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"The Fraternity" The Initiation
It had been a challenging week but Mark had made it to Friday and was feeling pretty confident about his confirmation. It had taken some effort to get the opportunity to pledge the venerable Phi Hunka Pal fraternity, only the coolest frat house on campus. Seems only the really hip guys make into the fraternity and they're known for having some of the most fun/best parties of any of the frats. But the main reason Mark had singled out this fraternity was the preponderance of good looking guys who belonged to it. Could this really be a coincidence? Mark would certainly fit right in; he could best be described as tall, dark and handsome with a clean, All-American, collegiate look about him.
Of course, he did still have to make it through Hell Night, the final and most arduous night certain to include some intense hazing. But Mark was pretty tough and just a tad cocky which helped him to breeze through the weeks never-ending stream of silly, pointless demands and assignments designed to intimidate, humiliate and embarrass the plebes. While the field had dropped from 15 to 9 during this process, Mark really never was phased much by the amateurish attempts to shame him out of contention. Nope, he was determined to make it in this fraternity and find out what really goes on inside, a desire fueled by an overactive imagination and penchant for good looking, cool guys.
"Hey, Alexander, you're gonna' be late!" a voice called out from behind as he walked across the campus. He turned to see Chris standing there. Apparently, every plebe had been assigned one of the fraternity brothers to sort of watch over him and manage the initiation process. And it appeared Chris was his nemesis. Funny thing was that while on the exterior Chris had been faithful in carrying out his punishing duties, Mark could tell that down deep he was a really nice guy. And in a weird sort of way, they'd formed a certain bond that Mark enjoyed.
"Yes, sir!" Mark replied according to the arcane code dictating his actions this week. "I'm hurrying."
"Good," Chris replied with a wink. "Wouldn't want you to miss out on tonight's fun and games. It should be lots of laughs!" His grin was a mix of delight and evil that made Mark shiver.
"Yeah, I bet," Mark muttered under his breath. He was really distracted by Chris's handsome, fair-haired, boy-next-door good looks and easy going personality, to the point he'd readily follow any order he gave him.
Reporting to the frat house right on time (thankfully), Mark lined up with the other plebes on the front porch. After some silly speech filled with rhetoric about the evenings activities and how they would prove to be defining moments for these young men followed by warnings to explicitly follow every order given them, they were marched inside the house and down a back staircase to a basement level the pledges had never ventured into. The other cool thing about the Pals was that they undoubtedly had the coolest house on campus. It was a hundred year old mansion, with wrap-around porch and Victorian accents that lent itself to hosting many a good time. And, not surprisingly, was chocked full of little nooks and crannies and unexpected rooms like the one you were led into. It was a large cellar-like space, cold and damp.
"Okay, boys," Chris dictated, "now comes the time to separate the wheat from the chaff. This is the point where we learn who are the real men among you and who are the wimps. I guarantee you that by the time this evening is over, this group will be cut by as much as half.
The handful of guys who survive will be welcomed into our family with open arms and offered the full array of benefits that only Phi Hunka Pals can offer." Chris seemed to relish the role of being in charge, a natural born leader you surmised. He also liked an audience, as he went on for several minutes explaining the role of the evening. It was clear that in order to get into this elite group, Mark would simply have to be tough and follow orders. He was ready.
The plebes were lined up in two rows facing each other with about five feet in between them. They were ordered to place their hands firmly on top of their heads, much like the position the police order suspects to assume when being arrested. "Now your directions are quite simple here," Chris continued. "No matter what, no matter how uncomfortable or tired you become, you may not under any circumstance remove your hands from their current position until you are given permission to do so. Is that clear?" In perfect obedient fashion, the plebes answered "yes sir" in unison. "I can't hear you!" he barked. "Yes, sir!" they replied louder. He repeated his line and they repeated theirs, just like in all the old military movies, until the recruits were yelling, their voices echoing throughout the dank chamber. Mark, in typical smart aleckness, rolled his eyes in reaction to the corniness of this exercise.
"Alexander, you got something to say?" Chris fired back unexpectedly, apparently catching Mark's careless expression. He snapped to attention, realizing that he'd better watch himself. Chris moved next to Mark, right in his face, and asked him again. "No, sir!" he responded as firmly as possible, feeling a mix of fear and excitement as this good looking guy he had admired for days now brushed up against his vulnerable body. "Well, then, I suggest you keep your opinions to yourself, you understand?" Mark nodded nervously. He thought he caught a slight smile on Chris's face as he turned away. He knew Chris was enjoying keeping him firmly under his control, and frankly so was he.
