Babysitter games M/m, m/M Part 2.5

[Jack123]

Part 1 - Game?

Jack lounged across the living room couch, an 18-year-old babysitter whose effortless cool barely concealed a restless thirst for dominance. Tall and lanky, his skateboarder’s build boasted wiry muscle from years of tricks and falls. His chestnut hair spilled in a chaotic tangle over his forehead, half-veiling hazel eyes that glinted with a mischievous, almost commanding spark. His lopsided grin—crooked and magnetic—promised chaos wrapped in charm, a signature of his playful, boundary-pushing nature. Dressed in a faded black tee with a cracked skull logo and frayed cargo shorts, he’d ditched his sneakers hours ago, bare feet dangling over the armrest—slightly calloused soles shifting, toes twitching with restless energy. Jack lived for control, his quick wit and quicker hands turning quiet nights into unpredictable games where he reigned supreme.

Kai darted around him, a 12-year-old spark of defiance packed into a wiry, compact frame. His jet-black hair was buzzed tight, framing sharp green eyes that burned with stubborn curiosity and a flicker of challenge. Freckles speckled his flushed cheeks, earned from ceaseless motion—running, climbing, scheming. He wore a red tank top and denim shorts, rumpled from roughhousing, but his bare feet stood out—pristine, soft, and smooth, a testament to his meticulous daily scrubs. Kai was obsessive about their cleanliness, a quirk he’d defend with a scowl and a sharp retort. His laughter rang loud and brash, but his competitive streak cut deeper—he loathed losing, and his sly cunning often flipped the script on anyone who underestimated him. With Jack, he was a volatile blend of admiration and rivalry, their banter a ceaseless tug-of-war.

The evening hung heavy, a humid haze settling over the suburban house on March. The living room bore the scars of their earlier chaos—cushions strewn, snack wrappers scattered from video game marathons, a wrestling match that nearly toppled a lamp, and a hide-and-seek round that left Jack wedged behind the couch. Boredom crept in, thick and stifling, until Jack’s gaze snagged on a coil of soft cotton rope in the garage. His grin stretched wide, a spark igniting. “Kai, my man,” he drawled, twirling the rope, “how about a tie-up game? I give you tasks. Ace ‘em, you score a point. Flunk, and I tie you tighter. Five points, you win. Lose, and you’re mine. Deal?”
Kai’s green eyes narrowed, then flared with a matching grin. “You’re toast, dude. But if you cheat, I’m snitching about those cookies you stole from your mom.”
Jack chuckled, unfazed. “Game on, squirt.”

It began simply: balance a spoon on his nose for thirty seconds. Kai stood tall, but his giggles shook him, and the spoon clattered down in ten. Jack pounced, looping the rope around Kai’s wrists and knotting them snugly behind his back—just tight enough to taunt. Kai tugged, smirking. “This? I’ll slip it easy.” Jack raised a brow. “Sure. Next: hop across the room, one foot, no falling.”
Kai bounded off, his clean soles slapping the hardwood, but halfway there, he wobbled and crashed into the coffee table with a laughing “Oof!” Jack swooped in, binding Kai’s ankles tight, toes flexing as the rope bit in. “Two strikes,” Jack teased, ruffling Kai’s hair. Kai kicked, half-giggling, half-whining. “Totally unfair!”

The tasks stacked up—recite the alphabet backward (Kai faltered at “X”), hold his breath for a minute (he puffed out at forty)—and Jack’s knots grew craftier. A harness wove across Kai’s chest, ropes crisscrossing his tank top, pulling his shoulders back. Ankles lashed to thighs bent him into a tight bundle on the carpet, each coil firm and deliberate, pinning him down. Kai squirmed, his movements slowing, breath hitching. “Jaaaack!” he protested, voice a blend of laughter and frustration. “I’m stuck!” Jack smirked. “That’s the game, champ. Penalty time.”

