MODERN ORDEALS (Principally mmm/m)

[Xtc]

THE MEN FROM THE ZOO (6)


Saturday (Probably about 09:30 hrs or so)

Basset seemed to have been somewhat uninvolved in the proceedings until the next visitor arrived. The Prefects had already agreed that someone would have to stay to supervise Ross in his labours and, being Head Prefect, he himself had generously agreed to do so. As he put it, “Someone has to do it”. Bassett is all heart.

There was a short delay before the next two visitors called at almost the same time. Marginally, the first was Ross, who had taken the opportunity to get breakfast before surrendering himself, attired as he had been instructed. The second was a rather sweaty Ollie who had brought the news that the fatigue detail was ready to receive the Prefects and their “guests”.

Earlier in the year Ollie looked like a typical “farmer-boy” type: sturdy, bright-eyed and rosy-cheeked. Now he looked knackered from his recent exertions and slightly sunburnt from his tendency to shun the use of sunblock – still like a farmer-boy, then. Yes, both you and I know that the mobile telephone would have been a rather more efficient messaging system but then what would defaulters have to do to keep them out of trouble? Ollie was quickly dismissed to re-join the advance party of the Men from the Zoo, and Thompson and Robinson prepared their party to join them. Meanwhile, Bassett appraised his victim. Ross couldn’t really stand with his arms folded all the while he had to present his prep but he did stand as smartly as he could with his books held in front of him rather like a butler presenting a tray.

Ross was a tall, slim, rather athletic example of a Second-Year pupil. Like some of the other recent criminals, he meant no harm and was a hard-working, and hard-playing member of the school community. He was also intelligent. Intelligent enough to do as the prefects told him without disputing its fairness. He was also one of the pupils whom the Prefects would encounter if they found out who was practicing for the “mountaineering” event next year.

By that hour of the day and well into Summer, being bare-footed and bare-chested wouldn’t be too bad; even the humiliation of being seen to act as a slave to the somewhat over-privileged prefects would be balanced out by being seen to bear his burden with fortitude if anyone should see him.

Ross presented his prep. It was more than acceptable but Basett did manage to look unimpressed. Ross was glad it wasn’t a day for French prep. He adopted the expected stance until Bassett told him to, “Use that chain on your ankles.” He indicated a fairly light chain and two padlocks that were laid-out on the table. Ross had seen that facility before. He sat on the floor and wound one end of the chain twice round his right ankle and padlocked it in place. Yes, he was usually an excellent student but he’d had his moments outside lesson times. Once he had locked the other end of the chain round his left ankle, he could not separate his legs very far apart but experience had taught him that he would still be able, with some difficulty, to negotiate the stairs between the Prefect’s Study and the ground floor. He stood himself up and folded his arms.

Bassett could see that the chain was not too loose but he did make a mental note to himself to check to see that it was not too tight after not too long. Bassett’s inspection showed that Ross had even made sure that his fairly short and rather baggy rugby shorts were immaculate. It even looked as though Ross might have ironed them. He had!

Having reminded Bassett about the nature of both his offence and his sentence, Ross was sent along the corridor to the cleaners’ cupboard. He collected a bucket of cold water, not the nicest part of his ordeal, some cleaning fluid, and a sponge. He knew he would not be allowed a long-handled sponge so that he would not be able to avoid intimate contact with the cars that he would be cleaning. At least it would not be too hot or, even worse, too cold outside. OK, so life wasn’t too bad: his wrists were not fettered and he noticed that there were only four cars that would need his attention. Unfortunately, one of those was Robinson’s old banger; Ross thought that it was only the mud that held the old rust-bucket together. He went straight down to the car park. At least he had not been told to move the vehicles across the tarmac to where Bassett would be able to see him while he worked. Nevertheless, he knew he had to make a good job of things. He also knew that he would end up wet, as would those rugby shorts that would end up clinging to him unpleasantly as they dried.

It took him about two-and a-half hours to complete his task. He even thought to mop down the stairs where he had spilt water each time he stumbled down them. He also had the sense to empty the bucket over the cars before returning for more water.

Ross gave the vehicles (and that rust-bucket of Robinson’s) a careful looking-over before reporting to Bassett. He really did not want to waste any more of his precious weekend time. He clanked upstairs for what he hoped would be the final time and reported to the Prefects’ Study. Bassett did manage not to smirk too much as Ross tried to stand with his arms folded behind him and the mop with its head in the bucket and its handle propped up against his chest. He simply couldn’t resist keeping him standing there while he made the usual insincere apologies and empty promises that his misdemeanour was unlikely to be repeated. Ross managed not to dislodge the cleaning implement.

Once he considered that he had enjoyed himself enough, Bassett ordered Ross to return the equipment to the cleaners’ cupboard and then to accompany him to inspect his work. Bassett was impressed and he nearly let Ross know it. He smirked as he pointed out that the defaulter had better hope that a certain old rattletrap had better not spontaneously fall apart in the next couple of days. Ross allowed himself a nervous giggle before reining himself in. Bassett let it go.

It was time to either release his victim or to announce any necessary extension to his ordeal. Basett was, for a Prefect, quite fair in the matter and presented Ross with a choice. He could choose to spend the rest of the weekend in full school uniform, as was usual for defaulters, or he could spend the rest of his Saturday until his bedtime in just those sodden shorts and, presumably, his jockstrap. No choice, Ross knew his shorts would soon dry out and he would not then be drawing attention to himself on Sunday so denying himself the use of any leisure facilities.

“Good Man,” said Bassett approvingly as he threw a key to Ross, “Bring that back before you go, won’t you?”

That might seem a bit weird. Why, “Good man”? Well, Bassett was never derelict in his duty but Ross’s choice would mean that he wouldn’t have to ensure that he was meeting the uniform conditions, thus wasting his own Sunday.

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All the while Bassett was entertaining his unwilling guest and once Ollie had been dismissed, Thompson and Robinson could turn their attention to the remaining three defaulters who had been trying not to move any more than was necessary in order to be able to keep breathing easily. Robinson checked that Nigel and Gary knew where they were supposed to be going but Thompson noticed that they had not been fitted with a lead for their guidance. He even suggested that, if either he or Robinson (or even Luke) could lead them, then they could also be blindfolded. Even for Thompson that was a bit extreme but, with their noses pressed determinedly against the wall, they couldn’t see his smile or the wink in Robinson’s direction.

“Wha’ d’y’ think, lads?” No one answered Robinson’s question but they expected the worst. “Tell you wha’: if I ask my friend nicely not to blindfold you, wha’ you goin’ to do for me in return?”

“Come on, Eric, you know they’re not too bright. give them time to think.” Other than the feeling of impotent outrage, the Third-Years were not even suspicious of Thompson suddenly becoming the nice(r) guy. Even being the pains in the arse that they certainly were, they didn’t really understand the games the Prefects chose to play to increase the torment of their subjects.

There was some discussion of the order of procession and it was decided that Nigel should lead Gary and that they should precede Luke. The suggestion that the Third-Years could thus form a soft cushion if Luke should lose his footing on the stairs was no encouragement to any of them. The party set off to where the rest of the occupants of Dorm 3z had pitched camp. Gary and Nigel managed to descend the stairs more-or-less side by side due to the width of the old staircase and Luke kept as close behind them as he could. He had taken the recent warning seriously. In truth climbing down stairs laden both fore and aft and without his arms for balance did make his progress very precarious. However, all five boys survived that part of the venture unscathed.

Robinson checked that Nigel and Gary knew where they were going (Luke could just follow on) and the party set off out of the school premises for the stream that fed the “Perfectly Round Pond”. It was a journey of about six kilometres, a pleasant enough walk for the prefects but a potential obstacle course for the younger lads.