"You know, these guys are looking a tad warm," Matt, another one of the particularly good-looking fraternity brothers, remarked suddenly. You were thinking how wrong Matt was, the chills getting stronger in that cold room.
"Yeah, the shirts have to go!" another one of the brothers chimed in.
They were suddenly in front of the plebes, their fingers reaching for their shirt tales. Not surprisingly, it was Chris that ended up handling Mark. Most of the guys had worn sweatshirts but Mark had dressed a bit more preppy, opting for cotton, button-down shirt with white cotton T-shirt underneath. So Chris quickly unbuttoned Mark's shirt. As he worked the last visible one right below Mark's belly button, his finger slipped through the opening and brushed against Mark's skin. It apparently struck a particularly ticklish spot because Mark's stomach instinctively spasmed and he let out a little "yip," followed by a sheepish grin. Chris paused for a moment and looked up at Mark's face, a devilish smile sweeping his own face.
Mark's heart beat quickly as he realized Chris had discovered one of his great weaknesses--Mark is extremely ticklish. And Chris wasn't about to let this fact slip. After pulling out his shirt and slipping it off, he began to work at removing Mark's skin tight T-shirt, indicating a nicely sculpted body. As he reached into Mark's jeans and pulled the shirt tail out, he allowed his finger to scrape across his belly again causing a similar reaction in Mark. Mark also couldn't help noticing his fingers sliding up his sides as Chris worked the tight shirt up his body. He really jumped when they bounced across his rib cage and again through his armpits. Chris knew he was getting to Mark and he was seizing the opportunity fully.
But Mark's heart was really beating and not just because Chris had tickled him a few times. He knew Chris had no idea how hot Mark found the act of being tickled to be. For Mark, it is the ultimate erotic scene. He worried that someone might notice the hard-on forming in his jeans as he sat there stunned by the incident even after Chris moved away from him.
He tried to concentrate on something less stimulating but found himself looking across the row at the other guys standing there in only their jeans, their arms held up and leaving their torsos vulnerable. Mark began to notice how good looking each and every one of the plebes was. And, or so it was now obvious, in very good shape physically. Somehow, he knew this could be no accident.
Thus began a full two hours of the most bizarre forms of torture Mark had ever seen. The fraternity brothers tried a number of different techniques to make the plebes uncomfortable. So uncomfortable that they'd break and lower their arms. Their poor torsos were subjected to a variety of extremes: ice cubes being rubbed all over their upper body (which caused one wuss to drop out); a flame held close enough to their body in various spots to be very uncomfortable but not enough to do any real damage (again, another one dropped out); a maddening stream of water being sprayed against their torsos alternating between cold and hot water; clothes pins being attached to their nipples (which seemed unbelievably close to being a gay act, you pondered silently); weights being attached to their already tired arms at the elbows (yet another dropping out at this point) and a variety of other wicked, cruel acts that bordered on torture but never really crossing a line of unreasonableness.
Between each act, a shot of beer was injected into each plebe's mouth with a spritzer-type bottle, adding to the disorienting effects of the exercise. It became obvious which guys were seasoned drinkers and which ones were light weights as they experienced greater difficulty in keeping their arms in position. Mark, being in pretty good shape and an accomplished beer drinker, managed to hang on and survive a lot of drop outs. After a couple of hours, Mark looked around and realized that it was down to only three guys! He felt a slight sense of accomplishment for having outlasted more than twice that many but he was growing weary and was starting to wonder how much more he could take. From the looks of the remaining guys, he figured they were awfully close to breaking also. Mark was starting to wonder just how many guys they were trying to eliminate through this process. He figured more than three would have made it in the final cut yet the brothers didn't seem to be slowing down.
"Well men," Chris began in another of his philosophical speeches, "and I use that term confidently since you guys have managed to hang tough and show the others what real cool dudes are." This was it, Mark figured. They'd made the final cut and were about to be relieved from this painful position. As he talked he strolled along the single line of guys stopping at Mark. "Yep, frankly you appear to be some of the toughest guys to come through initiation here." As he talked, he placed his pointer finger against Mark's side at his rib cage. Mark swallowed as he wondered what Chris was thinking. He continued to wax philosophically about what tough guys they were, the whole time punctuating his comments by poking gently against Mark's rib. Mark tried not to react but it was instinctive and he found himself jumping with each touch. It didn't take long for the others to notice.
