Snowies (f/f, f/Ff, & f/FF)

[AlexUSA3]

Snowies (f/f, f/Ff, & f/FF)

It just seemed natural to publish this as its own tale. Each subset builds on the prior one and adds more to it. This little tale shows the growth of a family over the years and how the balances shift. Enjoy!

Snowie I (f/f, 2003)

“Eriinnnnnnn, play with me. Pleeaaasssseeeee?” whined the little girl.
“I’m trying to study, Bridget, not now.”
“But I’m borrreeed!” the sniveling continued, “It's Friday, and you said the test was Monday!”

Erin Sjaastad, a high school freshman, didn't need to be studying, but she pretended to struggle with homework and studying as an escape from their parents’ disintegrating marriage. To make matters worse, in an attempt to make a truce, her parents decided to have another baby, and now they had the problems of a mother who was nearing the finish line during Christmas time. Thankfully, the truce had worked for the time, but she was taking no chances. Reality was that Erin had all of her homework done the same day it was assigned except for the term papers, but she sat with a book before her absorbing and re-absorbing and taking notes.

“Look,” Erin decided not to neglect her sister, “We’ll play the cowgirl game, OK? Go get in that cute cowgirl outfit, and I’ll get mine.”
“Yay! OK!”

Erin stood up and walked to the window while her sister got the first turn of changing in the big walk-in closet they shared. Big piles of driven snow filled the yard from the first blizzard of the season, and all in the backyard was covered in the stuff. An ache filled her joints just looking at it, and she knew that in the morning she, Bridget, and their brother would christen it with snow forts and a snowball fight.

“How do I look?” Bridget stepped out of the closet.

A stereotypical cowgirl was Bridget indeed. Her blue jeans were accompanied by a purple-and-black flannel long-sleeve button-up shirt, a purple bandana neckerchief, and an appropriate hat. She didn't have boots, but that didn't matter. Erin crouched down by her little sister and complimented her outfit before going into the closet as well.

Playing with Bridget was a better escape from the hell of reality provided the game didn't require they be near their parents. It had started the year before with Mom’s little sister dying suddenly from a heart attack caused by rheumatoid arthritis. Two months later, Mom’s father died in an accident at work. That started the drinking and eventually the alcoholism that their mother had battled since, but pregnancy did put a nine month stay on it that Erin and Father fervently prayed would lead to a permanent end to the booze. It was horrible being the one to whom both parents would talk when they wanted to complain about the other.

Erin chose her denim skirt instead, but she had the same shirt in her own size. Now, she had to find something to make a game out of it, and in an attempt to buy time she put her hair into a ponytail with a black scrunchie. She thought of the snow again and had an idea enter her mind. For her neckerchief, she chose a black bandana instead of purple.

Tall and blonde like a true Scandinavian, Erin was blessed to have a slight tan that she carefully nursed during the warmer months in order to maintain her shine during the chronically frigid winters. Despite a natural ability, Erin suffered injuries every time she tried to play any sports and thus was very slender from being generally inactive. She made up for this by engaging in musical activities instead.

“All right, Bridget, I am going into the bathroom, putting the headphones on, and listening to music for one minute. You get to hide anywhere inside the house, and I get five minutes to find you.”
“OK!” the young cowgirl bounced up and down with glee.
“Sweet! I’m headed to the bathroom,” Erin took her iPod with her.

Bridget knew better than to bound away from her sister and instead tip-toed down the stairs. There on the sofa sat a very pregnant Mom, who was busily talking to their brother about something. Just as quickly, though, she went down the stairs into the basement. The basement wasn’t scary like some were; it was finished and nice looking, but it was still used mostly like a basement. As such, it was Bridget’s favorite hiding place.

Erin waited until the timer on her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she went into the bedroom she shared with the precious little girl. Opening a drawer in her desk revealed a green water pistol, a necessary accessory for a game such as this one. After a quick fill with water and a little more than 4 minutes left to find her sister, Erin put her cowboy hat on her head, slung her TUG bag over her shoulder, and slowly made her way down the stairs while humming a Christmas carol. There was no need to worry about the time; Bridget was that predictable. The big sister casually walked down the stairs and turned on the light for the basement stairs; how blessed Bridget was to not need glasses to see them in the darkness; the lights being turned on in the room on the left were an obvious betrayal of little sister’s location. Erin pulled her bandana over her nose.