---00000---

Readers might have noticed that the Prefects had not enforced the “Lance Private” ranks for the defaulters and had not themselves adopted Corps uniform. Well, they simply couldn’t be bothered: Gary had already suffered whatever standard ordeals they could come up with and Nigel’s somnolence was considered to be probably irredeemable; he was only being made to suffer as a matter of routine. Luke? He was just an unfortunate victim of collateral damage.

TBC

[Xtc]

THE MEN FROM THE ZOO (7)


Saturday (In the Meantime)

Ollie, Jeremy and Dan loaded up the old trek-cart, covered the cargo with a couple of extensive tarps, which they tied down securely, and made their resentful way to the designated site. At least none of them had been tied up, a fate that they knew awaited Nigel and Gary. The trail was mostly easy going but towards the end was somewhat hilly even though the hills were gentle. They forded the stream that fed the Perfectly Round Pond where, at that time of the year, it was not too deep for their boots (Shame about Ollie.) but it did get deeper rather quickly as it approached the pond. They carried on to some higher ground that hosted some mature beech and oak trees and even a few stray Scots pines.

They were lucky to complete the journey in about two hours. They thought that would leave them plenty of time to prepare the site and, perhaps, even to take some time to relax. They had, as they expected, worked up quite a sweat, even Ollie in his retro PT kit.

Once everything had been set up, Ollie had to run the entire six-kilometre return journey to report their success to Basset. He also made a good guess that he would have to make the return run as well. That would have been no trouble for Nigel but Ollie was not Nigel and he had already had to put quite a lot of effort into helping with the trek-cart. It was a good job that Dan suggested that he leave well before they had finished pitching camp or he could have his head bitten of by the Head Prefect if he was considered to be late - and if the others could be considered lazy. Life can be hard for a young pupil in a “good” school.

Once Ollie had left, Dan and Jeremy reckoned they had about an hour before the rest of their Dorm members arrived but still thought they had better get lunch prepared and ready to go. Two purposes served there: it might please the Prefects who, according to Robinson’s instructions, would certainly demand feeding and, because, having missed breakfast, their own stomachs thought their throats had been cut. Neither defaulter thought to indulge in lunch before the expected arrivals. That would not have been safe if they had been caught taking a flier but it would not have been fair on Ollie who had probably been worse put-upon than they had.

Somewhat after Ollie arrived, the porters didn’t have long to cool their heels until they noticed the convoy arriving in the near distance when self-preservation dictated that the Prefect’s chairs should be vacated. Lunch preparations proceeded at a pace. Ollie took the opportunity of a rest against a tree. Dan made sure that he got water to drink, even Thompson would not have denied him that.

Somewhat after 12:00 hrs

Robinson and Thompson brought up the rear as the captive defaulters arrived at the camp-site. Thompson ordered the coffled Third-Years to their knees while Robinson started to relieve Luke of his packs. The transition between standing and kneeling was, to say the least, clumsy for the closely coffled lads but they were just about ready for the rest after the trials of the bound, and necessarily rather slow, trek. As the pack was unstrapped from in front of him, Luke only hoped that he would be relieved of his own pack as well. “OK, Gray, your hands aren’t that close, undo that pack and leave it with the pile over there.” With the front pack removed, it wasn’t too hard a task but Luke wondered what else lay in store for him while he was working as “Orderly” for Thompson.

“Gray, just get those ropes behind you and kneel down by the other two oiks while we eat our lunch.” Luke’s attempts to adjust his bindings were not quite as entertaining for him as he struggled on the ground as they seemed to be for the Prefects.

The Prefects occupied two of the three pre-positioned folding chairs and enjoyed a leisurely hot lunch served solicitously by Dan and Jeremy. Even Ollie made sure he was not seen taking things easy. The rest of the party had to enjoy the rather appetising smells wafting across the site. Having not eaten since supper, they were not enjoying that as Robinson and Thompson took their time over a main course of chilli and rice, and a pudding that involved a huge portion of cake and some very yellow custard. Even after that, they demanded tea and biscuits. Well, at least Luke and his fellow defaulters managed to take a rest.

In between mouthfuls, Robinson gave some thought to Ollie. “Cook, get changed. Fatigues and boots then show yourself for inspection.” Ollie was ready for that, his socks and those plimsoles were sodden.

“Thank you, Robinson, may I towel myself off first?”

“Don’t be so bloody stupid; of course you can.”

“Unless you want to stay barefoot.” Ollie chose not to accept Thompson’s kind offer and happily stripped off one pair of plimsoles and one pair of formerly white socks. He even asked permission to take some stakes from the pile he had noticed on which to hang his plimsoles – his socks could hang over a handy tree branch. He collected his denims from his pack along with a safe pair of white uniform briefs and a clean one of those white singlets. The other sweaty one could hang over a branch along with his shorts in case they might be required later. He didn’t even bother to hide himself too efficiently, other than turning his back on the company, as he swapped his rather fragrant jockstrap for the clean briefs. Once he had donned his denims, the clean vest, two pairs of socks and his army boots, he presented himself for inspection.

Thompson could find nothing wrong and ventured, “Stout fellow.” That was as near high praise as anyone had ever heard from Thompson. Even he appreciated how much Ollie had been through compared to the others. “Make yourself useful, Cook. Untie their necks.” It wasn’t really necessary but Thompson indicated Nigel and Gary.

Anyone who has done any rock-climbing will know that the re-tied figure-of-eight is very firm under tension but is (relatively) easy to untie when it is not. Ollie was a fisherman; he knew the knot but his usual way of dealing with it would not have been acceptable in the circumstances even if Robinson’s Swiss Army knife was available. Ollie approached his subjects. Nigel had the more slender neck so Ollie grabbed the ropes between his neck and the knot.

“Hey!!”

“Shut up, Quinn, unless you want to stay tied to the other slug while you eat.”

Nigel saw the sense of Thompson’s threat and apologised to his mate. Ollie pushed the parallel strands towards the knot in his hand. The knot gave slightly. That enabled Ollie to push the free end towards the knot and subsequently to be able to unthread the knot leaving the two bound boys separated and a loose figure-of-eight knot about 60cetimetres from the end of the rope that was still hanging around Gary’s neck. It took very little time, now that he had more room to work, for Ollie to remove the tether from Gary’s neck.

Once the Prefects were replete Robinson graciously announced that it was time for the, “Worms to dine.” Gary and Nigel had pictures of their having to eat out of bowls on the floor like dogs. It HAD been known.

“Come here, Bartholemew.” Gary started climbing to his feet.

“Who told you that you could stand?” Thompson had reverted to type. “Crawl!” Gary wanted to eat; he would have crawled slug-like on his belly if he had to. Nigel waited for his invitation. Robinson enjoyed Gary’s locomotive difficulties before it came. Nigel did not bother trying to stand.

Having known how they had bound their victims made releasing them a fairly easy job for Robinson and Thompson but, before they could eat, the defaulters had to hank the ropes in a tidy fashion and lay them on the tarp that had been pegged out for the purpose. The sight of the other restraining materials that had already been laid out was not an encouraging sight.

Gary and especially Nigel, who’d had more stress placed upon his arms, worked their arms gratefully. After the initial shock, that felt good. The Prefects were in no hurry.

“Alright, Cook, get them something to eat.” Ollie thought that Robinson had forgotten something. So did Luke. However, Ollie almost rushed to do as he was bidden. “Oh, and get something yourself. And you two.” Dan and Jeremy, who had been dutifully standing in the expected posture, (It was safer that way!) rapidly headed for the large enamelled cast-iron pan.

Luke waited. Then Thompson included him in the invitation. That was good news but Luke wondered how he was going to manage. Did he dare ask? Just a few seconds of looking round desperately prompted Robinson to ask Luke what he wanted while warning him to mind his manners.

