Stout's Shorts [Story 16 "BULLY" Nov 19]

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Stoutland395
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Soma Yukihira: All’s Fair with Food and War

The early morning sun beamed through the window, but Soma paid no attention to the light coming into his room. In fact, he barely knew what time it was. His cookbook was wide open on the desk, yet Soma didn’t even glance at it. What was the point? He knew the steps, but he struggled to think how he could take this information and make it unique. Soma sat in his chair, legs and arms crossed and eyes closed, stuck in a deep thought. The other members of Kyokusei Dormitory rapped his door. With little time left to prepare, it was the day of an important Food War between Soma and Terunori Kuga. Soma’s food would be judged and compared to the culinary expertise of one of the Elite Council of Ten, so there was no room for error.

Soma’s dorm mates left for the Academy, leaving Soma behind. Little time didn’t mean no time at all, and Soma planned to use every remaining minute at his disposal to think of ways he could win. Despite his young and fair appearance, Kuga was fierce and hot. His food was overpowering with its spice, and he took a sick pride in making his clients suffer through the heat. Soma thought about how he could channel that in his own food. This Food War would be one of intense heat: Who could make the other enjoy the suffering more? Soma tightened his handkerchief around his head and rolled his sleeves, preparing for the fight before he even stepped foot onto the kitchen floor.

They charged in like an army. With the dormitory empty, except for Soma, they suffered no pushback and no resistence. More than a dozen men, bald headed and straight-faced, crashed through the door. Kuga’s trainees - Soma remembered them from his visit to Kuga’s training arena. They worked in unison, mechanically and with such finesse as if they were all of one mind. In a way that was true. They were of one mind - Kuga’s mind.

Soma stood no chance. He sat backwards on his chair with his legs propped up over the back. He kicked his feet up and down. Red rope bound his knees and connected to his neck. If he pulled back too hard, the rope dug into his skin and stung. His hands stretched out, and more red rope tied his wrists to the sides of the chair. Soma looked up at the wall of goons surrounding him, and the sound of footsteps coming from outside the room caught his attention. It was none other than Kuga himself, sporting a devilish smirk and an intense glint in his eyes. A bowl of hot, red tofu he held in his hand steamed and boiled.

Soma opened his mouth to scream at the cheater. Before he could speak, Kuga jammed a spoonful of his spicy dish into Soma’s mouth. Instantly, a wave of heat lit up his tongue. Soma’s cheeks turned pink, and he opened his mouth again to yell out. As soon as he did, Kuga used Soma’s own handkerchief as a wedge between his teeth. A knot tied in the middle of his mouth muffled his screams. Kuga leaned in close, almost touching his nose to Soma’s and ignoring. “I just couldn’t resist seeing the look on that stupid face of yours, Soma. How this Food War began is beyond me, but I have no doubt that I could beat you with one hand tied behind my back. But then I got to thinking. Why tie my own hands when I can tie yours? Think about it, Soma, I’m saving you from the humiliation of being defeated by me. At least this way, you still have some dignity. Poor Soma realized he couldn’t beat the great Kuga, so he didn’t even bother to show his face!” Kuga snapped his fingers, and his small army fled out of the room.

He placed the bowl on Soma’s desk. The aroma of Kuga’s dish emanated throughout the room. The heat still lingered on Soma’s tongue, but now a mild spice in the air made his nose twitch. Kuga patted Soma on the cheek before casually strolling out of the room, closing the door behind him. Soma rocked back and forth in his chair, grunting into his gag. He clenched his fists and kicked his feet. The ropes dug into his skin, holding him down. The Food War would start soon, and Kuga would be at the arena just in time to declare himself the winner. He needed to find a way out, and soon.


********************

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Post by DeeperThanRed »

I'm not familiar with Food Wars but I still throughout enjoyed this story. It's always fun to see an earnest, competitive guy taken out of a contest with ropes. Also, that's one creative chair tie.
25-year-old bondage enthusiast who likes cute guys, underwear, and bondage, preferably together.

