the weekend! And of course, it was heart-swellingly romantic to see Hoss come to surprise Nate and make them official! Although I hope Nate will return the bondage favor when Hoss's back heals up!

A perfect way to reinvigorate myself after a rough week. [mention]wataru14[/mention] , I salute you.
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Post by wataru14 »


The Auction – part 4

Travis fidgeted in his seat and leafed through his program. Only three more to go! Calming his nerves, he popped the collar of his polo shirt to hide his face more and slumped back in his seat. He had been trying to remain incognito for most of the event, but he had been spotted by a few audience members who recognized him. And there were whispers. Nasty ones. Travis didn’t know how far the news had traveled, but he was pretty sure it had reached the ears of someone at TUG. Although no one had come to confront him… yet. Probably didn’t want to make a scene. But there was no point in worrying about that. They would all know he was here soon enough. He just hoped that it wouldn’t all blow up in his face.

Lost in thought, he nearly jumped out of his skin when his phone vibrated. It was a text from Clay.

- “Some of us are going to Mulcahy’s tonight. U can come if you want.”
- “I’m out tonight. Doing something. Next time.”
- “Where R U?”

Travis turned his phone off. No way he was going to answer that question. He continued to fidget as Mason opened the bidding for Gavin, the blonde prep who was set to take over for Danny as Treasurer of TUG next year.

“Just a little longer,” Travis thought, as he looked again at his program. Suddenly he felt a presence standing in the aisle next to him. His heart sank, but he pretended not to notice anyone was there.

“Hello, Travis,” a deep, gravelly voice said. “Now just what are you doing here?”

---

Wade pushed the doors to the outside open and let Travis through first before following into the parking lot. Onstage, Gavin was being bound with bungee cords by a girl from the math team, who had always dreamed of having a charming man lavish her with gifts and attention for a weekend. She said something about how he will be “rubbing her feet and feeding her chocolates” while wearing… well, nearly nothing, but the pair heading out didn’t manage to hear the end of it. Travis sat on the railing like a kid in detention while Wade leaned against the wall. He tapped out a cigarette and offered one to Travis, but he declined.

“I got a weird feeling that someone who shouldn’t be here was in the crowd,” Wade said. “So I’ve been watching. Imagine my surprise when I saw you. You’ve got 10 seconds to explain why DIX sent you here. And it better be good. After everything that happened, your squad is on thin ice as it is. If you’re here to cause trouble…”

“I’m not,” Travis said glumly. “They don’t know I’m here. How do you think they’d react if they found out, huh?”

“Interesting,” Wade said, “Continue.”

“I… I’m here to bid,” Travis said after a heavy pause.

“Well, you haven’t been doing any of that so far,” Wade replied. “I’ve been watching. Which means you’re here for a specific find.” Travis stared down at the sidewalk. “Oh, you poor thing.” Wade sat down next to Travis and put his arm over his shoulder. “I can see you’re hoping to get some kind of Romeo and Juliet thing going, but don’t you know what happened to them? Can’t say I blame you, but you have to think if it’s really worth it. If you win the bids, no one can stop you from taking him, but how do you think he’ll feel about that?”

“A lot of the others bought guys for romantic stuff,” Travis squeaked, suddenly feeling very stupid. “I thought…”

“Child, none of those people are looking for something real,” Wade said. “Just a weekend of fun. And that’s it. I don’t think you’re going to find what you’re looking for.”

“But I have to try,” Travis said. “This is the only way I can get him alone. So we can talk. Just the two of us.”

“Mmm hmm,” Wade said. “And just where are you going to do that? The DIX House? Take him home to meet Mommy and Daddy? Or maybe you’ve rented a hotel room. That’s not stalker level 3000 or anything.”

“I didn’t plan on taking him anywhere,” Travis said. “He would stay at the dorms in his own room. I don’t want to keep him for the whole weekend, just… hang out together off campus in between. Talk. With no one else around.”

Wade sat in thought. Was Travis telling the truth, or was this just a well-acted con on behalf of DIX? Hard to tell. Being a dom meant you had to have a high degree of empathy. Be able to read signals and body language when the person you’re studying can’t communicate in the normal way. And Wade was very good at reading people. Was Travis on the level? Did he really want to bid on Ray for some wholesome get-to-know-you time? Yes… it appears he did. This both relieved Wade and made him feel even more uneasy. There was definitely someone here who didn’t have wholesome plans in mind. He was sure it was Travis, but now he knew it was someone else. And he didn’t like not knowing who.