Even in his short time in the school, Luke had learnt that it was impossible to be too humble in front of the prefects, not if you wanted to live, that was. While the Third-Years tucked in, he didn’t even rise from his knees and worked his way over to where Thompson was sitting. He must have made a really good job of crawling up his arse because Thompson didn’t even make him work his ropes to be in front of him. “Stand up.” Luke did so. “Turn around.” That enabled Thompson to untie him enough for him to complete the job himself.

“Thank you, Thompson, very kind of you, Thompson. *Blah, blah, blah, . . .”

“Can it, Worm.” Luke did so, faster than you’d think possible considering that he was on a roll. “Just get your lunch and then report or Orderly duty.” Perhaps Luke was soon to learn what that would involve now that they were no longer in school.

TBC

[WhereAmI]

End of chapter 2, Ordeal By Ice - Another Hardened Criminal.

Poor little Chistopher Bassett having to lay with no pants, his ankles tied together with his toes tied to his ankles, his hands tied behing his back and his thumbs tied together holding his uhbent legs off the floor for over ten minutes. I almost feel sorry for him, but being the head Prefects little brother he should know to keep his shirt tucked in. Give him another half hour.

Pinky appears to cause a lot of trouble and is keeping the Prefects busy, which im sure they enjoy tormenting him.

[Xtc]

Basset Minor should have known better, knowing who his big brother was and Pinky was merely trying not to be late to lessons. Life is hard if one is enrolled in a good school.

[WhereAmI]

Poor little Chistopher polishing shoes all afternoon and weekend, they better shine like a lighthouse.

[Xtc]

Yup, but it won't make them any more comfortable.

[Xtc]

Author's apologies but unable to update story - computer problems.
I used a library computer to post this.
(ab)normal service will be resumed as soon as possible.

[blackbound]

Looks like my streak of missing these continues. Will catch up ASAP!

[Xtc]

As must I with yours now that I am back in the land of the zombified.

[Xtc]

THE MEN FROM THE ZOO (8)


Saturday (Round about 13:00 hrs)

The chilli and even the rice barely touched the sides as the Third-Years went into hoover mode. There was even plenty left for Luke once he had untied himself. Admittedly, the portions of cake needed to be of a heathier size than the huge slabs that the Prefects had absorbed but there was plenty of custard. All diners sat on the floor; at least Nigel, Gary and Luke were not made to continue kneeling but nobody who was not a Prefect was bold enough to use anything other than the ground to sit on.

“Anyone want any more?” Silly question. The remains were shared out fairly (more or less) by Ollie and distributed to the rest of the diners. There was just about a layer of enamel left on the insides of the two pans (Why use nasty aluminium dixies when the worms have to transport the kit to the site?) once Ollie had finished scraping them out.

As each diner completed his lunch and had consigned his plastic plate, bowl and mug (They had only been allowed water to drink and had certainly not been offered any biscuits.) to a large plastic bowl along with his cutlery, he adopted the straight-legged posture with his arms folded behind him.

“OK, worms, had enough?” The defaulters looked suspicious.

The Men from the Zoo and Luke had cheered up considerably by the time they had wiped cake crumbs and yellow gloop from their persons. Cheered up, that is, until Thompson said, “And which of you losers is going to explain to Bassett that you have just eaten his lunch?” An unaccustomed silence fell over the company. That was well-timed by Thompson as a shirtless Bassett steered his precious old mountain bike onto the site.

Bassett had stayed on after his A-levels for one of those crammer courses for those star pupils who were expecting to go up to Oxbridge. Bassett was a shoe-in but he was going to accept all opportunities given to him. He was a tall, mousey-haired, bespectacled eighteen-year-old who was sturdy, rather than muscular, but he certainly didn’t disgrace himself all the while he was bare-chested. He took a large towel out of a panier on his bike and wiped himself down. It had become a warm enough day and Bassett had not taken his time riding cross-country. He did not bother to rinse the mud off his legs or from those somewhat bizarre cycling shorts. There would be time for that after he had inspected the site.

It was time to get on with things. Thompson addressed Luke, “Did you forget something?” Luke started his cod-fish impersonations. “Why didn’t you tidy that rope up?” With many apologies, Luke picked up the rope that he had recently removed from his person. “No, don’t bother, bring it here.” Luke managed to read between the lines and only hoped that he would be able to complete the tasks expected of him with his wrists bound.

Robinson wasted no time while his colleagues were working. “Bartholemew, get one of those long chains from the tarp and get it round your waists. I do NOT expect to be able to slip it down over your hips.” Gary and Nigel made sure that was not likely to be possible as they padlocked the chain and handed the keys to Thompson. They were obviously going to have to work as a two-man chain-gang even if a quite widely spaced one. At least they didn’t have to lock the chain round their necks.

Thompson proceeded. Luke held his hands in front of him as Thompson adjusted them to be the correct distance apart. He made a very neat job of tying a stiff cuff between his subject’s wrists. He then sent him over to the tarp to get a short chain. “Don’t say I never do anything for you.” I suppose Luke could have been made to cuff his own ankles but it would have been quite difficult for him so Thompson soon had his ankles safely secured.

Luke knew what was expected and said, “No, Thompson, thank you, Thompson,” in answer to the sarcastic question but he was thinking, “I’m dressed for running about; how am I going to do that chained like an old-time convict?” He was soon to find out but not until Thompson had finished intimidating him.

Bassett took his time inspecting the earlier work done by Dan, Jeremy and Ollie, who looked determinedly to the front and tried not to look round. “D’Olio, get the washing up done.” Jeremy moved – quickly. “Corelli, get the bashas pitched. No too close.” Dan thought it would not be wise to ask for more detailed instructions. Cook, get our bergens in our tent and lay out our sleeping bags.” The prefects were obviously going to use the modern six-berth tent. The “worms” weren’t. At least the Third-Years had not had to pitch one of those heavy old “Icelandics”. Also, the inexperienced Luke had someone to pitch his basha for him.

It was all happening.

Luke’s torment at the hands of Thompson continued as Gary and Nigel just stood, chained together and awaiting instructions.

“Put your hands behind your head.” Luke did so, leaving his elbows jutting out. “Now, should I tie them there.” Luke expressed the preference that he would rather that Thompson did not do that. “Or how about this: sit down, knees up. Slide your arms down over them.” Luke was soon in the dreaded “bucked-and-gagged” position. “Well, should I just slide a trenching tool between your knees and your arms?” Luke had never had to suffer that torment but he knew it would hurt.

“No, please, Thompson, how can I work for you if I can’t move?”

“Clever little squit, en’ he, Chris?”

“OK, you silver-tongued little slave, go and get me one of those white ropes and bring it here.” Luke unravelled as quickly as he could and clanked his way across to the intimidating display of potential bindings. The neatly rolled wite rope was presented to Thompson who showed no sign of accepting it. Luke was puzzled.

“I’d kneel down if I was you. Show some respect.” Robinson was always the one to be helpful.

Luke knelt and held the offering up to Thompson who graciously relieved him of it. Thompson went to work. “Hands up, Gray. Oh yes, and stand up.” Luke presented his wrists in front of his face. Thompson found the middle of the rather short rope and fed the bight so formed up behind Luke’s wrist-cuff and fed the free ends though it. Once he had pulled it tight, there would be no need for any further knotting yet. “Hands down.” Luke’s bound hands dropped to his waist. Turn to your left. All the way.” As Luke spun, the doubled rope bound itself round his waist. Thompson tied the free ends of the rope around the belt that had just been formed. He probably pulled it rather too tight but it wouldn’t matter for a while as he tucked the remaining rope round the belt. That might be very convenient later. Luke would not be able to reach the knot and there would be only the one to undo when Luke was going to need to remove his wrists from being so closely melded to his waist.

Thompson told Luke to turn around so that he could inspect his work and then to kneel down beside his chair. Luke didn’t exactly find kneeling delicately easy with his ankles chained not more than about 40 centimetres apart. He tried not to show it.

