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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KidnappedCowboy
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Post by KidnappedCowboy »

Brilliant, [mention]wataru14[/mention]...just brilliant.

The Mayor is a PWE! :x
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Post by Guardianbound »

Poles and fire don't match very well :( DIX can't be thinking of putting TUG members in actual life threatening scenarios can they?

Hopefully QueerEye and the advisor can swoop in in tune to save the day. Maybe the advisor's beefy hubby can beat all of DIXs muscles.
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Post by Pup Wingletang »

Still catching up with Danny and Mason at the gym. I was a bit unsure about this pairing but you've made it work. Once again the characters are deeper than expected with Danny really knowing his stuff and Mason really building in confidence even if he did overload the bar a bit! Nice to see Danny and the ROTC (I had to google that) pushing him but also looking out for him and making him part of the team.

Loved the forced head shaving and resulting mohawk at the end - that really was the icing on the cake for me. Nice to see Mason starting to accept himself and getting a bit of confidence. Also loved him coming up with excuses for how he got a black eye and split lip. These characters really do feel real.
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Post by wataru14 »


Conflagration part 8: Humble Origins

Shane and Danny, along with a small army of TUG Actives, had come to the Freshmen dorm at stupid o’clock in the morning. Cody was jarred awake by insistent pounding on the door, and got up from his sleeping bag on Ray and Mason’s floor to answer it. “It’s not my room,” he thought, “but these two are dead asleep. Someone has to answer it.” He thought for a second about putting a shirt on, but the speeding up of the knocks left him no time for pleasantries.

He half expected to have the door flung open by a DIX raiding party when he undid the lock, and jumped back instinctively, but was relieved to see Shane instead. From there it was a whirlwind of activity as the TUG actives forcibly packed a few days’ worth of clothes for each pledge without bothering to explain why. Leo grumbled about being woken up so early on a Saturday, and the others all thought it was some kind of ambush frat activity, but Cody was worried. Something seemed off. Nate seemed to feel it, too, but they didn’t have time to discuss after they met up in the lobby and were hustled along back to the house under heavy guard.

Shane explained the situation as best he could on the way back, but everyone had questions. Questions he wasn’t going to answer. “What’s going on tomorrow?” “Why the hell did Brett do that?” “Why aren’t we storming the house and rescuing them?” All fell on deaf ears. The only thing Shane said about future plans is “they said you five are next on the hit list if this all goes to shit, so we’re taking no chances. As soon as everyone’s back, we’re having a strategy meeting and that includes you. Now less lip and more walking.” His uncharacteristic terseness really hammered home how worried everyone was. Even Leo decided not to press any further.

---

It had been about an hour since the pledges were herded into the basement. “It smells like feet in there,” Leo complained, but all that got him was instructions to get cleaning if he didn’t like it. He had decided to pass on that. As soon as they got in, the five pledges were told to stand in a line by the table in the center of the room. When they did, an Active bent down and started fiddling with something underneath. Something that jangled. Instinctively, each pledge tried to bolt, but the Actives had planned for that and each runner was blocked and grabbed before they could get away. A sturdy shackle was locked around each of their left ankles and ratcheted shut.

“There’s enough slack chain on those hobbles for you to go anywhere in the room,” Danny explained, “including the bathroom… if you leave the door open. Sorry not sorry. There isn’t enough to reach either door or the windows, so let’s not make things messy by trying to escape and do hero shit. This is not the time.” The five chains were fused to a large steel D-Ring embedded on the floor under the table. “You might have to coordinate movements so your tethers don’t get tangled, but you’ll figure that out yourselves. We’ll bring food and drinks and check up on you, but you’re on your own until tomorrow afternoon. Do some homework or something.”

Leo plopped on the couch as Danny left, locking the door behind him, and fired up Mario Kart for him, Mason, and Nate. Ray headed right for the workout equipment to burn off some stress. Cody was offered a controller, but declined, saying he needed to finish his bio paper. They were due today, after all.

“I didn’t get to talk to my alumnus like y’all did,” Cody said as he booted up his laptop, “on account of him being dead for four decades. But Shane had his diary in the archives and I got a bunch of good stuff.”

“Neat-o,” Leo said, a half second before Mason nailed him with a red shell. Nate and Mason’s racers sailed past him as Cody opened his paper.

---

It was a few miles’ walk from the train station to campus, and Jake was dripping with sweat when he arrived. It was the mid September and still unseasonably hot. And he was carrying his suitcase and the two wooden crates that contained everything he owned in the world. The 25-year-old former miner had taken the train from Nevada all the way here to enroll at the fledgling school but was having second thoughts as he got closer.

“What am I doing?” he thought to himself as he stepped off the road and onto the sidewalk that led into Metro City University. He put the boxes down on the grass and wiped his brow with the worn-out rag from his back pocket. He crumpled it up in his calloused hands before stuffing it back in. “I’m too old for this. And I’m not the academic type. I should be looking for real work instead of wasting my time here. But this is what Mama always wanted for me. To get out of the mines and have a real future. The life that she and Pa couldn’t have. I guess I owe it to her to try.” With only slightly renewed purpose, Jake picked up his boxes and walked through the gate.

He had no idea where he was going. There were young men all around, and he stopped to ask a few where the Freshman dormitories were, but most just laughed at him. Several pointed him in the wrong direction and it wasn’t until a kind soul almost an hour later decided to take pity on him and lead him there. “Not the best start,” Jake thought. “I don’t belong here. I know it and they all know it, too.”

At the front desk, he had to stop and fish around in his boxes for the acceptance letter, but he managed to find it and handed it to the aging desk clerk, who looked at it in great detail. Diligently scanning for some signs of forgery. When he decided it was legitimate, he huffed as he handed it back. “Your room is on the second floor West,” he said, handing Jake an orientation packet and his key. “Quiet hours are from 7 p.m. to 7 a.m.”

“Thank you, sir,” Jake said, tipping his workman’s cap with great deference. The clerk huffed and went back to reading his newspaper. Jake grabbed his boxes and headed upstairs.

He dodged a few students tossing a football around in the hallway as he moved, eventually finding his room near the end of the hall. He drew odd stares as he approached the door and heard many hushed whispers as he unlocked it and stepped inside, his face red with anxiety. At first they must have thought he was a maintenance worker, Jake thought.

The room was simple and neat. And nicer than any room he had ever stayed in in his whole life. The beds looked soft and comfortable, the bookshelves were sturdy and well-made, and the window looked out onto the main lawn. The late morning sun illuminated the place better than the fancy oil lamps on the sideboards ever could. Jake was so focused on his self-doubt that he didn’t notice the splendor of the place before. Green spaces and beautiful buildings were in short supply back in the desert country. He stood slack-jawed for a second, taking it all in, oblivious to the world. He was only brought out of his stupor by the sound of a voice coming from one of the desks.

“Jake Caruthers, I presume,” it said. Jake snapped out of his fog and put his boxes down on his bed before turning to face the voice with his hand extended. His new roommate took his hand, but when Jake looked at the man he’d be living with for the rest of the year, he got quite a shock.

He didn’t know what to expect when he arrived, but he was certain that his roommate wouldn’t be a Negro. Such things didn’t matter much out in the desert country, but back East was different. Or so Jake had heard. He didn’t understand why people needed to treat each other badly, but some of the workers who came from back East told stories of horrible things. People kept apart and treated less than human. It made Jake angry. The man jovially shaking his hand was tall and handsome, with a sturdy grip and inviting smile. Just being around him made all of Jake’s worry and doubt melt away.

“Pleased to meet you,” Jake’s roommate said. “My name is Grant Ulysses Simpson. Yes, after the former president. But everyone calls me ‘Gus.’ At least when they call me something that isn’t ‘boy.’” He chuckled at his own quip and Jake couldn’t help but join in.

“Likewise,” Jake said after releasing his grip. “I’ve never been in a place like this before, so forgive me if I’m a little off. I’m kinda lost, to tell you the truth.”

“I can see that,” Gus said. “By the looks of you, and your accent, I’d say you’re a working man from the frontier. So what brings you to Metro City? To college of all things?”

“Well,” Jake said. “It was my Mama’s dying wish that I get myself an education. She and Pa could barely read and she wanted better for me. After the money came in, I thought I should do right by her and have a go at it. So I quit the mine and came here.”

“Dying wish?” Gus said. “I’m sorry to hear that. If you don’t mind me asking, how did she pass?”

Jake hesitated. “There was an accident at the mine,” he said. “A sinkhole. We told the bosses that we shouldn’t be digging in that direction. That the walls were damp. But they didn’t listen. Said it was too expensive to change the plans. So we kept digging. When we hit the underground spring, the tunnels started to flood. I made it out, but a lot didn’t.”

Gus just stared in shock.

“The water caused flooding and that weakened the ground. Made the sinkhole open,” Jake said. “The whole town collapsed. Ma and Pa were both at home when it happened.”

“I’m so sorry,” was all Gus could say.

“But that’s just the beginning,” Jake said. “The company tried to cover the whole thing up, but someone stopped them. Exposed the whole operation.”

“Who?” Gus asked. “Someone from the government?”

“No,” Jake said. “He was a skinny guy with fire in his eyes. Came out of nowhere two days after riding some steam-powered contraption. Couldn’t describe it if I tried. Called himself ‘Dr. Vengeance.’ He stormed right into the offices and gave them what for. We heard gunfire from the security forces, but the bullets just bounced off his… I guess you call it armor. In no time flat, he got the bosses rounded up and forced them to sign a compensation package for all the surviving workers. And pay the final expenses of all those who didn’t make it. Then he left like the wind. As soon as I got my money I was out of there. Too many bad memories to stay around.”

“That’s quite a story,” Gus said, cleaning his glasses on a crisp white handkerchief. “I’ve heard about that Dr. Vengeance, though. He started here a few years ago after a bunch of workers died in a factory fire. He made those bosses pay, too. The government calls him a villain, but I’m not so sure.”

“So what’s your story?” Jake said, picking up his suitcase and putting it on the bed. “I wasn’t expecting to see… someone like you here.”