"Gee, Chris, it sure looks like Alexander is finding this to be a rather ticklish subject!" one of them called out. Mark's jaw dropped in shock at the comment, not believing what was happening. He knew he was so ticklish that he wouldn't be able to hold out long. Yet he'd come this far and didn't want to be disqualified now.
"Yeah, I think you're right," Chris answered, dropping his finger to Mark's flat stomach. "What's the matter, Mark. You ticklish?" With that, he began dancing his fingers across Mark's belly causing him to burst out with laughter, confirming their suspicions. "Check the others!" Chris called out to his brothers as he went to work aggressively tickling Mark's torso. The others began tickling the other plebes. Mark was absolutely shocked at what was happening. It was a scene from both his best fantasy and worst nightmare. He barely noticed that he was apparently not the only sensitive one as the room filled with the laughter of three guys being mercilessly tickled.
None of them could take it much, begging their attackers to stop but realizing it would do no good. The fraternity brothers appeared to really be enjoying the situation, especially Chris. Mark was dying, roaring with laughter and twisting madly trying to avoid Chris's
hyperactive fingers. He wanted so bad to keep his arms up and yet wanted even more to bring them down and protect his vulnerable and sensitive torso. Finally, his defenses weakened from the grueling night, he could take no more and dropped his arms down quickly seizing Chris's hands and preventing them from attacking any more.
He was filled with many emotions: exhilaration at being subjected to his favorite erotic pleasure, disappointment at this causing him to fail the test and embarrassment at the fact that he'd produced the biggest hard on that he feared might be showing as a bulge in his jeans. Chris was laughing with delight, apparently enjoying his attack on Mark. Mark glanced down and perked up as he noted what appeared to be a bulge in Chris's jeans as well.
"Well, sorry guys!" Chris said with a laugh but you all failed the test. Sure enough, the other guys had proven to be so sensitive they were unable to keep their arms up. All three looked like they'd just lost their best friend, very disappointed at losing at the end. "No, no, I'm just teasing," Chris quickly responded, realizing how disappointed the guys were. "Actually, you have just one more test and if you pass, you'll be in!"
"One more?!" Mark thought to himself, astonished. What more could these guys want. He felt a nervous twinge in his stomach, afraid he knew what these sadistic guys might have in mind. But what they did have in mind he could never have imagined! But first, they were offered an opportunity to shower and have a little something to eat, both of which their tired bodies appreciated. When each of the plebes stepped out of the shower, they were surprised to find their clothes gone replaced by plush white cotton robes, like those you get in your room at the Ritz Carlton. As Mark slipped the thick, warm material against his fresh skin, he thought to himself what a class act these Pal guys are.
Maybe, he surmised, there really isn't another test but rather the guys are just prolonging the anticipation of being made a member.
"The TEST"
After a quick snack, however, the guys were ordered back down to the basement. Upon entering the dungeon-like room they were in before, they were surprised to see three trampolines laying in the center of the room. Looking up at the rather low ceiling, Mark couldn't figure out how they were expected to do much jumping around. He also noticed that these trampolines had been modified so that the canvass material that you normally jump on was removed, leaving only a web of ropes and springs. As he glanced around, Mark observed that some of the Pal guys had also changed into more casual clothes, shorts and T-shirts. Totally distracting was the fact that some of these guys had even removed their shoes and socks and were now barefoot, a sight which had long been an arousing one for Mark. If only these macho guys knew how into feet he was, Mark thought to himself!
"Okay, boys," Chris began, "this is the test that will tell us if you're really serious about getting into Phi Hunka Pal. We are a very tight group and expect what happens here to remain among us. Your ability to respect the confidentiality and privacy of our organization and its members is paramount to your being admitted. We need to feel comfortable that, even under situations of extreme duress, you have the character and unwavering loyalty to keep your mouth shut. Strap 'em down brothers." Upon his command, the other Pals sprang to action grabbing each of the three unsuspecting plebes, stripping their robes off and pulling them down onto the trampolines. The plebes, confused and a bit frightened by this sudden aggression, struggled but were quickly subdued by five frat brothers handling each plebe.
