The bully gets what he deserves (mff/m)

[Im.V]

Nick's wheels rumbled down the sidewalk, a rhythmic sound that echoed through the quiet neighborhood. The sun hovered above the rooftops, casting long shadows that danced alongside him. His heart raced with the excitement of a weekend promising absolute freedom - no parents, no chores, just endless hours of video games and pizza. His spiked blonde hair bobbed in the wind as he leaned into each turn, the light denim shirt flapping open to reveal a white tee underneath. His jeans had seen better days, but the scrapes and tears only added to his edgy charm. The black sneakers he wore had long ago lost their shine, but they hadn't lost their grip.

The twelve year old boy skated up the driveway of his house, the anticipation of a weekend without supervision bubbling inside him like a shaken soda can. He hopped off his board, letting it clatter to the ground as he approached the front door. His eyes widened in shock when he saw the door ajar. He cautiously pushed it open, expecting to find his mom or dad home, their weekend getaway canceled or something. Instead, the sight that greeted him was the last thing he could have ever imagined.

Three figures emerged from the shadows, two girls and a boy, all wearing smirks that mirrored his own from countless times when he had strutted down the school hallways, leaving a trail of fear and intimidation in his wake. They were the very kids he had picked on relentlessly at school - the ones who had never had the guts to stand up to him. Now, they had not only found the courage to confront him, but they had also invaded his personal sanctuary. His heart skipped a beat, a mix of anger and fear surging through his veins like an electric current.

The boy, Marcus, had a mop of unruly brown hair that stuck up in every direction, a stark contrast to his neatly combed, gelled-back look. His glasses sat slightly askew on his nose, and the bridge had a crack from where Nick had shoved him into a locker last week. He was dressed in a faded black T-shirt with the logo of a band Nick had never heard of, baggy cargo shorts, and worn-out sneakers. The taller of the two girls, Rachel, had a wild mane of red hair and a smattering of freckles across her nose. She wore a torn, oversized band tee and ripped blue jeans that revealed the knee pads she used for her secret love of skateboarding - a fact Nick had discovered and mercilessly ridiculed her for. The other girl, a petite brunette named Samira, had her hair pulled back into a tight ponytail that accentuated her sharp features. She was dressed in a simple black tank top and black leggings, her eyes cold and unwavering as they met Nick's.

"What the hell are you doing in my house?" Nick demanded, his voice quivering slightly despite his efforts to sound tough. Marcus took a step forward, his hands in his pockets, his smirk widening. "We're just here to return the favor," he said, his voice eerily calm. Rachel and Samira flanked him, their expressions a blend of anger and satisfaction.

Before Nick could react, the three of them pounced on him. Rachel tackled him from the side, her smaller frame surprisingly strong. Marcus grabbed his arms, twisting them behind his back, while Samira produced a length of rope. They moved with a coordinated efficiency that spoke of meticulous planning. In moments, Nick found himself hogtied, lying on the floor with the rope digging into his skin. He struggled against his restraints, the rope biting into his wrists and ankles as he writhed in fury.

The trio stepped back, panting slightly from the exertion. Rachel leaned down, her freckled face flushed with a mix of excitement and rage. "You're going to regret every mean thing you've ever said to us, Nick," she spat, her eyes alight with a fiery determination. Nick glared at them, his heart hammering in his chest. This was not how he had pictured his weekend starting.

"Let me go, right now!" he roared, trying to jerk free from his bindings. The rope dug deeper into his skin, and his struggles only seemed to amuse his captors. Marcus leaned against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. "Why should we?" he asked, his tone mockingly calm. "You've never shown us any mercy. Why should we show you any?"

Rachel and Samira exchanged a knowing glance, and Rachel shrugged. "Yeah, why should we?" she echoed. Nick felt his cheeks burn with humiliation. He had never been in a position like this before - at the mercy of the very people he had so often belittled. His mind raced, trying to come up with some way to regain control of the situation. "Look," he said, his voice strained, "I can make it worth your while. Just untie me, and we can forget this ever happened."

Samira stepped closer, her ponytail swishing behind her. "What could you possibly offer us that we'd want?" she challenged. "Your lame apologies?" Nick's mind raced. He had never had to apologize for anything in his life, not really. His parents had always bought his way out of trouble, and his popularity had shielded him from any real consequences. But he could see in their eyes that this time would be different.

Then Rachel spoke up, a wicked glint in her eye. "I've got an idea," she said, a smirk playing on her lips. "Let's see if he's ticklish." Marcus and Samira exchanged looks, unsure but willing to play along. Rachel knelt beside him and began poking at his ribs. Nick squirmed and yelped, unable to contain his laughter. "Oh, you are," Rachel said, a note of triumph in her voice. "Very ticklish."

Marcus and Samira joined in, their pokes and prods becoming more aggressive, and Nick's laughter turned to desperate gasps for breath. His pride stung, realizing that his tormentors had found a weakness he never knew he had. His eyes watered as the laughter gave way to a strange mix of fear and embarrassment. "Stop!" he begged, his voice high-pitched and pathetic. Rachel paused, her own laughter subsiding. "Why should we?" she asked, her smirk widening.