He wiggled his fingers, then struck, tickling Kai’s ribs with ruthless glee. Kai burst into wild laughter, thrashing against the ropes. “Hahaha—nooo! J-Jack!” Jack’s hands slid to Kai’s bare feet, pinning them and skittering nails across those pristine soles—soft and smooth from Kai’s obsessive care. The sensation hit Kai like a shockwave, a creeping panic clawing beneath the giggles as his mind wrestled with the loss of control. “Not the feeeeet! St-staaahp!” he shrieked, toes curling tight, but Jack pressed on, targeting the arches and tender hollows beneath the toes. Kai’s laughter turned frantic, a high-pitched edge seeping in—“Mmph! Hahaha—nooo!”—as the tickling overwhelmed him. His body twitched uncontrollably, a tidal wave of helplessness crashing over him, eroding his usual bravado. Each stroke on his soles sent his thoughts spiraling—trapped, vulnerable, powerless—his mind teetering on the edge of surrender, a quiet desperation bubbling beneath the surface. His pleas dissolved into a garbled mess as Jack stuffed a clean blue bandana into his mouth, tying it tight. “Mmmph!” Kai’s eyes widened. A black scarf blindfolded him, plunging him into darkness, and earbuds blasting cartoon tunes—squeaky voices and goofy boings—deafened him. Kai rolled on the carpet, a muffled, wriggling bundle.

Outside, a shadow hovered at the window. The burglar—a lean, scruffy man in his thirties, clad in black, beard patchy, eyes glinting—had been casing the house for a quick haul. Cash, gadgets, maybe a watch. But as he peered inside, the absurdity of the scene—a cocky teen tying up a giggling kid—struck him like a punchline. His lips twitched, then split into a wicked grin. This wasn’t just a heist; it was a chance to dive into a bizarre comedy for pure amusement. Slipping through the unlocked back door, he crept into the living room, boots silent, watching Jack’s smug triumph with growing delight.
Jack stood, stretching with a satisfied “Game over,” when the burglar lunged. A gloved hand smothered Jack’s yelp—“Mmph?!”—and yanked him down. Jack kicked, flailed, but the burglar wrestled him to the floor, chuckling low. “Hilarious setup, kid. Let’s keep the laughs rolling.” He snatched Jack’s rope, turning it against him. Wrists lashed behind his back, knots biting deep. Ankles bound tight, then knees, thighs, elbows—a relentless web, each loop tighter, more meticulous, until Jack was a rigid knot on the floor. A chest harness pinned his arms to his sides, leaving him immobile, bare feet twitching helplessly.

“Funny now, huh?” the burglar taunted, shoving a musty sock into Jack’s mouth and sealing it with duct tape. “Mmmph! Grrrmph!” Jack’s muffled fury shook the air, eyes blazing as he strained, ropes creaking. The burglar straddled him, digging into Jack’s ribs with gleeful ferocity—just for the absurdity of it, to stretch the joke further. Jack convulsed, gagtalk exploding—“Nnnmph! Staaahp!”—tears pricking his eyes. Then the burglar hit Jack’s feet, raking nails down the calloused soles, slow and cruel, tracing arches and teasing between the toes. “Hhhmmph! Nnnooo! Pllleeeaaase!” Jack’s laughter was a tortured wail, toes flexing wildly as the tickling dragged on, a sadistic twist to the burglar’s amusement.

Kai, lost in his blind, deaf world, caught the burglar’s whimsy next—no reason, just a playful impulse. He yanked an earbud free, whispering, “Your turn, kid,” and clawed at Kai’s bound feet—those clean, soft soles quivering under his rough fingers. Kai jolted, muffled shrieks bursting out—“Mmmphahahaha! Whaaat?! Staaaahp!”—his body jerking wildly, oblivious to the stranger’s glee. The burglar bounced between them, tickling Jack’s feet for laughs, Kai’s for the thrill, a chaotic maestro of muffled hysterics—Jack’s “Grrrmph! Nnnooo!” blending with Kai’s “Mmmph! Hahaha!”
Sated, the burglar stood, smirking. He ransacked the house—cash from a drawer, a laptop from the counter, a watch from the table—then loosened Kai’s ankle ropes just enough for a slim escape. Beside Jack, he dropped a crumpled note: “Gift from Mr. Robber,” and slipped into the night, leaving his playground behind.

