TIED OLYMPICS (lots of multiple m/m and some M/M)

[Xtc]

MONDAY

Tom’s Brainwave

The losers were all released and were joining in with the social activities well before Ben gave mess call and, following the bun-fight, Martin called the meeting to order.

Warbands Tom could stay for the games as he wouldn’t normally work on a Monday and he managed to persuade his team to back his suggestion. He wasn’t normally an assertive boy but, once he had recruited Aiden to his cause, there was a solid block of support.

You might not think that there was much scope for tie-ups in the triathlon but not in THIS triathlon. Ever since he knew that his Warband was going to be involved in the games, Tom had been thinking hard and he’d got the event truly taped. Just because he was intelligent and very much the quiet man of the Warbands, doesn’t mean he didn’t have a lighter side! I won’t bother readers with the rules, which will become clear as the event proceeds, or with the complicated manner of choosing teams, just be content to know that teams of four members of assorted sizes were selected and, due to a shortage of members on the Sea Scout’s team, not every team would be able to compete.

Each team needed a porter, who would carry another team member (the jockey), a swimmer and a “runner”. The Sea Scouts, only having two teams who would both have to compete, were invited to nominate one team from the Scouts and one team from the Warbands to take part. The Scouts then got to nominate another Warbands team and vice versa. A lot of thought went into this.

George, Big Steve, Vic and Rusty were quickly nominated as there seemed to be no particular strong man to act as porter and Rusty wasn’t exactly the smallest jockey for him to carry. From the Warbands, Mike, JT, Tom and Jacob were chosen. They were much of a muchness for size and appeared to have no particularly strong swimmer.

The Scouts soon decided that Simon, Joe, James and Matt would have a problem. Although Simon was an obvious porter, neither Matt nor James was the obvious choice for jockey or swimmer. The Warbands had a more difficult choice: both Long Tom and Jamie were muscular and would make good porters and neither Braniac nor Frenchie should prove too difficult to carry. In the end they decided that there was no way they wanted Little Steve to be the swimmer so the team nominated consisted of Long Tom, Scott, Joe and Frenchie.

I wonder if readers have any idea of the nature of the competition yet? Let’s just say that someone was going to have to carry a jockey who would be bound hand and foot and who would then have to tag a similarly bound swimmer. At the end of his swim the swimmer then had to tag a runner who would have to “run” to the finish in spite of being bound hand and foot. Den, as the only Sea Scout not participating, was going to be VERY busy in support as you shall see.

Triathlon Ties

As most readers will know, a triathlon starts with the swimming but Tom had proposed that it would be better to start with the “riding” event because not only would it space out the start to the swim but that the tying and untying could be managed better and be more important to the competition. So, the binding began. The jockeys were to be bound hand and foot but Tom’s suggestion that the porters should be hobbled was over-ruled as being too dangerous for their jockeys. Mark was being boring again. The time taken to untie the jockeys would count so they were not to be bound by members of their own teams for the event. There was no shortage of volunteers to do the tying while Mark got the chalk bottle and disappeared to adorn the site with several lines.

The first element of the triathlon required one team member (the porter) to carry a bound team-mate (the jockey) over a fixed route before dropping him near the pond. All the teams obviously picked the largest and smallest players for that element and Frenchie, Rusty, Tarzan, Budgie, Jacob and Matt were soon bound hand and foot and blindfolded before having their feet drawn towards their wrists with a multiply knotted hog-tie rope. The “referees” ensured that only standard lengths of rope were used. The Jockeys were then laid out near the swimming pool between two of Mark’s lines. The Porters were made to retire behind the farm track. OK, so Simon was a big lad but he really thought that ending up with Matt to carry was likely to lead to his being tied up after the event whereas the pairing of Long Tom and Frenchie looked like a shoe-in for the event.

While the unfortunate jockeys were left waiting, the swimmers were bound hand and foot by members of their own teams and left sitting side by side and blindfolded on the bank of the deep pond. The line-up consisted of Scott, Vic, Sam, Alex (odds-on favourite), James and JT. Little Steve knew that he was the main reason why his group of four was not nominated to take part. The pond was formed when gravel had been extracted for road repairs long ago. It was deep enough for swimming and two islands, which were occupied by a variety of wildfowl, protruded from the water.

So that was the jockeys and the swimmers tied up and ready to go. The jockeys didn’t stint in sharing their opinions of the “organiser” when it became obvious that, although they were tied in the most uncomfortable manner, they had to wait while the less strictly tied swimmers and the “runners” were bound. The “runners” were tied like the jockeys and laid between two more of Mark’s lines on the opposite side of the pond from the swimmers. Joe, Big Steve, Luke, Evan, Jonny and Tom would have the longest to wait without being able to see how the competition was progressing.

Even the non-contestants were stripped down to their swimming costumes. Some would be needed to act as safety monitors in the pond and one member of each team would be needed to untie the swimmers before they could tag the “runners”. Not many boys were not involved.

TBC

[blackbound]

Now this sounds like a triathlon I'd watch!

[Xtc]

And there was no complaining about the water quality.

[Xtc]

MONDAY


Triathlon Trials

The porters were lined up along the farm track and upon Martin’s, “Ready . . . Go!” They ran to where their jockeys waited, urging them to be quick to remove the hog-tie ropes. Obviously, most tiers had used only one loop of rope to attach the jockeys’ wrists to their ankles so that they could put as many knots as possible in the rest of the rope. The porters worked as quickly as possible to separate the jockeys’ hands from their feet and had to throw the redundant rope and the blindfold over one of the lines before picking their partner up and carrying him round the marked course. Long Tom made a slow start and was last away but with the tiny Frenchie slung over his shoulder, managed to overhaul the rest of the teams and reach the finishing point first. Although he was tall and strong, Simon found the rather chunky Matt a cumbersome burden and wasted valuable time trying to figure out how to carry him before Matt told him simply to sling him over his shoulder, just like the others had. The rather lanky Jacob also proved quite a handful (or armful) for Mike who kept dropping him. George found the giggling Rusty quite difficult to control.

After less than six minutes Long Tom dumped Frenchie between two of Mark’s lines and started untying him. He had to throw both the ropes over the first line before Frenchie could tag the waiting swimmer, Scott, by removing his blindfold and throwing it back past the second line. Although Long Tom and his little jockey won the event by a good margin, the other scout team could look forward to being tied up because it took George over eight minutes to deliver the still giggling Rusty to the end of the course. He then took rather a long time freeing his wriggling partner. Action Man grounded Budgie a good fifteen seconds before GP delivered Tarzan. “Christ, mate, lose some weight.” panted Action Man as he set about freeing his erstwhile burden, and Budgie and Tarzan had removed the blindfolds from Alex and Sam and launched them into the pond only about twenty seconds apart.