By the time Dan, Jeremy and Ollie had completed their tasks and returned to the expected posture, Bassett had completed his inspection of the site. He laid his towel on his chair, sat down and called the Men from the Zoo to stand in front of him.

Early Afternoon

All five residents of Dorm 3z adopted the “penitent” position awaiting to learn their immediate fates. At least Bassett did not start with a list of complaints about the way the camp had been established. Let’s face it: practice makes perfect and these guys had had plenty of practice over what was nearly three years.

“Listen up, Worms, and you two Slugs,” Gary and Nigel had obviously been either demoted or promoted on the evolutionary tree in the course of their ordeals. “It’s payback time.” None of the Men from the Zoo dared to look at one another. You know the pond you just passed?” Nobody responded. “Well?”

Five boys responded then - almost immediately.

“Well. The Groundsman was saying that it needs cleaning out. We thought you could help.” It dawned on Gary and Nigel that they hadn’t been made to wear their swimming costumes purely for humiliation purposes. “There’s lots to do, so . . .” Bassett’s instructions covered just about all possible aspects of the job before his final, “Well, what are you waiting for?” Whereupon five defaulters moved - fast!

The first task was the removal of all the detritus that had been left in and around the pond. The lads hardly resented that except for the conditions under which they were forced to work. Nigel and Gary entered the pond. Even in summer, it was a bit cold round the unmentionables as they waded away from the bank but no worse than it was whenever they sneaked out for a bit of wild swimming. There was a surprising amount of old crap scattered round the surrounding aquatic vegetation that needed to be consigned to the black bags that they carried between them. Once they had filled two bags and thrown them onto the bank for their colleagues to load onto the Trek-cart, there were still some larger items to be consigned to the bank. I don’t think Gary really appreciated Nigel’s enquiry: “Where’s the shopping trolley, then?” But he did have the decency to grin slightly.

The job must have taken well over an hour while Dan, Jeremy, and Ollie were still clearing the rubbish that adorned the banks when they were not consigning the rubbish that Nigel and Gary had thrown for them to load onto the trek-cart. Once they were sure that they had done the job to a standard that would please Bassett – (and, perhaps, even satisfy Thompson!), the chain gang stood with their arms folded behind them again.

“Lazy little buggers! Get and help the worms before you start lazing around”. Thompson was on form. The swim-suited slaves moved quickly to get another black bag and tried to look busy for at least another half-hour until Bassett called the workers in. By then the Slugs had dried off and the weather had still kept them quite warm. Indeed, the vest-wearing Worms were sweating quite copiously.

Luke seemed to have got away with things quite well. All he’d had to do so far was to collect cold drinks for the Prefects from the gas fridge that had had plenty of time to get down to temperature. Robinson even freed his wrists from his waist, but not from each other, to allow him to do so. He did have to return to his position kneeling beside Thompson’s chair in between missions but at least the ground was soft(ish) on his knees.

If that was all they had to do, the Third-Years would have thought they’d got away with things quite lightly, especially when Luke was told to get their canteens so that they could take a drink. Robinson even told Luke to stow the canteens in the fridge once they had finished.

“Gawd, you lot, you en’t arf put a lot of crap on that cart.” The Men from the Zoo thought that it was hardly their fault but Robinson obviously had something in mind.

“As you say, My Dear Eric: indeed, it will not do.” Gary was about to say something very unwise except that Basset hardly stopped for breath. “Right, back to business.” The Head Prefect addressed the working party. By then the mud had completely dried on his bare legs and cycling shorts leaving his by-now-bare feet contrastingly pink but that didn’t seem to concern him. He removed his specs and demanded that Luke get him a tissue. Luke went across to the first-aid kit and collected a small packet of “Kleenex” from the tarp. This time he remembered to kneel before offering the pack up to Bassett, who cleaned his glasses and replaced them on his head.

While the Third-Years stood waiting, Bassett addressed Luke. “Gray, now that those drongos (Bassett had spent some time in Australia and he hadn’t found a better word than that to describe such useless specimens as stood in front of him.) have loaded the trek-cart with crap,” the Men from the Zoo hardly thought they could be blamed for that, “We need to get it clear so that we can take all this kit back.” Bassett indicated the camp-site in general. The Men from the Zoo saw a possible quicker end to their torments than they had been expecting. Basset continued addressing Luke. “You are going to get some help from school”. The prompt end of their torments vanished into the ether.

“Chris, unlock this little weasel’s ankles, please.” (Luke was obviously considered to be even higher up the evolutionary scale than the Third-Years.) Thompson called Luke over to him and told him to lie on his back and raise his legs so that he could more easily free his ankles. Luke even remembered to thank Thompson humbly for being so kind as to enable him to run in his service. He was going to be a prize-winning crawler if only he could survive to reach his Third-Year. But it would - of course – be totally disingenuous. It was all part of the game.

Luke rose and presented himself to Bassett once more; it was obviously too much to hope that his wrists would be untied as well and he knew damn well that no one was likely to take the chance of untying him back at school. He only hoped he would be given enough time to run all that way without being punished even more for taking too long.

Bassett continued: “You know those two pillocks, Li and Lewis?” Of course he did, he shared several lessons with each of them. “Well, they got away with things somewhat because we were in a hurry this morning. Send them my compliments and tell them to get themselves here. Tell them that they should wear that tennis kit that they are so fond of. And tell them to shift their arses if they know what’s good for them.”

Luke then asked all sort of questions about what might happen to him if they didn’t believe him but Basset simply continued, “You’ll find Lewis in the gym . . .”

“He’s always in there on a Saturday afternoon,” confirmed Robinson, “He can come in his gym kit, it’s more or less the same.”

“Good one, Eric . . . and Li will probably be doing his prep in his home base . . .”

“Yeah, total swat.” At least Luke knew where that was, it being his own home base as well.

“. . . and you’ve got three-quarters of an hour to get to them. Your time started when you started all those unnecessary questions. Make sure the Porters log your arrival.” That wouldn’t be unusual. Nobody seemed to ask any questions unless there seemed to be some danger of serious harm being done to a defaulter’s well-being. Having the prefects running their own system of discipline saved the Staff in the Porters’ Lodge finding work for official defaulters to do and that meant that they wouldn’t have to look after them either. The system suited both parties as long as no one came to any real harm.

There was no arguing and Luke knew that it was his time he was wasting. He started running as quickly as his bound predicament allowed him to do safely. Even a reasonably fit First-Year could do that distance in less than forty minutes but not with his wrists bound. He wasn’t happy.

TBC

[Xtc]

THE MEN FROM THE ZOO (9)


The Rest of Saturday Afternoon

Once Luke was on his way, Bassett turned his attention to the comparatively less guilty residents of Dorm 3z. He demanded to check their prep and Thompson pointed out that the Prefects were being generous in allowing the Third-Years a brief respite from their labours. Nigel and Gary were only too happy to be ignored while the others delivered their tasks for inspection. Needless to say: they had been completed immaculately – not to do so would have been a hanging offence and these kids might have been complete pains in the arse to the Prefects, but none of them was thick!

Having told the Worms to replace their prep in their bergens, but without expressing any appreciation of its quality, Bassett told Dan to collect the remaining long chain and three padlocks. The number three left the Worms in no doubt as to their immediate prospects. “Chris, be so good as to supervise the securing of the next chain-gang if you please.”

“Delighted, Bassett.” Bassett then disappeared into the six- man tent.

Dan did not bother kneeling to offer up the chain for Thompson’s attention; he knew it would be applied on a do-it-yourself basis. Obviously, with three people in need of being accommodated, they were much closer than Gary and Nigel had been but the ends of the chain were soon padlocked tightly round the waists of Jeremy and Dan and the middle of it constricted Ollie’s waist.