Gus gave Jake a long look, but realized there wasn’t any malice in Jake’s words, so he continued. “In some ways it’s not that different from yours,” he said. “My parents were born in South Carolina just before Emancipation. After the War, my grandparents moved up here for a better life. I am the first one of my family born Free. And my mother sounds a lot like yours. They’d probably have been good friends. She insisted that I get an education as well. So here I am.”

And with that, all Jake’s tension was gone. He could tell that Gus was a decent fellow, someone he could trust and rely on. And that cinched his decision to stay. It had been touch and go for a while, but he was beginning to fel more at home. Even if just a little. “Well, sir,” he said. “Which dresser is mine?”

“The one on the right,” Gus said. “Let me help you unpack.”

“I’d greatly appreciate that,” Jake said as he opened his suitcase. Gus reached into one of the boxes and took out some papers, placing them carefully on the bed. But what was under the papers piqued his interest greatly.

Gus picked up a stack of pulp novels. The kind they sell in drugstores all over the country for pennies. They were worn from reading and had several pages dog-eared. The cover of the one on top featured a handsome rugged man in a Union Army uniform tied to a pole before a Confederate firing squad with a defiant scowl on his face. “Prisoner of the Rebels” was the title. The one under it depicted a muscular cowboy cruelly lashed with rope to a wooden chair and his mouth gagged with a white cloth. He struggled valiantly against his bonds as the fuse on a nearby stick of dynamite burned away. “The Secret of the Silver Mine” was the title. The third showed a shirtless young man bound hand and foot on the bottom of a rowboat. A boat being piloted by two swarthy pirates towards their waiting galleon. “Pirates’ Captive” was the title.

“Quite the reader, I see,” Gus said, holding up the books. He held them sideways to emphasize the size of the stack and not flash the covers around. Jake jumped in shock.

“Um… yeah, I collect those,” he said, covering his embarrassment. “They’re full of action. Real exciting.”

“I’ll have to borrow these sometime,” Gus said. “I love reading, myself.” He opened ‘Pirates’ Captive’ to a dog-eared page and began reading silently to himself.

“The two pirates came at Henry from either side, each wielding a club in hand. They young sailor fought hard and valiantly, but was greatly outmatched. Against a single opponent, he would have easily emerged victorious, but he had no chance against two. After a few moments, the diabolical pirates had brought the young man down with their truncheons.

“‘Hold him fast,’ one said and he pinned Henry to the dirt and held his hands down. ‘This one’s quite a fighter. He’ll fetch us a hefty sum. Better bind his hands and feet.’”

“Henry struggled in vain against his captors as they cruelly lashed his wrists behind his back with coarse ropes that painfully cut into his skin. He tried mightily to kick out at them, but they bound his ankles as well. When he was fully trussed with no hope of escape, the burly brigands tossed him over their shoulders and carried him off to their waiting rowboat.”

“Hmm,” Gus thought, leafing further ahead in the book. “All these marked passages are… I see. Well this is an interesting turn of events.” Gus put the books down and helped his new friend get unpacked, an idea forming in the back of his mind.

---

Jake slept soundly. The rest of the day had been spent meeting with various deans and professors and getting signed up for classes. It was three weeks into the semester, so he’d have to work extra hard to catch up. But he wasn’t worried. Gus was a history major like him, and had agreed to tutor him. Being a year ahead, he had already completed the courses Jake would be taking. His new friend had introduced him to some very interesting people, as well. People with outlooks and aspirations beyond what he had ever experienced. It was all new and confusing, but he was happier than he had been in some time.

He had finally let his guard down and was getting the most comfortable sleep of his life, but his bliss would be short-lived. Jake awoke with a start as a heavy hand clamped over his mouth from out of the darkness. He could smell the well-worn leather pressing over his face. Jake was strong from his work in the mines, but he was lying on his back in a disadvantageous position and couldn’t muster enough leverage to force his attacker off. Looking up, he saw two sparkling eyes in the dark, the accompanying face hidden behind a cloth mask, like the kind rustlers wore in his pulp novels. He was about to attempt to kick free, when he saw the glint of a knife in the moonlight of the open window and laid still.

“Shhh!” is all his attacker said, pressing the gloved index finger of his free hand against his mask where his mouth was hidden. Jake’s heart raced out of his chest as the covers were ripped from his body and he was flipped onto his stomach. Clad only his pajama bottoms, he laid still and docile, not wanting to risk the knife coming out. He briefly wondered where Gus was, but had no time to contemplate.

“Better get you tied up real tight-like so you can’t get in my way,” his attacker said in a gutter accent. “Now be a good boy and put those hands of yours behind yer back.”

The man had a knife somewhere in the darkness, that was clear, so Jake didn’t see any alternative but to comply. With staggering slowness, he swiveled his shoulders and brought his arms into position against the small of his back. “That’s a good boy,” he heard, an instant before thick, gloved hands grabbed his arms and held them in place. A moment later, he felt the sting of rope being wrapped around his wrists.

Jake’s pulse continued to race. He couldn’t believe what was happening! It was like he was in one of the dimestore novels he read! The valiant hero captured and bound by the dastardly villain. As prolifically as he read about it, never in a hundred years did he ever expect to experience it himself, firsthand. Although something in him always yearned to. Underneath him, pressed against the bedsheets, Jake felt himself rapidly hardening. This confused him. And frightened him more than a little. He was in real danger and he was treating it like some fantasy come true. It was, in a way, but he realized he had to stay focused or he’d be in real trouble. Still, the rush of eroticism underpinning his predicament could not be denied.

With speed and skill, Jake’s unseen assailant wove a net of ropes this way and that around his wrists. Based on the illustrations from his books, he expected just a few loops. Tight loops, yes, but just that. This was something else altogether. The ropes crossed back and forth, around and through themselves. His hands were utterly trapped and immobilized with no chance of escape. He marveled at the technique and was still in a dreamy fog as he felt his legs being drawn together and his ankles being restrained with the same precision. Half-naked and bound as he was, he felt like Henry from “Pirates’ Captive.”

When his legs were done to his captor’s satisfaction, Henry felt himself being lifted into a sitting positing in the darkness. Being unable to clearly see what was going on enhanced every sensation. He breathed deeply, pulse racing still, as rope was wrapped around his chest and arms and cinched tight. It was achingly snug. Like the embrace of a lover. He slowly felt his freedom slipping away, knot by knot… along with his desire to escape. He didn’t know where this came from, but he wanted to remain like this forever.

Still in a haze, Jake felt himself being lowered back onto his belly. His legs were bent back and pulled up and he felt more rope being added. Then his legs were pressed down, almost even with his rump, and the ends of the rope were secured to the bonds around his hands. The western novels he read called this a “hogtie” and it was the favored technique of bushwhackers and scoundrels to secure their prisoners. He had envisioned this position in his mind many times, and could hardly believe he was getting his chance to experience it in person! He felt a gloved hand gingerly grab his hair and pull his head back, causing his mouth to open involuntarily. Before he could react, a ball of dry cloth was inserted into his maw, causing him to gag slightly before regaining his composure. He squirmed, almost happily, in his bondage as another cloth was added in a wide band across his mouth, sealing the stuffing in place. And that was it. He was done. Completely subdued and at the mercy of his unseen captor. A prisoner in his own room.

“Now let’s get a good look-see at yer,” the gruff voice in the dark said. Jake saw a single match ignite in the gloom and light the wick of the nearby oil lamp on the sideboard. Jake’s shadowy captor was outlined in the glow of the lamp. He was wearing a long coat and brimmed hat that made him just a hulking shadow in the dark. There was no sign of the knife, but he was holding something in his hand. It looked like a book. It WAS a book. One of his. The cover depicted a handsome young man on his stomach in the process of having his hands tied behind his back by a masked man. “Kidnapped for Ransom!” was the title.

“Looks kinda like you right now, don’t it, son?” Jake’s captor said. “You shouldn’t have been so quick to talk about that money you got to people out there. Lots of low types would do a lot of bad things to get their hands on it.” The masked man patted Jake on the upper back snidely. Jake grunted furiously through his gag and struggled in vain against his bonds. He was sill fully erect, but now he began to feel a pinch of dread and fear. Things were turning quite real quite quickly. “Now that I’ve got you, I can use you to get that money for myself.” He sat back and started leafing through the book, putting his booted feet up on the bed next to Jake.

“There’s a lot of dogeared pages in these books of yers,” he said. “And they’re all about one thing. About a strong, tough man being tied up and gagged. Every single one. Isn’t that interesting?” Jake grunted and squirmed, but his captor just made the “shhh” gesture and settled him down by leaning over and patting his hair like a puppy’s. “I can tell you like this. That you are enjoying this situation that you’ve found yourself in, even though it scares you. You’ve been dreaming about this for some time, haven’t yer?”

There was no point in denying it now, Jake realized. He wasn’t in a position to argue, anyway. He lowered his eyes and slowly nodded, grunting an affirmative through his gag. His captor stroked his hair again.

“Well, it’s your lucky day, son,” he said. “All tied up tight and in the villain’s grasp. Just like the heroes in your books. Tell me, is it everything you’d hoped?” Jake hesitated, then slowly nodded. “Do you want me to let you go?” Jake shook his head, hesitating less this time. He didn’t know why he did that, but caught up in the moment as he was, he just couldn’t stop himself. “Do you want this to happen to you again? And again?” Welling up with feelings he didn’t completely understand, Jake nodded his head. “Well, that’s what I wanted to hear.”

Gus pulled the mask down and looked at the captive Jake, writhing on the bed. “I knew you were into this as soon as I saw your books,” he said, still stroking Jake’s hair. “And I’m happy. It’s not something that’s easy to share, but this interests me, too. And I’m not the only one.” Jake turned his head at hearing this. “I introduced you to several people today. All friends of mine and we all share a common interest.” He patted Jake on the back. “I’m sure you know what that interest is. We’ve been looking to get organized. Maybe form a fraternity. But there’s only four of us and we need at least five to apply for a charter. As you can guess, finding the perfect fifth member would be difficult, but it looks like Providence has dropped him right in my lap. All wrapped up like the present he is.” Gus chuckled and Jake took it up, as well, unable to help himself.