The Warbands teams arrived with Simon a good forty-five seconds behind Mike. Matt found himself dumped rather unceremoniously on the ground and Simon gave himself a few seconds to recover his breath before untying his crew-cut cargo in spite of his urgings. He had an idea that they would both be tied up again soon. At least they’d beaten George and Rusty.

The idea of spreading out the start of the swim had worked out quite well and, at the start of the swim, Scott, Alex, Sam and JT in that order were each about thirty seconds behind the previous swimmer with James and Vic some distance behind.

The swimmers had to more or less throw themselves forwards to start swimming like porpoises. The Pond soon became deep enough for swimming and each boy had his safety monitor shouting encouragement while swimming and wading alongside him

In spite of his lead, Scott soon found Alex catching him up and by the time Jamie had hauled Scott up onto the far bank, both swimmers were being untied at the same time. Unfortunately, Den fumbled the untying so Alex couldn’t quite overtake the Scout team. Aiden had volunteered to be the safety monitor for Sam and, once he had hauled the skinny kid up onto dry land, Den was ready to untie his team-mate. There was no change in order as a result of the swim but the contestants had spread out somewhat and JT lost quite a lot of ground (?water?) to Sam even though Karl, acting as his monitor, untied him very quickly. Steering was not particularly easy and all the swimmers needed to navigate between the islands. JT’s vision probably didn’t help as he’d removed his lenses before he was tied up.

Will spent a long time untying James which delayed his team even more but Vic was by far the slowest swimmer in spite of Little Steve’s enthusiastic encouragement and he tagged Big Steve a good three and a half minutes after Joe had started his bunny-hops.

The safety monitors were allowed to help their swimmers out of the deep pond and, once they had crossed another of Mark’s lines, they had to untie them before the swimmers could tag the “runners”. The tag consisted of throwing the blindfold over a line and removing the hog-tie rope but, of course the “runners’” wrists and ankles remained bound. Other than that, they had to make what progress they could in any manner they chose as long as they received no assistance after they had initially been assisted to their feet.

Joe started just ahead of Evan and made good progress by bunny-hopping for over a hundred metres through the mud and tree roots of the shade before falling over. Evan fared less well and fell over some time before Joe and, like the smaller boy, decided to try propelling himself backwards on his bum until he reached the farm-track. Joe gradually left the rather substantial brown-haired boy behind but, being smaller, collected far less mud, moss and general detritus. In the showers afterwards, Evan finally understood BM’s warning about grass getting everywhere when you slide down the lower slopes of certain mountains. He really hadn’t expected to find so much INSIDE his briefs.

Joe and Evan both chose to roll along the farm track because it was a bit too hard and abrasive on the bum to keep scraping and bumping themselves along it. They had crossed from the path to the finishing line and were both untied before anyone else finished. Other than that, poor Big Steve, having started over four minutes behind his twin, finished muddied and bruised and trying to retrieve his errant swimmers over eight minutes behind him and in last place. Steve knew there was no chance of his brother’s releasing him before forfeits were decided and he didn’t even ask as the grinning little pest went into full gloating mode.

The main point of interest came as the remaining three contestants managed to coincide with one another. At the start of the run, Luke was about a minute ahead of Tom who was about a minute ahead of Jonny. Jonny made really good progress as he bunny hopped through the shade but Luke fell over quite early on and lost his advantage shortly after he had left the shade. In fact, Luke and Tom collided allowing Jonny to pass them before they left the farm track. From then on Luke lost all momentum and came in second last. The grin on his face betrayed his true feelings as he realised that he would have to pay a forfeit.

So, the result was decided and now all that remained was to decide who should be tied up as forfeits.

The Final Scores

At the end of the Triathlon, it was gold for the Scouts, silver and Bronze to the Sea Scouts in their inter-troop competition leaving the scores as: Scouts 20 points, Sea Scouts 14 points. There were no arguments, no appeals and no recriminations. This wasn’t part of the feud and left-handed handshakes were exchanged on behalf of the boys who were not tied up. There was, of course an understandable amount of triumphalism on behalf of the Scouts at the expense of the “sailor-boys” but not enough to spoil the atmosphere. In any case, there was always the up-coming regatta where the Sea Scouts expected to take their revenge.

It had been decided at the outset of the triathlon that, as the Warbands nominated Long Tom’s team to play, their result should count in the contest between the Scout Troops and the Warbands but that the Sea Scouts should be able to nominate which of their teams would contend the competition. They chose Evan’s team. Not good news for the Warbands; that made the result gold and silver for the combined Scout Troops and bronze to the Warbands leaving the final score as Combined Scouts 19 points, Warbands 14. Congratulations were extended to the winners.

Now for the forfeits. Some were obvious: George, Rusty, Vic and Big Steve were obvious choices to be tied up or to remain tied up so George and Rusty and a noticeably reluctant Vic surrendered themselves to the assembled company while Big Steve hadn’t been untied following his event. Other than that, it was decided that JT should pay for his poor performance in the swimming (Vic was already nominated) and that Luke should pay for being slow on the “run”. Simon was surprised that he and Matt had got away with it but he didn’t bother to object as he was untied along with the rest of the boys who were not going to have to suffer forfeits. Luke and Big Steve were carried over to where the other three “losers” were kneeling ready for judgement and who had been joined by a far from reluctant JT.

Obviously, Luke and JT were happy with the outcome but George, Rusty and big Steve were probably less so and Vic, who was dreading his big brother’s “creative” mind, was definitely hoping that this would be the last time he would be subjected to Sam’s creativity in the inter-troop TUGs. The jury met to decide sentence.

TBC

[Xtc]

MONDAY


Tying Up the Loose Ends

The jury needed to decide upon both the nature and the duration of the forfeits. Sam wanted to prolong the suffering of the losers in order to torment his little brother to the maximum possible extent during what was almost certain to be his last “Tied Game” with his Troop but other voices of reason decided that there should be no sign of the less conventional “un-Scoutlike” activities before Gill and her family were likely to return.

Vic started to cheer up. The jury decided that, because the forfeits were the last for the Tied Olympics, they should be prolonged until midnight. Vic protested. The nature of TUGers’ logic always escapes me but to the boys the decision seemed perfectly logical and, to most of them, totally reasonable. So that was duration decided, now all that was left was the careful consideration of each individual case.

