06 - Mike's Bratty Lil' Sister
Story index at the bottom
By Zorro
Monday, August 5th 2002 - 02:40:00 PM
Mike's Bratty Lil' Sister
This story took place last month, and I didn't get a chance to post it here until now.
It's the summer, and between jury duty and an accident involving my Grandma, I tried to enjoy the summer as best any college student can. Or, at least any college student without much of a social circle or a girlfriend can. Basically either brooding or doing things with my few friends.
My friend Mike is a very old friend; met him in junior high and we've been pals ever since. He'd briefly moved to New Jersey, but returned earlier this year, so I was glad to see him. However, I was NOT glad to see his siblings. His mother breeds like a rabbit, he has two younger sisters and a younger brother. They are very bratty, always fighting or complaining or running around, his mother doesn't do a great job of raising them (aside for some hollaring every now and then). They kind of think of me as this annoying older guy, and the feeling is almost mutual; I find them annoying, too. Tiffany is the oldest, at 10, her sister Christine is 8, his brother about 4. Tiffany has the biggest mouth, Chris the most energy, Mikey, the brother, enjoys drooling and running head-first into things, only to giggle at his injury. Seriously.
Anyway, I was over at his apartment (which is more of a dive than mine), with some anime (Japanese animation, my second love next to comics, I am a geek of many colors) for us to watch. Mike is reliable; whenever I am bored, I can drop by his place and he'll be willing to do something...so long as he's not babysitting. Since he had no phone at the time (he has a cell now), the only way to see was to actually go to his house, ring the bell and go upstairs. Annoying, but you'll be amazed what one gets used to. He greets me with his usual, "S'up, man?" and is all to eager to kick back and watch some anime.
The only problem is Tiffany. He was stuck watching her, I realized in two seconds when I entered, and the kiddo looked up at me and laughed at the black trenchcoat I always wear.
The odd thing was that only one of the tikes, and not all three, wasn't as bad as usual. It was almost a good thing. Almost. The brown haired girl, clad in her usual t-shirt and jeans, with socks (you feet people love to ask), was eagerly asking us what we were doing, smiling at her ability to annoy. Our usual strategy is to ignore and hope they get bored and move on to other childlike endeavours, a plan that actually works more than half the time. But not this time, not with her. We assembled our seats, popped the tape in and she kept on with her blabbing (singing songs she made up as she went along), running around, doing her best to get on our nerves, and loving every second of it. Mike has little tolerance with his siblings. He won't hit them, mostly because his mother will yell him stupid, but he does shout at them something awful. "SHUT UP, TIFF!" he must have screamed at her 20 times. Orders for her to "go play" or "Go away" or "be quiet" were obeyed for all of ten seconds and then forgotten by the plucky ten-year-old.
We stopped the movie, Mike went over to her and started yelling at her. And that is when she used her other move; starting to cry. In some ways, the rules of the playground were in effect; once a kid starts crying, you do your best to appease them, so they don't tell an adult and get you in trouble. Either that, or Mike always feels genuine guilt for yelling at siblings he claims to dislike half the time. I vote for the former.
Tiffany was sobbing, not tearing, but something I had seen once or twice, and Mike knew his mom would be back with the others in less than 2 hours. "Shh, shhh, Tiff, look, just be quiet, okay? I didn't mean to yell at you."
Ever the psychology student, I sat back and watched with curiosity, eager to get back to anime.
"There's nothin' to do!" she finally complained, getting to the heart of the matter.
"You have dolls and toys all over the place!" Mike countered, and he was right, too. Scattered all over were toys and Barbie dolls. Tiffany simply shook her head.
"Bored, bored, bored," she started reciting.
I don't know why it came up, but it simply did. I let in, "Want to play a game?"
"What kinda game?" she looked at he quizzically.
Mike was looking at me as if I'd just grown wings from my ass. That was NOT how he was planning to resolve this endless fight with his sister.
"Called 'Hostage'," was my reply, which I was making up. "If one of us catches you, you have to be our hostage."
I didn't spend a million years thinking up the rules. And she didn't spent half that time agreeing, thinking that it was a version of TAG. "Okay!" she exclaimed, and she started to run.