“Well,” Wade said, crushing out his cigarette in the plastic urn next to the wall, “I’m not going to blow up your spot. I don’t think your plan will work, but that’s not my business. That’s all up to you and I actually wish you luck. But that leaves me with a different question. Ever get a weird feeling? Like something isn’t right? I’m getting very bad juju from someone in that audience and I don’t know who. Someone is up to something and I need to find out just who it is. And what.”

Travis looked up with a start. “Well,” he said, “Now that you mention it, there is someone who’s been giving me a weird vibe…”

---

Back onstage, Gavin was all smiles. Or at least he seemed so through his gag. He had decided to play up the traditional preppy frat boy look for his wardrobe, and the sweater knotted around his shoulders made an alluring target. His new owner had taken it from him, rolled it up into a wide band, and cleaved his mouth with it. The thick wooly fabric kept his jaws stretched far apart due to the thickness of the roll. His pastel teal polo shirt (complete with popped collar) was pressed tight against his body by the rubbery bungee cords that were being crisscrossed over his torso and knotted together in back. His hands had been placed together in front of him and secured with more of the thick spongy cables, running almost all the way up his forearms.

The white TUG baseball cap Gavin was wearing had been playfully removed from his head and was now being worn at a jaunty angle by his new owner. “Hmmm,” she said, surveying her purchase as he playfully squirmed and mumbled for her amusement. “I probably should do up his legs, but I want him to be able to walk on his own. You guys provide a lot, but shipping and transportation is not on the list.”

“Very true,” Mason said. “We line ‘em up and sell ‘em, but getting ‘em home is your responsibility. But still, it looks like he’s getting off pretty easy. I mean, look at poor Brandon down there!” The spotlight drifted into the crowd and illuminated the captive football hero, still fully taped to the handtruck in the audience. Brandon grunted and wriggled for the lights, right on cue, but the professor paid him no notice. He was flipping back and forth between two upcoming pages in the program.

“Quiet, you,” is all he said, and placed his left hand flush over Brandon’s taped mouth as he absently leafed through the program with his right. The crowd chuckled as the light returned to the stage.

“Very true,” Gavin’s new owner said. “Well, I have an idea.” With that, she started to undo the braided belt holding up Gavin’s khaki cargo shorts. She fully unbuckled it, and then slid Gavin’s shorts down. Past his hips, past his knees, and down to the floor at his feet. She nodded at Gavin, who picked up one of his boat-shoe’d feet so she could slide the shorts out from under him before putting it back down. Then the other. “Oh, I like a man in tighty-whiteys!” she squealed as Gavin stood in is underclothes for all to see.

“Very Tom Cruise,” Mason chuckled. But the winning bidder wasn’t paying attention. She was scanning the table for something and she squeaked a little when she found it. A pair of fabric scissors. She advanced on Gavin with a devious smirk and began to slice his polo and white undershirt in strategic places. A snip from the left sleeve up to the neck hole. A matching one on the right. And then one from the waist to the sleeve. Voila! Gavin’s shirt was removed in a neat, single piece and discarded in a nearby trash bin. “That’s much better,” she said, eyeing up the captive Gavin, who was now clad only in his shoes, socks, and briefs. “But there is one more thing…”

As a finishing touch, she grabbed a bottle of water from the case next to the table and twisted off the cap. The water was reserved for Mason’s use and wasn’t supposed to be part of the bondage gear for winners, so Mason was a little taken aback that she would be so forwards as to grab one. But all became clear when she didn’t drink it. Instead, she poured it out over Gavin’s white underwear. As the fabric became wet, it became less opaque. A shadowy outline of Gavin’s privates and rump began to show through the soggy fabric. When the bottle was fully spent, Gavin’s underwear was nearly fully transparent, his shaft and cheeks teasingly framed through the sodden cloth.

“I just wanted to see what I bought before I got it home,” the purchaser said with a wink, handing Mason the empty bottle.

Mason chuckled. “So let’s hear it for our lucky winner!” The crowd clapped and hooted as the now almost-naked Gavin was lead down the stairs and back into the crowd. “Only seven more men to go! Five of last year’s biggest sellers and two new faces that are certain to bring down the house. So let’s not waste any more time. Everyone put your hands together for our thug with a heart of gold, Trey!”