Kai wriggled free after frantic minutes, peeling off the blindfold and gag with a gasp. Spotting Jack—bound, gagged, glaring—and the note, his grin turned feral. “Oh, Jack,” he sang, “you’re so screwed now.” Revenge blazed. He grabbed more rope, reinforcing Jack’s bonds with a vengeance—chest harness cinched tighter, thighs bound to arch his back, a toe tie lashing each big toe to the ankle ropes, stretching his soles taut and exposed. A red bandana blindfolded him anew. “Mmmph! Kaaaiii! Nnnooo!” Jack pleaded, but Kai laughed, relentless.

The tickling erupted—Kai’s nails danced down Jack’s soles, slow and teasing, then a frenzy across the arches, between the toes. “Hhhmmph! Staaahp! Grrrmph!” Jack thrashed, laughter bursting through the tape, toes curling and splaying. Kai ripped off the duct tape, swapped the sock for a fresh cloth gag, and tied it tight with another bandana. “Mmmph! Yrrrgghh! Pllleeeaaase!” Jack’s cries grew louder, more desperate. Kai pressed a clean foot—soft, soapy-fresh from his nightly scrub—near Jack’s nose. “Smell that, loser!” Jack recoiled—“Grrrmph! Nnnooo! Gaaah!”—as Kai tickled harder, nails clawing the tender spots beneath his toes, a gleeful tyrant reveling in Jack’s torment.

The final torture was a psychological and physical cataclysm. Kai rigged an explosive tickle trap: three electric toothbrushes taped to Jack’s ankle ropes, buzzing heads pressed to his arches and heels, paired with a fan blowing a chain of feathers—tied with string, tipped with soft bristles—sweeping across his toes in a relentless flurry. He strapped a vibrating massager to Jack’s soles, humming against the balls of his feet, and added a pair of soft paintbrushes taped to oscillate against the tender skin between his toes. Flipping the switches, the room detonated. “Mmmph! Hhhlllp! Kaaaiii! Nnnooo! Gaaahhh!” Jack bucked like a man possessed, the toothbrushes drilling into his soles, feathers teasing his toes, massager rumbling, and paintbrushes stroking—a sensory onslaught that shattered his mind. “Staaahp! Pllleeeaaase! Mmmphahahaha! Grrrmph! Yrrrgghh! Nnnooo! Gaaah! Hhhmmph!” His gagtalk was a frenzied, broken scream, a cacophony of pleas and laughter. The tickling stripped away his control, his cool facade fracturing—each buzz, each feather, each stroke plunging him into a spiral of helplessness, panic, and raw desperation, his thoughts a jumbled mess of “Make it stop!” and “I can’t take it!”—a mental breaking point where laughter morphed into a cry for mercy.

Then Kai upped the ante. With the trap in full swing, he sat in front of Jack, lifting both of his clean feet—soft, warm, faintly scented with soap—and pressed them firmly over Jack’s face, one sole covering his nose, the other hovering close, forcing him to inhale deeply. “Take it all in, Jack,” Kai taunted, holding them there for a long, torturous stretch—minutes ticking by as the tickling raged on. Jack’s muffled protests escalated—“Mmmph! Nnnooo! Gaaah! Staaahp! Grrrmph! Yrrrgghh! Pllleeeaaase!”—his head thrashing, but the ropes and Kai’s grip kept him pinned. The scent, though harmless, became a suffocating humiliation. His mind reeled—trapped, overwhelmed—the tickling and forced inhalation twisting into a relentless assault on his senses and pride. His laughter grew hoarse, his gagtalk a desperate, pleading wail—“Hhhmmph! Nnnooo! Gaaah! Kaaaiii! Mmmphahahaha!”—as his stamina shattered further, the prolonged ordeal pushing him past endurance into a haze of ticklish desperation, every breath a reminder of his utter defeat.

Finally, Kai pulled his feet away, grinning wickedly. He flopped onto the couch, cracking open a soda, his pristine feet kicked up. “Best. Night. Ever” he crowed, sipping slow, watching Jack writhe in the trap’s unrelenting grip—pleas echoing—“Hhhmmph! Grrrmph! Kaaaiii! Staaahp! Nnnooo!”—a victorious symphony to Kai’s reign, the room alive with the hum of his bratty vengeance

[Redman]

Very well done! Kai and Jack are a cute duo, and you did a fantastic job of putting the reader in the room. I look forward to your next story.