I would have gotten up, but Mike's mood changed, and he started chasing after her, a smile on his face, figuring it would be quick (and he didn't TOTALLY hate her). "C'mere, you..."
She was giggling, but their apartment is small and cramped, and Mike was twice her age, and it didn't take him long to catch her. He had one arm on her shoulder, using the other hand to tickler her stomach, to keep her from running away again. He moved her to a chair and told her to sit. She started to squirm, so he went back to holding and tickling. But he knew that if he let go, she'd run off and want to play some more. He glanced at me with a "now what, genius?" kind of look.
I stood up and looked around. I figured she agreed to the game, that as long as we weren't cruel, she wouldn't object too much to being tied up, but I didn't want to use anything that would leave any marks. I looked in the medicine cabinet and found a roll of white adhesive tape. Looking under the kitchen sink, I found an old roll of duct tape. Which I figured was satisfactory.
By this time, Tiff was out of breath and just sitting there, curiously, Mike with one hand on her shoulder. When she saw the tape, she sort of squirmed. Mike put two and two together, and despite not knowing of my secret fetish, figured it was no big deal; he knew I wasn't wrapping a gift and besides, he figured I didn't want to hang her from the ceiling or anything. Mike grinned.
"What's that for?" she asked, a dumb question.
"You're our hostage, we have to keep you in place." I said. "Like on TV."
"OOOOOOHHHHH." She nodded knowingly. "Riiiiight. Okay." She shrugged.
I'd been a kid before, kids are used to making up rules as they go along, and if I explained it like that, we wouldn't get hassled. Besides, I think she was having fun.
I asked her to hold out her hands, and she did, putting her wrists together and balling her hands into fists. I wrapped the adhesive tape around them for many turns (I didn't count, sorry), but it was nice and tight. She tried to pull her hands apart and saw that she couldn't. Since in the chair we put her on was our size, and thus her feet didn't touch the ground, I figured I didn't have to tie them and instead grabbed the duct tape and asked her to lean back. She figured what I was going to do and asked Mike to hold her hair up, and I wrapped the duct tape around her body and the chair, pinning her there. I placed her bound hands on her lap and took a few turns of duct tape around her wrists, thighs, and underneath the chair, pinning her wrists to her thighs. After that, we had used half the roll. She looked at us and began to wobble the chair, not so much as to knock herself over, but to see how firm it was. She wasn't going anywhere. She had a big smile on her face.
Mike noticed I hadn't put the tape down, and simply smiled. I tore another strip of duct tape, about 7 inches long, and separated it from the rest.
"Close your mouth."
"Why?"
"This goes over your mouth, so you can't talk."
"You sure?"
"Yeah. You're not supposed to yell or anything for this game." I held it closer.
She had her lips together for a second, and I took my chance. I pressed the tape over her lips and smoothed it out over her face, it almost going on her ears. I don't like packing and I didn't want to spook her or Mike, either. Besides, the tape was old and stickier than usual anyway.
"Okay?"
"Mmmmmpppph." She nodded her head.
"Okay."
And with that, we watched our anime in peace. In-between she let out a few muffles, struggled a little, and I sometimes let out a melo-dramatic evil laugh to amuse her (and because I like doing it, I do it so well). After an hour, we let her go, cut her free with scissors. I got the feeling that she could have gotten the tape off her mouth but probably figured it was "against the rules" and it's always effective on TV.
And that's it for now. Hope you liked this impromptu little tale. Like a zit, I shall return. Ciao.
Zorro
US of A
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Zorro's stories
- 01 - Ninja Turtles and other short stories (m/f)
- 02 - Zorro's College Adventure (?/f)
- 03 - Return of the Girl I went to the Movies with Once! (mmm/f)
- 04 - Zorro meets the Indians (m+f/f)
- 05 - College Halloween Party (M+F+/FFF)
- 06 - Mike's Bratty Lil' Sister (mm/f)
- 07 - The Return of Mike's Little Sisters, or, Dealing with the Annoying Twosome! (MM/ff)
- 08 - What you have to do to get into Ultimo's (M+F+/F) (in Adults Archive)
Index of all stories in the "Archive for Everyone" section