Before they knew what hit them, they found themselves strapped to the trampoline frames in spread-eagled positions, their naked bodies now completely vulnerable and exposed to all of the fraternity members. Several guys continued working even after their wrists and ankles were restrained, tying their elbows and knees to the ropes suspending their bodies. No matter how much they struggled, they could move very little now. Mark glanced over at his fellow prisoners and noted a look of fear on their confused faces. He was pleased to note that the two remaining plebes happened to be among the best looking of the initial pledges. Craig was blonde, very tall, tanned enough to suggest that he was from California originally, was stunningly handsome (high cheek bones, strong jaw line, penetrating blue eyes) and it was now obvious that he was a serious fitness buff, sporting a lean, muscular, chiseled body. Tony had the classic dark good looks of an Italian, a little shorter than Mark, in good shape but beefy in proportion, his muscular torso coated in a light matte of silky black hair, not too thick and actually rather sexy. His quick inspection was abruptly interrupted by Chris's voice.
"Now this test, the last one you'll have to endure, is really quite simple. A frat brother will whisper a secret word into each of yours ear. Your challenge will be to not reveal what that word is for the next 30 minutes. Sound simple enough?" The three subjects nodded nervously wondering what the catch is. "Now naturally, we're going to work hard to get it out of you. Funny but the earlier tests revealed you all three have a similar weakness. Pal Brothers, do you have your tickling fingers ready?" As the fraternity brothers smiled and nodded at their leader, Mark's mind began to spin. Holy shit! Could this really be happening? Five guys dropped to their knees next to each of the plebes, their hands hovering above their helpless bodies ready to attack.
Mark glanced over at Craig and Tony; the fear in their faces was very telling. The last thing he heard was Chris declaring "dig in!" when suddenly dozens of fingers attacked his sensitive body. He was not surprised to look up and see Chris working on him. In seconds, the room was filled with the laughter of these three guys as they endured the most intense tickling attack any one had ever experienced before. Mark twisted and pulled, roaring with laughter as fifty fingers dancing unmercifully across every inch of his body. No ticklish spot was left untouched. He noticed that a couple of the guys, Chris included, seemed to have particularly skillful touches finding his most sensitive spots and applying the most agonizing sensations.
In no time at all, the three plebes were begging for their captors to stop, but they weren't offered even a minute break. Mark was surprised when, after barely five minutes, he heard Craig yell out the same word he'd been given as the secret word, "Uncle." He looked over to see that Craig was really in agony, apparently being very sensitive and finding their attack more than he could take. They untied him and let him go up to shower. He was surprised that two of the guys who were working on Craig suddenly moved over to him and joined in with the other five, while the other three joined in the group tickling Tony. He didn't think the difference between 50 and 70 fingers would be appreciable but it was.
Another five minutes of sheer agony passed and both plebes were growing horse from laughing nonstop for so long. Mark was having trouble catching his breath but these guys offered very few respites, constantly moving and switching spots on his body. He suddenly heard Tony call out with what little voice he had left. That left only Mark in contention for a spot in the fraternity. He knew his chances were growing slimmer when the other guys joined in. Now there were 15 guys working on him, all jockeying for position ensuring that everyone got a shot at his body. They were laughing maniacally, amused at the ticklish predicament their young victim had found himself in. Mark's laughter was barely audible, his hysteria reaching a point of overload. His head was spinning and he was becoming delirious as more than a hundred fingers danced across his body, seemingly touching every spot on his body at once. He even felt fingers dancing along the underneath side of his body, tickling his tender ass, thighs, behind his knees, even his surprisingly sensitized back, all vulnerable due to the removal of the trampoline canvass. Sweat pored from his body and he was growing weary, not sure how much longer he could take.
"Shit, he's got to break any moment here. No way he can take this many guys at once!" Matt provoked. That was just the challenge Mark needed to hang on and show these guys he was tough enough for them. Unfortunately, it also rallied the guys to try more furiously to break him and prove he was just as big a wimp as the other 8 guys. Mark's mind raced to prior experiences, his two best friends in high school pinning him and tickling the shit out of him. Funny but that seemed so tame now compared to what these guys were putting him through.
Mark was beginning to frustrate and even bore some of these fraternity punks, accustomed to guys breaking much quicker than this. In fact, in the history of the fraternity, no one had ever lasted 20 minutes like Mark and they didn't know at what point he'd break. That's when Chris decided to throw some fuel on the fire. "Let's see how tough he really is!" Chris challenged, lifting his bare foot off the cold floor and placing it gently on Mark's face, forcing him to see, smell and even taste his flesh. Mark was shocked at this unexpected development, but delightedly so since worshipping a hot dude's bare foot is among his most powerful fantasies.