[Snozzberry]

Great story, I've always detested the clean feet and socks in my face torture.

[Kingdro]

Holy cow this is great!!! I hope this isn’t the last time we see these two!

[TuggyMale]

I absolutely love it

Babysitter AND a robber? What do you need more XD

[Jack123]

Part 2 - That moment

Jack burst into Kai’s bedroom, the door banging against the wall as he grinned, a squirt gun still dripping from their morning chase dangling in his hand. It was a crisp Saturday afternoon, the light streaming through the window casting playful shadows across the rug. Kai yelped, diving behind a pillow fortress on the bed, comics scattering like leaves. “You’re dead, Jack!” he shouted, lobbing a cushion that Jack dodged with a laugh, retaliating by squirting a stream of water that caught Kai square in the chest. “Gotcha, squirt!” Jack crowed, lunging forward to wrestle the pillow from Kai’s grip, their tussle a flurry of giggles and mock protests. Kai squirmed free, breathless, his grin wide as he shoved Jack back. “You’re such a jerk!” The chaos settled into a familiar lull, and Jack’s eyes snagged on a coil of nylon rope by the desk, a spark flaring. “How about a tug game, little bro?” he said, snatching it up, twirling it with a teasing smirk. “I tie you up light, you tug free—loser gets tickled. Deal?” Kai’s green eyes had flared with a stubborn grin. “You’re on, dude. I’ll be out in three minutes.” Now, as Kai tugged at the ropes, Jack’s mind drifted, his fingers absently brushing Kai’s ribs in a light tickle, drawing a quick “Nooo—Jack, quit it!” as he began to sank into the past. Kai yanked at the ropes—wrists bound lightly behind his back, ankles tied in a loose coil—his toes flexing as he muttered, “Almost got it, Jack!”

Jack barely heard, his thoughts pulling him back to that rainy afternoon months ago, the day their games began. He’d barged into Kai’s room, expecting to drag him into some dumb prank, only to stop dead—Kai, small and flustered, tangled in a mess of rope, his wrists looped in awkward knots, ankles half-bound, a spool of twine spilled across the floor. The air had thickened with Kai’s shame, his cheeks flaming as he’d scrambled to hide it, the rope catching on his elbow. “Jack—what are you doing here? Get out!” he’d snapped, voice cracking, but his eyes had betrayed him—wide, panicked, pleading not to be judged.

Jack had knelt beside him, voice low, steadying. “Whoa, hold up, squirt. What’s this about?” Kai had ducked his head, mumbling, “Nothing, just… messing around. Don’t laugh, okay? And don’t tell anybody—I mean it.” The words had tumbled out, raw and jagged, and Jack had felt a pang—not pity, but a flicker of recognition, a memory of his own kid days fiddling with knots on his skateboard, tying laces into webs just to see how they held. He’d grinned, easy and slow, nudging Kai’s shoulder. “Laugh? Nah, this is cool. You’re figuring stuff out—knots are tricky, right? I used to tie my board to the fence so it wouldn’t roll off. Same deal.” Kai’s head had snapped up, disbelief melting into a cautious spark. “You’re not freaked out?” he’d asked, voice small, testing the waters.

Jack had chuckled, picking up the rope. “Freaked out? Dude, it’s just us. No big deal. Want a pro tip, though? Your knots suck—too loose. Let me fix ‘em.” Kai’s mouth had twitched, a hesitant smile breaking through as he’d nodded, the tension in his shoulders easing. Jack hadn’t untied him—instead, he’d taken the ropes, his hands moving with a quiet focus, tightening the loops around Kai’s wrists into a snug, even bind, the nylon settling against his skin like a promise. He’d coiled the ankles next, a firm but gentle knot that left Kai’s toes wiggling, then added a light harness—strands crisscrossing Kai’s chest, pulling his shoulders back just enough to feel it. “There,” Jack had said, sitting back, “now you’re stuck ‘til I let you go. How’s that feel?” Kai had tugged at it, a giggle slipping out—nervous at first, then bright, free, his eyes lighting up. “Kinda weird… but cool. You’re not gonna leave me like this, right?” Jack had smirked, ruffling his hair. “Not forever, little bro. Just long enough to make it fun.”