You can reach my list of written work here: https://www.tugstories.com/viewtopic.php?p=38808#p38808
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Post by Stoutland395 »

It's been a while since I managed to get a story out on this thread. I didn't mean for it to take this long. I had written this one more than a month ago, but I never got around to transferring it to a word document. I handwrite all my stories bc I'm such a slow typer. The biggest obstacle for me coming out with new stories to taking all my hand written notes and slowing myself down, to translate my handwriting while hunting for every letter on the keyboard like a chicken plucking feed from the ground. It doesn't take long for my two index fingers to get numb after a few minutes of poor typing. My computer science teacher would be so disappointed in me. :lol:

Without any further stalling - I hope you enjoy! :D

GiD: Dakota (M/M)

Dakota’s eyes were large and pitiful like a scared animal. They darted about, and I could only imagine them seeking refuge from the others’ predatory gaze. I would comfort him, but I assumed my window of opportunity to be his protector had closed some time ago, and to jump in front of him would feel out of place for either of us. We weren’t close friends; we shared many classes over the years, but we hadn’t spoken to each other very much. He was too meek to start a conversation, and my feelings for him always tangled my tongue when a chance presented itself. I admired him from afar, imagining myself as his silent protector. A day would come when he would need me, and I would be there for him. He’d look at me with those deep dark eyes, and I would come to his side to comfort him.

Dakota must be aware of his meek appearance, especially since everyone else was keenly aware. He was short and slender, looking younger than his age. He often wore a dark hoodie to hide his fragile appearance, but when he pushed his sleeves up his arm, it was obvious to anyone he lacked the muscle to defend himself if someone were to act unkindly toward him. I worried for him when other guys stood near him, towering over him and him drowning in their shadows. Dakota would smile when one of them jostled his shoulder, but I knew better. More than anything I wanted to protect him from them. What he hid with a smile he expressed in those pitiful black eyes. He would sink his head into his shoulders and tuck his skinny arms close to his chest. An unremarkable and meek demeanor made him a ripe target.

If only I could steal him away and keep him safe from his would-be tormentors. He deserved better attention. I could give it to him. I could hold him. When tucked his arms into himself, it wouldn’t be because he was trying to avoid the teasing and pushing; he would curl up into my arms, knowing he didn’t have to worry about anyone.

Finally, an opportunity came most unexpectedly.

The school band room was large to hold all of the students, but beside the band room was a small, narrow storage room for everyone to keep their instruments when they weren’t being used. Toward the back was an even smaller room, more akin to a closet, where scraps would get stored, like snare drum shells, spare hinges for trumpet cases, and a few old back-up tools for tuning and fixing the equipment. In the cramped locker room, the sounds of students blowing loudly into their horns polluted the air. Kids slammed their lockers and spoke idly, in a louder tone to compensate for the ones making noise with their instruments. These noises irritated me, so I waited for things to clear before going in myself. When everyone else was out, the room took on a different atmosphere. It was quiet and peaceful, and I was the lucky one to be in the room and enjoy it all by myself.

Without the others in the locker room to pollute it with noise, the softer sound coming from the storage closet was very noticeable. I pressed my ear against the door, listening. My curiosity peaked when a metallic clang rang softly from the other side. I gripped the handle and opened it just enough to poke my head inside.

Dakota had been absent this whole day. Even without knowing why, an instinctual gut reaction to seeing his empty seat left me feeling distressed. I couldn’t help but fear the worst. The others, even the teachers, barely noticed his absence, but it was all I could think about. Seeing him now, even if it wasn’t the scenario my imagination conjured, it was a relief to see him at least relatively safe. Dakota laid on his side on the floor of the storage closet, frozen and staring up at my head poking through the door.

He lay there. His foot grazed against one of the old music stands, which knocked into another producing the metallic clank. As soon as I opened the door, his struggling stopped. A rosy hue developed on the top half of his face, especially in his cheeks and ears. Being found seemed more embarrassing than the compromising position he was actually in. I tried to keep my face as sterile as possible; the last thing I wanted was for my presence to make him insecure. I should be strong, I thought, strong for the both of us. His eyes were large black pits, and it looked like tears might come out at any moment.