“If you say yes,” Gus said. “Then we can play like this whenever you want. All of us. A whole new world opens up. One where no one will judge you. Where you can be whoever you really are. Does that sound good to you?”

Without hesitating for a moment, Jake frantically nodded his head. His deepest fantasy was coming true right before his eyes and now he had the chance to explore it further whenever he wanted. With others who shared his desires. At that moment, unable to hold it in any longer, Jake exploded against his bedsheets. He slumped down, spent, his breathing heavy and even.

“That’s what I hoped you’d say,” Gus said. He stood up and started to take off his costume. “I think I’ll leave you like this for the night. I don’t think you mind too much, right?” Jake mumbled happily through his gag as Gus slipped a pillow under his head and threw the covers back over him. Gus then crossed the room and hopped into bed. “Tomorrow your whole life starts anew. Sleep tight.”

Coming Soon: Conflagration part 9 – Horse-Drawn Carriage
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Post by KidnappedCowboy »

Whoa, Nellie! [mention]wataru14[/mention], this was a very sweet update. :)

I liked how you started in the present with the pledges shackled in the basement under the watchful eye and protection of the actives of TUGs.

Then, Cody's homework and the diary...

Jake reminds me of Charles Foster Kane (Orson Welles) whose mother (Agnes Moorehead) wants a better life for him thanks to the fortune of the mine.

The "Rosebud" of this story, however, are bound and gagged escapades! :twisted: :twisted: :twisted: :twisted: :twisted:

Woof! :D :D :D :D

And Double Woof goes out to Gus as Jake's hunky roommate (and perhaps more!) 8-) 8-) 8-) 8-)
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Post by blackbound »

Hoo boy I'd hate to have to write about that with 4 other people around. *loosens collar, cartoon steam escaping*
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Post by Volobond »

Awwww, how adorable! The friendship blossoming between them was beautiful. Here's hoping they became "confirmed bachelors" and lifelong "roommates" and that cute Jake remained bound and gagged for a great portion of his life.
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Post by gag1195 »

With everything going on with DIX, I'd forgotten about the biographies. Especially after QE's memorable account! It's interesting to see the beginning of the fraternity, and I'm happy that Jake and Gus found each other. I Agree with [mention]Volobond[/mention], I hope they were able to find happiness in their time.

It's also strangely comforting how easily the pledges settled into their shackled captivity. I'm still very nervous for them and QE's vision though...
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Post by Guardianbound »

I love how you weave together the present day and TUG founding days so well. I'm so happy Jake and Gus found one another. I'm sure with all that material from Jake's readings, there will be lots of cute scenarios to recreate between the two.
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Post by wataru14 »


Conflagration part 9 – Horse-Drawn Carriage

Everything was quiet that night. The five TUG pledges slept on the floor in sleeping bags provided for them by their Brothers, safe in the basement. Someone could have used the couch, but they decided that since it wasn’t big enough for all of them, that no one would get comfort above the others. The floor wasn’t that bad, anyway, and the sleeping bags were thick and cushioned. But things weren’t comfy in the basement across the street. Brett, Scott, and Hoss remained chained to the support poles, ragged and tired, but too wound up to sleep. Hoss had found out two days ago that if they did manage to nod off, someone from DIX came down in a short time to wake them. Usually with freezing water or an air horn. They all realized it was better to just tough it out than to constantly be up and down.

All three ached and throbbed. DIX showed no mercy with the restraints and each was numb all over from their ropes and chains. Gags had only been removed for their infrequent feeding and watering, but no talking was permitted while they were out. Captivity was affecting Scott worst of all. He didn’t have Brett’s confidence or Hoss’ sheer dumb willpower and was jittery and nervous. He nearly jumped out of his skin when the door to upstairs opened at just after 3 a.m.

He expected to see one of the Seniors come down carrying some humiliating torture implements, but that’s not who it was this time. Scott did a double-take as Travis carefully crept down the stairs, making extra sure not to creak any loose boards. Travis had been mostly absent during their captivity and had made sure to keep far away when he was present, so Scott was puzzled as to why he’d be coming down here alone at this time of night given his obvious distaste for the proceedings. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, Travis froze for a second to make sure no one else was following, then hurried over to Brett.

Travis quickly untied Brett’s gag and removed the stuffing. “I can’t stand this anymore,” he said, looking over his shoulder again. “I can’t let them do this to you. Not what they have planned for tomorrow.” Brett looked at him quizzically. “I came to let you out.” Travis held up a ring of keys. He started to reach for the locks securing Brett’s chains, eliciting pleased grunts from Scott and Hoss, but Brett stopped him.

“No,” he said. “You can’t do that.”

“Huh?” Travis said, stopping in mid-reach. “What? Why? Everyone’s asleep. Everyone. I can let you all go, then you can tie me up in your place and get out. When they find me in the morning I’ll just say that I came down to fuck with you and you slipped loose and jumped me. Trust me, this is your only chance!”

“If we do that then this never ends,” Brett said. “Evil deeds do return to their source. They always come full circle. And their evil will never end until the circle is broken.”

Scott blinked in confusion. “Is he really quoting the Dungeons and Dragons cartoon right now? Maybe captivity got to the boss man’s head too much.”

But Brett continued. “The mayor just formulates a new plan and then they go after the pledges,” he said. “I can’t allow that. How long do you think Nate, Leo, and Mason would last down here? I don’t know what’s planned for tomorrow, but whatever it is, we can handle it. I don’t think they can. Not yet anyway.”

Scott grunted through his gag angrily, but suddenly stopped. He thought about what Brett said and realized he was right. As bad as this was, did he really want to get out if it meant that Cody might take his place? Could he do that to his Little Bro? Hoss just stared in firey anger. Even without being able to verbalize it, he was exuding an aura of “No Fucking Way Am I Letting Them Get Their Hands on Nate.” Scott slumped back against the pole as he saw his last hope of escape flit away into the night.

Travis was dumbfounded. “Are you serious?” he said. “Are you telling me you don’t want me to let you go?”

“I do want that,” Brett said. “Very much so. But I just can’t allow it right now. I thank you for your concern – it speaks a lot about you. Maybe I underestimated you. By the looks of it I underestimated a lot of things. But escaping now would only make things worse. And you know as well as I that they wouldn’t let our escape slide without exacting some sort of punishment on you. I don’t want that to happen, either.”

Travis’s hand wavered a little, and then he pulled the keys back. “If… if that’s what you want,” he stammered. With a sad look he reapplied Brett’s gag and quietly turned for the stairs. Then, with one last look over his shoulder, Travis was gone.

---

When morning came, the three captives were awakened by the unlocking of the door and heavy footsteps coming down the stairs. Clay and the other Seniors appeared for the morning feeding, each holding a protein shake in their hands. A delicacy compared to the soggy cereal from yesterday, Scott thought. “Today’s the big day, boys!” Clay mocked. “Now drink up. You’ll need your strength.” At first, none wanted to drink, and turned their heads away once their gags were removed. But they soon relented. It had been many hours since the last feeding, and Brett hadn’t eaten since before his surrender the previous morning. The three sat still as their captors held the drinks to their mouths and poured the contents down their throats. The glasses were tipped back at a high angle, forcing each to chug the liquid rapidly. Once the glasses were empty, the Seniors sat back with smug looks on their faces. “Wait,” Brett thought, “this tastes funny.”

Scott felt the effects almost immediately. All sense of pressure left his body. He felt like he was floating in warm water. He instinctively tried to struggle, but found his limbs wouldn’t obey him. He couldn’t move! He tried to shout at his captors, but he could just gurgle and hum, unable to move his jaw and lips to form words. He began to drool slightly. Brett succumbed to the numbing effect a few seconds later. It took Hoss a much longer time, but eventually the big man stopped his thrashing and squirming and drooped into a waking torpor like the others.

“Shit,” Clay said. “I thought that wasn’t going to work on him for a second. And we gave his drink a double dose!” Randy and Moses nodded, smiling at the three helpless and invalid prisoners chained at their feet. Matt had left the group and walked over to a nearby closet. He returned a moment later with a large cardboard box. “Everything in there?” Clay asked. “Good. Now that these three are temporarily paralyzed, let’s get them ready. Start with the big dumb one. We don’t know how long he’ll be affected and we won’t get another chance to drug him.” Chuckling evilly, Moses and Randy descended on Hoss as Matt lifted something heavy and black from the box.

---

The commotion started from the DIX garage and radiated out from there. Deep male voices shouting, taunting, chanting. Even the Pledges in the basement of the TUG house could hear it a little. All the TUG Actives who were currently at the house ran to their windows or the porch to see what was happening. At first, they thought it was just some sort of dickwaving ritual, but they soon realized that it was much more than that. They watched in horror as the garage door to the DIX house slowly rattled open and the grotesque parade began.

The pledges came out first, in two straight lines. Travis was in the rear of the formation looking pale as a ghost. Behind them were the Sophomores and Juniors in sequence. They were dressed in their DIX colors and facepaint and chanting their fraternity cheers. The TUG men watching scoffed at the display. “Just bullshit postering,” was the general thought. And more than a few were considering an authorized breach of the DIX House after their rivals went wherever it was they were going. A rescue attempt while the house was unguarded. But those ideas were abandoned when, after a short pause, Hoss emerged from the garage.

The big man was still in his leather riding boots and breeches, but his formerly bare upper torso was encased in the leather straightjacket purchased from Wade’s a few days ago. His arms were wrapped across his barrel chest and around, pulled impossibly tight against his muscular frame. The slick leather sleeves were fastened in back on the tightest setting, laboriously constricting and contorting his thick body and wrenching his shoulders almost to their limits. The leather was stretched to the breaking point over his colossal frame and looked like it was about to burst. His mouth and entire lower face were hidden behind the leather plug gag that had been purchased with the straightjacket. A DIX bandana was wrapped across his forehead, folded so that the letters were emblazoned for all to see. Around his neck was a thick leather collar with a D-Ring in the rear. Attached to the ring was a chain leash that extended out and up into the darkened garage. More chains were cinched to the rings lining the back of the straightjacket. One thick and heavy one was tautly connected to some large unseen thing behind him, and two smaller ones each connected to something in his wake on either side. He trudged forward slowly, as if he was pulling a massively heavy load.