They’d sat there for an hour that day, Kai squirming against the ropes, Jack tossing out pointers— “Pull here, not there,” “Twist your wrist, see if it gives.” The shame had faded from Kai’s face, replaced by a glow Jack hadn’t seen before—a mix of relief, excitement, a kid realizing he wasn’t alone in his quirks. Jack had felt it too, a shift he couldn’t name then—something about Kai’s wide-eyed grin, the way he’d stopped hiding, the way he’d laughed when Jack finally loosened the knots, only to tie them again for “practice.” It was the first time Jack saw Kai not as a target for pranks, but as someone who’d let him in, someone worth sticking around for.

Back in the present, Kai rolled onto his side, tugging harder, the ropes creaking faintly. “Jack, come on, it’s too tight—help me out!” Jack’s fingers drifted to Kai’s bare foot, nails skittering lightly across the pristine sole—soft and smooth from Kai’s obsessive care—drawing a quick “Nooo—Jack, that tickles!” Jack smiled faintly, still lost in thought. That rainy day had planted something—a thread that wove through every game since, a quiet rhythm between them. Kai’s stubborn spark mirrored Jack’s own restless energy, but it was more than that—Kai’s willingness to play along, to let Jack lead, gave Jack a steadiness he didn’t know he craved. It wasn’t about winning anymore; it was about the space they carved out together, a world of ropes and laughter where they both fit.

“Time’s up, lil bro,” Jack said softly, snapping back as Kai flopped back, panting, still tied. “Nooo—Jack, I was so close!” Kai whined, tugging futilely, his toes flexing in protest. Jack leaned in, his tickling deliberate now—fingers dancing across Kai’s ribs in a gentle flurry, then down to his feet, tracing the arches with a light, relentless tease that lingered on every curve. “Nooo—Jack! Quit it!” Kai’s laughter spiked, his body twitching against the light bonds, pleas spilling out in a bright, breathless stream. “Jack—staaahp! I’m gonna get you back!” Jack chuckled, keeping it gentle, his hands moving with a familiar ease—nails brushing Kai’s soles in slow, feathery strokes, drawing out a wild “Nooo—Jack, you’re the worst!”

Jack stopped, gave some rest to a happily panting Kai and tightened the ropes just a touch—wrists cinched a bit firmer behind Kai’s back, the nylon settling into a snug embrace, ankles coiled a little snugger, the loops hugging his skin with a tender precision that left his toes wiggling. “Penalty time, champ,” he murmured, tickling Kai’s feet again—slow strokes along the arches, quick flicks across the tender hollows, each move a playful nudge. “Nooo—Jack! Staaahp!” Kai’s laughter filled the room, his mind spinning lightly—caught, ticklish, tangled in their game—his defiance bending into a giddy surrender, a flicker of joy in every plea.

The afternoon light faded to a golden glow, the room settling into a quiet hush, a closeness wrapping around them like a blanket. Jack eased off, sitting beside Kai, one hand resting on his shoulder, the other tracing a rope absently. “You’re not getting out ‘til I say, little bro,” he said, voice low and warm, a grin tugging at his lips. “Nooo—Jack, come on!” Kai whined, his struggles slowing, a playful pout in his tone as he tugged one last time, his toes flexing helplessly. Jack leaned back against the bed, the air thick with their shared rhythm—a bond unspoken, alive in the ropes, the laughter, the way Kai’s protests softened into a contented huff. He’d leave Kai tied a little longer, not to prove a point, but to linger in this moment, their world glowing in the fading light.

[TuggyMale]

That’s just such a wholesome story. I love it

[Snozzberry]

Great story, i sure hope it continues. Jack is such a kind caring babysitter willing to teach Kai in a slow progressive process that is bringing Kai out of his shell and how to have fun with Jack. I've never seen a "Clean Foot Fetish" in a tugs story.