Three Scouts (Land Farmers) were left in need of securing along with JT. Sam immediately “bagsied” his brother to tie; Vic’s desperate appeal for justice was denied. Joe tried the same tactic and offered to finish tying his larger twin. The fair-minded jury thought that it would not be appropriate for Big Steve to be tied by a member of his own Troop and Joe’s disappointment was evident. Joe was such a nice kid, though, that Alex offered to supervise to make sure that he treated his brother “fairly”. One twin’s mouth turned up at the ends showing a row of perfect teeth and the other’s turned down as he slumped in total defeat. Luke wasn’t too bright but even he knew who’d be given the privilege of finishing his bondage and torturing him, but he knew that was something he’d have to put up with. Scott approached his little brother. “Brace yourself, Shit-Head.” Luke shook his head resignedly. But he was still smiling – just. At least his brother couldn’t be TOO cruel to him within sight of the others.

Matt and Max volunteered to tie Rusty, who seemed to be happy with the decision. He was going to be good value to future games. George, however, wasn’t too happy when Action Man’s bid to use George to instruct his “apprentice” in tying techniques was granted. Tarzan, on the other hand, was delighted. That left just JT to have his fate decided. Much to his delight, Jamie and Long Tom won the contract.

The next account is quite difficult to write as various events take place simultaneously, not only the forfeits but also the necessary showering and changing on the part of the other contestants. However, I shall do my best.

-----00000-----

Scott collected one long and one normal length pioneering stave, two large wooden tent-pegs, a few ropes and a neckerchief before he went to beg one of the medical dressings from Ben. Once he was equipped, he returned to his little brother, picked up one of the plastic chairs and headed for the trees. “Here, boy!” Luke knew he’d have to follow his big brother as best he could. It would be better than being “taken” forcibly. Scott found a tree with a strong horizontal branch about two metres from the ground and, as he was waiting for his brother to make his slow, rolling and crawling progress to his place of torment, he placed the chair under the branch and mounted it. He took a longish rope and, using the middle of it, tied a clove hitch round the branch. Having made two further loops round the branch with each free end, Scott secured them with a reef knot. That should provide enough friction to prevent Luke using his weight to move his arms later. By the time the dirt-encrusted smaller boy arrived, Scott had finished securing the longer pioneering stave horizontally at about what he guessed to be shoulder height to his brother. Luke looked up resignedly at his grinning big brother.

“Face down.” Luke rolled over and Scott sat on the small of his back. “Legs up.” Scott leaned forward and gathered his brother’s bound legs and untied his ankles. Luke’s newly freed legs fell to the ground and Scott dismounted. “Head up.” Luke raised his head and found his eyes bound with a Troop neckerchief which was tied rather too tightly for comfort and knotted multiple times behind his head. “Stand up.” Luke struggled to his feet. He was getting used to performing that manoeuvre with his hands bound. Scott then freed his prisoner’s wrists. Luke could have made a run for it at that stage but he knew that to do so would be social death; this was not part of the feud but a forfeit that he would have to pay as a result of losing a consensual game.

Scott guided Luke to where he wanted him to stand and told him to stretch out his arms. Luke did as he was told and Scott congratulated himself on getting the height of the stave about right. It took about ten minutes for Scott to bind his brother’s outstretched arms and leave him crucified. He’d tied him by the wrists, about half way along his forearms, at his elbows near where he’d secured the original rope, around his biceps and near his armpits. Luke had very little scope for movement and he wasn’t even sure that the tying would prevent Scott getting access to his hairless armpits for what he knew would be the inevitable tickle assault.

The next thing Luke felt was the smaller pioneering stave being held against his left leg. Scott soon secured his ankle with a square lashing. By the time he had done the same to his right ankle, not only had the initial square lashing tightened up but Luke was unable to draw his feet much closer together than about a metre apart. That left the rope from the tree stretched tight and Luke unable to bend his legs without his feet leaving the ground. Scott had even tied his victim in such a way that the bindings around his arms, having been tied in one rope, prevented the rope from the branch slipping towards Luke’s body thus denying him the relief that that would afford. The bizarre oscillations demonstrated by such prisoners were clearly demonstrated as Scott gave his brother a series of little shoves and flicks to his nose and ears.

“Bastard.”

“OK, Shit-Head?”

Honour demanded that Luke had to admit that he was. That was the last thing he had the opportunity to utter clearly before Scott stripped the protective layer from the surgical dressing and pressed it firmly into place over his little brother’s lips, his cheeks and most of his chin. “And now I shall test the gag,” announced Scott only just before he gave his brother the most painful pair of simultaneous nipple cripples of which he was capable. “Yep, I suppose that’ll do. Pity I didn’t stuff your mouth though.” With that and a casual back-hander to the gut Scott abandoned his helpless prisoner for a short while to see what else was going on.

-----00000-----

“OK, Farmer Boy. You’re not going to enjoy this.”

“Just get on with it, you lanky stream of bat’s piss, and stop gloating.” Vic knew he couldn’t avoid what was coming to him but he wished it wasn’t his brother who had been given control over him. And he’d called him far worse things in the past. The kid with the “come to bed” eyes was still trying to decide whether the decision that his forfeit should not go on beyond midnight meant that it was likely to last right up to that time. With his brother in control of him, he assumed that it would so he could see no reason to be polite to his tormentor. Still, he knew that he had to remain on his knees with his hands on his head until he was told otherwise. Sam’s rather feline face was formed into a Cheshire grin as he revelled in his brother’s helplessness.

Sam, being a skinny youth, was renowned for his suppleness (as well as his surprising strength; he certainly had a power-to-weight advantage over most boys his age) and he told his brother that he wondered whether he was also still capable of having his arms bound so that his elbows touched behind him. He thought that he would find out. I’ll edit out the language that passed between the two siblings but readers should assume that not much of it was complimentary and that, other than occasioning mocking laughter and sarcastic intakes of breath, it didn’t affect the others who had become used to it over the history of the inter-troop feud.

Sam decided that he’d try to do what he’d always wanted to do: make his brother disappear. He used some of the techniques that had previously been demonstrated when Long Tom was prevented from taking up too much room. First. he told his brother to tie his own ankles to his opposite knees and to be sure to get it right unless he wanted to lose “Those Speedos with the girly pink flash” in spite of the fact that Vic wore “Arena” briefs. Sam watched over his brother’s efforts as he toyed ostentatiously with his sheath knife.