Some of the other guys joined in, placing their feet in Mark's face also, intensifying the experience for him. He surprised them all by using his tongue to eagerly lap up the sea of tender flesh surrounding his face. Mark was laughing inside knowing that they didn't understand that this only improved the situation, not made it more unbearable. Soon, he felt more bare feet begin to press against his body, from his
head to his toes. This combined with the continued tickling of dozens of fingers provided Mark with the most intense, erotic ecstasy he'd ever experienced. None of his dreams have ever proven so heady even.
As he looked up, he could tell by the distant look on many of the guy's faces whose feet were being caressed by his tongue and nibbled by his teeth that they were thoroughly enjoying the sensations he was providing. In fact, it became somewhat of a contest for guys to get a piece of his tongue and savor the unique, pleasurable sensations.
Apparently, his completely swollen and excited dick had not gone unnoticed either as he felt the unmistakable sensation of feet and toes rubbing and nibbling his shaft. That, combined with the continued tickling and foot probing, was sending Mark dangerously close to the edge. He really wasn't planning to climax but encountered the final straw when someone's fingers began lightly, teasingly tickling his swollen balls, a delightfully ticklish spot on Mark. Before he knew what was happening, he exploded shooting a powerful stream of jism skyward. The crowd working on him quickly parted, standing back to witness his outburst. His whole body jerked, his back arching as the sticky white substance sprayed out with a vengeance, splattering his heaving chest. These guys were impressed with his range and force, and watched in amusement as he unloaded all of the tension in his tortured body.
When he concluded, they all looked around at each other and acknowledged that Mark had definitely earned a spot in this unique organization. As they untied his body and allowed him to catch his breath, they congratulated him on achieving what no guy ever tested before had: beating them in their merciless game of endurance. It was explained that all three of them had actually gotten into the fraternity; the last test was merely a ritual played out for fun by these tickling enthusiasts.
"Welcome to our family, Mark!" Chris offered graciously, patting his tired back as he pulled himself off the trampoline. "You see," he continued softly as he helped Mark put on a robe, "we take care of our guys. For starters, you'll room with one of the more experienced Pals so that you'll have a buddy who'll take care of you and clue you in. I've decided to let you room with me this year. I'm sure we'll have lots of laughs!" Chris winked mischievously as he led Mark up the stairs to the shower. "In fact, I'd go so far as to say that every guy who's ever roomed with me has been tickled to death to have me as a roommate," he whispered in Mark's ear. "I'm sure you'll be no exception!" Mark smiled as he entered the bathroom wearily, knowing he'd found the perfect fraternity.
As he shut the door behind him, he could hear several of the guys talking among themselves. "Have you ever seen anyone as tough as that guy before?" one of them asked incredulously. "Nope," replied another, who's voice Mark recognized as that of Matt. "In fact, I think we should make Mark our tickling mascot and tie him up once a week or so!" he continued with a laugh. They all laughed too. Mark chuckled softly to himself. "I think I've died and gone to heaven," he thought to himself as the warm water began to pour from the shower head.
The Conclusion
As Mark put on his swim trunks in preparation for the fraternity's big beach trip, he thought about how his life had changed since he was accepted into this elite group of guys, the Phi Hunka Pals. From the outside, he'd known only that they seemed like a bunch of cool, good-looking guys who knew how to have a good time. Little did he know how true this was. These guys not only knew how to have a few laughs, they were intensely driven to do so.
Their favorite activity seems to be torturing Mark and the other two freshmen who'd recently joined the organization by tickling them at every chance they got. They get such a kick out of seeing these guys squirm, laugh and beg them to stop while they mercilessly tickle their very sensitive bodies. The other two, Craig and Tony, are so ticklish that it takes very little to get convince them to do anything the brothers want. They use the barbaric act of tickling to control and coerce the young recruits, who have little tolerance for being tickled, to do everything from cleaning the bathrooms to running errands.
But Mark is a different story. He smiled to himself as he pulled the t-shirt over his head, thinking about how he'd frustrated these fraternity boys so. It's not that Mark isn't ticklish--no, quite the contrary. Mark is extremely ticklish, bursting into laughter almost immediately and thrashing about trying to avoid their touches. But what makes Mark different is the fact that he has incredible endurance and is not easily broken. In fact, Mark finds a bunch of guys pinning him down and tickling the shit out of him incredibly erotic. The idea of being helplessly tickled until he's begging for mercy represents both Mark's biggest fantasy and worst nightmare. Which is part of what makes it so much fun; it's like riding a roller coaster!