[Jack123]

Part 2.5 - That moment

I squirm on the rug in my bedroom, the soft nylon ropes hugging my wrists behind my back, snug but not too tight—just enough to make me work for it. Jack’s sprawled beside me, all lanky and chill, his grin crooked as he watches me tug. It’s a crisp Saturday afternoon, the light slipping through my window in lazy golden streaks, painting the mess of comics on my bed and the half-built plane on my desk. The room’s a snapshot of us—wild and cluttered, full of our morning chaos: Jack chasing me with that stupid squirt gun, me smacking him with a pillow ‘til we collapsed, laughing ‘til my sides hurt. Now we’re here, the rope his idea— “Quick tug game, little bro,” he’d said, twirling it, “I tie you up light, you tug free. Loser gets a tickle penalty—deal?” My grin had shot back, fierce and ready. “You’re on, dude. I’ll be out in three minutes.” But as I pull at the ropes, my ankles coiled loosely together, toes flexing against the nylon, my mind drifts, snagging on memories I don’t usually poke at—stuff I keep tucked away, like the reason I’m weirdly okay with this.

I yank harder, the ropes creaking a little, muttering, “Almost got it, Jack!” He doesn’t answer right away, just brushes his fingers along my ribs—light, absent, like he’s not even thinking about it. “Nooo—Jack, quit it!” I yelp, twisting away, laughter bubbling up before I can stop it. It’s annoying, but it’s Jack—always poking, always testing—and I let it slide, sinking back into my head. I’m stubborn as hell, always have been—Mom says I’d argue with a brick wall just to win—but there’s this other part of me, quieter, that likes figuring things out, picking at puzzles ‘til they crack open. That’s where the ropes come from, I guess, a secret I stumbled into months ago, on that rainy day I still can’t shake.
It was pouring outside, the kind of gray that makes you feel stuck, and I was alone in here, bored out of my skull. I’d found some twine in Dad’s garage junk—thin, scratchy stuff—and brought it up, not even sure why. I’d started looping it around my wrists, clumsy and slow, tying knots I’d seen in a comic about pirates or something. It wasn’t about pretending—I just wanted to see how it felt, the way it pulled, the way it held me still. My hands shook a little, ‘cause it was dumb, right? If anyone saw, I’d be the weirdo kid forever. But then Jack barged in—no knock, no warning, just him filling the doorway—and I froze, the rope tangled around my wrists and ankles, half-knotted, half-spilled on the floor. My face burned, heart slamming as I tried to shove it under my bed. “Jack—what are you doing here? Get out!” I snapped, voice wobbling, waiting for the laugh, the jab, the thing that’d make me want to disappear.

But he didn’t laugh. He knelt down, all calm like it was nothing, his hazel eyes steady—not judging, just looking. “Whoa, hold up, squirt. What’s this about?” he’d said, soft, not mean. I’d ducked my head, mumbling, “Nothing, just… messing around. Don’t laugh, okay? And don’t tell anybody—I mean it.” My stomach was a knot, tighter than the ropes, ‘cause Jack’s the coolest guy I know—skateboard tricks, quick comebacks—and I couldn’t stand him thinking I was some freak. He’d grinned, slow and easy, nudging my shoulder. “Laugh? Nah, this is cool. You’re figuring stuff out—knots are tricky, right? I used to tie my board to the fence so it wouldn’t roll off. Same deal.” I’d blinked, stunned, the shame leaking out of me like air from a popped balloon. “You’re not freaked out?” I’d asked, testing him, half-expecting a trick.

He’d chuckled, picking up the rope. “Freaked out? Dude, it’s just us. No big deal. Want a pro tip, though? Your knots suck—too loose. Let me fix ‘em.” My mouth twitched, a smile sneaking out as I nodded, the weight lifting off my chest. He didn’t untie me—he took the ropes, his hands steady, tightening the loops around my wrists ‘til they sat snug, even, like they belonged there. He coiled my ankles next, firm but not rough, the twine settling against my skin like it was part of me, then wove a light harness—strands crisscrossing my chest, pulling my shoulders back just a bit. “There,” he’d said, sitting back, “now you’re stuck ‘til I let you go. How’s that feel?” I’d tugged at it, a giggle slipping out—shaky, then real, my whole body buzzing. “Kinda weird… but cool. You’re not gonna leave me like this, right?” He’d smirked, ruffling my hair. “Not forever, little bro. Just long enough to make it fun.”

