The Bound Bratty Brother

Chapter 8 - Sleep Tight

***warning! This chapter contains foul language. You have been warned***

"Why is your hair wet?!" Questioned Emma, suspiciously.

I said nothing. I just looked away. If I told the truth, the dumb jock would probably beat me to a pulp. Emma looked angry. Was she mad at me for not answering her? Was she mad that we ruined my hair and makeup?

"It was an accident," laughed Mitch.

"You didn't?! You better be freaking joking!"yelled Emma.

"Chill. I was just messing around with the little twerp. It's no big deal." Said the Jock, brushing off my sister's reaction.

"You gave my little brother a fucking swirly?! This isn't some fucking random nerd at school! This is my fucking little brother, in his own fucking home! Are you fucking serious?! Have you had too many fucking head injuries playing football? I let the wedgie go because of what he called Jen, but there is no excuse for this! My mom is going to kill me when she finds out! You aren't even supposed to be here!" Screamed my older sibling.

I have never heard my sister swear like that before. She was super pissed.

Emma turned her rage to her best friend, Jen. "He's your himbo loser boyfriend! He's your "Mr Wright". You insisted on inviting him over! You fix it!".

"I think it's time for you to go, Mitchell," hissed Jen, as she led her boyfriend out of the rec room and continued to escort him out of my house.

Once the two love birds had climbed the stairs, my sister took a deep breath, exhaled loudly, and then held my shoulders while looking me deep in the eye. She calmly asked, "Are you okay, Runt?"

I just nodded. I wasn't sure what to say. I was still in shock from what had just unfolded in front of me.

Emma softly said, "I am so sorry," as she firmly hugged me. Unfortunately, my bound knees and ankles offered limited balance on my own, so the added weight and momentum of my sister leaning on me sent us off balance. Fortunately, the couch was directly behind me and broke our fall.

We both giggled a little at the situation right before being cut off by the muffled sounds of people arguing upstairs. Emma got up and joined Katie at the bottom of the stairs as they tried to hear what was being said. Soon, the loud talking turned to what sounded like Mitch screaming in pain. Next, the front door slammed, and one set of footsteps could be heard heading back across the main floor. The eavesdropping duo scurried back to my position on the couch.

Jen emerged down the staircase with a smile on her face. She was twirling something grey around her index finger. As she got closer, she tossed the twirling fabric onto my face. Initially, I was unsure what it was, but the nauseating scent of sweaty balls and butt crack tipped me off.

"Eww! Gross!" I cried. I threw the shredded remains of Mitch's boxers on the floor.

Jen just smiled at my reaction, then warned, "Call me a cow again, and you will be chewing on those for the rest of the night, Twerp."

"Alright, Runt! It's time to get you ready for bed. It's late. Everyone's tired. No one wants to put up with your crap. Cooperate with us, or you will be suffering for the next 8 hours because of it, "warned Emma.

I had a delusion that they were going to set me free as Katie cut the tape from around my wrists with a pair of scissors. Sadly, that freedom was followed by Jen and my sister fishing my arms through the leg holes of my stretched out undies. They each pulled a side of the elastic waistband over my shoulders, leaving me in a shoulder wedgie. The poor abused briefs popped and snapped but refused to rip apart. Had my underwear not been so stretched and ruined already, this would have probably been quite painful. My tighty whities now looked more like a speedo from the movie Borat.

I hoped that this was the end, but next, the girls wrapped my fists in tape again. A few more bands of the industrial grade tape around my upper body kept my arms at my sides.

Next, the girls went to town, wrapping me from neck to ankles in layer after layer of plastic cling wrap.

I guess they thought that the snug cocoon wasn't enough to hold these massive muscles because they began covering that with layers upon layers of the silver duct tape.

The trio worked together to carefully lay me down on the floor before taking another opportunity for a group selfie (for future blackmail I can only assume).

Emma knelt down by my feet. She looked at me with a smile. "Hey baby bro, remember the other day when you stole my phone and changed my status to "I have nasty broccoli farts today"?

I started to giggle at the memory. That quickly turned to full-on belly laughter as my evil sibling began tickling my defenseless feet. The involuntary wiggling caused my undies to dig in deeper. I begged and pleaded profusely, but she just pretended that she couldn't understand what I was saying. "What's that? You want me to keep going, "teased my sister.

After what seemed like an eternity, she finally stopped. I was out of breath, and my ribs were sore from laughing.

As they prepared to slide my worm-like form into my Captain America sleeping bag, Jen asked, "feet first or head first."

Mercifully, Emma replied feet first since I hadn't given them any trouble so far. Truthfully, I was just too exhausted to be a brat at this point.

Once zipped up inside, the girls picked me up by the sleeping bag and placed me on the coffee table. Emma ran to the garage and then returned with the ratchet straps used to secure the canoe to the roof of our van.

The trio used all four straps to secure my body to the table. They were careful to make sure that the straps were tight enough to prevent me from rolling off the table, yet not so tight as to cut off circulation or crush me.

I am not going to lie. Even though I was completely immobilized and defenseless, I felt oddly safe and protected. The sleeping bag protected my vulnerable feet from more tickling, as well as prevented any further wedging, pink bellies, or purple nurples. The only drawback was that my head was left completely exposed.

Jen was quick to attack my weakness. She held the nasty shredded remains of her boyfriend's boxers up to my face. "Want a good sniff? Maybe a little taste?" She teased.

I let out a muffled "Nooo!" through my firmly closed mouth, while aggressively shaking my head.

The cheerleader removed the rancid fabric and joked, "ok, but don't say I didn't offer."

Inspired by her best friend's playful teasing, Emma grabbed one of my shoes and stuffed my socks inside them. Predictably, she then held the puke inducing stinkbomb over my defenseless mouth and nose.

Now I know what you are thinking. You're right. The smell of my own clinical foot odor does not normally bother me like it seems to bother everyone around me. I am probably just used to it by now. The thing is, normally, the rotten cheesey smell is at the other end of my body away from my nose, not covering it.

I tried to breathe through my mouth, but it didn't help. My eyes were now watering. I began to cough and even started to gag before my sister finally granted me freedom from her chemical warfare. While I was busy fighting for my very life, my three captors were laughing it up.

"Now you know how the rest of us feel every time we have to walk by your shoes in the hall, or when we have to go in your room for something," replied Emma.

"I'm going to make you a deal, Runt. No gag while you sleep. BUT any trouble from you, and you will be enjoying the taste of Mitch's boxers firmly taped in your mouth till morning! Deal?" Offered my sister.

"Deal!" I replied.

As I lay there before falling asleep, I reflected on the evening. Aside from the nut crushing wedgie and absolutely disgusting swirly from that pretty-boy goon Mitch, it was a pretty good night.

It took a little effort, but eventually, the girls paid attention to me and made me a part of their fun. It felt good to finally be included in something. I imagine this is what it must feel like to have friends and hang out. I can't wait for high school!

The End