“Bridget, you can come out from the box fort,” Erin laughed quite boisterously.
“How did you know I was there?!” the little head poked out from behind a wall of cardboard.
“I have my ways. Now, get over here, turn around, and put your hands behind your back.”
“Yes, ‘m,” the girl immediately obeyed.
“That’s a good girl,” Erin grabbed a piece of rope and bound her sister’s crossed wrists.

Bridget was forced, at the point of the squirt gun, up the stairs and into the kitchen. It was not unusual to see Bridget or one of her older siblings tied up, and no one batted an eyelash at the sight of the small girl sitting down and getting her legs and ankles tied. A red bandana cleave gag and a couple strips of grey duct tape kept her quiet.

“Let’s do this.”
“Hmmm?”

Erin carried her helpless little sister to the back door, opened the door, and gently lofted her into the big snowbank right against the house, a spot where she knew no dangers ever lay. Never had any of the Sjaastad’s done this to each other before; it was just a moment of genius for Erin the Desperado. Loud laughter emanated from the captor as she watched her sister sail into the icy cold snowbank.

“EEEEEEE!”

Bridget flew through the air and watched herself rapidly approach the white powder. She let out the above shriek of fright and dismay as gravity did its dastardly deed, and she sank into the pile and down to the ground. A chill from the snow rushed through her body as she made contact with the vicious precipitation.

“Was that fun and new?” Erin pulled her sister out of the pile.
“Mmmm hmmm!” the cowgirl nodded excitedly and shook some of the snow off her head.
“That’s called a snowie, and I suspect more of them will be endured this winter!”

And so Erin gave rise to a new form of TUG torture for herself and her siblings.

Snowie II (f/Ff, 2010)

“Bridgiiieeeee, play with me. Pleeaasssseeeee?” whined the little girl.
“I was trying to study, Kristie, but I can do that later. Let’s play!”
“Thank you!” the little girl jumped with joy, “I love Fridays when you don’t have rowing!”

Bridget Sjaastad, now a high school freshman, didn't need to be studying, but she pretended to struggle with homework and studying as an escape from their parents’ disintegrated marriage. To make matters worse, in an attempt to make a truce, her parents decided to push off finalizing the divorce until after Christmas. Thankfully, the truce had worked for the time, but she was taking no chances. Reality was that Bridget was slow and struggled with homework but always persevered and succeeded and flew through the term papers, but she sat with a book before her absorbing and re-absorbing and taking notes.

“Look,” Bridget knew not to neglect her sister, “We’ll play the cowgirl game, OK? You get your outfit, and I’ll get mine.”
“Yes! Yes! Yes!”

Kristina ran into the closet she currently shared with her big sister, and reclining on the lower bunk of the bunk bed was a very proud Erin. Erin was home from college and glad to be able to relax and enjoy her family… as much as the pending divorce allowed her to be happy. Now, the joint pain and such seemed a little worse, but more than that she seemed just… off.

“You’re such a good sig bister,” blurted the college student.
“What the heck did you say?” Bridget drew back while looking for the squirt guns.
“May I play with you two? I still have my old gear!”
“Sure! This time I’ll be the seeker!” she pulled a realistic-looking water pistol from her drawer.

Bridget looked out the window at the first major snowfall of the season. It was a fluffy, white powder, the perfect kind of snow for “snowies.” She thought about a time when she was smaller and played the “cowgirl game” with Erin and got a surprise snowie, the first one ever. After that, she was the top receiver of snowies, and she figured their brother kept a running tabulation on it as well.

Kristina stepped out of the closet in the same outfit Bridget used to wear for the same game with one minor change. The purple-and-black flannel long-sleeve button-up shirt, the purple bandana neckerchief, and the hat were all the same ones that Bridget wore and so carefully preserved so that her little sister would have them when she grew up because of how much they struggled for money back then, but Kristina chose a denim skirt instead.