“Do I need to check for tightness?”

Three almost simultaneous replies of, “No, Thompson,” were accompanied by frantic attempts to demonstrate that none of the boys could lift the chain either up over his ribs or, more importantly, down past his bum. Thompson was nearly moved to suggest that Dan could afford to slacken off his chain belt by a couple of links – nearly, but not quite. He held his hand out to receive the keys. It must have been difficult for him to maintain a straight face as the chain-gang came chaotically to their knees in front of him with the keys held in front of their faces. He accepted them without comment.

By the time the academic tasks had been carefully stored and the latest chain-gang had been brought to its knees, Bassett reappeared wearing just his “Ripcurl” boardies and a pair of flip-flops. He carried a clean bath towel and his cycle-shorts but was without his specs. He headed towards the lake to take a swim and to clean the mud from both his person and his cycle-shorts while his lieutenants explained their pre-arranged forthcoming tasks to the Men from the Zoo. It sounded as though the job would take the rest of the afternoon and even well into the evening.

Gary could not hold it in any longer. “But, we didn’t need to clear all that crap from the reeds if all were going to do is dig most of them out.” That was certainly true. But to say so was not wise.

“Did I hear a complaint?”

Gary needed a millisecond to reassess his immediate future. He pulled his horns in just in time. “No, Thompson. Sorry, Thompson.”

“Remind me to explain what you did wrong later.” That might have been Robinson speaking but even that was enough to make Gary start mentally working on his apology.

The task that had so enraged Gary was a simple one: He and Nigel would take a machete (Yes, a machete – but only one. Can you imagine those two each wielding one of those while chained together?) and separate some of the reed-mace that was intruding well onto the pond from that which was nearer the bank. The Slugs would then drag the loosened vegetation to the bank and leave it for an hour or so to enable the invertebrates to return to the water (Robinson was a bit of a conservationist.) before the Worms loaded it onto the trek-cart. No wonder Gary thought that they could have just left the rubbish to be loaded with the reed mace. No, nobody suggested eating the roots, the lads were stupid but not desperate.

By the time Gary and Nigel had cleared sufficient of the invasive roots to satisfy Robinson, everybody had worked up a good sweat.

---00000---

In the meantime, several things happened: Bassett finished bathing and completing his laundry. He hung his cycling shorts over a branch and dried himself off approximately before retiring to the large tent to locate his glasses, complete drying himself off and to change into fresh boxers and yet another pair of board shorts, but not such a stylish pair this time. He turned over the mud-encrusted towel that was protecting his chair and made himself comfortable to discuss with his colleagues the way forwards. The bits that the Third-years could hear did not sound encouraging.

Meanwhile Back at School

Luke arrived at the Porter’s Lodge in plenty of time, heaved a sigh of relief and went in search of Bobby Lewis. As Robinson had suggested, he was in the gym dressed in those scruffy shorts and, as school regulations required if he was to be allowed to use the Gym, a pair of white plimsols and a jockstrap. Even for First-Years, it was a requirement. Being a mini-poseur, he always worked bare-chested; he was already quite well-built but also a very flexible and talented footballer.

Luke was in luck, Bobby believed him and went with him to locate Li Xia-Jr. They both agreed that it was almost inevitable that the two tennis players would not be allowed to get away with that very short imposition this morning. Luke was pleased to have his company as it made it easier for him to negotiate doors with his hands bound as they were.

Lisa was also easily located and half expected to be called to account for his and his mate’s outrage to Thompson’s dignity. Lisa packed his study materials and the three boys headed for Dorm 1m where Li changed into a pair of white slip briefs and those rather smart, but rather skimpy, tennis shorts. He slipped one of those old-fashioned pairs of gym-shoes on and rose to leave.

“You not going to put a shirt on?”

“Bobby has no shirt. Bobby good mate (Li still retained some traces of not being a native English speaker). I not wear shirt either”. Solidarity meant a lot especially in the face of the enemy. After all, Bobby could have saved himself some trouble by heading for the campsite straight away when Luke gave him the bad news but he preferred to wait for his friend. Besides, there might be safety in numbers.

Luke made sure that the other First-Years knew where they should go and suggested that they should get there pdq. They were initially reluctant to leave Luke behind but he pointed out that he was already knackered and would only slow them down – and they wouldn’t want to keep Thompson waiting, now, would they?

The blonde Brit and his Chinese mate made off quickly with Lewis acting as pacemaker. Li checked his watch; they made the run in under half an hour. Luke took as long a rest as he dared and loped on at a somewhat steadier rate.

TBC

[Xtc]

THE MEN FROM THE ZOO (10)


Saturday (Meanwhile back at the Campsite)

Dan, Ollie and Jeremy couldn’t afford to relax until the hour was up, not all the while they had to receive the cut vegetation from the two reapers in the pond. All being chained together certainly made their job no easier and the three of them ended up in the pond for nearly as much time as Gary and Nigel; it’s just that they weren’t exactly dressed for it.

Other than that, the outraged complaints as the formerly dry boys became wetter and slimier as the job proceeded, not much of interest happened until Bobby and Lisa arrived. That gave Thompson something to do. He explained that two annoying little squits of his acquaintance would be taking the trek-cart back to school where they should dump the reed mace in the active, large compost bin where the Gardiner’s crew would find it on Monday. There were also several black bags of rubbish that would need dumping by the dustbins as well.

That didn’t sound too bad except that they were only first years and it looked as though there would be a heavily laden cart when the Third-Years’ task was completed. Bobby Lewis was comparatively strong but his mate was slight. Even so, Li-Xiaji was fit and did not expect to fail at any task allocated to him. Lewis was used to getting into minor scrapes but this would be a first for Li. The Prefects were aware of that – but that was not going to stop Thompson from administering a just punishment. In furtherance of that justice, he selected two well-worn ropes, not too short a chain, and two suitable padlocks. The Frist-Years had been at the school long enough to know what to expect.

Thomson’s speciality seems to have been forming fairly rigid, relatively painless, but effectively inescapable rope-cuffs. Both Lewis and Li soon had their wrists bound in front of them far enough apart to enable the defaulters to twist them so that they could grab the handles of the trek-cart. Lewis and Li were harnessed up as a group of increasingly wet and pissed-off Third-Years were loading the cart.

There were many imprecations concerning the parentage of two of the Worms from the other one whenever he caught a particularly slimy bundle of weed in his chest or his face. That was a particular problem for Ollie, being the one in the middle, but the swearing was reasonably fairly distributed between the friends. Such indelicacy did not deter Thompson from carrying out his duty as he threaded the chain through a loop on the front of the cart.

“Grab the T-bar; one each side. Bit closer.” Thomson was gauging the length of chain that he should leave between the cart and the draught team. When he was sure that they could get as close to the handle as they would need to, he told them to freeze. Li and Lewis were soon padlocked to the cart by their waists and there was just a short length of chain remaining to make sure that the two workers stayed not much more than 40 centimetres apart. That seemed to be the style for the day.

“Very well, you two, let go and hands on your heads. Wait!” Lisa and Bobby were so close that, even though they tried to force their elbows back, they kept colliding with one another. Thompson just let them get on with it.

Then Luke arrived. He was full of excuses about why he had been so long but the Prefects weren’t interested. As far as they were concerned, he had made pretty good time for a bound 12K run at his age and, along with the search for his fellow First-Years, he obviously hadn’t taken too long a rest before returning. But they certainly did not let Luke know that. Robinson got Luke’s canteen from the fridge and handed it to him. Luke wisely remembered his manners and, after he had returned the canteen to Robinson and thanked him profusely, he lifted his wrist-cuff behind his neck and forced his elbows back.

“Stout lad.” Bassett, having completed his swim and his laundry, was just simply lounging around and leaving the ‘child-care’ to his minions. He was obviously in a complimentary mood.