Behind him, side by side, emerged Scott and Brett. The smaller chains from Hoss’ straightjacket connected to leather collars around their necks, and a thick chain extended from each of their backs into the darkness, as well. Brett was still in his tuxedo finery, and was immaculately clean and groomed. Scott was completely naked except for a pair of cheap ratty sneakers, and was covered in dried grime and filth. The chains were connected to leather harnesses affixed around their chests, pinning their upper arms to their sides and holding them cruelly tightly in a prison of straps and buckles. The harnesses had thick leather cuffs in the rear, against the smalls of their backs, and both men’s hands were buckled and strapped tightly inside. Leather mitts enshrouded their hands. A wide length of leather ran up their backs and connected to the collars, pulling tight and forcing their shoulders back and heads up. Both were gagged with the same type of plug gag as Hoss, and each had a matching DIX bandana on his forehead as well.

The gruesome display resembled a team of reindeer pulling a sleigh. And, to their horror, the TUG brothers in attendance realized that was exactly what it was. As Hoss trudged forward, Brett and Scott pulling mightily behind him, a wheeled wagon appeared from out of the darkness. All the DIX Seniors were riding inside and cheering, arms raised high in triumph. Clay held the chain leash from Hoss’ collar in one hand and a whip in the other. As the captive team pulled harder and picked up speed, the wagon rumbled down the driveway into the street. The members of TUG watched in silent horror as Clay cracked the whip in the air and the procession turned the corner, headed for campus.

They reached the crest of the hill leading into the Quad in no time. Hoss pulled with titanic strength, thinking of Brett’s warning to Travis the previous night. He could endure this if it meant Nate would be spared from a similar indignity. He had to. With each hurled insult from his captors and crack of the whip over his head, Hoss steeled his resolve further. “This isn’t the end of this,” he thought. “Not by a long sight. The advisor is a goddamn wizard. He’ll find something we can use and we’ll pay them back for this ten times over,” he thought.

The Saturday afternoon crowd that always gathered on the lawn for study sessions and frisbee games rolled their eyes when they first heard the chanting. “Another dumb fraternity ritual,” most thought. At first, very little attention was paid to the marching lines of blue-and-white-clad meatheads as they walked. This sort of thing was common in the Fall. But when the wagon and its macabre team came into view, everyone took notice. Jaws dropped and cameras were activated.

Brett, Hoss, and especially Scott, were popular on campus. Well-liked. Big fish in the pond. Being seen like this was degrading enough on its own merits, but the looks on the bystanders’ faces made it worse. There was shock, and more than a little schadenfreude. People seemed to be getting off on watching the “cool guys” get humiliated. Brett had expected more of an uproar. For the crowd to turn against DIX for this shameful display. TUG was very well-liked by the rank-and-file students. He had banked on it. “Another misstep by me,” he thought as he struggled to pull the cart behind him. “But I should have known. The same people who cheer at your coronation will also cheer at your execution. People just love a show.” Now even more disheartened, Brett staggered along across the quad as the card rumbled its way towards the Central Plaza.

---

Meanwhile, in a quaint suburban home, a scholarly man with several day’s stubble was packing several ominous-looking devices into a day bag. A pair of futuristic goggles clung to his forehead. He worked with an angry scowl on his face. He and his husband had just had a rather severe argument, and he had been forced to place his beloved in “time out” for a short while.

The object of his eternal affections stood nearby, with a disapproving look etched on his face. He was clad only in a tight-fitting blue jockstrap, with a red letter D over a white star on the cup. His ankles were secured in the grip of an Osmium spreader bar and kept rigidly three feet apart. His statuesque abs contorted and his titanic biceps flexed as his arms were held into a position even with his head by a massive Osmium yoke. The weight of it would have crushed a normal man, but this prison held no normal man. A green jewel embedded in the yoke, just in front of the hole that entrapped the big man’s neck, emitted a pale glow. The yoke was connected to a D-Ring in the wall by a short Osmium chain, further hobbling the prisoner.

“You don’t hafta do this,” the captive man pleaded. “After everything we’ve worked for. After all the progress you made, you’re going to go back? Don’t do this!”

“I’m sorry, my love,” the advisor said. “But my hand has been forced. I had hoped to settle this in a more civilized manner, but that piece of shit has crossed the line. I am sorry for this. And for deceiving you into that hardware with the promise of a steamy evening. We can still have it, after everything is done, if you’re in the mood.” He gave a sly wink. “But before that we will both have important things to do. You have a role to play in this, as well, and one you are quite familiar with. You’ll know what to do when it happens. Just remember that your job is to SUPPORT.”

JD scrunched his brow. “That don’t make no danged sense,” he said, rattling the chain that tethered him to the wall and swinging the yoke side to side impatiently.

“It will,” the advisor said. “And don’t worry that beautiful face of yours. You’ll get age lines. But I will make you this promise…” he put his bag down on the table and walked over to the captive giant against the wall. “I won’t do anything to anyone that doesn’t deserve it.” JD scoffed. “And I won’t do anything that the old me would have.” That seemed to pacify the imprisoned titan somewhat. “I will fix this problem and I will keep my cover. You know how I feel about mutually exclusive choices. I smash that shit to pieces. If I can’t have it both ways, I make it so I can. Once we’ve both played our parts, we’ll have protected something good in the world and snipped off a potentially dangerous source of evil. That should make you happy. Tell you what. When we get back, we’ll rut like animals and then go to Bora Bora until Christmas. The boys should be able to fend for themselves for a while. That is if you stop monopolizing my time with pouty tantrums and let daddy get to work.”

JD chuckled and leaned back against the wall. His husband was right. As he always was. And he just had to trust him. “So how long is the dampener timed for?” he asked.

“A few hours,” the advisor said, “just to keep you from following us… um, I mean ME. Following ME. Just me. No one else. You’ll have plenty of time to get where you need to and offer your SUPPORT.”

“Right,” JD said. “I get it. That’s important. You really are subtle as a brick to the head sometimes.” The advisor stood on tiptoe and planted a deep kiss on JD’s lips.

“You’re lucky you’ve made an honest man out of me,” he cooed. “The old me would have razed half the city over this. Good thing I’m not him anymore.” He gave JD a quick cup of the nether regions and turned to go. He picked up his bag and headed for the door, but stopped when he heard an “ahem,” from behind.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” JD asked, and opened his mouth wide. The advisor rolled his eyes with a smile and grabbed a contraption from his bag. He tossed the shiny metal sphere underhand at JD and it came to life in the air. It expanded into a steel band and flew directly into JD’s waiting face. A wide rubber proboscis extended out from the underside and made its way into JD’s open mouth, inflating and expanding until it filled his entire maw. Simultaneously, arms extended out of the sides and interlocked behind the big man’s head, securing the futuristic techno-gag into place. JD moaned and blushed as the gag finished its application, his eyes sparkling.

“There,” the advisor said. “Happy?” JD nodded vigorously. From outside, a car horn (to the tune of Cher’s “Believe”) honked. “My ride’s here,” the advisor said, slipping the goggles over his eyes. “Toodles, love. See you later tonight!”

---

When the parade’s trajectory was obvious, about half of the TUG Actives raced down the side roads to head them off. Brett had ordered that everyone let what was going to happen run its course, but Danny threw that order out the window when the gavel was in his hand. Especially after seeing what was happening. A group of six was waiting at the Plaza when the procession arrived, and it was TUG’s burliest and strongest with Hoss gone: Danny, Trey, Brandon, Omar, Jaquan, and Luis. Their plan was to mount some kind of rescue. But that plan was discarded when they saw DIX’s superior numbers. Tug was limited to five per class by their Charter, but DIX didn’t have that provision. They had more than twice TUG’s numbers. An assault would be suicide. All that would do is get them a trip to the hospital at worst and restraints of their own at best. Several of the DIX brothers could be seen with handcuffs hanging from their pockets.

So they could do nothing more than wait among the crowd of onlookers as the carriage came to a halt. Clay and the other Seniors hopped out and stood before the three captives, the rest of the fraternity falling in line behind them. “You’ve had it too good for too long,” Clay said. “Strutting around like you own the school. WE own the school. You act all cool and cocky, but we’re the ones who brought you down. Now everyone here can see that your frat is just a bunch of perverted poser bitches!” The rest of DIX gave a resounding “HUT” in unison. Unseen, in the rear of the formation, Travis looked left and right, shook his head, and melted away. He stepped backwards into the crowd and disappeared.

“We beat you,” Clay said, grabbing Brett’s gagged face and making the captive rival president look him in the eye. “You know it, we know it, and most important, everyone here knows it. We’re top dog now. Now and forever.” Clay released Brett’s face and gave his cheek a few condescending taps. “But I’m bored with you losers already. Time to finish up.” Clay had two of the Freshmen come forward and unlock the chains tethering the three captives to the wagon. They were so weary from pulling that they could offer no resistance as Clay walked over, gathered the chains up in his hand, and dragged them over to Founder’s Statue. The other Seniors forced Scott, Hoss, and Brett to their knees as Clay wound the chains around the base of the statue and locked them tightly closed with a heavy padlock. The three gazed up in impotent, ragged defiance as Clay held the padlock keys out. Then, with a grin, he tossed them in the sewer. “Consider this our Founder’s Pin,” he said. Then he snapped his fingers and all of the assembled DIX brothers turned and headed back to their house, full of sadistic glee.

They passed several frantic TUG members running towards campus, feverishly talking on their phones. Takeshi was carrying bolt cutters and Bryan held an acetylene torch. “They’ll need that shit to get them loose,” Clay scoffed, offering a few taunting jibes as they passed. When they reached Fraternity Row, it was completly deserted. Everyone from the neighboring houses had gone to watch the spectacle and no one was still around. The sky was heavy and black and thunder rumbled in the distance. Clay stopped in front of the TUG house and looked up at it, frowning.