Samira stepped forward, a glint of curiosity in her cold eyes. "I want to see if his feet are ticklish too," she said, her voice devoid of any warmth. She bent down and began untying the laces of Nick's black sneakers. He bucked his legs in protest, but Rachel and Marcus held him down firmly. The brunette pulled off his shoes and socks with a flourish, revealing his pale feet. Rachel and Marcus stepped aside, watching with eager anticipation as Samira took a step back, eyeing her new target.

Nick's voice grew shrill. "Don't you dare touch my feet!" he barked, his face reddening. The humiliation of being tickled was bad enough, but the thought of them touching his bare feet was too much. Rachel and Marcus exchanged a look of amusement before Rachel leaned in. "Why not?" she teased. "Are your feet your secret weakness, Nick?"

Samira didn't wait for an answer. She began tickling his feet, her slender fingers dancing over his soles with a precision. Nick's body jerked and he howled, his struggles growing more frantic. Rachel and Marcus watched, their laughter echoing through the empty house. The sound was like nails on a chalkboard to Nick, grating on his nerves and fueling his rage.

Through gritted teeth, Nick managed to spit out a threat. "You're going to pay for this!" His eyes narrowed as the tears of laughter and pain blurred his vision. Rachel wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, her laughter turning into a cackle. "Oh, we're just getting started," she said, her voice thick with spite. "You've had it easy all this time, but now it's our turn."

Marcus nodded solemnly. "You've always acted like you're better than us," he said, his voice tight with emotion. "But now you're just as helpless as we've always felt." Rachel and Samira nodded in agreement, their smirks growing into full-blown grins. They were savoring every moment of Nick's discomfort, and he could see the satisfaction in their eyes.

Samira's fingers continued their cruel dance across Nick's bare soles, finding new spots that sent him into paroxysms of laughter. Rachel joined in, her own hands now seeking his most sensitive areas, her nails digging in slightly as she tickled the arches of his feet. Nick's squirms grew more desperate, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He had never felt so vulnerable, so utterly at the mercy of others. His mind reeled, trying to find a way out of this nightmare.

And then Marcus joined the fray. He leaned down and began tickling Nick's sides with a fervor that seemed to have been bottled up for months. Nick's body convulsed, his laughter turning into shrieks. The three of them were relentless, their fingers moving in a synchronized symphony of torture. Every giggle from Rachel, every snicker from Samira, and every chuckle from Marcus was a knife twisting in his gut. This was not the way he had ever imagined his weekend starting, and certainly not how he had expected to be treated by the very people he had made fun of for so long.

After what felt like an eternity, their laughter began to die down, their fingers slowing to a stop. Nick's body went limp, his breath coming in heaves. The room was silent except for the occasional giggle from Rachel, who couldn't help but look at Nick's red, tear-stained face and smirk. The three of them stepped back, panting slightly, their eyes gleaming with malicious triumph. Rachel wiped her hands on her jeans, a look of satisfaction spreading across her face. "Alright," she said, "I think we've had enough fun for now."

Marcus nodded, his own chest heaving from the exertion of holding Nick down. "But this is just the beginning," he added, a hint of a challenge in his voice. "We have a whole weekend to get creative." Nick's heart sank at the thought of what else they had planned. His mind raced, trying to think of any way to escape or negotiate his freedom, but he knew deep down that they had the upper hand.

Rachel rummaged through the kitchen drawers, her eyes lighting up when she found a roll of duct tape. She held it up with a wicked smile. "Look what I found," she said, waving it at the others. Samira nodded in approval, her own smile just as twisted as Rachel's. They approached Nick with the tape, and his eyes grew wide with terror.

Marcus picked up one of Nick’s socks and shoved it into Nick’s mouth, effectively muffling his cries. Rachel ripped off a piece of duct tape, the sound echoing through the room like a gunshot. Nick’s eyes widened in horror as she leaned over him, the sticky side hovering just above his mouth. With a swift movement, she slapped the tape over his mouth, sealing the sock in place.

The three of them stepped back to admire their work. Rachel’s red hair was now a mess, sticking to her forehead with sweat. Samira’s usually stoic expression was painted with the glee of victory. Marcus’s glasses had slid down his nose, the smugness in his eyes now magnified. They looked down at Nick, hogtied and silenced, a stark change from the proud figure they had known.

"Let's leave him for a bit," Rachel suggested, her voice still tinged with amusement. "We can come back tomorrow and see how much he's missed us." Samira nodded, a hint of a smirk playing on her lips. Marcus considered for a moment, then shrugged. "Why not?" he said. "We've got plenty of time."

“We know your parents wont be home till Sunday night” Marcus say “you've been bragging about it for a week. We’ve got all weekend to make you regret every mean thing you've ever done to us." Rachel giggled, the sound sending a shiver down Nick’s spine.

They left Nick alone in the living room, his muffled grunts filling the space as he struggled against his bindings. The house felt eerily quiet without their taunts and laughter, and his mind raced with fear of what the next two days would bring. He tested the knots, but they were tight and unyielding. His heart sank as he realized the gravity of the situation - he was truly trapped and at their mercy.

[Snozzberry]

Great story, i really enjoyed it. I hope you continue it there are 2 days left to torment Nick. In the end Bullies always get what they deserve, tied up and tickled for the weekend. Remember Nick revenge is sweet.

🖐🖐