Vic crossed his legs but Sam knew he could do better and, to the accompaniment of his brother’s kindest regards, insisted that he did so. Eventually Vic had tied his own ankles rather cruelly to the opposite knees. “Not good enough yet, worm.” and Sam threw his brother a hank of paracord. “Toes, and make sure you lash them above your knees.” Vic knew exactly what Sam meant and started lashing his left big toe with a clove hitch and several round turns before pulling the cord uncomfortably tight and wrapping it several times around his right leg just above his knee. Admittedly, he made several false starts until Sam was satisfied. Vic just couldn’t bring himself to beg for mercy so Sam made him pass the hank across to his left leg and wrap it round several times. He deliberately didn’t force him to wrap it any tighter than he did at first attempt; he knew it would soon hurt like fuck as it was. “Let me help you.” Vic looked daggers as Sam took the hank, tied the cord round his right big toe and tied it off carefully before cutting the cord.

“You’re going to be left like that for quite some time. - - Unless you’re VERY humble in which case I MIGHT consider cutting the paracord and binding your calves together instead. But you’ll have to plead VERY sincerely.” Vic repeated his opinion of his brother. He’d never been this cruel to him before, even in the feud.

Sam took a long rope and doubled it and then his climber persona cut in. He tied a loose figure of eight knot about a metre from the bight in the doubled rope and told his brother to sit up and raise his hands while he knelt behind him. Sam passed the long loop in the rope up across Vic’s torso and over his right shoulder before throwing it down again over his left one. He retrieved the end of the loop and brought it close to the still loose figure of eight just about in line with his victim’s shoulder blades. After some further adjustments, Sam skilfully retied the knot by threading the bight around it. When he’d finished, the knot would have made a smart presentation in a glass frame but, once Sam had gradually pulled it tight, that knot was going nowhere and, to his immense satisfaction, it sat just about where Vic’s elbows would be when he tied them.

“Yes! Oh, this boy’s good.” Sam congratulated himself. Vic begged to differ. There was lots of length left in the free ends of the rope and Sam had to work quite slowly if his tying was to be as secure as he would have liked it to be. He wound the ends in counter directions just above Vic’s elbows for a couple of turns and then pulled tight. Vic’s howl occasioned by the rope burn was quite impressive. “Oh look, your elbows CAN still meet!”

“XXXXX.” (Vic’s reply has been suppressed out of consideration for readers’ sensibilities. Let’s just say that it contained words that rhymed with bucking and punt.)

Sam tied a reef knot by Vic’s trapped elbows and another simple overhand knot in the doubled rope near his wrists, which were soon secured palm to palm and cinched off with a couple of frapping turns. Sam lifted the rope high causing stress to his brother’s arms and shoulders. “No, there’s no need to thank me. Now, should I tie your thumbs?”

I don’t think Sam understood Vic’s reply because the sharp sheath knife made short work of the paracord as Sam cut off a short piece of it. Vic’s thumbs were soon bound in a parody of the wrist bondage. “Now, now, don’t be like that; I could tie the rest of them as well.”

As soon as Sam was no longer supporting him, Vic immediately suffered the indignity of falling backwards with his bound legs in the air. That was a popular move with the audience, even his fellow Scouts. “Beg me and I won’t tie you up any more.”

“Get stuffed. This is supposed to be a forfeit, not your own personal revenge.”

“You sure?”

“Twat.”

“OK then.”

Sam almost made the sighing sound as though he really did regret what he was about to do to his little brother. He used a neckerchief to blindfold Vic and teased him that he could still cut his briefs off and gag him with them. Vic suddenly decided there was nothing wrong with begging after all. Sam magnanimously agreed to use Vic’s own Troop necker and one of Ben’s dressings as long as Vic didn’t resist. Vic was left pathetically squirming on the ground while his big brother went for supplies.

Vic was as good as his word and Sam managed to get his victim gagged but he didn’t bother to explain that he’d emptied the entire contents of his rucksack over quite an area as he was looking for the neckerchief. “Last chance. Beg me not to tie you up any worse.”

The two gagged syllables didn’t seem to amount to what Sam wanted to hear so he carried on with what he intended to do in the first place. He dragged Vic over to where there was a Yew tree with a hefty horizontal branch but, with Vic being unable to stand, it didn’t need to be as high as the one to which Luke was secured. While he was in Vic’s tent, Sam had also got hold of Vic’s precious camp blanket which, without warning, he passed over the head of the seated boy. “Wouldn’t want you to catch cold, would we?” He then passed the free ends of the rope hanging from Vic’s wrists in opposite directions over the branch and pulled them tight, forcing Vic to lean forwards with the back of the blanket draped over his arms. Sam’s monkey-grip hands then held his brother uncomfortably only just in contact with the ground while he wrapped each end round the branch a few times and pulled them tight. By this time there was enough friction to stop the rope from slipping until Sam could tie it off.

Vic was not happy but, even though he was offered the chance to say the safe-word, he still couldn’t stand the humiliation. He was determined to tough it out as if his torment was part of the feud. Sam thought that the blanket had helped him to make his brother disappear but he really didn’t want to see his face. An unconventional use of a towel and some of the Sellotape that Martin had brought for H. Q. use seemed to solve the problem to Sam’s satisfaction.

Sam’s smug-count had probably reached its peak, his face was certainly split with another cat-like grin but even he was aware that, having stressed his unfortunate brother’s body to the extent that he had, he needed to keep a close eye on him and give him frequent opportunities to use the safe-word. (“Harry Potter”, since you ask. The rhythm of the words is easily recognised even when the speaker is gagged.) If it wasn’t his brother who was torturing him, Vic would probably have used the word very early on in his ordeal.

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A grinning Joe and his “supervisor” approached Big Steve, whose wet, white Arena briefs with the black band had managed to collect considerable grass-stains when he was dragged into place and as he tried to wriggle free while the jury deliberated. Joe hadn’t been lucky enough to be in such a position of power over his stronger twin before and he was going to enjoy himself.

Steve tried charm. “Oh, come on Joe, you wouldn’t want to hurt me, would you?”

Joe just kept grinning.

Steve tried threats, “Oh, come on Joe, you wouldn’t want to hurt me, would you?”

Joe remained unimpressed. He was determined to make the best of his unique opportunity. “Do you reckon Ben could spare a couple more of those white plasters?”

“I expect so. I’ll go and ask.” Alex was only too willing to run errands for the smaller twin. He’d always had a soft spot for the underdog.