Erin and Bridget stepped into the closet with big smiles on their faces and looked at each other fondly. Such was the way it went: Erin was musically talented, spiritually strong despite her own physical weakness, and clever. Bridget was athletic and had the same hair as her older sister but with much bluer eyes than her sister’s, which were halfway between blue and green. Unlike her older sister, Bridget was a bit short despite having the strength of someone 6 inches taller. Little sister struggled spiritually despite a similarly unwavering faith and frequently made enemies by her sharp words.

Like the little 8-year old Bridget, 15 year-old Bridget chose blue jeans, but now her jeans were paired with a red shirt with blue plaid lines instead. A blue bandana was her neckerchief, and her hat material was a more woven wicker-like material. She tucked the shirt into her pants and put a belt over it all. Still ever the lady, Erin sided toward a skirt that had a series of alternating wide beige and sage stripes; with it she had a purple long-sleeve button-up shirt and a complementing sage bandana. Both proudly had their own cowboy boots, which Bridget loved wearing every chance she had.

“Am I pretty enough to be kidnapped?” Erin laughed and spun around before wincing in pain.
“Are you OK?” Bridget asked her sister.
“Just a little tweak. Won’t stop me from playing with you girls.”
“All right,” the middle sister grinned, “Let’s do this. You are the prettiest cowgirl in Madison.”
“Who’s seeking?” Kristina ran back into the room.
“I am seeking,” Bridget took the water pistol, “And winning.”

Kristina bounded away from her sister with her feet clomping down the stairs. There on the sofa sat a drunken Mom, who was busily berating their brother about something. Just as quickly, though, she went down the stairs into the basement. The girl figured that the best way to hide from her sister was to hide in her sister's favorite hiding place!

Bridget waited until the timer on her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she went into the bedroom she shared with the precious little girl. Pulling her mask over her nose, she opened the closet door and confronted her sister. The squirt gun was ready to fire, and Erin sheepishly grinned.

“How did you know I’d be here?” asked the now captive cowgirl.
“I figured you’d nurse that knee by not going downstairs unless necessary.”
“Well, yeah, I guess so,” Erin offered no resistance against her wrists being tied.
“Let's go in the kitchen, and you'll wait there.”

Once in the kitchen, Bridget quickly bound Erin’s ankles. The older sister watched the younger make a lasso and disappear into the basement. Kristina, like her older sister before her, always made the mistake of leaving the light on because she was afraid of tripping in the darkness. The big sister quietly tip-toed down the stairs and went to the freezer that was in the corner. Between the freezer and the wall was a gap just big enough to fit a person. She gently squeezed the squirt gun and let it surge water into the gap.

“EEEE!” Kristina instinctively ran away from the stream of cold water in shock.
“Gotcha, my sweet!” Bridget gently threw the lasso over her sister.
“Bridgie, no!” the girl giggled as her arms were clamped down.
“Come to me, my love!” Bridget dragged the girl toward herself.
“Ha ha! You got me!” Kristina felt rope start binding her wrists behind her back.
“Now, it’s time to rejoin our hero,” the knot was secured, and Bridget gently pushed Kristina to walk.

Up the stairs the cowgirl, kidnapped by the desperado, walked solemnly but with a massive smile on her face. Despite Bridget saying “our hero” to mean Erin, Kristina saw Bridget as her hero. It was tough to be the hero because your successes and failures weighed so much more heavily than those of the others around you, and Erin lived up to those expectations while Bridget would frequently fail.

The cowgirl would stop every third step and make Bridget push her again before she’d resume the march to the kitchen. Finally, the door opened, and the cowgirl joined her fellow cowgirl as a captive at the kitchen table. They had been kidnapped and didn’t know what would come next. Tickling? Shut in a closet? Tied together? Separately? Bridget looked out the window and saw the torture awaiting her.