We’d stayed like that for ages—me squirming, him tossing out tips like, “Pull here, not there,” or “Twist your wrist, see if it gives.” I’d kept going, not ‘cause I had to get out, but ‘cause it felt good—figuring it out with him, the ropes holding me like a puzzle I could solve. He’d loosened them eventually, only to tie them again, tighter, cleaner, showing me tricks I’d never thought of. That’s when I got it—why I liked it. It wasn’t just the ropes; it was the way they made everything stop, the way they let me wrestle with something and win, the way Jack made it okay. He didn’t care that it was weird—he made it ours, and that flipped something in me, a quiet thrill I’ve chased ever since.

Jack’s fingers graze my side again, light and distracted, pulling me back. “Nooo—Jack, that tickles!” I laugh, twisting away, the ropes creaking as I tug harder. “Jack, come on, it’s too tight—help me out!” I say, half-whining, half-grinning. He’s off in his head somewhere, I can tell—those hazel eyes all dreamy—but I keep going, stubborn as ever, ‘cause that’s me: I don’t quit. That rainy day stuck with me—not just ‘cause of the ropes, but ‘cause of Jack. He’s the big shot, the guy who could’ve made me feel small, but he didn’t. He’s wild, sure, always pulling stunts, but with me, he’s different—steady, like he knows I need that. I’m the kid who fights everything, but with him, I don’t have to—not all the time.

“Time’s up, little bro,” Jack says, voice soft, snapping me out of it as I flop back, panting, still tied. “Nooo—Jack, I was so close!” I protest, tugging one more time, my ankles shifting in the loose coils. He leans in, fingers dancing across my ribs in a gentle flurry, then down to my feet—nails tracing my arches, light and relentless, teasing the smooth soles I scrub every night ‘cause I hate them dirty. “Nooo—Jack! Quit it!” I yelp, laughter spilling out, my body twitching against the ropes. “Jack—staaahp! I’m gonna get you back!” I gasp, kicking uselessly, the tickling messing with my head—caught, ticklish, tangled in our dumb game. It’s not heavy, just enough to make me squirm, and I can’t help grinning through it.

He tightens the ropes a little—wrists cinched firmer behind my back, the nylon settling into a cozy grip, ankles coiled snugger, hugging my skin so my toes wiggle less. “Penalty time, champ,” he murmurs, tickling my feet again—slow, feathery strokes along the arches, quick flicks across the hollows, each one pulling a fresh “Nooo—Jack!” from me. My laughter bounces around the room, my mind spinning—caught, giggling, stuck in this moment—and I don’t hate it. It’s like that first day all over again: me, the ropes, Jack making it fun, making it mine.

The light fades to a golden glow, the room hushing around us, wrapping us in something warm, quiet. Jack stops tickling, sitting beside me, his hand resting on my shoulder, the other tracing a rope like it’s no big deal. “You’re not getting out ‘til I say, little bro,” he says, low and easy, a grin in his voice. “Nooo—Jack, come on!” I whine, tugging one last time, but I’m not really fighting—just playing it out, letting the ropes hold me a little longer. He leans back against the bed, and I settle too, the air thick with us—just us, like always. The ropes, the tickling, the way he sticks around—it’s my puzzle, my win, and he’s part of it.

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Thank you all for the comments done! If you want me to continue after this experiment, please leave a little comment so I know.

[Snozzberry]

And Jack being a kind BIG BRO indulged Kai and helped him finish tying himself up and has been teaching Kai ever since since that day, to Kai's delight.

[ticklishgeek]

I always wanted to be tied and tickled like this by my babysitters!

[BDBrit]

A very interesting and varied story. That burglar was very lucky indeed. I like how the next two bits tell each brother's perspective.

[Killua]

That's a nice and wholesome story. It was nice to read it from Kai's perspective too. It showed that both feel the same and enjoy the company of each other. Great story. Would be nice to read about their adventures again in the future