“Now, what should I do? Hog-tie? Parrot perch? Crucifixion? Spread-eagle? . . .” The normally taciturn Joe seemed quite eloquent all of a sudden as he straddled his wriggling twin’s back. “Of course, you could always beg for mercy, then all I’d have to do is tie you to a tree for a few hours. How does that sound?”

“You – are – a – dead man! You know that, don’t you?”

“La, la, la; la, la la. I can’t hear you.” said Joe incongruously leaning forwards and sticking his fingers in Big Steve’s ears.

Steve bucked furiously but totally ineffectually. Alex returned with his booty which included a few ropes and other things that he thought Joe would find handy as well as the surgical dressings for which he had originally gone. There were several picnic tables under the trees and Joe asked Alex whether he thought he’d be allowed to use one. Alex couldn’t see why not and he helped Joe to carry Steve over to one of them and to lay him on it facing up.

Steve was, of course, still bound hand and foot from his swim and, other than checking the ropes, Joe saw no need to do anything about that. Alex agreed; it looked like this kid was going to take the easy way out. For them that is but he thought that “The Hippy”” might not find things quite as easy. He couldn’t help remembering that time when his Troop had both the Twins at their mercy and when they used the catapults to pelt them with cow-pats and pony crap. How situations change.

“Yes! It works!” announced a triumphant Joe once Alex had slid his brother backwards and forwards on the table under his instruction. What pleased him was the way Steve’s lower legs hung down over one end of the table leaving his shoulders just clear enough of the other end to allow his bound arms to be forced underneath the tabletop. Alex’s expertise seemed a bit redundant as Joe ducked underneath the table and completed a fairly loose hog-tie. That left Steve lying on the slatted surface and capable of very little longitudinal movement.

Joe tested the access to his brother’s feet, thighs, torso and neck ready for his forthcoming tickle ordeal. During the test, Steve was still capable of a certain amount of lateral movement which Joe declared to be unsatisfactory. Alex suggested binding Steve’s thighs to the outer slats of the table. That sounded like a good idea so the tormentor and his mentor set about the task. Steve wasn’t exactly delighted as his knees were separated with the resultant stress on his bound ankles. “You might be able to outrun me but you’ll never be able to relax again. Remember that, Titch.” It was like water off a duck’s back; Joe was enjoying himself too much.

Steve’s head, because it was unsupported, hung down keeping his long, wet hair out of his eyes. Nevertheless, Joe still made sure that he snagged quite a lot of it as he plastered the dressing over his twin’s eyes before thoroughly rubbing it into the contours of his face while his red-headed assistant held him in his muscular arms.

Once more with a combination of bad luck and bad timing, Big Steve brought his brother’s life expectancy into question. Bad timing because Joe, having finished blindfolding his helpless twin, now had his hands free. Bad luck because Steve was unable to see Alex looking alternately towards something he’d left on the table and then towards his face. Nothing was too much trouble for Alex who had donated one of his used socks to the cause. Once Joe had cottoned on and picked up the rolled lightweight Brigdale, which was laughingly described as being “breathable”, Alex pulled Steve’s head firmly backwards and Joe forced the smelly item into Steve’s unprepared mouth and held it into place while Alex prepared the remaining dressing. Big Steve had no chance of expelling the noxious garment before it was trapped by the over-large dressing that Joe then pressed carefully into place but he was unable trap much hair this time. Even with the hair falling away from Steve’s face, there was not much of that face visible other than his nose and the underside of his chin. At least he became suddenly quieter.

Joe and Alex abandoned him to go and see what was happening to the others.

TBC

[Xtc]

OK, penultimate episode coming up.
A much shorter one this time! Promise!

[Xtc]

MONDAY


Tying Up the Loose Ends (2)

George saw the two muscular “Sailor Boys” approaching him. He knew from past games and from his frequent involvement in the inter-Troop feud that anyone tied up by Action Man tended to stay tied up. He only hoped that the newcomer would lack his mentor’s skill.

“Hi George. What’s it to be, then?” George didn’t dignify that with an answer; he knew he’d have no say in the matter whatsoever. He hadn’t bothered to get dressed after his event because he knew he’d only have to strip off again as a result of his being so slow getting Rusty to the pond. “May I introduce my apprentice? This is Tarzan.”

“Aw’ right, George?”

“Aw’ right Tarzan.”

“Feeling supple?”

“Treat me gently, it’s my first time.” George grinned and tried to look innocent; he was obviously not scared; he was just taking the piss.

“We’ll see. Get that stave. I’ll show you what to do using his right wrist then you have a go with the other one.” Tarzan fetched a pioneering stave and Action Man lashed it to George’s wrist. “OK, your turn. I’m sure Farmer George will co-operate. Won’t you, Farmer Boy?” George did his best to nod while Action man lifted his jaw. “Good. OK mate, let’s see what you’ve learnt.”

Tarzan seemed to have learnt his lessons well and George was soon kneeling with his arms straight down and the horizontal spar just above his bum.

“Nice one, kiddo.” Tarzan beamed. Praise from the Sea Scouts’ foremost tier was praise indeed. He even put up with Action Man ruffling his helmet of straight hair. “OK, you’ve seen this done before: tie his ankles to the stave but make sure his feet are outside his hands. Don’t forget to keep the knots out of his reach. I’m sure George won’t make life difficult. Will you!?”

George confirmed that he knew he had to cooperate and Action Man withdrew a short distance where he crouched with his hands on his thighs to watch his “apprentice”. Tarzan pushed George onto his belly and tried to hook his right foot under the stave but that was obviously going to be unstable and it didn’t seem to allow him to tie his victim’s ankle securely enough to the wooden spar. George was glad of the change of mind but, even though he couldn’t do much to help his captor, he was certainly not going to try to obstruct him in case Action Man decided to take a hand.

There seemed to be no sign of that happening in spite of the difficulty Tarzan was having controlling George’s leg and the stave simultaneously. It soon dawned on the still swim-suited Sea Scout that, if he started with a few loops round the stave, he could THEN lift George’s ankle and secure it more easily. The eventual result was secure enough but was probably not the best lashing that Tarzan had ever done.

“OK. What did you do wrong there?” Tarzan answered his sponsor with a criticism of his sloppy tying. “Nope. Your main mistake was not asking for help. I was right here.” There was a heartfelt groan from George as Action Man continued, “Right, let’s get the Farmer Boy comfy, shall we?”