He quickly turned on his heels and went into the DIX garage, returning with a can of spraypaint and a sledgehammer. Seeing what he was thinking, the other Seniors followed suit, then the Underclassmen. Soon the entire group was armed with blunt instruments and paint. Without a word, they descended on the empty TUG house.

Stones were hammered up from the walkway and drive and hurled through windows, destroying things inside the rooms. Columns and patio furniture were smashed with reckless abandon. DIX’s letters and horrible obscenities were scrawled on every available outside surface. In a matter of minutes, the house looked like a war zone. Panting with exertion, Clay leaned on his hammer for support as he watched the destruction unfolding before him. After one last stone was hurled through the kitchen window, smashing the glass and ramming into the oven door inside, he summoned his brothers back and bade them to return to their own house. “The Mayor will be very pleased,” he thought. He was so pumped with excitement, he didn’t even notice that Travis was gone.

Coming Soon: Conflagration part 10 – I Love Rock & Roll
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KidnappedCowboy
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Post by KidnappedCowboy »

I read this on the hottest afternoon yet this summer, and the weather added to my imagining the humiliation, pain, but quiet dignity and defiance of Hoss, Brett, and Scott pulling the wagon with the senior Dicks. And I purposely refer to them as that, because that's how they act! :x

The only redeeming member of DIX is Travis. :)

Cannot wait to see what the Advisor has planned. :twisted:

Good chapter, [mention]wataru14[/mention]! 8-)

My only question...

Are the pledges still chained up in the basement of the TUG house? :o
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Post by Guardianbound »

Absolutely exquisite work. It's like I'm one of the people watching from the quad. Love that JD had to be tricked into bondage hoping for sexy time, and then he asked to be gagged anyway!

Hoss, Scott and Brett have had enough. Can't wait for the rescue from the converted villains and the SUPPORT from JD
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Post by Volobond »

As much as DIX sucks and deserves the harshest of punishments, there is something hot about Hoss in a straitjacket and plug gag being forced to serve. I want one! And also Scott! I wanna wash him off and keep him.

But yeah, an evil plot enacted successfully, and now all we can do is hope that the Doctor destroys them all before they reach the pledges chained in the basement.

I'm so thrilled by your story and again, you prove incredible at setting the scene and making us feel as if we're there!

And I gotta get me some of that "protein shake" to take down some hunks!
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Post by gag1195 »

DIX is go creative with their bondage, why do they have to be evil???? Though I'm sure most of the ideas are from the mayor and Clay, but still! I hate how hot the horse-drawn carriage humiliation was, but I love how protective the seniors are over their pledges, hoping to spare them any retaliation or DIX dickery.

Speaking of, those poor pledges chained in the basement while the house is under attack! That's gotta be stressful!

And then JD looking so sexy and restrained! Cannot wait to see what the good advisor has planned with QE and Diesel! And what is Travis up to? So many questions!
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Post by DeeperThanRed »

Like others, even if I enjoyed the positions DIX put their captives into, they stooped to a new low in this chapter. TUG boys need to get back at them but with the aforementioned lack of manpower advantage, it seems hard to do.

Now, if only they had someone who could help them with some inside knowledge, hmm...

Also, nice to see JD didn't change at all! Adorable and gullible as always, down right to enjoying his bondage trap! I hope Advisor has a good reason to leave that jock-clad hunk all by himself. :D
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Post by george_bound »

I'm finally back to catching up on all the fun stories I've been missing and have soooooo many comments I could make here about the amazingly fun kidnap of the TUG trio as well as JD's current situation :)

I do have to echo [mention]KidnappedCowboy[/mention] though as that's exactly what I was thinking as the TUG Actives were all racing to the park...the TUG Pledges are sitting (chained) ducks in the basement :shock: :twisted:
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Post by wataru14 »


Conflagration part 10 – I Love Rock & Roll

A few days before:

“Ah, public transportation,” Leo sighed as the subway car hurled along under the pothole-laden streets. “Where else can you see such an intriguing cross-section of humanity and get such wonderful smells?” He had his earbuds blasting Norwegian Death Metal to drown out the din of the couple fighting in the seast across and the naked man singing a little ways down. When his stop came up, he shot out of his seat like an arrow and bolted for the door before the panhandlers could reach him. He charged up the stairs two at a time and came to rest on the sidewalk.

“Well, would you look at the digs around here!” he thought. The block was full of trendy shops, coffee bars, and brownstones. “Movin’ on up! Looks like our Whitesnake reject did pretty well for himself.” Leo, in his leather jacket and ripped jeans, didn’t look out of place among the Bohemian crowd on the corners, so he didn’t draw any much attention as he made his way to the address on the paper in his hand. Matching the number to the plate on the wall, Leo marched up the stairs and rang the bell. The intercom buzzed to life.

“This better be important,” came a middle-aged female voice. “And it better not be solicitation. Or evangelizing. I WILL dump a bucket of water out the window if I see a Bible in your hand.”

“Must be them,” Leo thought. He liked them already. “Um, no…” he said. “My name’s Leomund Mordenkainen Bucknard and I’m here from TUG. I have an interview with… I’m not exactly sure who, to be honest.”

“Heh!” the voice cackled. “So you figured out my secret. Haven’t had a caller like you in some time.” There was a dry laugh from the com. “Come on in.” When he made his way upstairs to the target apartment, the door was already open. “Don’t just stand there,” the voice from the com shouted from inside. “I’m not heating all of Metro City.” Leo hurried in and closed the door. When he saw the interior… well, he didn’t quite know what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t this.

Everything was black. And red. The walls, the carpet, the furniture… Skulls and demon statues decorated the bookshelves and artwork of Bettie Page-esque pinup girls lined the walls. Behind the blood-red leather couch was a giant black-and-white photo that covered most of the wall. It depicted a young and vivacious woman in way too much makeup and teased hair, clad in leather and lingerie and holding a microphone like a deadly weapon. She was on a stage of some seedy hole-in-the-wall club surrounded by shirtless and tattooed men wailing away on instruments. Her eyes were closed and she was screaming into the mic. Leo immediately recognized her.

“Sick! Wendy Lightning!” Leo gasped. No one was in the room, but he could hear coffee being brewed in the kitchen. “I love her! Fucking rock goddess! This must be from the famous show at the Musketeer Club. The one that caused the 8th Street Riot! Were you there?”

A woman in a red bathrobe emerged from the kitchen carrying two steaming skull-shaped coffee mugs. Leo’s jaw dropped. She was several years older, and several pounds thicker, but Wendy Lightning stood before him in the flesh! There was no mistaking that face. “Damn right, I was,” she said with a smile.

Leo plopped on the couch in awe. “Man! I had no idea…”

“That I was a member of TUG in my wayward college years?” Wendy asked, slinking over and taking a seat next to Leo. “Well I was.”

“How did that happen?” Leo asked. “They weren’t co-ed back then. They still aren’t.”

“When I got to college I scoped out the sorority thing, but it was boring as hell,” Wendy said, sipping her coffee. “The guys had much more fun. And got laid a lot more. So I decided I wanted in. Some bandages around my chest and a sock in my pants and I Yentl’ed my way into the pledge class. Of course they spotted me real quick, but they admired my ‘balls’ and let me stay. Some unofficial changes to my transcript and viola! There I am. If you’re a fan of mine you know that ‘Wendy’ dropped out of college after Freshman year. My alter-ego graduated with honors, though.”

“And you played gigs at night as yourself?” Leo asked. “Badass. And no one ever found out?”

“Well, someone sort of did,” Wendy chuckled. “A rather unpleasant fellow from DIX, but that’s a long story.”

“I got time,” Leo said, sipping his coffee.

Wendy looked hungrily at him. Scrawny frame, leather jacket, bad-boy attitude… The kind of boy she used to have for breakfast on the road. It had been too long. And this one was energetic. Full of piss and vinegar. She decided it was time for a little nostalgic fun. “I could tell you,” she said, “but first you have to show me how much you want the story.” She placed her index finger on the collar of his pledge t-shirt and slowly traced her way down his abdomen.

Leo felt a tingle all over. “Madam!” he said in affected shock. “Are you suggesting that we do something untoward? Trade my body for information? Scandal! Outrage!”

Wendy put her coffee cup down and clamped her hand over Leo’s mouth. With her other hand she pulled him in close, nose to nose. “Next we were movin’ on and he was with me, yeah me!” she sang in her signature gravelly alto, licking her lips. She made a rock star snarl and pulled Leo to his feet. He chuckled as she playfully shoved him from behind into the bedroom.

---

Leo, stark naked, laid back on the bed. His wrists were secured with fur-lined leather cuffs to the bedposts, and his ankles were similarly manacled. He was held outstretched in an X-position. His eyes were covered by a leather mask, blocking out all light, and clamps were affixed to both his nipples. Wendy, now naked, laid on the bed beside him gently rubbing her fingers up and down his ribs like a xylophone.

“The scrawny ones always make the best lays,” she said lazily. “So full of spunk. So eager to please.” Leo grinned proudly. He was still fully erect, long after their lovemaking had ended. “I see TUG still has certain recruitment criteria in mind when they pick pledges,” she joked, giving Leo’s sack a playful squeeze as he rattled his chains. “That thing with your tongue,” she asked, “is that your own doing or did they teach you that?”

“All me, mistress,” Leo said. “Just one of my many talents.”

“Well, if you’re that skilled in other ways I may keep you as my houseboy,” Wendy chuckled.

“A kept man, eh? I never considered myself a trophy boy starfucker before,” Leo said, “but here we are.”

“Fading star,” Wendy said, “but I appreciate the compliment.” She touched his cheek and tweaked his nipple clamps, but left the blindfold alone. Now, since you performed above my expectations, I will honor our agreement and dish the dirt. It’s funny. This is the same position he was in when I left him.”

“Who?” Leo asked.

“The mayor.”

---

It was the summer of 1991 and I was in the middle of my “Death in High Heels” World Tour. I had been on the road for months and was coming home from Reunified Germany to play Metro Coliseum. My first time back here in a few years. Of course, all the TUG Pledges and Actives got front-section tickets comped. And I was prepared to offer a substantial kickback to the Villains’ Guild to prevent any… complications. They love a large gathered crowd. But that wasn’t necessary. I was told by the receptionist that they wouldn’t dream of doing anything to interrupt the return of Metro City’s Favorite Daughter. Besides, I was all paid up on my anti-kidnapping policy. Things were good.

