Christmas Joy's (FFF/FFF)

[AlexUSA3]

As I promised, a light-hearted prequel to One Last Rope.

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Nothing is more confusing than when people have the same name. How about when three girls all have the same name and the same birth year? That's when you switch to using middle names in a vain attempt to keep the three girls distinct from one another. That's why at home my name is "Joy," at extended relation's homes my name is "Suzanne," and when I'm in trouble my name is "Joy Suzanne." Welcome to the Henderson Family, where TUGs are a routine pleasure.

Of course, "Henderson" is my mother's surname, and all the TUGs happen with relations only on her side of my family. Unless you count that my mom's sister married my dad's brother. They're the double cousins, but then there are my second cousins, and even those cousins don't have that Henderson surname, nor does their mother who is my mother's cousin. Confused? Awesome.

"You have flour on your face, Joy Suzanne," my first cousin Joy bopped me on the nose.
"Why thank you, Joy Alexandra," I cheerfully responded and used a damp towel to get it off.
"It's a wonderful mess," my second cousin Joy turned on some Christmas music, "I love it."
"Mmmm," the first cousin put her ear to listen, "I love Frank Sinatra. Thanks, Joy Samantha!"
"You're welcome, Joy Alexandra!"
"Joy, pass me a spatula."
"Joy, get that butter softening for the sugar cookies."
"Joy, the peppermint bark is ready to be broken up as well."
"Joy, should we use your recipe or mine?"
"Joy, your outfit looks so lovely."
"Joy, that's the third time you've said that today. Thank you so much!"

Are you confused? We weren't. Everyone else on the planet sure was.

"JOOYYYYYYYY!" the voice of Joy's mom, Darlene, rang out.

Despite being our second cousin's mom, or the first cousin to our moms, we called her Aunt out of love. Yes, I am intentionally confusing you again. For the sake of clarity, let's use already accepted conventions. "Joy Suzanne = Suzanne or Sue." "Joy Alexandra = Alexandra or Alex." "Joy Samantha = Samantha or Sam." Is that better? Good, because all at once, we called out.

"YEAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!" assuming we were the one who had been called.
"For the love of God, what do I have to do to get behavior out of you?" Aunt Darlene entered the basement kitchen with her hands upon her hips, "You're a lot of naughty girls, especially to have a Frank Sinatra CD playing! Everyone knows that the best Christmas CD is—"
"Bing Crosby," Sam blurted out in absolute defiance of her mother's love of The Carpenters.
"Mariah Carey!" I responded in defiance to my cousin and her mother.
"WELL!" Aunt Darlene approached me with a wagging finger, "Joy Suzanna Fredericks, if your cousin Melody (Sam's older sister) were in the room, she'd tie you to the pole right there!"
"That's a great idea!" Alexandra's eyes beamed, "C'mon, girls, let's get this Sinatra hater!"

As the strongest and shortest of the bunch, I grabbed Aunt Darlene. As the tall one, Alex hand gagged our captive. As the slippery one and the daughter, Sam provided the dirty socks for Aunt Darlene's gag because, unlike us Joy's, Aunt Darlene liked dirty sock gags. Poor Auntie couldn't stop us when we were all working in unison. Being who we are, we had the clothesline ready to go for kidnapping Aunt Darlene, and I promise you that I will get to clothes, outfits, and amazing little bits that made each and every person unique and meaningful to this particular story as well as just to help you visualize the people and the situations just a little bit better.

"The pole" was a steel support post that once was weightbearing but no longer performed such a task because renovations and improvements to the house took care of all that for us. To be clear, this is Alex's home, or rather her parents' home. The pole had been left there precisely for TUGs after the construction was complete, and its two inch diameter made it a perfect place to kidnap a person and hold her for ransom. Yes, we hold each other hostage for mock ransoms!