Action Man had covered his swimming costume with those disgusting old shorts again but, as was his custom during most of his outdoor pursuits activities, he remained bare-chested and still chose to go barefoot as well. Tarzan considered himself lucky to have this guy as his sponsor, especially when he was there to intimidate his adversaries. Tarzan started again with a secure clove hitch on the stave and Action Man held George’s left foot firmly against it as Tarzan completed a proper square lashing this time. The team effort soon had both of George’s ankles tied behind him in a sort of stave-assisted hog-tie but without leaving him the option of rolling onto his side.

“That’s better. Now what are we going to do with him?”

“Isn’t he a mate of Vic’s”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Perhaps he’d like to join him.”

“OK. Lift!

It was easy for Action Man to take his end of the stave but rather less easy for the smaller muscle-man and being the passenger was even less easy for George! The two captors carried the unfortunate Scout over to where the shrouded Vic was seated. George was glad it was a short journey as he hung swinging from the stave with his arms being unpleasantly stressed as it was lifted. “Oh, yes, don’t you intend to gag him?”

“Give me a chance. I can’t think of everything.”

“You’ve got a lot to learn, young ‘un. But don’t worry, Uncle Tony’ll look after you.” That was the first time Tarzan had heard Action Man’s real name used in the Scouting context. George was glad to be put down even if he was dumped unceremoniously next to his friend and at least he assumed that he’d now be left in peace. Wrong!

“What do you want to do to him now?”

“I suppose we don’t want him moving over towards his mate?”

“Suppose you’re right.”

Although he couldn’t see what was going on, Vic felt a modicum of relief as the branch above him eased down a bit. George felt less relief as Tarzan and Action Man drew the stave to which he was bound up towards the branch.

“Not too tight, Mush. He’s going to be there for quite some time and he’s uncomfortable enough already with the way you’ve tied him. Don’t forget to keep an eye on him.”

“Why?”

“One, to stop him escaping but two, and more important, this is a game. We need to give him the opportunity to use the safe-word. Now gag him.”

A knotted neckerchief was deemed to be good enough to gag George with the threat of another one of Ben’s dressings to come if he took advantage of their leniency.

George was left wriggling with his arms and legs raised and his chest barely in contact with the ground as Tarzan and Action Man went to get some refreshments.

-----00000-----

The two youngest (and probably only temporary) members of the Warbands team closed in on the still irrepressible Rusty. “OK, Copperknob, It’s your lucky day. We’re the nice ones from the Warbands. Think yourself lucky my brother’s not tying you up. Now he IS a nasty piece of work.” Even that didn’t sound too encouraging to the youngest of the losers as Max and his TUG buddy closed in on him. Nevertheless, true to form, Rusty toughed it out.

“Do your worst, civilians. I am a Scout and an Englishman. There’s nothing you can do . . .”

“Oh, shut up!”

“Mngggh nnnn.”

“That’s better.”

Rusty would have been disappointed if his captors had not gagged him and they were far too polite to disappoint a guest. By the time Matt had stuffed a bandage into his mouth and Max had secured it with a large Elastoplast strip, Rusty knew he would stay gagged until someone released him. At least Matt had bothered to unwrap the bandage before pushing it into his prisoner’s mouth but, as usual, the well-appointed first-aid kits that the boys ostentatiously prepared before the event to reassure their parents that they were sensible enough to look after themselves were by now being used for their customary purpose. A few rounds of micropore tape soon deprived Rusty of his sight as Matt used it to secure a neatly folded triangular bandage over the wriggling red-head’s eyes.

“Slippery for a kid who’s not exactly sylph-like, isn’t he?”

“Yeah, what do you think we ought to do about it?”

Rusty’s tactic was simple: he knew that the younger members were often treated more gently than the older ones in the “normal” tied games and he wanted to make sure that Matt and Max weren’t going to do him any favours. After all, what had he come for?

Matt and Max were used to tying one another up but they usually had the facilities of a bedroom or even Max’s garage to use. And the victim didn’t usually resist. The outdoor context meant that they couldn’t bring all their practiced routines into play but, being intelligent, they were soon able to adapt their ideas. They discounted adapting the technique that Aiden used to stretch Karl out on the workbench for use on a picnic table because it would be too painful. Rusty didn’t get a vote. They decided eventually to tie him to one of the sun-loungers that had been so thoughtfully positioned earlier. Matt hauled the younger boy to his feet.

“Come on, beach-ball, bounce.” That was a bit unkind, especially from Matt; Rusty wasn’t really that bulky but he was forced to bunny-hop over to the plastic furniture while Max and Matt took an arm each until he had arrived safely.

Matt, that was a bit harsh, he’s not a beach-ball.”

“Mnnn mnnn” agreed Rusty shaking his head vigorously.

“No, he’s a space-hopper. Look.” And Max got a couple of handfuls of Rusty’s wiry red hair and twisted them so that they stood up in points. If Rusty wasn’t gagged as well as trying to be indignant, he would have been giggling as he bounced up and down as if to demonstrate the truth of Max’s assertion.

“OK, calm down. We’re going to untie your wrists now but don’t get too used to it.” Following their earlier discussions, Rusty already had a good idea of what his captors were about to do to him and he had no intention of making their task any more difficult than necessary and Matt soon had his wrists freed and suggested that he took some massage time.

Rusty soon presented his hands for re-tying and Max tied a fairly rigid rope cuff in front of Rusty’s body.

“OK, time for a little lie down.” and Rusty found himself lifted onto the lounger. The two friends then each tied one of Rusty’s ankles to a slat of the lounger so that his legs were as far apart as the lounger would allow. Rusty tried to sit up but Matt pushed him down again and Max grabbed his wrists and pulled them over his head and over the back of the lounger leaving his elbows bent and his armpits mercilessly exposed. As Max held on and pulled Rusty as far up the lounger as their previous tying would allow, Matt threaded a rope between and around Rusty’s bound wrists and secured the ends well out of range of his fingers.

A quick exploratory tickle of all of Rusty’s vulnerable parts preceded the Warbands boys’ temporary departure while they congratulated themselves on a job well done.

-----00000-----

JT had become used to being bound by Karl and the Limewood lads and even the younger brothers of the Broadhurst boys during the short time he had been in England but the two over-developed gorillas from the Scouts, who were approaching to within his rather blurred field of vision now, were an unknown quantity. Jamie had noticed that JT was an American and asked him if he was “ready to take one for Uncle Sam”. JT, who was still bound from his rather chaotic swim, confirmed that he was and, because they’d got to know him slightly over the duration of the Tied Olympics, both Jamie and Long Tom knew that he wouldn’t expect them to go to easy on him. They’d already decided what they were going to do.