“So you was nabbed too?” Erin asked while Bridget untied her neckerchief.
“Yep! This bad girl got me!” Kristina feigned sadness, “They’ll hang ya, Bridgie!”
“Not if they don’t catch me!” she folded the green fabric and pulled it between her sister’s jaws.
“MMMM!” Erin groaned on the gag while Bridget knotted it securely over her hair.
“You’re next!” Bridget removed Kristina’s bandana and folded it, “Open up, Kristie!”
“NO!” the girl unwittingly opened up when she spoke, “MMMM!”

Bridget knew how Bridget was and effortlessly bound her elbows behind her back. She turned to the other cowgirl and wondered about it and, to her surprise and pleasure, just as easily bound her little sister’s elbows. Rope above the knees finished the main binding, and a couple strips of duct tape better gagged them than the cleave gag alone. Bridget made them both lie on the floor and hogtied them from their wrists to their ankles.

As soon as the back door opened, Erin knew what was coming. She winced a little as she was picked up by her sister. A test swing, a practice, and a launching swing came, and Erin wailed as she flew into the familiar snowbank. Seconds later, a similar shriek followed from Kristina also being thrown into the snowbank. It was cold, it was thrilling, and it was evil. Cold cold evil. The evil desperado Bridget knew what she was doing to her sisters and let out a wicked cackle at their misery. It was all in good fun though.

Kristina’s first snowie.

Snowie III (f/FF, 2020)

Kristina Sjaastad, a high school junior, didn't need to study, and had no familial strife to escape: her mother had tragically died when she was only 11 years old. Her homework was done, and she had time to spend with her older sister, Erin, who was living at home again, and Bridget, who was visiting. The 16 year-old knotted the navy blue bandana around her neck and stooped over to make sure that her cowgirl boots were on right. A favorite of hers was the navy blue skirt with its icy blue floral patterns, and as a top she had a plaid shirt with matching navy and icy blues. Here she was now: the tallest of the Sjaastad sisters. In the sea of blonde, Kristina, at the base of her ponytail, had a streak of almost brown hair.

“Hey,” Kristina said in the text to her sister, “Let’s play the cowgirl game, OK? Go get your cowgirl outfit, and I’ll get mine. Erin will join us too.”
“Sweet! Great idea! I’ll change out of what I was going to wear!”

Erin stood up and walked to the window while her baby sister got the first turn of changing in the big walk-in closet they shared. Big piles of driven snow filled the yard from the first blizzard of the season, and all in the backyard was covered in the stuff. An ache filled her joints just looking at it, and she knew that in the morning she, Kristina, and their brother would christen it with snow forts and a snowball fight. That is, they would have a snowball fight if her body allowed it.

“How do I look?” Kristina stepped out of the closet.
“So cute! I can’t believe you’re taller than me!”

Erin stepped into the closet with a big smile on her face and looked at Kristia fondly. Such was the way it went: Erin was still musically talented and spiritually strong despite her own physical weakness. Kristina was athletic like Bridget, slender like Erin, and taller than both. Her eyes were a beautiful green color just like their mother had. She had the best of both worlds with the older sister’s spiritual strength and musical talents and the middle sister’s physical strength and big heart. Baby sister had Erin’s tongue control with Bridget’s speed.

Like the little 8-year old Bridget, 25 year-old Bridget chose blue jeans, and her jeans still were paired with a red woven shirt with blue plaid lines. A blue bandana was her neckerchief, and her hat material was a more woven wicker-like material. She tucked the shirt into her pants and put a belt over it all. The outfit lived 10 years later.

Still a stereotypical lady, Erin donned a skirt that had a series of alternating wide beige and sage stripes; with it she had a purple long-sleeve button-up shirt and a complementing sage bandana. She had no idea that it was the same outfit 10 years later. Her cowboy boots were still a constant companion that she loved wearing. Now, however, in a stereotype of her Swedish ancestry, Erin was brutally afflicted by aches and pains from a combination of Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome and the dreadful Sjögren's syndrome. This was why she moved back to Madison and to the home where she had grown up; if she had to suffer, she would rather suffer with her loved ones at her side.