What the heck was wrong with us? We three were ganging up to kidnap the youngest girl's own mother without any second thoughts about it. One of us suggested the idea at seemingly random, and Sam never said "Hey, that's my Mom," or anything else of the kind, jumping into the flames of capture and even offering her own socks to be stuffed in her mother's mouth. What a tenderly sweet young woman she was, Joy Samantha Gustavsson! How many 22 year-olds capture their 53 year-old mother? Apparently we 22 year-olds do that!

"And just think, tomorrow's your birthday," Sam said to Alex, "And today's your sister's!"
"Yeah, that's true! My mother suffered during those 364 days between me and Brooke!"
"Tie Mom's arms a little better," ordered the daughter of the kidnapped.
"I'll make sure the harness works around the pole," I added my two cents to matters.
"Hmph!" Aunt Darlene rolled her eyes as if she was upset with us… maybe she was… nah!

Aunt Darlene always looked very secretarial in the best way possible. On this occasion, she had worn black slacks and a pastel pink and blue striped button-down blouse. Her hair was starting to gray, but she was blessed that the opacity of the gray matched that of her yellow blonde hair, which reached down to the bottom of her shoulders and was held back at least in part by big hair clips. She was slender as ever and probably would have fit in clothes from the "Young Misses" section at the clothes store had she not borne five children, and she had no wrinkles yet despite a little sagging with her age. Really, she looked out of this world for her age.

That's how Aunt Darlene found herself torqued around a pole, her body on one side of it and her wrists and elbows bound together on the other side of the pole. The harness and waist rope kept her in place, and the ropes binding her legs together in four places certainly helped. A couple of strips of microfoam tape kept her lips sealed as well. She scowled at us, but it was a loving and motherly scowl that assured that revenge would come when we least expected it but that no true ill will was held towards us on account of our devious, impromptu actions.

"Hey, that's my timer!" I hurriedly strode towards the kitchen, adjusting my kerchief as I went.

I'm the dumpling, the one that's at the upper end of a healthy weight. Sam can do nothing wrong and is always a rail like her mother. Alexandra is a rail by nature and plays collegiate basketball on a scholarship; both of her sisters played sports. Sam's older sister Melody is a rail. My older sister Zoe is a rail. Me? Dumpling? My mom? Dumpling. Aunt Melissa? Dumpling.

"Sweet little Joy Suzzzaannneeeeee!" I heard the voice of my older sister.
"Yes, sweet taller Zoe Elizabeth?" I called back to her.

The dumpling Joy always dressed modestly for religious reasons. For Christmas Eva, she wore a Christmas green ankle skirt, white knee socks, a red turtleneck t-shirt, and a white bandana that I already told you was a kerchief. I was contrasted by Alex, who had purple jeans, a Minnesota Vikings t-shirt, white socks, and a purple kerchief bandana she wore just to vibe with me, and, as a playful touch, she had chains dangling out of her pocket. Sam, on the other hand, was beautiful like her mother. She had black leggings, a Christmas floral-patterned red calf-length skirt, and a chic floral-patterned Christmas green sweater. Her socks were understandably missing.

Zoe had the Christmas colors going as well. She's 2 or 3 inches taller than me but still an inch or two shorter than Alexandra or Sam. She dressed a lot like Sam, but had my Christmas theme of red, white, and green. Red leggings, a green knee skirt, and a white turtleneck t-shirt were usual choices for Zoe; the greed bandana headband told me that the Cool Girl Zoe was in the house, a little coded signal which I knew meant she was seeking TUGs, though with whom I didn't know. Like all of us, Zoe had long hair, but she's the only one of our generation who has brown hair and brown eyes as well, just like our mother and Aunt Melissa. How I love my big sister!

"Aunt Melissa is wondering where Aunt Darlene is," Zoe asked me in a cheerful voice.
"Oh, she got a little attitudinal, so we taught her some manners," I said with a curtsy.
"Is that Sinatra?" my sister grimaced at the sound, "Why not Nat King Cole or Mariah Carey?"
"Nat King Cole is blasphemy in this household!" Alex shouted, "Get out of here or else!"
"Go, quickly, before Alex and Sam do worse to you than we already did to Aunt Darlene!" I said, hurrying my sister out of the basement, "Tell Aunt Melissa that her cousin is silently fixated."
"All right, all right," Zoe laughed at this, "I'll tell her that punishable blasphemy was committed."