A bass-heavy rap song blared over the speakers and the curtain parted to reveal Trey, who came forward with a springy, dancy step that rappers back in the day called the “Crip Walk.” On his feet were heavy Timberland boots and his baggy jeans sagged below his waistline, revealing the upper part of his blue bandana-patterned boxers. Over his burly torso was a Metro City Titans football jersey, and gold chains hung around his neck. He wore fingerless batting gloves on his hands and a nylon durag on his head. A black bandana was tied around his neck like it could be pulled up over his face as a mask in a split second. And over it all was a heavy down-filled puffer jacket with a fur-lined hood that rested on his shoulders.

“Don’t you dare call him a poser,” Mason said. “Trey here is the real deal. He hails from the mean streets of Northtown, where he grew up rough. The streets are in his blood, folks. But don’t let that bad boy exterior fool you. He’s an OG prince among men. Always ready to help a Brother out, or even a stranger for that matter. Whether it’s throwing hands or escorting a lone lady home at night, there’s no one you want in your corner more than our favorite gangsta. Looking to experience Metro City’s hottest and most exclusive clubs? Trey’s got an in at all of them. Want to go for a romantic drive down to the marina? Not only can Trey drive the car, he can strip it faster than any mechanic in Metro City. Hubcaps and all.”

Trey stopped dancing to laugh and say “Goddamn right I can!”

“Want a ringer for your next rap battle?” Mason said, “Or looking for someone who’ll steal your heart even though he looks like he’d steal your wallet instead? If you want to walk on the wild side this weekend, Trey here is your man. So let’s see those bids!”

Trey was a top seller the previous year, breaking all records for a Freshman up to that point. And he was shooting to go even higher this year. By the time bidding was done, Trey had pulled in $550. The highest of the night so far. Mason called out for the winner to come up on stage, but there was an awkward pause when no one left their seat.

“A little shy?” Mason said, scanning the crowd. “That’s no problem. I personally promise that there is no judgement here. You’re among friends. No need to feel embarrassed. Hell, you should be proud!”

“Truth,” Trey said. “Yo, if imma go home with someone, I wanna see who it is, ya know?” There was another pregnant pause and then someone in the crowd finally stood up. The crowd began cheering as the scrawny Freshman with glasses sheepishly proceeded down the aisle to the stairs like he was walking to the gallows. He was so nervous, he tripped going up. The crowd was poised to start laughing, but Mason shot dagger eyes that stifled any chuckles.

“Tyler, my friend!” Mason said, coming in to hug the winning bidder, “Glad to see you here! Ladies and gentleman, Tyler is a close personal friend of mine from D&D club. The only guy I know who can hold his own with me in Star Trek trivia. And boys, he’s single!” Tyler blushed, but smiled and waved at the audience. There were some whistles and calls from the crowd that Mason sensed were only partially in jest. He patted Tyler on the shoulder in reassurance. “So, what are your plans with Trey here?” Trey took a cocky pose with his arms folded over his chest and gave a bad-boy sneer. The material of his puffer jacket made a heavy zhhhhip sound as his arms moved across his chest. Tyler stared in awe and could barely speak.

“Um… well…” he started. But he was too overwhelmed to go on. He reached up to touch Trey, but was overcome with embarrassment and pulled his hand back.

“Look, homie,” Trey said, stepping up and putting his arm around his new owner in encouragement. “You don’t gotta say shit if you don’t want to. Look at all those fools out there. They ain’t you. Right now they wish they could be you! You got me and they didn’t. That’s some real OG shit right there. You don’t want to give anything away? That’s cool. You don’t owe them nothing. And I like surprises. We’ll have a good time on YOUR schedule. Not theirs.”

Tyler smiled at the pep talk. “No, it’s OK,” he said. His confidence seemed to swell with Trey standing near him. Like a hood-born guardian angel. “It’s just, you’re everything I fantasize about. Strong, badass, takes no… shit… from anyone. That confidence is… so sexy. I’ve always wanted to see what it’s like to be a bad boy. Not giving a… fuck. Living how I want. But I was always too scared of what people would think. But with you backing me up, I think I can do it.” Mason nodded sagely. He saw himself from a few short weeks ago reflected in Tyler. Before he met Danny and began his journey of self-discovery. Danny had helped him. Who knows? Maybe Trey could help Tyler in the same way.

“Now that’s what I’m talking about,” Trey said. “You’re in charge, G.”