“Am I pretty enough to be kidnapped?” Erin laughed and spun around carefully to avoid injury.
“Are you OK?” Kristina asked her sister.
“It’s not enough to stop me from playing with you girls. I just have to be careful.”
“Awesome,” the baby sister grinned, “Let’s do this. You are the prettiest cowgirl in Madison.”
“Like I haven’t played in enough TUGs with you since I moved back here.”
“I love you so much… that if it became necessary I would willingly live here until one of us dies and take care of you.”

Erin didn’t know what to say to that. Both she and Kristina had gone through the pains of dating and getting rejected in the past 2 years of sharing this room. Bridget was happy and in a good situation, so they were happy for her. To hear her sister so strongly express herself shocked Erin, and she smiled widely and gazed lovingly at her baby sister.

“Now,” Kristina walked up to her sister and pulled her bandana over her face, “Give up.”
“What do you mean by ‘Give up’?” Erin peered into the liveliest eyes of any Sjaastad girl.
“I mean I am kidnapping you before Bridget gets here,” the stronger girl attacked.
“MMMM!” the oldest sister was a 30 year-old cowgirl in distress!
“I’m gunna tie you to da train tracks if your sis don’t give herself up.”

A blue rubber ball with a brown bandana, a gag that Bridget had learned in college and brought home to teach her siblings, was pushed into the captive cowgirl’s mouth. Kristina knotted the gag with careful strength, and Erin groaned a little at her early captive. The little sister made sure that it was tied properly and stepped back before showing the familiar squirt gun.

“Hands in the air. If you behave, the gag will stay like that, and I won’t blindfold you.”
Erin began walking slowly toward the bedroom door, “Mmmm!”
“Keep still, or I will shoot!” Kristina watched her sister sliding along the walls.
“MMM!” Erin ran out and shut the door behind herself.
“Hey!” the desperado grabbed the TUG bag and ran after her.

Erin took off as quickly as she could. Her one athletic gift was speed, and she used caution to ensure she didn’t injure herself in her attempt to bound down first one staircase and then the other into the basement. It was a great risk to take, but she was hoping to lure her sister into a trap. Down the stairs Erin ran and, unlike her sisters, she turned to the right toward the laundry area and did not turn on the lights.

Erin had to then get back up the stairs and up to the bedroom, a door she could lock. The big professional kidnapper of cowgirls stayed right behind her, but Erin was able to hide as she was hoping. Kristina went by and into the left room, which allowed the captive to escape up the stairs. She had just shut the door when she was startled.

“Hey! Erin!” Bridget squeezed her in a hug, “What's with the silencer?”
“Mmmmmm!” Erin tried to drag her away.
“Oh, what's the hurry? Did Kristie decide to play with just you first?”
“Ugh!” the gagged girl threw her hands up and began walking away.
“Freeze, both o’ ya! Hands in the air!” the desperado returned.
“Ah ih wha ah uth thayin’!”
“All right! All right!” the cowgirl spoke, “I’m cooperatin’.”
“Siddown!” she motioned to Erin, “Now! You're gonna tie her up good, got it?”
“Tie up my sister? No!”

Kristina took out a wide zip tie, the one binding agent added to the rostrum since the story above, and tightly yanked Erin’s arms behind her back. Bridget took advantage to run as well, but Kristina pursued her successfully. The bigger, faster, and stronger sister tackled the smaller, slower, and weaker one and tied her crossed wrists behind her back. She also tied Bridget’s ankles and used the slack to drag her down the stairs and into the kitchen.

“Hey!” Kristina saw Erin rubbing her wrists after cutting herself free with the scissors.
“Noo!” Erin groaned and was taken again.

As promised, the gag became more punishing. Six layers of duct tape further quelled Erin, and zip secured her arms in 7 places, her legs in 14, and her feet in the crease of the boots. Her sage neckerchief became her blindfold. A loud groan came from this captive, and it became louder when she was hog zipped and big zips secured her arms at her waist and either side of her breasts.