Dakota was cocooned in separate layers of wide duct tape. His skinny arms were bent sharply behind his back with his sleeves rolled up. The duct tape clung to his delicate skin, wrapping around his forearms. Duct tape wound around his chest from his shoulders to his elbows, binding his small biceps to his narrow torso. His legs were crossed at the ankles and wrapped in tape midway up his calves, and more tape wrapped above his knees and all around his thighs. The tape around his mouth must’ve pressed his lips against his teeth because his chin and cheeks bulged out from over the tape. A small line formed in the tape where his lips met. I could only guess that he had been here all day, seeing the tape had crinkled from his struggling so much that the ends where the tape had been ripped disappeared into the wrappings.

I closed the door behind me and knelt down, helping him into a sitting position. I pulled him onto my lap, and I placed one arm across his back and shoulders to steady him. My other hand drifted to his cheek. I ran my fingers down the side of his face, feeling the transition from his soft skin to the smooth tape. Dakota made no attempt at making any noise. He simply watched my hand glide down his cheek, then looked up back to me. The silence was beautiful, as was Dakota. As much as I wanted to enjoy the beauty of the moment between us, a rage built up inside me. I cursed the ones who did this in my head. He felt so stiff in my arms. How could someone do this, I thought.

Then I thought, not anymore. This was my moment, my chance to prove that I could be his protector. I lifted him by the shoulders, helping him to his feet. Dakota fell against me, steadying himself. We took things slow. He inched across the floor with baby steps, and I was there the whole time, my hands against him to keep him from falling. The parking lot was vacant, with a field of empty cars. Everyone who hadn’t already gone home was down at the field preparing for practice. It was only us. It was almost magical, like it was meant to be. The world cleared the way for the two of us. Dakota plopped into the passenger seat of my old hand-me-down Toyota. I pulled the seat belt snug against his chest and waist before slamming the door. I started the engine after a few tries of hissing the ignition. Dakota looked at me with those big, beautiful, black eyes. He didn’t bother to make a sound.

“I’ll take care of you,” I softly reassured him. Without another word, we set off from the lot. I would take him home, where he would stay safe.

***** ***** ***** ***** *****

Those assholes, I thought. Yeah, it was a joke. At least, that’s how it started out. Most of us hid in the band room during school breakfast, like most band kids did. The instructor didn’t care, as long as we weren’t being loud or annoying. For the most part, we did, and Jon, Eric, Logan and I kept to the locker room, out of sight. We took a peek in the storage closet, just to see the random stuff inside. Jon found an old saw, and I was confused as to why a saw would be in a band room until Jon banged his thumb against the end, twisting the flexible metal and making a sharp wobbly ping. Eric found a roll of tape, and I thought about the black strips placed over the old black marimba keys; that’s probably cheaper than painting over the chipped edges.

Eric smiled, placing one strip of tape over his mouth. Naturally Jon and I took the tape, too, joining Eric by placing tape over our mouths as well. We laughed trying to understand what we were saying to each other. Jon tended to take things further. I was in the middle, so I became the willing subject when Jon tore away tape from the roll and passed it over me, and to Eric. He took it, passed over me again, then gave it back to Jon. I stood there, accepting it as the two wrapped the tape around my shoulders and down to my elbows. I flapped my arms, pretending to swat at them, and they responded by taking my hands and wrapping them behind my back.

Jon was the first to take the tape off his mouth. “Get his legs, too, Eric,” he said. Eric nodded, and I sat down on the floor. Eric went a little too tight up my ankles. I twisted my face until the tape from my mouth came loose from my bottom lip. “Hold on–” I said before Jon ripped off the tape and covered my mouth with his hand. It was almost to ridiculous not to laugh, so I did. Eric wagged his finger at me and replaced more tape, covering my mouth and winding the roll around my head.