“No,” Tyler said. “That’s not why I bought you. YOU’RE going to be in charge. All my life I’ve had fantasies of submitting to a man like you. Dreams and scenes I’ve played out in my head, but never had the stomach to go out and make real. Well, now I do.” He wandered over to the supply table and picked up a simple bale of clothesline. Rather plain compared to the other implements on display. Trey rolled up his sleeves in preparation for his binding, but Tyler stopped him. “No. You’ve got it backwards.” And he handed the rope to Trey.

The crowd roared its approval as Trey looked down at the rope, smiled, and began to unwind the bale. “Oh, I see what you’re saying, homie,” he laughed. “You want to see what it’s like to be at the mercy of a hood rat, huh? I dig.” Trey slipped behind Tyler and pulled his hands behind his back. A little roughly, and the danger and contact gave Tyler the shivers. “We’ll start out easy,” he said as he began to apply the ropes. Knowing his victim was a first-timer, he went gentle. Snug, but simple. A few secure loops around horizontally and one or two vertical loops to anchor them together. Nothing ornate or complex, but that didn’t matter to Tyler. His heart began to race as he felt his dream man’s hands securing him. “The real stuff can come later. When you’re ready.”

Trey untied the bandana from his neck and rolled it into a band, which he held out in front of Tyler’s mouth. As Tyler slowly opened up to accept his gag, Trey leaned in and whispered in his ear, away from the mic. “There’s a reason you chose me,” he said. “When you said ‘fantasies,’ I think I know what you mean. I’m thinking you want to act out what you dreamed about. Like some role-playing, right? That’s cool with me. Seems to me like you want to have a gangsta home invasion. Have me sneak into your room tonight and take you hostage. Caught by a dangerous criminal and totally in his power. Hot as fuck, am I right?”

Tyler froze. He couldn’t speak, but the rising tent in his jeans brought on by Trey’s words spoke plenty. All he could do was nod feverishly. Trey knotted off the gag and stood in front of him, arms folded. “That’s where we’ll start. I got some ideas you’re gonna love,” he said, this time within reach of the mic. Tyler looked him in the eye and nodded twice, a smile forming behind the cloth gagging his mouth.

“I got you, bro,” Trey said, strutting behind Tyler and putting his hands on his shoulders. “We can do all the scenes you want. Then we’ll get you a good thug makeover. Some new thugged-out threads for when I take you to the club and let you be as bad as you want to be. Your own mama won’t recognize you when I’m done. All you gotta do is sit back and let daddy work his magic. You cool with that?”

Tyler could barely contain his enthusiasm as he frantically nodded, grunting affirmatives through his gag. Trey gently escorted him down the stairs and towards the door. “I don’t wanna waste any time,” he said aloud. “Me and T-Money here got some dirty business to do. So peace out, y’all.” Trey kissed his two fingers and did a salute before ushering Tyler out the door.

“Like I said,” Mason said into the mic. “Heart of gold. Don’t let looks fool you. Despite his rough exterior, Trey’s good people. Just like everyone at TUG. Now, as you all know, we suffered a great tragedy recently. Our house burned down and some of us barely made it out alive. Hoss and I are still feeling the effects. And several of our Brothers had no place to live. But we pulled through together. And the only reason we could do that was because of one man’s leadership. Our next lot is the man who guided us through tough times and saw us safely through to the other side, so I want everybody to give him the props he’s due. Everybody, get ready for BRETT!”

Brett’s hard-rock theme music blared over the speakers and he strode through the curtains like an emperor at court. He was dressed in a lavish tuxedo, even finer than the one he wore to DIX when he surrendered. A rose was pinned to his lapel and a short white scarf was draped over his shoulders. His hair was slicked and styled perfectly. He looked like a mafia don. As he lifted his arms and adjusted his cufflinks in an achingly sexy manner, Mason could clearly see that Brett wasn’t wearing the presidential ring. “Doing this on your own?” he thought. “Good man!” Brett just stood and surveyed the crowd like they were his subjects. He didn’t dance or do any cheap theatrics. He didn’t need to. All eyes were drawn to him and the attention of every single person was on him like a laser scope.

He took the mic from Mason and said, “Good evening, folks. I want to take this time to thank you all for coming. Your support means a lot to us. More than you know. So as an added bonus, I want to let you all know that when we get our House rebuilt, we’re going to throw the biggest party MCU has ever seen and you’re all invited. Your ticket for tonight will serve as your invitation, so keep it handy when you leave tonight. When we get back on our feet, we want to share our happiness with all the people who had our backs when we needed them. Construction is moving ahead of schedule, so it looks like we’ll be moved in and ready for… Halloween!”