When the show started I looked down at the crowd. The opening act was decent, but they wanted the headliner. Even the TUG boys were a little restless. So we kicked it into high gear. I always start with something fast and wild to get people on their feet, and they started dancing right away. Moshing didn’t become big until later in the 90s, but people had been doing it in punk and hardcore venues for years. And my fans were pulled right from that stock. By the middle of the second song, there was a sea of sweaty bodies kicking and flailing. Just like I like it. And the TUG boys were right in the middle of it, having the time of their lives. Most had never experienced anything like that before. That’s when I saw him.

Moving through the crowd, dodging fists and knees, was a skinny guy of about 18 or 19. He looked like he was heading somewhere with a purpose as he snaked through the melee. He looked like everyone else in the pit, except that he didn’t. If you catch my meaning. He was wearing a biker jacket, but it was new and shiny. No distress, no patches, no pins or chains. His jeans looked like they had been purposefully shredded at the knees right before he got there. The bandana on his head was stiff, like it just came out of the wrapping. His earrings looked clipped on and his tattoos drawn on. I get posers like that all the time, so it doesn’t bother me. If people like my music and want to play dress-up, I say go for it. I’m not going to gatekeep. But he was no fan.

From his body language I could tell that he hated the music and the whole scene. That he was uncomfortable in the “rocker” getup he was dressed in. So what was he doing there? I saw him snaking his way towards the TUG guys and reaching into the military-colored canvas messenger bag he was carrying (complete with freshly-sewn-on patches). I watched him as I sang and writhed on stage, up until he reached in and pulled something out of the bag. It was a water balloon. Full of… something. Paint, urine, whatever. Doesn’t matter. I signaled the band to rush to the end of the song and they wrapped it up quick. Everything stopped as I took the mic and walked downstage.

“Mmmm mmm mmmmm!!!” I crooned. “Now who is this absolutely fine piece of man meat in the pit?” The crowd looked around in confusion and I pointed in his direction. The spotlights whipped to follow my hand. He stowed the balloons an instant before the lights hit him, looking paralyzed with fear. “Damn you’re sexy!” I said, kneeling down and beckoning him forward. “I could just eat you up. In fact, why don’t you come on up here and let me get a better look at you.” I nodded to security, who came over and lifted him up onto the stage. I could tell he wanted to bolt, but trapped in the lights and with thousands of eyes on him, he couldn’t. The TUG boys in attendance recognized his face immediately and gasped. I shot them a wink as he was hurried up next to me.

“What’s your name, sexy thing?” I said, putting the mic in his face. He blinked a few times and was about to answer when I pulled the mic away. “I doesn’t matter what your name is! Because I own you now.” I reached over and grabbed his t-shirt, ripping it to shreds with my nails. Then I pushed him down on his knees. He stared up at me in fear and confusion, then I walked behind and started massaging his chest over his shoulders. The crowd went wild. “You’re my boy toy for the evening and I will do whatever I want with that stud body of yours. You got that.”

I put the mic in his face. “Yes…” he stammered. He was terrified, but allured at the same time. I tend to do that to men.

I pulled the mic away and shouted into it. “YES WHAT????”

The crowd screamed “YES, MISTRESS!” as the band started playing my song of that name. During the drum and guitar intro I had some roadies drag over a high-backed metal chair. I shoved the young mayor into it and walked away, coming back with a pair of handcuffs and a riding crop. He seemed to be a lot more comfortable now and was beginning to enjoy himself as I cuffed his hands behind the back of the chair. And not just for show. I locked his hands up good and proper. He seemed a little weirded out by that a first, but he came around quick. During the song, I punctuated the lyrics with some precision swats to his chest with the crop. By then he really seemed to be getting into it, and the crowd was loving it. I did this bit occasionally onstage, usually with a plant, but it always seemed to be a crowd-pleaser. Usually I let them go after the song and gave them some autographed merch (when I used a real audience dude), but this time was going to be different.

He didn’t come here to watch the show. He came here to ruin the evening for my boys. And I wasn’t going to let that slide. Based on the juvenile level of the attempt, I guess that it was some kind of frat prank. And that most likely made him DIX. Things weren’t as bad between us then as they are now, but there was still beef. I had graduated 4 years before but I still kept in touch enough to know the dirt. So I wasn’t going to let this one go so quickly.

As the next song started, I uncuffed him from the chair and stood him up. He started to turn to leave, but I grabbed him tight by the balls and held him fast. “Mistress didn’t say you could leave,” I grinned. The crowd cheered. I stripped him of his leather jacket and tossed it on a speaker, the used the riding crop to prod him over to the wall. I backed him up against the fake stone backdrop and shackled his hands and ankles into the manacles that were placed there as set dressing. As he came over, he was smirking, thinking they were fake. Imagine his surprise when he felt them tighten around his wrists and lock shut. There’s no mistaking genuine steel. He squirmed and shouted, but the music was too loud for anyone to hear his pathetic cries.

After the next song, I used the remnants of his torn T-shirt and the bandana on his head to gag him. By then he had realized something was up and had been shouting and cursing at me. Lucky the crowd couldn’t hear him or they would have rushed the stage and put him in the hospital for disrespecting me at my own show. For his own safety I needed to keep him quiet. But that didn’t mean I was done with him. With each passing song I removed a little more of his clothing and added my own touches. Stripped off his brand-new combat boots and socks. Cut his jeans off him. Added a leather chest harness and armbands. I even pierced his ear. A few smacks with the crop. Teasing. Playing. I had to hold back or the cops would shut me down, but I kept it going just enough to titillate the crowd. And him.

For all his protestations, I could see that he was enjoying this. His straining, bulging underwear definitely made that clear. Tighty-whities. Why was I not surprised? As the concert went on and approached the end, I took the mic during a space between songs and told security, “Mama is hungry. Put that one in my dressing room so I can relieve some tension after the show.” Two burly security guards unchained the future mayor and dragged him offstage. He was panting and sweating, all worked up from my handiwork during the show, and didn’t resist. The crowd hooted and cheered as he was dragged out of sight.

After the show, I signed some autographs and met with the TUG guys. I filled them in on what my prisoner was attempting to do. I didn’t know any of them personally, since even the seniors weren’t enrolled in college until the year after I graduated. But I knew most of their Big Bros. One of them was actually my “GrandBro.” The chapter president told my prisoner’s name and confirmed that he was a DIX pledge. An ambitious little fucker, he was trying to mess up their evening with paint bombs to impress the Upperclassmen. Raise his own stock in the frat. The costume and tickets must have cost him a fortune and it was all for nothing. But I wasn’t done with him yet. I told the boys not to worry and to head home safe. Mama would take care of the rest.

My dressing room was dark when I got in. But it wasn’t empty. In the darkness I could hear muffled grunting. Switching on the lights, I saw the future mayor, chained to the bed like you are now, and still gagged. Only now his underwear had been removed. “Ooh,” I said, rubbing my chest seductively. “Easy access.” My prisoner squirmed and moaned happily as I crawled across the bed like a video vixen. He swelled in response as my hands inched closer and closer to his sack.

He let out a cry of shock as my hand closed tight around his balls and squeezed. He moaned and struggled as I increased the pressure. “Aw, did the widdle Pledge boy think he was getting lucky tonight?” I taunted. “I wouldn’t be caught dead fucking a DIX loser like you.” He scrunched his brow as I released my grip. “I saw what you were trying to do out in the pit. Naughty naughty. And not in a good way. Those boys are dear to me and I won’t let anyone hurt them. Mama Bear doesn’t like it when people mess with her cubs.” I squeezed again, making him howl. He got flaccid real quick after that.

I took out a black plastic chastity cage. He squirmed and writhed in his chains to avoid me, but he wasn’t in any position to escape. Click-clack and his junk was trapped. Sealed away in a plastic prison. “Better lock that thing up before it hurts someone,” I taunted. Taking some black lipstick, I wrote “POSER” on his chest and called in security. “Boys,” I said. “This one has displeased me. Take him away and bring him back to campus. Leave him somewhere very public.” Security nodded and began to unshackle the naked future mayor from the bed. He fought valiantly, but a Freshman wasn’t going to beat my guards. The best money could buy. They cuffed his hands behind his back and slung him over their shoulders, carrying his naked, caged, and wriggling form out of my sight.

“Tell your Brothers that Guy Rockman sends his regards,” I said. His eyes widened in recognition of the name, but that was the extent of that. I kissed the air as he disappeared through the door.

---

“Guy Rockman?” Leo asked. “THAT’s your alter-ego?” He gave a belly laugh.

“I like to push the envelope,” Wendy chuckled. “I thought for sure someone would say ‘No way that’s his real name,’ but everyone seemed to buy it. It was a big source of amusement at the TUG house.”

“So how did that work?” Leo asked, letting his shackled arms swing lightly. “You just did a reverse Tootsie and went out dressed like a dude every day?”

“Pretty much,” Wendy said. “I have no confusion as to who I am inside. I’m happy with being a chick, it was just that women didn’t have as much freedom then as they do now. Expectations of behavior that didn’t seem to apply to dudes. The TUG guys seemed to have a lot of fun and let loose. They had something real that the sororities just couldn’t offer. And I wanted in. Fuck the rules, right? They were glad to have me, but we had to keep appearances up or the University would have voided my membership. So Wendy dropped out of school and “Guy” enrolled. Technically I was a Sophomore when I pledged, but ‘Guy’ was a Freshman. I had to repeat my first year to keep the ruse up, but that was no big deal. And I could only really be myself around the House. Outside, in public, I wasn’t Wendy. Only at the House.”

“I’m surprised they don’t make your story more known,” Leo said. “At least with the pledges. I had no idea you were a woman until I looked really closely at the photo.”

“That was my request,” Wendy said, sliding into bed next to Leo and rubbing his chest. “I didn’t want my dress-up game to take away from someone’s real struggle if the need ever arose. From what I hear, an actual transman is being looked at for next year’s Pledge class. At least in the introductory stages. It’s still very early for that. But I don’t want my specter looming over him when he gets in.”