The roll emptied quickly, and whatever was originally left on it when we found it was now covering me up. I rolled around on the floor, trying to get out, but for an old roll, the tape was tight and held firm. The bell to announce the first period rang. The door to the storage closet was closed behind us, so when the band instructor called into the locker room to shoo the students off to class, he didn’t think to go into the storage closet itself. Rather, he called toward it. “Anyone in there?” he said. Jon yelled out “Yeah!” immediately. I looked at both him and Eric, who just now took the tape from his mouth. They looked at me, and the panic in their faces didn’t sit well with me. The instructor called again, ushering them to go to class. I shook my head. Take the time to untie me, I thought but couldn’t speak. I twisted my face, but the tape didn’t budge this time. At the risk of getting in trouble for hosting around in the storage closet, Eric and Jon rushed out, squeezing themselves through the door to keep the instructor from seeing me. Seriously!?

Jon pressed a finger to his lips before going out. He mouthed something and waved at me, urging me to be quiet. “Wait-wait-wait” he said, pointing to the watch on his wrist. They were supposed to come back later. With no clock in the closet, I quickly lost track of time. I couldn’t break out no matter how hard I tried. What if the band director saw me? I didn’t want Eric or Jon to get in trouble, but at the same time, I was angry at them for leaving me like this. It was partially my fault since I went along with the stunt. It was just as much my fault as it was theirs, and I didn’t want to get in trouble either. There must be some way to get out, I thought.

I counted the bells up to the fourth period. Band classes would start, and I would have my chance to get someone’s attention and get out. My stomach growled because I missed lunch. I laid there, curled up, and I fell asleep. Suddenly, the locker room filled with the noise of the usual crowd coming in. Horns blared and lockers slammed. They wouldn’t hear me, not with all that noise. And, call it selfish pride, but with the tape covering my mouth, I heard my words muffle and I went completely silent. I must’ve sounded ridiculous. I didn’t want anyone to see me like this! No! I needed to get out. Maybe if I could grab that saw, I could cut the tape? I rocked around on the floor, and my sneaker brushed against one of the music stands, making a loud metallic clang.

I froze, waiting to see if someone heard that. Someone did. The door handle jiggled. Maybe it was Eric or Jon. It freaking took them long enough, if it was! Where had they gone!?

No… A different boy poked his head through. Oh, no, anyone but him.

Logan was always so weird and silent in class. He hardly talked to anyone, and on a few occasions I could’ve sworn he was just staring at me from the back of the classroom. Whenever I turned to look, he would dart his gaze away, thinking I didn’t notice. From any other person, the normal reaction to seeing someone tied up would be shock or surprise. They’d ask questions. “What happened? How did you get here?” But no, not this guy. Logan didn’t say a word. He just looked at me. When he knelt beside me, I thought at least he was going to finally let me out, but he didn’t do that either. He propped me and stared at me. It was a little scary, actually. He brushed his hand across my face, running his finger across the tape and pressing it into where my mouth was beneath the tape.

His face tightened, and he mumbled something, but I couldn’t understand him.
He didn’t untie me. Logan stood me up, but with my ankles crossed, it was hard for me to stand upright on my own. I fell on his shoulder, and he hugged me close. I tensed up. Logan pushed me. At the risk of falling over, I had no choice but to hop across the floor with Logan gripping my shoulders. Bony fingers dug into my skin. The band room was empty, and the clock showed fifteen minutes after four o’clock. Everyone was either gone or down at the practice field. I hoped that maybe one stray would be lagging behind and see us and ask what was happening. I tripped several times through the lot, and my knees were beginning to hurt. My heart pounded, having been forced to hop the whole way to Logan’s old car.

It looked dirty, like it hadn’t been washed in years. The inside smelled of lingering cigarette smoke and body spray. Logan pressed my head, and I fell inside onto the passenger seat. When I swung my legs out, he grabbed me by the knees and forced me back in. He pressed his forearm against my chest while he strapped the seat belt across me, pulling it tight. My heart pounded faster. The engine wheezed like a sick horse before cranking up, and a light dirty fog billowed around the car. He stared at me. The first thing he said, and the only thing up until now, came out as a broken squeak. He caught himself and paused before trying again in a lower tone.

“Donworr–e’hem… hngh! ...I’ll take care of you.”