---00000---

Things proceeded increasingly damply and accompanied by more and more increasingly insulting language until all the greenery and bagged rubbish had been piled on the old trek-cart. The Men form the Zoo were glad to have hat part of their ordeal was over.

“Isn’t all the crap going to fall off before the oiks get it back to school?” Alright, that was a set-up but the Prefects carried on.

“Why don’t we use those tarps again?”

“Really, my dear Robinson, you know we need them for the things we’ve laid out for the camp-site.” By now the more hardened criminals from Dorm 3z were getting suspicious.

“Yes, silly me. What could we use instead?”

“Well, we could always spreadeagle Gray on top of the load. All those ropes should keep most of it in place.”

Luke didn’t like Thompson’s suggestion and started pleading. He simply didn’t realise that such an action would make things very awkward at the far end of the journey. It took less than two minutes for Luke to have ‘volunteered’ to follow on behind the load and reinstate anything that became dislodged.

“And I suppose you expect me to untie your wrists as well?”

“No, Thompson, thank you, Thompson; I can manage.” On a good day, Thompson could get a convict to bid-up his punishment to beyond what even he would consider acceptable. At present, though, he thought Luke would have gone through enough by the time he had got to school and probably had to unload the cart single-handedly and so he called off the challenge.

“Right, accepted.”

Luke wondered what would have happened if he had said, “Yes.” – but even he’s not that stupid!

Eventually the cart was sent on its way and, yes, there IS a God: Luke’s hands were freed with dire warnings about what would happen to him if either Li or Lewis ‘miraculously’ became united before they returned the cart. I expect readers have worked out that it was a clever way of stopping two fundamentally decent lads getting Luke into even more trouble. He even took a hand in propelling the load by pushing at the back.

Just before the First-Years were out of sight, Thomson called, “And Gray,” Luke turned round. “Just unload that cart and don’t bother coming back. Li and Lewis can bring it back.”

“Wha’?” Luke couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Unless you really want to.”

“Thank you, Thomson, *blah, blah, blah, grovel, crawl . . *.” Luke put his back into pushing the rather smelly load.

That left two chain-gangs standing, legs apart, arms folded behind them and hoping that the Prefects, and Thompson in particular, were not feeling too creative.

TBC

[Xtc]

THE MEN FROM THE ZOO (11)


Late Saturday Afternoon

The Prefects had just had an exhausting day and had decided not only that it was time for tea but that the denizens of Dorm 3z should be accommodated in an appropriate fashion. Appropriate, that is, to the facilitation of easy baby-sitting.

Bassett flew into action if you count sitting and giving orders as flying. “Alright, Slugs, listen up.” Nigel and Gary certainly would not have wanted to get whatever Bassett wanted wrong at that stage. “Bartholemew, get a couple of padlocks. Quinn, pick up a couple of those black ropes then get yourselves over here.” The two defaulters moved as quickly as the gang-chain would allow whilst trying not to trip over the thing. It was now a case of the prefects doing as little as possible to achieve the desired end.

The key to the padlock securing Nigel to the gang-chain was produced and Nigel was told to unlock it and to move along the chain. He dropped the ropes and, when Bassett judged that he was about half way, he told Nigel to stop and fasten it around his waist again. He thought better about fastening it too loosely round his admittedly somewhat slender waist. “OK, let’s see if it’s tight enough.” Nigel certainly hoped it would be. “Just give it a bit of a tug.” Nigel did so and the very tight loop grazed his flesh slightly as it dug in. He tried not to wince. Robinson did that for him. He also made a mental note to check up on Nigel’s well-being discretely after not too long. “OK, you convinced me. You may loosen it by a couple of links.”

The usual effusive thanks to Bassett followed but Nigel knew it would be worth it.

“Hips, show me.” Nigel tied in vain to force the chain loop down over his slim hips. It was obviously secure. “That will do. Pick up those ropes and get your arses over to that tree.” The Head Prefect indicated a substantial oak that had no low-lying branches. At least this time the loop of chain between the two villains didn’t trail along the ground.

“Very good, now just face the tree, Quinn and don’t move.” Nigel forced his nose against the ancient bole. “And you, Bartholemew, move round until that chain is taut.” Once Gary was also nose-to-bark with the oak, Bassett noticed that the defaulters were as near as damn it on opposite sides of the tree. “Oh yes, this man is good!” Bassett was feeling smug.

“And which of you gentlemen would like to go over and complete the ring-chain?” Basset looked at his associates.

“Lazy bugger, why not do it yourself?”

“Really, my dear Chris, that wasn’t really appropriate to the dignity of your Head Prefect.”

“He was right, though.”

“What is this, my dear fellows: a mutiny?” This was more of the usual bullshit but there was an obvious solution.

“We have three slaves here, why can’t one of them do it?”

“Wise as ever, my dear Eric. Listen up, Worms: Volunteer wanted.” Nobody moved.

“What, nobody wants to be released from that chain?” Actually, Dan, not being the slenderest of the Worms, was really in need of some relief from the links intruding into his midriff but he could hardly say so and leave his mates still enchained. “OK, looks like Cook then, but you’ll all have to stay gang-chained.”

“Learn, gentlemen, learn; there are advantages to volunteering.” Of course, there were but how could one of the boys leave the others chained when he was freed?

The chain-gang clanked over to the tree and Ollie relieved Gary of one of the padlocks. He attached the free end of the chain to the loop round Gary’s waist.

“Call that a job well done, Cook? That chain needs tightening. See to it.”

“Yes, Basset, sorry, Bassett, etc, etc, etc . . .” Ollie took the remaining padlock from Gary and fastened it between two non-adjacent links, leaving the gang-chain reasonably tight against the tree and certainly tight enough to make it unpleasant for the prisoners to try to move round the tree trunk even if they did manage to work in concert.

Predictably, Robinson had spotted that Dan was showing signs of needing fairly prompt relief from the links digging into his somewhat ample abdomen but he thought there was another check he should make first. He rose from his chair. “Alright, Worms, report to Thompson; he needs a volunteer to fix tea. That’s you, Corelli.” Dan didn’t; know whether to be relieved or not but Robinson didn’t stop for breath during his announcement and Thompson managed to pretend he was expecting to hear that. The Prefects had formed a good team since their appointment.

---00000---

The chain-gang reported to Thompson, and Robinson approached Nigel, making a surreptitious inspection of his recent encounter with the waist-chain. It was obviously not in need of attention, especially now that it had been loosened a bit so he took one of the black ropes and started to display his expertise once more. He doubled the rope, he’d obviously been studying, and tied a fairly careless overhand knot in both strands leaving a loop about ten centimetres long. He did pull it tight but he would normally use a figure-of-eight knot. He just couldn’t be arsed; he would be able to spot it if the knot slipped. As he worked, he took a sneaky look at where the chain had dug into Nigel’s waist and diagnosed that no treatment would be necessary so he hung the rope over Nigel’s shoulders leaving the loop hanging down his back, and told him to hold his arms out straight. Working both sides at once, Robinson wrapped the free ends none too tightly round Nigel’s arms four times before leaving the left-hand end hanging while he tied the other end round his right wrist. With his left arm fastened similarly, Nigel was told to bring his arms behind him. Even with his slight biceps, the ropes tightened a bit. They tightened a bit more as Robinson passed the free ends up through the loop between Nigel’s shoulders and pulled them through. He stopped when Nigel grunted slightly.

Having examined his work, Robinson decided that the ropes were not too tight and didn’t even bother fastening Nigel’s wrists together before tying the free ends a couple of times round the vertical ropes. He shook Nigel’s arms roughly but elicited no reaction from his subject. “OK to carry on, Quinn?”

“Yes, Robinson, thank you, Robinson.” By now, I am sure readers understand Nigel’s dilemma. Robinson simply grunted.