Consequently, these guys have made it their personal crusade to find his achilles heel, to break him and bring him in line. They never miss a chance. Seems he can't hardly raise his arms or lay around barefoot without somebody attacking him. He's pretty strong so it often turns into a wrestling match if the guy is persistent, unless of course a bunch of the guys gang up on him, pin him and attack him nonstop until he can't breath and tears are rolling down his cheeks. About the only times their attacks have managed to convince him to cooperate has been when they're intensity reaches such a fervor, that he's not sure they'll ever stop and a class or some other pressing need comes along. Still, he gets a raging hard-on as a result and more than once, these sessions have ended with someone getting him off completely. By this point, he's worn down and naturally easier to control.
His roommate, Chris, is no exception. He seems to get off on tickling Mark as much as Mark gets off on being tickled. Chris, who's all-American good looks and outgoing personality Mark finds very distracting, is a senior and leader of the fraternity so he tends to take control of situations and set down many of the policies Mark must follow. Funny but some of the seem incredibly self-serving. Like the fact that Mark is not permitted to have an alarm clock for waking up. Chris takes it upon himself to wake Mark each morning. Seems every morning Mark is awakened by the unbearable sensations of someone tickling him, his totally relaxed body super sensitive when he sleeps. When he suddenly awakes, he has no idea how long Chris's tickling has been going on. No place on his body is immune, no technique untried.
As he stood looking out the window at nothing in the distance, Mark was startled to attention by the unmistakable sensation of someone's fingers grasping his unprotected ribs and squeezing. He whirled around to find Chris grinning at him, satisfied at having gotten him once again. "We're ready to go man," Chris informed him. "C'mon, grab your stuff and let's go." Mark smile, grabbed his duffle bag with beach towel and other accessories he'd need that day and followed Chris out of the room, downstairs and out to the other guys waiting for him.
Three of the guys drove Jeep CJ-7's and were often designated as drivers for excursions off campus. As they all piled into the three Jeeps, the three freshman were purposely separated so that each one ended up in a different vehicle. Mark ended up in the back seat, between Chris and another one of the frat brothers he'd gotten to know pretty well, Matt. Chris and Matt were like catalysts for each other's devilish acts, egging each other on and finding ways for both of them to get into trouble. They loved to laugh and goof around, so Mark figured this would proved to be an interesting two-hour trip up the coast to Matt's parent's vaction home on the beach. The fraternity brothers got to use the house once or twice a year for a big weekend party, provided they restore it to its original condition when the weekend was over, a task which often took a great deal of work and sometimes a great deal of money! Mark had been looking forward to this trip, the first one he'd been on with his new fraternity.pulledoare,,for frat memberslaunch a free-for-all tickling attackirin the fraternity driareetakes buddies
Mark looked around as the caravan of Jeeps angled onto old Route 1 heading north. He thought it odd, on such a nice day, that the top of the Jeep would be on. Seems more appropriate that they open it and enjoy the sun. Furthermore, he was starting to get pretty hot stuck in the back between two other guys. When he complained, the other guys seemed to have no patience. "Take off your shirt, for God's sake Alexander, if you're so damned hot!" Chris barked. After a few minutes and a few beads of perspiration, Mark decided to take their advice. As he lifted his arms and pulled his cotton t-shirt up over his head, he was caught off guard when someone grabbed his wrists.
"What the fuck?!" he exclaimed, confused and not sure what these guys were up to. He realized that both Matt and Chris had each grabbed a wrist and when he tried to pull them down, found it impossible to out wrestle both of them. His shirt had slipped off his arms and hands but remained covering his face, adding to the confusion. Mark was starting to panic, not knowing what to do but fight them. He squirmed in the seat, pulling on his arms and trying to twist loose. Suddenly he felt someone grab his ankles. He became even more frantic, confusion setting in as his vision was impaired and he had no idea what was going on.