I couldn’t even talk back. Logan scared me. I closed my eyes, cursing Jon and Eric. I cursed myself for not making more noise, for thinking I could get out on my own, for playing along with a game without thinking. A sore lump grew in my throat. Even if I wanted to say something, it hurt too much to make any noise, like my voice was fighting to get past this lump.

I was scared. Where was Logan taking me?
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Post by Stoutland395 »

Some time ago, I wrote a story called "Roommates." Recently I've had an idea in mind to make some kind of sequel/epilogue to this story. I wrote this excerpt as part of a free-writing activity to see where that kind of sequel might go. It also occurred to me that while I've done re-writes of two other stories ("Harmless Fun" and "Brother's Quarrel") to post here as a contribution to this site, I have yet to make one for "Roommates" in the same manner. After thinking about it and writing this excerpt, I might take some time to do just that.

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Roommates 2

Nate closed Scott's bedroom door and stared at himself in the full length mirror hung on the back of the door. He locked his fingers together behind his neck and dropped his elbows down to his chest. The bottom hem of his Raglan rose above his tight jeans, exposing the elastic band of his checkered boxers and his midsection. He flexed his biceps and tensed his hands. Thin veins bulge to the surface. Worry prevented him from appreciating himself, and it poisoned his thoughts.

"Like what you see?" Scott asked, intending to tease his friend for his vanity. Scott unzipped a large bag he had placed on his bed and began digging through it.

"Do you think she likes what she sees?" Nate mumbled. He sounded muted, barely parting his lips to speak and keeping his voice trapped in his throat. "Maybe that's all she likes."

"Cuffs?"

"Sure."

"She's still with you, isn't she?" Scott asked. "I'm sure there's something more than just your looks that's keeping her around. Scott joined Nate in the mirror, looking into the reflection. "For what it's worth, I think you look cute." Scott grabbed Nate's wrists and twisted them down behind his back. A light metallic clicking caused Nate to blush, and Scott smiled.

"At least with you, I know it's only looks," Nate said.

"-Not true!" Scott interjected. "You do look good, for sure. I think we're way past that point." Scott rolled Nate's sleeves up his bicep and looped a strand of white cord just above his elbow. He drew it tight. "But there's other redeeming qualities about you that I find -- fascinating?" He looped the white cord aroun Nate's other elbow and drew it up. The two ends met, forcing Nate's elbows close together, and causing Nate to puff out his chest and straighten his shoulders as if he were a soldier suddenly called to attention.

"You are cute, yes, but you are also a very sweet boy despite what you might claim otherwise - definitely a lover, which I assume girls would like in a guy. It's certainly a rare trait, in my opinion." Scott wrapped more cord across the bottom of Nate's puffed chest. He walked around him and back behind him, bring the cord over his shoulders and behind the nape of Nate's neck.

"Kaitlyn is like a firecracker," Nate said, blushing. "How is 'sweet' supposed to match up to someone like her? What if she realizes she could do better?"

"Is this tight enough?"

"Not too tight, I want to see the handcuffs."

"I certainly could do better than you," Scott teased. Nate Turned around sharply, clearly not amused. Scott gave Nate a gentle pat on the cheek. Nate shurgged and turned his head into his shoulder. With his hands cuffed and the ropes binding his arms to his chest, Nate had now way to retaliate.that gentle pat would be just the start of many. Scott finished the knot between Nate's shoulder blades, out of reach of his friend's cuffed wrists. He brought Nate back around, griping him y the shoulders. "I can do better than you - and for the record I have - however, there is more than just your sweet-boy nature." Scott placed his hand on Nate's soft cheek, rubbing the bottom of his eye with his thumb while Nate averted his eyes. "Kaitlyn is firecracker. Sometimes she feels like my better half. Granted I don't know her - or know her - half as well as you do deep down, but I feel like I have pretty decent eye for personalities. Yours, for example is very - malleable."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Nate said, sounding slightly offeneded. Scott giuded Nate to the bed and pushed him onto the mattress. Nate lay on his stomach with his legs dangling off the side. He bent his knees and raised his feet, kicking his black and white Chuck Taylors back and forth. His legs, althuogh toned, were slim enough for Scott to full grab with each hand. Scott grabbed both of Nate's ankles, at first rocking them like levers before pushing them down toward Nate's waist.