Gary knew the routine even better than his slighter mate and was soon subject to the same treatment except that, even though he managed to tough out the part where Robinson pulled his wrists higher up his back, Robinson noticed that his muscles had drawn the ropes much tighter than Nigel’s had. Robinson lowered his wrists by some way and bound then together before binding the free ends of the rope round the vertical rope strands from the bottom up. Robinson made the usual safety check/opportunity for escape.

“Look, Robinson, the worst part is all that flaming whistling. Just get on with it.” Yes, Eric was enjoying himself again.

“He doesn’t learn, does he, Eric?”

“Oh, he will, Dear Boy, he will.” This time, Gary grunted.

The worms were left with the uninviting close-up view of a limited expanse of oak-bark unless they turned their heads sideways. At least they had not been prohibited from doing that.

It probably wasn’t really necessary for Thompson to add, “Alright you two little wankers, now you can’t play with yourselves. I don’t want to see either of you humping that tree.”

“Thomps-O-O-O-N!” The outrage was almost choral.

“Oh, yes, nearly forgot.” Robinson went across to the tarpaulin on which a variety of bindings had been displayed ready for future use. As he worked, Robinson reminded Gary of some of his unwise comments. He made that three counts: complaining in the Prefects’ Study, complaining about having to remove the rubbish from the reeds that were only going to be removed from the pond immediately and, oh yes, failing to appreciate the music that he himself was providing for the entertainment of anyone who could hear it.

Gary could guess what was coming and did not make the best of what was likely to be his last opportunity to tell Robinson exactly what he thought of him before it happened. He could see what was in Robinson’s hand and he had met that dog-toy before. It was a short, thick, colourful rope with two large knots, one at each end.

In the meanwhile, Chris had taken Eric’s hint and released Dan from the gang-chain so he found himself called over to where Robinson was standing. “Stand with your back to this slug and lift up one of his shins.” Dan looked puzzled but soon had Gary’s left instep in his hands leaving him standing on one leg. “D’Olio, Cook, here!” Ollie picked up the loose end of the chain so that it wasn’t dragging on the ground and the two remaining worms clanked over to join their erstwhile chain-gang colleague. “Hold tight, Corelli. You, d’Olio, kneel down and untie his boot.” Jermey did so. The job was a very clumsy one and left Gary feeling very insecure. “OK, take of his boot and hand it to Cook.” Once he had done so, Dan released Gary’s foot and Gary returned his socked foot to the ground.

“OK, Corelli, go back to Thompson, I think he might have another job for you.” Dan gratefully stopped leaning on Gary and came to a halt in front of Thompson with his legs straight and his arms folded in the expected manner. “Cook, remove the lace and hand it to me.” That was quite an unpleasant job due to the abundant mud adhering to Gary’s size 7. Ollie presented the manky thing to Robinson.

“At least you could wipe it off first.” Was this the nicest of the prefects after all? Ollie gave Robinson a look. But he did un-hitch his singlet somewhat to enable him to do as he was instructed. He did not tuck the now even muddier garment away tidily again. “Thank you. You may go.” After a short pause for processing, Ollie and Jermey returned to stand in front of Thompson again.

“You’re not ging to make this difficult for me, now are you?” Gary had every intention of cooperating; it was safer that way. He pushed back his head and Robinson lodged the dog-toy in his mouth. “Aaand bite! Nose against the tree.” The heavy knots drooped slightly against Gary’s chin and Robinson halved the bootlace before tying a lark’s head just inside the left-hand knot. Gary was determined not to release the well-used (but frequently disinfected) gag. Robinson pulled the free ends of the bootlace across Gary’s nape and tied wound them in opposite directions round the right-hand end of the dog-toy before tightening things up a bit and fastening the lace with a reef knot. The two colourful knots had been pulled close to Gary’s cheeks. Robinson did not bother with the customary check on his subject’s well-being.

---00000---

Thompson assessed his slave (Dan) and his companions. “Keerist! You lot are rank.” And, it must be agreed, they were.” The pond itself was of bathing water quality as had been previously demonstrated by Bassett, but the ripening vegetation and adherent mud from the banks left a prile of very bedraggled and increasingly fragrant Third-Years. “Corelli, you are going to be the chef, we need you clean. Get ‘em off, get in that pond and take a bath.” Dan looked confused. “Yes, get on with it. Get your towel – oh, and you may keep your undies. Don’t forget a clean pair. Or your Corps shorts (PT). Do I have to tell you everything?” As Dan ran off to get his things, Thompson clarified his instructions; Dan was to dress in corps PT uniform – as long as he had brought a spare singlet. Of course he had, as an old offender, and as a Man form the Zoo, he was more than used to being prepared for all eventualities.

Dan felt a bit better about it now. He collected his towel and a clean pair of uniform white underpants, (he favoured the y-front style) and stripped by his bergen. He didn’t think ‘til afterwards that he could have taken his smelly gear with him to rinse it out, he merely hung it from a tree. He ran to the lake and hung his towel over a handy branch alongside his clean underpants, now he was out of sight, he also stripped the manky y-fronts off before diving into the lake. He could have done with some soap and shampoo but even so, he enjoyed his enforced cold-water bath.

Ollie and Jeremy looked on enviously as Dan prepared. He even managed to keep the waist massage to a minimum as he stripped down. After about ten minutes, a newly clean Dan appeared with his towel wrapped around him – not his best decision to wrap a damp towel round his pristine undies. However . . . he could live with the discomfort.

Dan passed through the camp to get his PT kit and to hang his wet gear up before reporting to Tompson who told him to lay out what he would need for a “Dog-food Special”. More of that later. Thompson turned his attention to Ollie and Jeremy.

“I suppose you two want to change as well?” The customary effusive confirmation and thanks were forthcoming. “OK, get ‘em off.” The two lads were quite taken aback. “Or stay like that if you prefer. Being chained together didn’t make thigs easy for them but two chained boys were soon attired in only white underpants. Jeremy favoured slip-type briefs but Ollie was a dedicated boxer wearer. “OK, off you go.” Who was going to speak first? Were they not to be allowed the dignity of clean undies and towels?

“Uh, Thompson . . .”

“Or I could just chain you to a tree like that.” The aghast boys cut their losses and made for the lake. Upon their eventual return, Dan had been made to get their changes of clothing and their towels from their bergens. The prefects obviously required entertainment.

Entertainment was forthcoming as two conjoined boys dried themselves off as best they could and wrapped their towels around them like shy bathers on the beach. Even without being chained together, it would have been hard enough to change while trying to retain the towels in place. However, it didn’t take more than about five minutes before two newly laundered youths were standing in just their clean undies with their arms folded behind them.

Dan was told to take their disgusting, dirty gear and hang it up while they dressed. That being done, Jeremy and got a fine view of a rather ancient Beech. They were only glad of their footwear as they stood on a layer of fallen beech mast. Thopson was kind enough to present Dan with two more padlocks so that he could secure them in the same way that Nigel and Gary had been chained earlier. At least they didn’t have their arms bound.

TBC

[Xtc]

THE MEN FROM THE ZOO (12)


Saturday (Back at School Again)

The three First-Years must have taken over two hours to reach the school again in spite of Luke’s continuous encouragement and dedicated muscle, such as it was, but at least Li and Lewis could take a rest while the unfortunate Luke had to unload the bagged-up rubbish and potential compost single-handed.

Once the trek-cart had been cleared, Luke was still not sure about whether it would be in order not to return but Bobby and Lisa assured him that they had heard the instruction. Luke, however, thought he would play it safe and wear school uniform for the rest of the weekend. He was learning. It was only later that it dawned on him that he would have to return to site to get his kit but he was knackered and decided that it could wait until tomorrow. He took a very early night that wasn’t interrupted until his dorm-mates returned rather noisily at about nine-o’clock. He didn’t even wake up when Li Xia-Ji arrived for a rather less early night than Luke’s.