“Tell us the safe-word. You might need it.”

“Not all the while I have breath in my body, Limey.” JT was hamming it up.

“No - seriously, no safe-word, no tie up.”

“Oh, I get it. It’s Harry Potter.” (Actually, to their ears it sounded more like JT was saying “Hairy Paadur” but that was near enough.)

“Do you want to use it?” but JT continued with his “heroic” speech.

“Heard enough?”

“Heard enough.” and Long Tom inserted the gag he had prepared into JT’s orating mouth. “Now let’s hear you sing ‘The Star-Spangled Banner’.” JT couldn’t, not lying on his belly with that thing in place. But it wasn’t for want of trying. Tom had cut a piece of willow about thirty centimetres long and two thick and stripped the bark from it. He knew it would come in handy sometime during the games. He had bound a handkerchief round it to pad the middle and that is what JT found being pulled back into his mouth with a neckerchief that had been twirled to form a makeshift rope.

“Why did you give him the idea of singing?”

“Sorry!”

Long Tom and Jamie were going to adapt one of the Scouts’ customary practices for outdoor use so they needed to find another convenient overhanging bough. There were plenty to choose from and JT was soon positioned in the shade with his feet unbound. They’d managed to find a way of “hanging him in the wardrobe” by tying a rigid noose in a rope and slipping it over JT’s head, including the improvised stick-gag. Then the end of the loop was returned over and behind his head trapping the ends of the gag. Once the free end of the rope had been thrown over the designated branch and pulled tight by Long Tom, JT was pulled upright and the stick was forced back into the victim’s mouth. Tom pulled his prisoner tight enough so that his heels weren’t in contact with the ground and he was unable to lift his head. JT considered using the safe-word. While Long Tom held the rope tight, Jamie tied it off round the knot near the back of JT’s neck. As soon as he’d finished, there was enough slack to allow the suspended boy to stand properly again. But he was still not able to raise his head. “Don’t worry, mate, the rope’ll stretch.”

“Nggggh!”

“Safe-word?” The American returned to a determined silence so the two Scouts went to enjoy the distress of the other losers, leaving him stretched quite tightly and displaying his slender abs.

TBC

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Sorry, I managed to miss the past two parts somehow! Too eager on the "mark read" button, I suppose.

Glad to see the creativity of these boys is all but unlimited, and that they're committed to playing safe no matter how strict it gets.

[Xtc]

That is probably the least realistic part of my characterisation! All the boys are based on real people and, believe me, some of them were reckless!! Most of them seem to have survived and are now in their early thirties. Some are even quite famous and have had their names changed

Thanks for staying with the tale.

[blackbound]

Ooh, that makes it extra spicy!

[Xtc]

OK. Last chapter coming up.

[Xtc]

MONDAY


The Final Evening

Once all the losers had been secured and all the boys who wanted to, and were able do so, had showered and changed, it was time to plan the take-down before torturing the losers. Ben had already got the evening meal underway and it was made quite clear to him that he was NOT going to be helping with striking the camp. For some reason, though, he decided to stay overnight as he didn’t go on shift again until evening service on Tuesday. Martin wanted to get back to get ready for work in the morning and Mark agreed to be the “Responsible Adult” until Gill and her family returned. He had no assignments in the next week and was going to visit Keith and Donna for a few days. Gill was unlikely to return before the next morning but, without the prisoners being able to hear, it was decided that there should be no evidence of “unorthodox” activities after about nine o’clock that evening. They knew that Gill hadn’t booked any campers in for Tuesday to give her some recovery time after the three-day event so all those boys who wanted to could stay overnight. It would probably look less suspicious if Gill saw orderly Scouts going about their business in the morning. There were enough Scouts in the Warbands, even if they did wear their uniforms, not to make the odd civilian look out of place.

All decisions made and it was time for torture or an informal kick-around or just time to chill with the others. Matt had decided that, before he was due to join Explorers, he’d join Jamie’s Troop. That would enable him to avoid his big brother. That nearly went wrong when Jamie tried to recruit Aiden as well but, true to form, Aiden’s loyalties stayed with his own Troop. Jacob also made arrangements to swap to Sam’s Troop when he went on to Explorers. Unlike Aiden, he thought he COULD handle two feuds at once!

-----00000-----

Action man reminded Tarzan that George needed to be given the opportunity to use the safe-word so off he went but, by the time he’d reached the struggling Scout, the message had transformed in his mind to “George needs to be tortured”. So, stopping only to cut some gorse twigs, Tarzan reported for duty. George could see him coming and could guess what the gorse was for. Sure enough, Tarzan forced it between the little section of George’s midriff that was still in contact with the ground with the resultant yelpings before giving his feet a thorough tickling. George even managed to lift his belly briefly from the ground after about five minutes when Tarzan gave him a rest and seemed to behave as if he’d just remembered something.

“Oh yes! I know! Safe-word?”

“I’uw unghh!” Tarzan could guess what Gorge was calling him but decided that it didn’t sound much like “Harry Potter” so he slapped his backside and went to watch someone else suffering for a while leaving George trying to wriggle the spiky twigs out from under him. All the while he did so, Vic uselessly expressed his outrage at being jostled around. Sam thought that it was good of the lanky kid to torture his brother for him. He did, however, use that very sharp knife to cut the cord that was tormenting his brother’s toes and legs.

Luke didn’t lack company. His brother seemed very concerned that he shouldn’t feel lonely. So far, the tie-up was just the sort of thing that Luke enjoyed but he wasn’t so sure about the next part as his brother hammered something into the ground somewhere near him. The stave between his ankles was soon secured to the two tent pegs leaving Luke unable even to twist his body out of the way of whoever or whatever was about to assault him. Scott already knew his brother’s vulnerable areas and he left none of them unexplored for the next ten minutes. “OK Shit-head, as soon as you wet yourself, I’ll stop.” Luke declined the offer but didn’t know how long he could hold out. After another ten minutes Scott left him alone.

As they approached Big Steve, Alex had a quiet word in Joe’s ear and they grabbed a free picnic table and placed it near the other Twin as he desperately tried to guess what was happening. As Joe slipped under the table and loosened the rope drawing his arms towards his ankles, he even thought he was going to be released. All his hopes were soon dashed as he was told, “Lift up your head.” He did so and the other table was pushed up against his shoulders. Alex and Joe adjusted Steve’s position until he could lay his head safely, if not exactly comfortably on the table. Joe then re-tied the hog-tie rope. Other than the new position denying Joe quite such convenient access to the underneath of his brother’s chin, he still had free reign over most of his undefended body. Joe started cruelly tickling Big Steve’s inner thighs and remarked to Alex that his tying was rubbish because their victim could still twitch more than he would have liked. Alex just grinned quietly.