I mentioned Aunt Darlene having yellow blonde hair. Wellll… all three of us Joy's had that same yellow blonde hair, and all three of us had sparkling blue eyes. We're all the second daughters of our parents, but only Alex has a younger sister. None of the others had blue eyes and blonde hair together like we did, which made us particularly special to each other and our gorgeous, helpless matriarch, who really was the matriarch because she was three days older than my mother. Also, speaking of Aunt Darlene, she's struggling and gag talking over there.

"Joy, the butter's ready for the sugar cookies."
"Great! Joy, would you please hand me the sugar?"
"Gmm mmm mmmm mfff hppphhhh!"
"Of course, Joy! Joy, break up this peppermint bark while I help Joy."
"No problem, Joy. So, Joy and Joy, are you two excitement for tomorrow?"
"Naturally. Aren't you?"
"GMM! MMM! MMMM! MFFF! HPPPHHHH!"
"Of course I am! I can't wait to see the look on my older sister's face when she sees her gifts!"

There we were happily preparing for Christmas in our way while the remaining adults (we surely were not acting like adults!) were preparing for Christmas in other ways. More than likely, there had been some upsetting of the applecart because of our impromptu kidnapping of our dear Aunt Darlene, but that's what joy does to people at this time of year. Our little party received its third interruption in the form of Alexandra's younger sister, Brooke, the girl with Zoe's brown hair but the same shade of blue eyes that the rest of us had. There's not much variety, but it's beautiful!

"Why not Ella Fitzgerald?" she asked us, to her instantaneous doom, kidnapping, and suffering.
"Alex, your socks are next up," I said to a pair of similarly rambunctious, playful souls.
"Joy, why do you have to be so annoying?!" Brooke crossed her arms and shook her head.
"Which one of us are you addressing so rudely?" Sam asked in a playfully defiant voice.
"Figure it out for yourself," my first cousin's younger sister turned like she could just away.
"Get the birthday girl!" Alexandra ordered us into action again, and we left the cookies behind.

Brooke, like most of us, liked the Minnesota Vikings, and she clearly looked up to me given her choice of an ankle-length purple cotton skirt, but the yellow Minnesota Vikings sweatshirt made her look so cozy in the early days of Minneapolis winter. Unlike Aunt Darlene, my first cousin's elbows could not touch, we instead tied her crossed wrists. I held her down on the carpet at the foot of the stairs; Alex stuffed her own socks in her little sister's mouth; Sam did the binding. It was our typical methodology with me as the bruiser and the other two splitting the gagging and the binding. Actually, except for Brooke and Alex, I could take down any of them solo despite my size. I kind of hoped I'd get to take down my sister on my just because I had no rope action yet, but I accepted whatever came my way with minimal disappointment due to my greed.

Crossed wrists tie, a harness, a waist rope, the four leg ropes (Naughty girls we were, binding her legs under her skirt. Tsk tsk!), and a hogtie were fitting punishment for the Ella Fitzgerald fan in our midst. Alexandra's dirty socks and several wrappings of two-inch wide purple electrical tape (where did Alexandra get that anyway?!) silenced this blue-eyed brown-haired nuisance who had the indignity of being the youngest of the generation and thus being the most frequently targeted. We put her upon the table so that we could watch her struggle and so she could glare at us. We're the chaotic good on the spectrum, in case you cannot tell already.