“I get you,” Leo said. “So what now? I should be getting back to campus and start working on my paper. Although…”

“Although?” Wendy chuckled.

“I don’t have to leave just yet,” Leo winked under the blindfold.

Wendy sat up and straddled Leo, who playfully jangled his shackle chains. “Now THAT sounds like an idea I can get behind!” she grinned.

---

“Yes, Mistress” blared over the car radio as the pink Cadillac pulled up to the gates of the Mayoral Mansion. “It’s been ages since I’ve been here,” Queer Eye said to the empty seat next to him. The seat wasn’t really empty, but the advisor was cloaked by a light-refracting field that hid his presence. The vehicle and its driver looked like a FedEx truck and courier to anyone on the outside. “I wonder if he’s redecorated or if it still looks like an EPCOT pavilion in there.” The advisor chuckled as the gate guard waved them in.

Lightning flashed in the dark sky as black storm clouds unloaded their torrents over campus. The car made its way up the drive and towards the main entrance. “It’s all up to you now, JD,” the advisor whispered to no one.

Coming Soon: Conflagration part 11 – And the Walls Came A-Tumbling Down
Last edited by wataru14 1 year ago, edited 2 times in total.
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Volobond
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Post by Volobond »

Put another dime in the jukebox, baby! I may not like Leo as much as the others, but he sure has a knack for spinning the situations he gets tied up in to his advantage! Wendy's story is an interesting one, and I love that they're playing her song as it comes time to enact revenge on DIX and the mayor!
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Post by Guardianbound »

Leo always keeps things interesting, well matched with Wendy for his assignment for sure. How is JD supposed to know what to do I wonder, and why couldn't the advisor give clear instructions to him.
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Post by DeeperThanRed »

I'm in love with Wendy, she is super cool! Leo really found her match with her, both of them have a perchance for breaking the rules and getting away from the chaos they create with wits and charm.

The way she talked about tricking a DIX brother into bondage while doing the same thing to Leo but with a completely different context is a great showcase of how varied bondage can be as a tool for character dynamics. :ugeek:

As a side note, I really appreciate her thinking about trans applicants when thinking about revealing her past with TUG, that's very nice of her.
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Post by gag1195 »

Leo certainly keeps things interesting, doesn't he?

It's fascinating how much the mayor and his family keep popping up against TUG, always ending badly for them. In a world of actual superheroes and villains, it's funny that the true arch nemesis for this family is a bunch of frat bros!

I'm still worried about how all this will turn out. I really hope JD and the advisor have things well in hand!
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Post by KidnappedCowboy »

I love Wendy/Guy Rockman...And Lucky Leo! :D


Would love to know how the future mayor freed his cock from its cage! :evil:

And I cannot wait for the Fed Ex man/Queer Eye to deliver his and the Advisor's package to the mayor! :lol:

A updated cock cage perhaps!!! :twisted: :twisted: :twisted:
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Post by Wedgieboy69 »

KidnappedCowboy wrote: 1 year ago Would love to know how the future mayor freed his cock from its cage! :evil:
maybe he didn't. maybe that's why he is so miserable now 😆
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Post by wataru14 »


Conflagration part 11 – And the Walls Came A-Tumbling Down

Inside the basement, the Pledges were growing restless. It had been hours since anyone came down to check on them and they still had no information on what was going on with the captured Seniors. Cody and Ray had taken up a playful wrestling match a little while ago, to pass the time and work off some tension, but there was no doubt as to the outcome. Wrestling was Ray’s bread and butter, after all. Still, Cody put up a good fight. It took a good while before Ray had him flat on his back on the carpet pinned under him. Laughing and squirming, Cody was helpless to prevent Ray from slipping his belt off and wrapping it around his wrists.

“They didn’t leave us anything else to do this with,” Ray said, “so we’ll improvise.” Cody’s thick belt was a poor restraint material, being nonpliant and stiff, but it did the job. It was mostly ceremonial, anyway. Cody held his hands together in front as Ray buckled the belt closed. He could easily slip free, but he wasn’t going to. He lost and needed to take his lumps. Ray helped him up and Cody wandered over to the couch. “Any other takers?” Ray said, grinning and flexing. “I’ll get all four of you bound up on the couch. The boys upstairs should love that.” He absently pointed at the camera that was monitoring their movements.

“That will be a hell no!” Mason laughed, handing Ray a game controller. “But we need a fourth for Mario Party, and Cody is in no position to play right now, so bunker down and get playing.” Ray slid onto the couch beside Mason and started playing. It had been a while since they could just sit and relax like this. They were roommates, but schoolwork and Pledge duties kept them too busy to just kick back and relax. It was nice to have a break, even if the circumstances weren’t optimal.

Some sort of commotion rose up outside, but the Pledges were so engrossed in laughing and trash talking during their game that they didn’t hear it. Even if they did they wouldn’t have been able to tell what it was. The sounds of shouting and breaking glass wouldn’t have penetrated that far into the house, anyway. The smashing of the furniture would have, but it was drowned out by the game noise. Then the storm started. Heavy rain hammered against the metal door of the basement stairs and flashes of lightning illuminated the windows, further muffling the sounds of chaos above. The constant drumming of the rain also had a numbing effect. The game amused for a while, but boredom had begun to seep in and restlessness was beginning to build. Leo, in particular, was fidgeting very badly.

“What the fuck is going on?” he shouted, hopping off the workbench he was sitting on. He had tried to get close enough to see out the window, but Danny’s warning was true and the chain on his ankle wouldn’t allow him to get up enough to see out. Ray had long since given up on trying to pull it loose, and Mason and Nate were unable to reach the tool bench to find a method of releasing them, either. “Did they forget about us?” Leo said. “I’m getting really tired of this baby treatment.”

Cody shrugged and lifted his bound hands. “I hate to say it, but I agree with you,” he said. “We’re not kids. We’re all 18. Some of them are only a few months older than us and they’re treating us like we’re in diapers.” He turned back to the screen just in time to see Nate toss his controller down in frustration as the power went out. There was enough ambient sunlight left to dimly illuminate the room, but the TV and video game console were inoperative. “Come on!” Leo shouted, looking around wildly as his eyes adjusted to the new light level. “They have to be doing this on purpose!”

“I don’t think so,” Mason said. “Look.” He turned the laptop around and showed the “No Internet” screen. “They can’t shut off the network just down here. They’d lose it upstairs, too. I think something happened.” A final, faint sound of glass breaking came from upstairs, then another, but no one noticed it. Frustrated and bored, the group settled back down, but everyone jumped when a massive CRACK and FLASH was heard nearby.

“That must have hit real close,” Cody said with an awed whistle.

To this day, no one is completely sure how it happened. Maybe it a stone thrown by DIX hit an electrical device and caused a spark that caught. Maybe a precision lightning strike from the storm caused a power surge. Maybe someone left the oven unattended before they frantically dashed outside and a stray rock impact started a gas leak. Maybe someone from DIX decided to take their revenge plan to a higher level without authorization and set it intentionally. There are many theories, but nothing has ever been conclusively settled upon. What is known is that the fire started somewhere on the first floor at around noon.

---

Once DIX had gone, the Brothers of TUG ran to their fallen friends and attempted to free them from their heavy restraints. But that was not to be right now. Every buckle of their harnesses and gags, every strap of the straightjacket, was secured with a small padlock. DIX had taken plenty of time and care to make sure the rescue was as difficult as possible. Maximizing their exposure. It wasn’t going to be a simple exercise in undoing knots, it would require tools to get them free. Cameras and phones had been filming nonstop since the wagon crested the hill and showed no sign of stopping after DIX vacated the area. Snarling, Danny grabbed his phone and called Luis back at the House. “Bring hardware,” he said. “They’re locked up tight. Keys, cutters, torches, whatever! Just get it here!”

By the time the remaining Brothers made it to the Plaza, the rain was coming down full. Freezing and heavy. Scott was grateful to have the grime washed off him for the first time in days, at least. Brett’s tuxedo would be totally ruined, though. “No big,” Scott thought, “it’s not like he doesn’t have others.” Scott sat back, waiting for rescue, but he soured when he realized it would take a furious team effort to get the three prisoners freed. Bryan used the acetylene torch to cut the chains holding them to the statue while various others attacked the padlocks with bolt cutters. It took an agonizingly long time, but eventually a pile of discarded metal links had collected on the ground and the three Seniors were freed from the statue with their restraints now able to be undone. Trey had thoughtfully brought an extra pair of basketball shorts for Scott, which he gratefully slipped on. The first clothing he had worn in several days.

The first thing Hoss said once the lock had been cut on his gag and the plug removed from his jaws was “Where’s Nate?”

“The Pledges are safe,” Shane said, holding a bottle of water up to Hoss’ mouth while several others got to work undoing the straightjacket straps. “They’re all in the basement. Out of harm’s way.”

Shane was shocked to see Hoss’ lip being to quiver. He half expected Hoss to Hulk out once freed and tear off down the road after DIX, but this was unexpected. Shane had never seen emotion like this from the burly giant. “When they caught me they made me think that I was coming for a photo session with Nate,” Hoss said. He could barely keep still as the buckles were being carefully unlatched. “I thought they had him, too. Thy said they didn’t but they’re all lying assholes. All I kept thinking was that they have him somewhere all alone.”

“No worries, my good man,” Shane said, flashing a smile and touching Hoss’s arm, immediately calming him. “All five are cooped up in the basement. Chained down so they can’t do anything stupid and put themselves at risk. Their safety was Priority One.” Shane looked around and did a quick head count. Fifteen? “Wait!” he stopped. “Everyone is here? No one stayed to watch the Pledges?”

“They’ll be fine,” Takeshi said as he guided Brett’s hands out of the loosened leather manacles behind his back. The president stretched his aching limbs and winced. Both at the physical discomfort and at Shane’s realization. Takeshi had been on watch duty, but he joined the second group as they ran to the Plaza with their tools. “It’s only been a few minutes. We’ll be back soon,” Takeshi said.