The crowd erupted when hearing this. Mason didn’t know it at the time, but TUG’s Halloween parties were legendary. People spent major bank on their costumes in the hopes of winning a sizeable cash prize, and invitations were the hottest ticket on campus. For everyone in the crowd to get a blanket invite was a major deal. “And let’s not forget another important thing,” Brett continued. “Let’s all hear it for our host this evening! Mason, on behalf of TUG, I thank you. Tonight wouldn’t have been half as successful without you running the show.” Brett stowed the mic and grabbed Mason in a tight bro-hug. “I knew you could do it,” he whispered. And the crowd was on its feet again, chanting Mason’s name.

Now absolutely glowing, Mason pulled back and took the mic. “Truly a class act,” he said, indicating Brett. “OK, you know him – I know him – we all know him, so let’s skip the intro and get to the meat and potatoes. Let’s open the bidding!”

The bids soared almost instantly and Mason had trouble keeping up. $500. $600. $700! Brett was setting a new record. When all was said and done, Brett raked in $725. The highest ever. “Who’d have thought college kids had so much cash?” Mason joked. “Looks like someone’s going to have some credit card bills for life! And who is our lucky debtor… uh, winner?”

“You!” Brett gasped, narrowing his eyes as the winner strutted up the stairs.

“Yes, me,” the new arrival said, standing next to Mason. He was a handsome Senior, dressed in expensive clothes and with the bearing of a trust-fund brat. Mason immediately disliked him. “Surprised?”

“Seems like you two know each other,” Mason said. “Old friends?”

“You might say that,” the winner said. “My name is Wesley, by the way. And Brett here and I go all the way back to middle school.” Brett gritted his teeth. “We were pretty tight up until Senior year of high school... When he stole my girlfriend!”

“Whoooooaaaaa!” the crowd hooted.

“Hey!” Brett said defensively. “She came on to me. And anyway, you two were already broken up.”

“Maybe we were and maybe we weren’t,” Wesley said. “But either way, even if I was done with her, a friend doesn’t date his buddy’s ex. That’s Bro Code 101. And you violated that, my man. I’ve been itching for a little payback for four years and now I’ve got my chance!” Brett frowned, but he really couldn’t do anything about it. Rules were rules, after all, and Wesley had won fair and square. The fact that his pockets were as deep as Brett’s own nonwithstanding.

“Looks like some bad blood here,” Mason chuckled. “Well, let’s hope these two can settle their differences like gentlemen. Although…” Mason trailed off as Wesley picked up a riding crop from the table. “Somehow I don’t think that will happen. Yikes! Well, stay strong, Brett!” He clapped Brett on the shoulder.

Wesley wasted no time and reached under the table gleefully. On the floor was a wooden yoke. Wide and heavy, it had a bulbous end with a large head hole and two smaller slots at the end of a bar about 18” beneath it, one on top of the other a few inches apart. Brett steeled himself and held his hands out in front in the correct position. “I guess I do deserve this, a little,” he said, finally smiling. “I didn’t know you cared about her so much.”

Wesley opened the yoke and slipped it over Brett’s neck. “I don’t, actually,” he said. “It wasn’t so much that you were with her, it’s just that you had one-upped me. Again. To be honest, I’m more salty about you two getting Prom King and Queen over me than anything else. She was supposed to win with me. That was the original plan.” With a chuckle, he adjusted the position of Brett’s hands in the yoke’s two smaller slots. When everything was in place, Wesley closed the yoke around Brett’s neck and locked it shut. Taking the keys from the floor next to where the yoke had been, Wesley affixed the accompanying padlocks. “That, and you getting captain of the baseball team… and ‘Best Smile’ in the yearbook… and a host of other honors and commendations that should have been mine.”

And with that, Wesley gleefully fastened the locks closed, securing the yoke. The weight of the device made Brett hunch over in a most undignified manner, his hands held immobile in front of his chest. “But it wasn’t just being second best at everything that was the real bitch,” Wesley said. “It was just how damn humble you were about everything. Smarmy and gloating, I could understand. But the fact that you were so damned cool about it made it sting even worse! He picked up a long feather and a vibrator wand from the table. “But I think I can think of a few ways to crack that unbreakable composure. Oh, yes.”

Brett, resigned to his fate, shrugged his shoulders as best he could under the weight of the yoke. “All things considered, I guess I did do you pretty dirty back then,” he admitted. “I probably do deserve this in some way.”