"Joy Alexandra Fredericks, I knew I could count on you!" enter Aunt Melissa.
"Hi, Mom!" Alex kept near her cousins though, "Count on me for what?"
"To put my cranky cousin Darlene in her place," the mother took a seat on a stool, "What a day!"
"Awww, Auntie, is Mom grating your nerves?" I asked her innocently.
"No, it's you two girl's older sisters," she pointed to me and Alex, "Them and Nat King Cole!"
"Oh, I can help," I walked over to the staircase, "Zoe, get your skinny tuchis down here now!"
"GMMMMMMM!" Brooke, the birthday girl, struggled on the table.
"MMMMMMMMM!" Aunt Darlene was still tightly bound to the pole.
"All right. I'm coming, sis!" my older sister said without giving any signs of worry or distrust.
"Brooke," Aunt Melissa said without missing a beat, "That's the best you've sounded all day."
"Don't worry, girls," I grabbed a roll of brown tape, "I can handle Zoe allllll by myself."
"What did you need, Suzanne?" Zoe walked into the kitchen with a cheesy grin on her face.
"It's snack time, my dear," and then I wrestled Zoe down to the floor with perfect domination.
"MMMMMMMM!" was all my sister could say when I was done with binding and gagging her.

Poor Zoe should have never said a word about Nat King Cole because she had her face wrapped in brown tape, her arms were encased by it; her thighs were encased; her legs were encased, too. I wrapped it up her torso, except for her boobs, and she was all around helpless. It was befitting a girl who had come down and interrupted us for such a silly reason, since now that we knew our beloved Aunt Melissa (Mom to Alexandra) had suffered from Aunt Darlene's and Zoe's words.

Zoe looked at me from the sofa with pleading eyes, so I blindfolded her with a black bandana so I wouldn't potentially feel bad for her when she was quietly, gleefully cooing. The black wasn't a particular choice; it was just the first bandana I found. My sister squealed a little and cooed once again when I sat down with her, hugged her, and kissed on the cheek in the way that only a sister can. Then I tickled her in the ribs briefly and shoved her down onto her side again.

"HMMMMPPHHH!" Aunt Darlene snarled into her gag, lovingly death-glaring at all three of us.
"You did a fine job," Aunt Melissa said and took a sip of her coffee without making eye contact.
"GMMMMMM," the birthday girl struggled in her tabletop hogtie.
"Of which one, Mom?" Alex asked, "All of them are a fine job in my opinion."
"That's true. But I'm talking to little Joy Suzanne there, adoring her sister," Auntie smiled at us.
"We captured a Mom, a big sister, and a little sister," Sam laughed, "A triumvirate!"
"Mmmmmmmmm," Zoe was lost in a spirit of playful resistance.
"Yes, indeed," Aunt Melissa looked at us, "Now, back to the cookies, or else!"

A little sucky Frank Sinatra in the background didn't compare to the joyful music of cousinhood, cookies, and gag talk. Aunt Melissa quietly sat there, enjoying the sight, and soon she was also joined by my own mother and cousin Erika (Aunt Melissa's oldest). Yes, it started with a spark when we made the snap decision to kidnap Aunt Darlene. Yes, Mom and Aunt Melissa had fun tickling their cousin, the cousin with whom they'd been playing TUGs for 40-something years.

Aunt Darlene liked the situation despite the death glares, and she giggled more like a teenager than a woman turning 54 in less than a month. It's complicated, but basically Zoe and I played TUGs starting when I was 14, and it wasn't until I was 22 that she and I found out that it was an innocent family tradition. Blame my father and his older brother (who married Aunt Melissa to make Alexandra, Brooke, and Erika double cousins as I explained before) for being prudes, but it was better late than never! It was only the first Christmas as TUG buddies, and this was just one of many, many TUGs I've played with my cousins over the years.

"HAAA HAAAAAAA!" Aunt Darlene, helpless against the pole, joyfully suffered tickle torture.
"GMMMMMMMM!" cousin Brooke sweetly struggled in her adorable hogtie.
"Mmmmmmmm," and Zoe cutely endured tape and a blindfold.

And the smell of cookies filled the air. Happy birthday, Brooke!

So, to balance things off, my next story will be the story of… Matriarchal Vengeance.

[JohnnyRockets]

I enjoy all your stories, this is another nice one. Go ahead and tag me when you post a new story, if you'd like.

[Caesar73]

Quite the Christmas Celebration! It was absolutely Fun to read - and I do looking forward to the Sequel!