"Don't connect anything yet! You know I wanna move around."

"But your legs look great whent they're bent," Scott said. "You can move around on your knees."

"Maybe later, not right now."

"Fine. See? You can be assertive when you need to be."

"Is that what you mean by malleable?"

Scott chuckled. "I mean that a firecracker like Kaitlyn knows would know what she wants, just like I know what I want." Nathan looked confused. Scott grabbed more rope from the bag. He rolled up both of Nate's pant legs to his knees, revealing Nate's black Nike socks and tanned and slightly hairy legs. He started tying the rope around Nate's ankles, continuing. "We both know if I kept pushing, you would be sitting on your knees with your legs bent like I want. Come on, you know it's true." Nathan bit his bottom lip and didn't respond. "See? But! I know you're feeling a little unsure right now, so I'm choosing to let you have it your way just this once." Scott finished the knot between Nate's ankles and moved up to Nate's knees, going at them with ropes below and above, and ratcheting them tighter with knots between his legs.


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You can read the full original story "Roommates" on my DeviantArt page here

Link: https://www.deviantart.com/stoutland395 ... full-story
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Post by cj2125 »

Loved this small epilogue! It's nice seeing Scott and Nate again! They are cute together!

And if you want to do a rewrite and post it here, go ahead! I'm curious of what you would come up with! ;)
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It's been a long since I got new short up. Work has kept me busy lately, so it's become harder to find some free time to get back into writing. Hopefully I can break out of this hiatus soon and start writing more stuff.

***I don't usually do this, but I think it's appropriate here, so this story comes with a possible trigger warning if bullying is a topic that bothers you. I understand.***

**********
Bully (M/M)

Rico grabbed me by the collar of my shirt with such force that the fabric stretched. In the short time we entered the bathroom, and he let go, my collar hung loose and exposed part of my chest. The heat never made it to this end of the building. A cold breeze came through, and the air reached through my stretched collar, chilling my chest. I tried to keep my shivers to myself. I was already scared. The adrenaline made my hands shake, but now I was cold, and goosebumps began to rise up along my arms.

Rico marched down the bathroom while I stood frozen in place. He aggressively checked each stall to make sure they were empty. He punched each door with the side of his fist about every five seconds. Bang… Bang… Bang… Bang… Bang… Every strike echoed in the bathroom like a small explosion, and I jumped in my place every time like I could feel the force behind every hit. If I tried to run, he would absolutely catch me, and my skinny legs felt like jelly. It took all my will to keep standing upright and not collapse to the floor in a miserable mess. Once it was clear that we were the only two, Rico gripped my shoulder and shoved me toward the back-most stall and forced me inside.

I sat down on the toilet, and Rico knelt in front of me, blocking the doorway. I could only watch helplessly. He dug through his backpack and pulled out a roll of black tape. It sounded like paper ripping apart as he peeled the first strip from the roll. He started with my legs, winding the tape from my ankles and stopping midway up my calves. He then moved above my knees, taping my thighs together. I felt my ankle bones and knees pressing uncomfortably close, but I could separate them for any relief. When he finished my legs, Rico leaned over and pressed a long strip over my waist. He reached behind me, taping my waist around the back of the toilet. He then moved forward again, taping my thighs to the front of the toilet, then taping my ankles around the base. I was secured to my new seat, prevented from standing up.

Rico moved, wedging himself between me and the stall wall. He pulled my hands behind my back and made me interlock my fingers. A small pipe connected the toilet to the wall that my hands went under. He wrapped the tape around my clasped hands, then moved up to my wrist, then finally up to merge my hands with the pipe. As soon as he ripped the end away, we both jerked our heads over as the sound of the entry door echoed in the bathroom. It creaked open, followed by the sound of boots stomping on the title. Rico wasted no time while I was still in shock.