“THAT’s what I’m talking about!” Wesley said. “Always so collected and selfless. Doesn’t it just drive you nuts?” He picked up a red ballgag and brought it close to Brett’s mouth. “Open up, Your Majesty.”

Brett did so, but before it went in he said, “Just one thing. Don’t take me out of here yet. I need to stay to the end of the event. Presidential duties, you know. The VP is already…” But Wesley just inserted the gag, ignoring him.

“Some things never change,” Wesley said as Brett began to drool in a most undignified manner. “Always need to be in charge. Your VP is indisposed right now, yes, but your successor is right there running the cash box. He can be in charge for the remainder.” Brett just gurgled and mumbled through the ballgag in protest as Wesley gathered a few more toys from the table. “But I’ll be kind this time and let you watch the rest of the proceedings. From what I can see, there are two guys coming up who might be able to beat your record. And I want to see you lose at something. For once in your life.” Welsey patted Brett on the back. Brett just rolled his eyes as Wesley led him down the stairs.

“Oh, to be a fly on the wall when these two frenemies are alone together!” Mason chuckled. “But some things are best left to the imagination, I guess. But folks, we’re not done. The next lot is someone very special. I’ve made a lot of friends here at MCU, but none who can rival this guy. The one person who’s always had my back and been there to support me through everything. He’s pretty much the sole reason I’m alive tonight. The person who kept me conscious when I was facing the end. The person who stayed with me in the hospital for three full days. My BFF since we were seven years old… let’s hear it for RAY!!!”

Travis sat up with a jolt. It was time!

Coming Soon: The Auction part 5 – Plans Within Plans


It's been a while, but it's time for another poll. And it's a big one! Check the top of the page and cast your votes!
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gag1195
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Post by gag1195 »

Another great Auction update! I find it wonderfully poetic that like his Lil Bro Leo, Brett is also in for some comeuppance this weekend!

As for this new poll... If you had posted it a few chapters ago, I would have immediately said, YES, let Travis Win Ray's auction!

But I'm changing my tune. I think Wade brought up some good points. I don't think Travis should win Ray. I know he just wants to talk, but I don't see Ray being very receptive to any talking when he sees Travis step onto the stage. Wade's right, Travis has found himself in a Romeo and Juliet situation, and rightfully pointed out that that story is a tragedy.

Travis should not win Ray. He needs to earn Ray's trust and attention. So, I think he should let Ray go to someone else, like that professor looking for strapping young lads for some yard work. Instead, Travis needs to be selfless and self-sacrificing. He could do this by winning Cody instead, and saving our poor cowboy from the sinister rustler lurking in the audience. That would go a long way to show Ray, Wade, and the others that Travis is trying to turn over a new leaf and that his loyalty is not to DIX anymore.

Either way, this is going to be an interesting end to the auction! Looking forward to seeing how things turn out [mention]wataru14[/mention]
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Volobond
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Post by Volobond »

[mention]gag1195[/mention] while I agree with you that Travis has not yet earned the right, the auction of Trey to Tyler got me thinking. Travis could also give himself to Ray in a similar way as a show of faith and goodwill.

As for me, I'm hoping that Wade will rescue Cody and keep him in, ahem, 'protective custody' with his Big Bro. And while this probably won't go anywhere, I'm just getting some vibes that Wesley was more jealous of his girlfriend for getting with Brett than anything else ;) Hope Brett's tux ends up in shreds and he spends many hours in merry gagged torment!
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Wedgieboy69
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Post by Wedgieboy69 »

I agree, Travis needs to earn it. I think wade knows that too. wade also has the means to outbid him. or maybe mason gets jealous and out bids him, getting himself in trouble when it comes time to pay? many ways this could go.
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KidnappedCowboy
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Post by KidnappedCowboy »

I'm with [mention]Volobond[/mention] on this one. Travis should win Ray. [mention]gag1195[/mention], you write that he needs to earn Ray's trust, but there needs to be a first step, and I like making big steps. They might go all awry, but give it a chance.

[mention]wataru14[/mention], as usual, it's in the details that each chapter is a thrill to read. For me, it was Mr. Preppy with his sweater as a cleave-gag. Well Done, my friend! 8-)
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Post by Guardianbound »

I voted yes too. It'll be interesting to see what Travis decides to do if he does win the auction. Treat it as test of his intentions, I think Ray can hold his own if things go awry
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