Bridget couldn't prevent herself from being a roped up cowgirl. Her wrists and arms were reworked into a box tie with a tight harness and a crotchrope. Rope bound her legs in the four usual locations and, like Erin, in the crease of the boots. Her gag was of the same type, but with a handkerchief instead of a brown bandana, and she got a black bandana blindfold and kept her neckerchief. The hogtie had no slack.

“Mmmmph!” the cowgirls couldn't see the desperado readying herself for the deed.
“All mighty fine here! Now, time to teach y’all a lesson y’ll ne’er ferget!”

The bendy Erin was quite impressed by her sister's work. She was used to being the captive in their own games after two years of approximately weekly kidnappings, but such genius use of zip ties was new. So many zips used together wasn't more effective but was gentler by spreading the pressure out. Being tied in the kitchen, however, had a bad sensation with it, and the sound of the door opening confirmed her fears.

Bridget was used to being the strong girl, the one people turned to when they needed a bruiser to kidnap a friend during TUGs. She was a chew toy against Kristina, who had made excellent use of the gym set in the basement. Bridget’s chest swelled with pride at what a remarkable young lady her sister, the wicked desperado, had become. The sound of the door opening chilled her though.

“Here we go!” Bridget was picked up, “And away wid ya!”
“Eeee!” Bridget only shrieked once she hit the snowbank.
“And now you too!” the other was grabbed.
“No no! Eeeee!” Erin shrieked.
“One, two, three!” Kristina couldn't help but giggle.
“Eeeeee!” Erin shrieked as she flew through the air, “NNNGGGGGG!”

It was the beginning of a long captivity for the sisters, but it was one they all would cherish in their memories for a long time. Snowies were so much fun, and they were the thing that made TUGs at home different from games with anyone else. The first snowies of the season always meant one thing: Christmas was coming!

Snowies!

THE END

Did you enjoy this little story from the Cool Girls’ Club universe? Please take 5 seconds and vote in the poll and check out CGC Short Stories (link in my signature) for more tales like this one.

[charliesmith]

This was a very nice story to read. Nice work, Alex.

[Nainur]

Cute story - like it very much!

Reminding me of 'cute stories from the old days', many of the like which would be in the archives now or even posted in "the original TUG-stories" page. The word 'playful' comes to mind, and I like it.
I would not have missed the 'snowy part', tbh., but no harm's done.

Nice story telling, bondage good enough to imagine the rest. Well, for no particular reason I went for 'Erin', but they are all sweet in their own right. Would like to read more of them.

[Lucky Lottie]

Nice little story, I liked the repetitiveness of the same concept over generations

[AlexUSA3]

This was a very nice story to read. Nice work, Alex.

Cute story - like it very much!

Reminding me of 'cute stories from the old days', many of the like which would be in the archives now or even posted in "the original TUG-stories" page. The word 'playful' comes to mind, and I like it.
I would not have missed the 'snowy part', tbh., but no harm's done.

Nice story telling, bondage good enough to imagine the rest. Well, for no particular reason I went for 'Erin', but they are all sweet in their own right. Would like to read more of them.

This story is fairly characteristic of my typical story telling style... rich in details but with plenty of room for you to create your own version of events.

Nice little story, I liked the repetitiveness of the same concept over generations

That was the point indeed!

[hafnermg]

Great sisterly love!!! I only wish I could have votes all 3 in the poll.

[Jennyjay]

I was never properly tied up in the snow, but I did like to tie my bare feet together and hop through the snow when it fell. 1970s Britain usually got some snow up north.

[Python_Struggles]

I was never properly tied up in the snow, but I did like to tie my bare feet together and hop through the snow when it fell. 1970s Britain usually got some snow up north.

That sounds like lots of fun in its own special way, like a little snow bunny hopping around haha

[AlexUSA3]

For @Python_Struggles, @Jennyjay, @hafnermg, @Lucky Lottie, @Nainur, and @charliesmith, people who voted in the poll and didn't comment, and those who did neither, here are the two follow-up stories (sorry to do this after Christmas):

A Sjaastad Christmas (various/f and various/F): viewtopic.php?f=8&t=20954
Sjaastad Christmas Cowgirls and In-Law! (F/fFF): viewtopic.php?f=8&t=20970