He clamped down hard over my mouth with one hand and pressed the back of my neck with the other. He squeezed my head between his hands. I felt my lips pucker and press against my teeth, and one of my nostrils closed, making it difficult to breathe. Rico tilted my head and stared daggers at me. I switched my gaze between him and the sound of the boots, but Rico never took his eyes off me. If he thought I would make a noise, he squeezed my mouth harder, pinching my lips tighter in his palm. The boots thumped against the floor again, followed by the sound of running water and paper towels being ripped from the dispenser. The door creaked again, and the sound of boots began to fade. Rico kept hold of me for almost a minute afterward until silence dominated the room once again.

When he let go, I gasped for air. The warmth of his hands faded, and the cold air hit my mouth. Rico took up the tape again and began wrapping it around my head. Each wrap tightened the last layer around my mouth and cheeks. Rico’s hand followed the tape, smoothing it down to make sure the adhesive stuck. He patted the tape down further, taking extra time to smooth the tape over my lips, then finished with a firm and humiliating slap across my cheek. After one last check to make sure I was properly secure, Rico checked the latch on the stall door. He tossed his backpack over the stall like a basketball and climbed over the stall door. I jumped when I heard his feet hit the floor.

His shadow on the other side moved away from me and out of sight. The door creaked open again, then slammed shut. It was quiet and cold. I didn’t move for the longest time. I thought Rico was standing just outside the door, waiting for me to start making noise so that he would have an excuse to barge back in. When it became obvious that I was truly alone, I started to test the tape. My fingers wouldn’t move. I could rub my legs together a little but not enough to loosen the tape. I stretched my jaw, but the adhesive cured to my mouth, so my lips remained glued together. Any noise I tried to make sounded like a grunt in my throat.

I stared at the stall door and the little bit of light peeking through the crack where the door latched to the stall wall. Every now and then I let out a grunt to break up the silence. When no one else came through the door, I began to think Rico might’ve set something in front of the door to keep others out. Then again, this was the far end of the building. On most days it was like a ghost wing, which is probably why Rico chose it as my hiding spot.

My eyes began to get heavy, and it was hard to keep my head up. I slumped forward, and my chin rested against my chest. I didn’t sleep, rather, I drifted in and out of consciousness. A strange smell lifted me out of my daze, like a smellingsalt. The bathroom stunk like a skunk, and white fog filled the bathroom. I heard coughing. I panicked. This was my only chance, so I rocked back and forth, grunting and stomping my feet. The coughing turned into giggling. “Hard time pinching it off?” A voice called out. I didn’t stop. I kept grunting and stomping my feet on the floor. “Hey… you okay in there man?” the voice asked.

I saw a shadow come closer, and a pair of black tennis shoes appeared on the other side of my stall door. A pair of knees touched the ground, and two wide green eyes looked up at me through the underside of the door. It was a young man, about as old as me. He was rail-thin, with sunk in eyes and thin cheeks. “Oh, shit!” the young man shouted. He coughed again. He wasted no time crawling under the doorframe and coming inside the cramped stall with me. “What the hell happened here?” he said. I don’t know why, but I started blinking as fast as I could, and my breathing hastened until the cold air began to burn the inside of my nose. The man pulled out a small switchblade, and he stared pecking at the tape that tied my hands to the pipe behind me. I felt my hand break free.

Without thinking, I wrapped my free arms around the man and pulled him in close. My face pressed against his chest. I hadn’t realized I pinned his arms to his side, and I held on as tight as I could. “Dude, it’s alright,” he said. “But, uh, you gotta let go if I’m gonna get you outta this.” I could hear him clearly, and other than my hands, I was still completely bound to the toilet with my mouth taped shut. But I didn’t consider letting go for a second. He wriggled a hand free and began pecking at the tape with his switchblade again as I kept a tight grip around his neck.

“So… Rico, huh? I knew that guy was a piece of shit,” the green eyed man said. He looked over his switchblade. “Didn’t think he would go that far.” He leaned over and threw his arm around my shoulder. A wide grin spread across his face. He held up his switchblade to my nose. “You thinking what I’m thinking, buddy?” I was still shaking from the experience, and I didn’t have it in me to speak. I looked him in the eyes and clenched my fists. I nodded.

Fuck Rico.

**********
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