“Have we taught you nothing?” Brett shouted as the gag slid out of his mouth. Omar unbuckled the straps on his leather chest harness. “You NEVER leave someone unattended when they’re bound! A few minutes is enough for DIX to go down there while the House is unguarded and nab them. Or someone could have gotten hurt. You should have stayed to watch!” He paused. His blood pressure was rising and he felt the aching need for his ring, but he fought it back. Takeshi recoiled as he saw Brett begin to slip into “The Zone,” but relaxed as the president drifted back from the brink. But just barely. “But it’s OK,” Brett said, feeling the anger come under control. “I understand there was a lot of confusion. We will be back home soon. But we should hurry.”

The other Brothers had formed a protective wall around the three in an attempt to shield their friends from the gawking crowd. They faced away from the statue, watching all directions for more trouble. “Huh?” Gavin said, squinting his eyes. He had been keeping watch on the road back to Fraternity Row, scouting in case DIX decided to return once all of TUG was gathered in one place. “Does anyone else see that?” He pointed to the horizon, through the downpour of rain.

Everyone looked over at where he was pointing. Hoss had just been fully released from the straightjacket and barreled over like a runaway train. “What?” he barked. “See what?”

“Over there behind the trees,” Gavin said. “I know it’s dark, but does that look like smoke to you?”

---

Back in the quaint suburban home, a green jewel flickered twice and then ceased its glow. JD looked down, cracked his neck, and stepped away from the wall. The chain tethering him to the D-Ring snapped like paper. He walked over to the dressing table, still yoked, and carefully bent down to retrieve a control device that had been left in an obvious place. But he had to be careful. Last time he went down too fast and smashed the table to smithereens by accidentally slamming the Osmium device into it. His husband had to buy a whole new bedroom set. It took some doing, since dexterity wasn’t exactly his forte, to maneuver his fingers into a position where he could unlock the yoke around his neck once he had the controller in hand, but soon enough the mechanisms clicked and the cuffs opened up. Slipping his hands out, he balanced the yoke on his tank shoulders while he unlocked his ankles.

Once his extremities were free, JD slipped his head out of the yoke and put the devices back in their storage case, which was conveniently left beside the bed. Each piece slipped carefully into a custom-made groove in the spongy insulation. He tapped the side of the mechanical gag twice and it flashed to life. The inflatable plug shrank back and the interlocked arms unlatched. The device lept off his face and reformed into its original ball shape, which JD caught effortlessly and placed on the bed.

He stretched out a few times and was about to go get something to drink when the Hero Alarm blared. “Perfect timing, as always,” he chuckled as he slipped on his Duty Belt. Pressing a hidden button in the buckle, he felt a pleasant tingle as nanites erupted out and covered his body, forming his supersuit. Once the red mask was finalized, he walked over to the monitor and switched it on. “Shit on a shingle!” he gasped.

“HOUSE FIRE.” The screen read, flashing the familiar address of the TUG House! “Five civilians at risk with possible collateral spreading. Immediate action required.”

Without hesitation, Diesel crashed through the window, caving in a portion of the wall and sending glass shards ricocheting off into the rain. No one would be outside in a storm like this, so there was little risk of him being seen using his powers in public. He ducked and launched himself into the sky, rocketing towards campus. “You knew!” he thought as he soared away.

---

Meanwhile, in the Mayoral Residence, the mayor had just finished a very happy phone call with Clay. He put his feet up on the desk and lit a cigar as he flipped open several social media sites on his computer. Just as he had planned, videos of the grotesque parade were popping up on all the major sites.

“These will probably be taken down immediately by mods,” he thought, “but not fast enough for this.” He clicked on some browser extensions and the videos of Hoss, Brett, and Scott being paraded through campus in their bondage began to download. As soon as new videos of the three chained to the statue appeared, they were also captured and downloaded. “The Internet is forever, boys,” he chuckled. “Now let’s see what’s trending, shall we?”

The Mayor hovered over the #QueerEye hashtag that had been attached to all the videos, as he instructed. “By now that pink monstrosity’s feed must be flooded with these vids,” he grinned as he double-clicked the tag. “The one thing you love more than anything else in the world dragged through the mud for all the world to see.” He took a puff of his cigar in triumph as the link loaded. He was so engrossed in his victory that he didn’t notice the link had been commandeered and was directing him to an alternate website. When the page loaded, the only thing the screen showed was a rapidly spinning spiral pattern.

“Huh,” he said, squinting to look at the image. “What’s this? Wait, I know this…!” He moved to shove himself away from the desk, but it was too late. The music started. Yoko Ono meets Phillip Glass while falling down the stairs. The Mayor’s movements became sluggish and stiff as he stared into the swirling miasma of color on the screen. Try as he might, he couldn’t look away.

“We’ve branched out,” came a hated familiar voice from the doorway. “I do miss the Hypnotron. Taskmaster has been making good use of it, but I kept a mini version for emergencies.”

From behind the paralyzed Mayor, Queer Eye and Dr. Calamity strode into the room and flanked him on either side. “I knew it was you…” the Mayor haltingly said as waves of lethargy washed over him. Soon his body became rigid and immobile.

“Yes, you figured out my secret,” the Doctor said, rubbing his hands together in cartoonish glee. “I would ask you how you found that out, but I’d rather just rip that info from your mind. The last time I put you in the Hypnotron I didn’t go all out. That’s a mistake I won’t make again.”

“What… are… you… going to…” the Mayor stammered as his last bit of will dripped away.

“Nothing,” the Doctor chuckled. “You’re going to do it all to yourself.”

Queer Eye finished a text on his phone and sent it. “Taskmaster gave the OK, hon,” he said. “We have use of the Hypnotron. I had to wire him a large sum of cash and trade over my claim to the mineral deposit job, but some things are worth more than money, aren’t they, Mr. Mayor?” He leaned in and gave the Mayor a sultry lick along his cheekline with his foot-long prehensile tongue. The Mayor shuddered but couldn’t move. Queer Eye grabbed the Mayor’s chin and turned his head to the side, gazing deep into his eyes. The Mayor couldn’t look away as he stared into the giant unblinking pupil before him. “Now be a good boy and do exactly as I say,” Queer Eye cooed. The Mayor involuntarily nodded. There was nothing else he could do.

---

The fire spread rapidly. It enveloped the first floor in a matter of minutes and began to creep up the stairs, razing the bedrooms in its path.

“Is it getting hot in here, or is it just me?” Leo joked. All five had noticed the change in temperature by now. Ray and Cody had stripped their shirts off for their wrestling match earlier, but by now the others had followed suit. They were dripping with sweat. “I guess the AC went down when the power went off. When they let us out of here they’ll probably make us fix it.” Cody wiped his brow with his bandana and verbalized his agreement. But Nate wasn’t so sure.

“Something’s going on,” he said. He had moved as close to the stairs as he could with his ankle chained to the floor. “Something bad. It’s hotter over here.” Ray got up to join him.

“He’s right,” Ray said. “It’s noticeably hotter here and…” he stopped in terror. Both he and Nate saw wisps of black smoke billowing under the crack of the door and down the stairs.

---

The guard at the gate helped the FedEx man open the door and finagle his cart down the steps to the waiting truck. A heavy canvas sack was laying on the cart. If you looked closely, it moved from time to time, but Queer Eye made sure to keep the guard distracted enough to not notice.

Inside the sack, of course, was the Mayor of Metro City. His hands had been bound behind his back with special polymer rope, punishingly tightly, and his ankles were similarly bound. Then the two extremities had been pulled achingly close together and connected, forcing the Mayor into an excruciating hogtie. His shoes had been removed, and his designer silken socks had been callously balled up and shoved in his mouth, cleaved in place with his tie. Then he found himself slid into a mail sack and carted off. Queer Eye told the guard it was campaign mailings and thanked him for his assistance. He didn’t need help to get the ever-so-subtly squirming sack into the truck and tipped his hat to the guard as he drove away. The guard didn’t notice that the passenger door opened of its own accord and closed shortly after.

---

“I simply love what you’ve done with the place!” Queer Eye squawked as Taskmaster accompanied him down the hall. “The neo-futuristic LED walls are very ‘in’ right now. I do miss the polished chrome, but you have to change with the times! Thanks for this, by the way.” He hated to admit that a redecorating job done without his help had come out so well, but he had to. The place did look good!

The Mayor, freed from the sack and with his ankles unbound, was dreamily walking behind Queer Eye, flanked by two of Taskmaster’s armed henchmen. But he was in no condition to escape with his hands still bound behind his back and his mouth gagged. The mishmash of white noise had begun to recede from his mind, but he was still in a half-daze. Aware enough to understand his predicament, but not enough control to fight. “No problem,” Taskmaster said jovially. “Any friend of the boss’ is a friend of mine. And this sumbitch needs a good brain scrambling. Long overdue, I say. The boss should have wiped him clean when he had the chance.”

“Interesting that you still call him ‘The Boss’ after all this time,” the advisor said, a tinge of pride in his voice. He was walking behind the Mayor dressed as one of Queer Eye’s henchmen. “I met him a few times, but we never worked together. I heard he was a decent guy, though.”

“He’ll always be the boss,” Taskmaster said, a little choked up. He was about to say more, but stopped and recovered when they arrived at the familiar door to the Hypnotron chamber. “Well, here we are! Since this is personal, I’ll let you two take it from here. The controls are easy, but I left the manual on the control panel in case you want to use some of the nastier functions. I added a few upgrades myself.” The advisor raised a curious eyebrow. “Don’t have too much fun!” Taskmaster shook Queer Eye’s hand and left with his henchmen. The trio quickly entered the chamber, the door ominously clanking shut behind them.

Coming Soon: Conflagration part 12 – The End of a Promising Career
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blackbound
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Post by blackbound »

As much as I'm on the side of TUG here, I do love the extra deviousness of the padlocks and the public shuttering of the keys in the previous chapter.

That said, I'm glad the mayor is now getting his comeuppance - I've at long last read the Dr. Calamity story and understand the full context. Sounds like this one might be final, as well it should be. He's gone too far and IMO it's time for some more severe and permanent consequences. Fortunately it sounds like our heroes agree.
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