Suddenly he realized that as he pulled his arms, he was no longer wrestling with Chris and Matt but rather some wrist cuffs of some sort. The sons of bitches had chained his wrists to the roll bar of the jeep above his head, leaving his bare torso completely helpless and vulnerable. "Oh shit!" he cried out, becoming even more desperate as he wrestled with them while they tried to restrain his ankles. But the group was more powerful than he and he soon realized they'd succeeded in cuffing his ankles in some way so that his legs were stretched straight out, apparently laying between the two front seats. "C'mon guys, let me go!" he insisted, sounding a tad less convinced that he had any say in the matter at this point.
"Are you kidding?" Chris asked as he yanked his shirt off his head, allowing Mark to see again. "We've got a couple of hours left on this trip buddy and we decided to make it really interesting!" Mark looked frantically around the car, at all of the guys looking at him and smiling with evil grins. There was no doubt what these guys had in mind for Mark and he knew he was helpless to stop them. Looking down at his swimtrunks, a nice tent forming in the crotch, he decided if he couldn't beat them he'd egg them on.
"Look you assholes," he fired back, "let me go now or you're really going to be sorry!"
"Oh, yeah?" Matt responded in his usual sarcastic way. "In case you didn't notice, Marky, you're not in a position to make demands. In fact, I'd say you'd have better luck at this point begging. Don't you agree Chris?"
"Oh absolutely. C'mon, Mark, let's here you beg!" Chris began to drag his finger up Mark's side. Mark closed his eyes and bit his lip, trying to ignore the tickling sensations radiating up through his body. But then Matt began stroking his finger through the hair lining Mark's armpit on his other side. Mark held his breath, trying desperately to ignore the sensations but knowing this was a losing battle. It only took a few more seconds of tickling before Mark couldn't stand it any longer and burst out laughing. That was all they needed as both they launched an agressive, two-handed attack on Mark's sensitive upper body. He cried out in agony, twisting back and forth as much as the restraints would allow, as twenty fingers danced mercilessly up and down his sides, across his flat stomach, through his armpits, under his neck, anywhere there was bare skin.
His laughter reverberated throughout the car as they tickled him non-stop. Meanwhile, Rob, the passenger in the front who'd been
instrumental in chaining Mark's ankles to the console between the seats, reached down and began untying Mark's tennis shoes. He was only barely aware of this as his mind spun from the overwhelming attack he was receiving on his torso. Rob slipped off his tennis shoes one by one and then his athletic socks exposing his warm, moist, bare soles. Mark was now aware of Rob's activities and was struggling even more in anticipation of the agony he was about to feel, but the restraints succeeded in holding his bare feet perilously between the two front seats.
He roared even harder as Rob's fingers began stroking up and down his wriggling sole. By the time Jack, the guy driving joined in on his other foot, Mark was really losing it. Tears streamed down his cheeks as these four guys aggressively tickled his sensitive body, and in no time he was begging for them to stop. But it would do no good, for they had settled in for the two hour trip.
And so it went, these guys tickling Mark the whole way up to the beach trip. When they would get tired, they'd stop and give him a chance to catch his breath but the sight of Mark's almost nude body helplessly bound between them proved too enticing and soon they'd resume the attack on his body. Mark now understood why the top was up, realizing they needed this privacy for the fun they had planned at his expense.
He really didn't mind though, as he found the whole situation incredibly stimulating and hot. He looked ahead during one of the brief respites and noticed that he could see arms in the air in the Jeep ahead. He knew then why the freshman had been separated. Poor Tony and Craig, he thought to himself. He knew that two hours would be almost unbearable for them. But I guess it was the price they had to pay to belong to this fraternity.
Mark was hoarse from laughter and drenched in sweat by the time they rolled into the beach house. They uncuffed his wrists and ankles and let him out of the Jeep. He looked at the other freshman who looked like they'd just been through hell. Which, frankly, they all really had been. Mark trudged upstairs, weary from his ordeal and took a shower. As he soaped up his wet body, he couldn't help but think back to the unbelievable ride up to the house that afternoon. His hand began massaging his dick, growing hard as he recalled the intensity of the experience. In seconds, he was exploding, hosing down the shower wall with his manhood. As he leaned back against the shower wall, his chest heaving back and forth trying to regain his breath, he thought to himself about the weekend. He wondered what other diabolical plans these devilish guys had planned for their young recruits. He could hardly wait to find out! -- Cody & Cory Foster (6'4" Bl/Bl 25 y/o 205# GAY)<> "It's NOT easy being young popular drop-dead-gorgeous wealthy identical TWINS with bodies for SIN, but HEY !! Somebody's got to do it !!" PEACE!!