You’d think that Matt and Max, being the frequent victims of their older brothers’ tender ministrations, would be somewhat sympathetic towards the younger Rusty. You MIGHT think that but . . . After about ten minutes, Rusty was bucking so hard that the lounger started to move so Matt straddled their snorting victim and dealt with his exposed armpits while Max settled to minister to his feet and thighs. After a further ten minutes, Rusty wasn’t quite so convinced that, as a little kid, he didn’t want to be treated more gently. However, honour demanded that, in spite of his being given the opportunity to utter the safe-word, he continued to tough it out. When his tormentors stopped for a break and Rusty had a chance to breathe more easily, he decided once more that he was glad to be there. But that was before his refreshed torturers started again.

As they approached him, JT heard Long Tom and Jamie discussing whether he, as a non-Sea Scout, really deserved to be tortured as severely as he was being at present but common sense and Long Tom’s normal sympathetic attitudes prevailed and they decided that of course he should. After all, he was a consenting A(merican)dult. Jamie’s prolonged groan at Long Tom’s weak joke gave the tall Scout a sense of satisfaction.

At least by the time the Scouts had got to him JT was standing securely once more because, as Jamie had reassured him, the rope had stretched. He was still unable to raise is head and his midriff was still stretched quite noticeably. “Safe-word?”

“Ngghhh!” JT’s attempt at shaking his head to emphasise his rejection of the offer was curtailed by the limitations placed upon his movements and the discomfort so caused but Jamie and Long Tom were left in no doubt that their generosity had been spurned. So, it was time to go to work.

“Have you seen this technique?” asked Tom as he demonstrated it to Jamie. He used a stick to form a loop in the rope holding JT in place. It only took two twists to lift JT’s heels just shy of the ground.

“Of course I have.” And Jamie taped the bottom of the stick to the rope. Tom had to tape the top.

“That’s better. You OK, Yank?” JT attempted to nod.

“Safe-word?”

“Ngghh.” This time the shake of the head was even more curtailed than before.

Jamie and Long Tom subjected their victim to only about five minutes of tickling. Tied as he was, that was enough for JT who wriggled impressively considering his condition and frequently raised alternate feet to his evident distress. Having considered JT to have suffered enough, Jamie cut the stick free from his hanging rope. He could only just about reach the top fastening and caused some damage to the rope when he cut it but not enough damage to give JT much comfort.

As the torture of the losers came to an end, Ben gave his last mess call of the event. He’d already decided that the others could sort out their own breakfasts next morning. Obviously, nobody had warned him about Zac’s cuisine. As was customary, all the “free” boys enjoyed their dinners while the losers were ignored until their “carers” were replete. With their dinner over, those boys who were responsible for looking after the losers released their charges so that they could eat also and everyone settled down to informal activities until they decided to retire.

After about half an hour, Jamie realised that there had been no sign of Vic. He asked Sam whether he had untied him. “No, he’s good, thanks.” Sam was determined to make the best of what was likely to be his last chance of victimising his brother as the result of one of the games and he’d just left him to suffer on his own. Jamie went over to his shrouded PL friend to check on him but, this not being part of the feud, etiquette demanded that he should not release him without the consent of his designated “carer”. He knew that the consent was
unlikely to be forthcoming.

-----00000-----

Eventually even Vic joined the company round the altar fire even though he was muttering about his dinner being cold; and the evening settled to a mellow consideration of future events while Sam got a bit morose at the thought that he was soon to be considered a “grown-up”. The conversation ranged over reminiscences concerning Sam’s past misadventures until it served as his valedictory ceremony. He went to bed in a slightly more cheery mood.

Ben had persuaded Mark to “accommodate” him overnight and eventually everyone settled into their tents. It’s remarkable how clumsy ‘late–to–bed’ers can be when not quite managing to avoid kicking any tent sharers who are already snoring. Does anyone understand the rules of “searchlights”?

TUESDAY


The Last Morning

The boys eventually rose, mostly prompted by their need for the loos. The Scouts took the precaution of securing Zac and subjecting him to field punishment number one as soon as he returned from the showers clad only in his long, printed boxers. Zac thought that was a bit unfair but Jamie pointed out that it was an act of self-preservation. After that, he had to agree.

Most of the other boys just looked down sympathetically as they passed the large blonde kid who was unable even to wish them “good morning”, until Action Man asked why he was like that. “He said he was going to cook breakfast.” That made a lot of sense in the light of previous disasters so the others just let it go.

Mark and, eventually, Ben appeared looking pleased with the world and, by the time even Luke had risen, Den and Budgie had finished frying the sausages and bacon and Will and James had completed the preparations for breakfast. As soon as there was no danger of his interfering with the cooking, Zac was released and allowed to dress.

After breakfast there was no great hurry to get on with things but eventually Mark reminded the company of their previous intentions. All Scouts and Sea Scouts then got into uniform, although most wore shorts, and everyone mucked in to strike the HQ and Store tents and to load them in the transit along with any surplus supplies and all incriminating equipment. The pool area was reinstated and, by the time Gill returned, rucksacks were being packed and the accommodation was being struck. One final “emu parade” to clear the site of litter and the boys were ready for the arrival of their parents.

The rest of the event holds not much of interest to readers but, after Mark had presented “gold medals” (chocolates) to the winners of the events, which had been very carefully named in front of the parents who had arrived, there was much hand-shaking and most boys climbed wearily into the parental transport. Predictably, Action Man and Alex stripped off their shirts, although both retained their neckerchiefs, and prepared to run home. Joe noticed them and thought he’d do that after any future events and Tarzan regretted that he’d got someone to collect him.

“OK, you three?” asked Jamie of his youngest team members. Braniac, Frenchie and especially Rusty confirmed that indeed they were.

-----00000-----

“Thanks, Gill. The kids had a great time. Thanks.”

“It’s alright. You’re welcome. It keeps them out of trouble.”

Mark smiled.

THE END

[blackbound]

All's well that ends well! And if the parents are happy to have the boys out of the way, well, there can be more Olympics!

And, as often with your tales, I learned a new word.

[Xtc]

Not one of those words they don't use in company, I hope.

There is a "Winter Olympics" story but I would need to get my arse in gear to complete an intermediate one first.
Thanks for your support. It is appreciated.

[blackbound]

I'll be here for whatever's next.