The erstwhile tennis players still had to get the trek-cart back to the camp-site. They had already taken a 6K run and a 6K pull of the trek-cart to which they were still chained with their wrists bound. Now they had to take it back again. Even for Bobby it was a strenuous workout but Lisa had never had such demands made on him before. Neither boy even thought that they would still have to get back to school afterwards. Luke wished them farewell and told them not to let the ”Defects” get to them. For information, they made the journey with the empty cart in about an hour-and-a-half.

Early Evening

Well, that was four defaulters safely secured and one slave who could be kept busy until Bassett declared that it was time for tea. The prefects would have no need to be too vigilant. Bassett devoted some time to studying for his “crammer” sessions, Thompson laid himself down on his sleeping bag and listened to music through his ear-buds, and Robinson settled down to some improving material on his tablet. Judging by the intermittent giggling, it would probably have been unwise to enquire too closely as to the nature of the material he was enjoying.

By the time Basett declared that it was time for Dan to get on with the “Dog-food curry”, the chained boys were just about ready for some relief, especially Gary whose jaw was aching unpleasantly. Dan got a large enamelled cast-iron pan (Remember: the worms had to transport all the kit so there was no need to use lightweight rubbish). Into it went one of the standard camp meals: a catering size can of stewing steak a similar one of veg. curry and as much extra curry powder for the stewing steak as ‘real men’ could handle. Bassett was not fond of weak curry. As a change from rice, a large tin of lentil stew was also prepared; there were always uses for any that was not eaten.

Realistically, it was time to release the slugs so Dan was sent to unlock them from the oak tree. They’d had time to ripen in the sun - or, at least, in the shade and, unlike the worms, had not even had the opportunity of getting at least a bit cleaner. They came before Bassett and stood straight-legged. “Fwhoah, back off you two.” That wasn’t very encouraging.

“Corelli, untie these slugs.” The instruction was somewhat terse. Dan started by freeing Nigel because he considered that he had been the more severely back-hammered. He had, but he was also very supple compared to his more simian companion. Nevertheless, he was glad to be able to flex his muscles again.

Gary couldn’t resist the involuntary, “Mmpph!” as the circulation returned to his arms. He did remember to thank Dan once he had forced the humiliating gag from his mouth but did not think that it would be necessary to thank Bassett. Perhaps he had not learned his lesson yet.

“OK you two, you’re already dressed for it. Go take a swim.”

“Aren’t you going to unlock us first?”

“Well, I might well have done if you’d been a bit more grateful. Pity about your little mate here, though.” Gary gave him a look.

Gary and Nigel went over to where their kit had been left and removed their footwear which they hung up to dry. Basset did not begrudge their changing into some protective flip-flops; wouldn’t do to have them returning to school with cut feet.

“Come on, Smelly, let’s get wet.” Nigel pulled his mate behind him.

As they headed to the “Perfectly Round Pond”, they could hear Dan being ordered to get their towels, and to see if he couldn’t find their corps shorts(PT) in their bergens. Bassett didn’t think there would be any need for underwear. Those blue, retro things were certainly long enough but it was, nonetheless, embarrassing.

The partners in crime jumped into the pond and, as soon as they were concealed by the water, they both removed their swim-briefs and gave them a good rinsing and wringing out before lodging them on an overhanging branch. Under the impression that the Prefects couldn’t do much more to them, Gary and Nigel took their time and even enjoyed trying to swim in spite of the chain between them. Eventually, Dan, who had come to tell them that their towels and shorts had been left by their bashas, called them back to site. Nigel replaced his hi-legs and Gary his red briefs. They jogged back to site, jangling as they went.

The Prefects didn’t seem to begrudge their having taken their time but the defaulters did stand properly in front of Bassett. When dismissed, Nigel started the clumsy, beach-style changing routine first. Most things are loose on Nigel but, being without any other clothing, those almost knee-length, baggy shorts, that had to be adjusted considerably using the draw-string before they stopped trying to slip down over Nigel’s hips, looked ridiculous. Gary’s approach was more robust. Being a frequent recidivist, he had learned to pack a proper beach towel, the sort that one can wear round one’s neck as a cloak. Problem: it didn’t do its job efficiently if the wearer was chained to someone else by a relatively short chain. Oh well, he settled for the more robust approach. He simply turned his back on everyone, dropped his swimmers and pulled his blue sorts into place. After all, the boys were used to communal showers after Gym lessons and games of rugby, and he couldn’t really see why Nigel was making such a fuss.

Thompson started talking to himself or so it seemed but it was designed to be discouraging for Nigel and Gary. At least they didn’t seem to be heading back into intimate contact with an ancient oak tree. The alternative didn’t sound too encouraging, though. Robinson offered his help; that sounded even worse.

No one had seen any reason to release the Worms from their tree and Dan had been detailed to round up all the fallen wood he could find. He would also have to clear the ground for a camp-fire later. He was going to be a busy bunny.

Robinson and Thompson came to a decision. Nigel and Gary didn’t like it. Bassett put in his two-pennorth and they didn’t like that either.

“Corelli, bring the straightest branch you’ve found and take it over to that felled pine that Bassett mentioned.” Dan found a section of a straight branch that had fallen from an ancient beech. It was free from twigs, free from leaves, almost straight, and not too thick. Being not much more than two metres long, Thompson thought it would not need any modification before it was used. It didn’t even look too dilapidated.

“Right, you two, over here.” Gary and Nigel approached the felled pine. It wasn’t more than about 40 centimetres in diameter and was more or less cylindrical. “OK, hop on.”

There was no point in pleading, not even pleading to be unchained first and Gary and Nigel were soon siting back-to-back astride the tree trunk. They did not thank Bassett for suggesting somewhere that they could be seated in the shade. Gary settled for hitching the crutch of his shorts up a bit for comfort.

“Make yourselves comfortable. Just going to get some help.” It’s a good job that Thompson didn’t hear exactly what Gary called him as he turned to Dan. “Corelli, come and get the key and release those two from the tree.” Dan did as he was told and, under instruction, also released them from the chain. Two prisoners massaged their slightly bruised waistlines.

Robinson called for a couple of quite long ropes and Thompson arranged his new assistants so that they could hold the fallen branch at shoulder level to the slugs and more or less balanced between them. By then, it dawned on the victims just how clever Bassett had been as they looked at the branch above them. It was probably the only good news they’d had recently.

Robinson located the middles of the ropes and tied an overhand knot in all four strands, leaving a couple of loops one of which he slipped over each of his subjects’ heads. They would not tighten and were simply there to anchor the bindings in place. With considerable threats from Thompson about not moving, Ollie and Jeremy braced themselves into immobility once Robinson announced himself satisfied with the position of the straight branch.

“OK, Basset has allowed you to be seated comfortably, (They were not comfortable.) so arms out and keep still. Gary and Nigel stretched their arms out along what was going to be a transom for their imminent crucifixion. At least that overhead branch might offer some relief.

Robinson took a lead, allowing his “Apprentice Boy”, as he referred to Thompson, to copy him on the other side of their victims. They were forming what Robinson described “as a sort of blanket stitch” along the arms of the seated boys. It didn’t even need to be too tight until it came to their wrists. First, loops were formed under their armpits and tied off. Further loops were tied somewhat more tightly at several positions along their arms, leaving them melded, but still not too tightly, along the length of the branch.

With a final threat to the worms from Thompson to hold still, Robinson took one free end and tied Nigel’s right wrist to the branch. He didn’t have much rope left but there was still the other strand to secure Gary’s left wrist quite close to it. Obviously, Thompson echoed his work a good 40 centimetres from the opposite end of the branch. When Ollie and Jeremy released their burden, the slightly heavier end of the branch stated bearing down.

“Come on, you wimps, keep it up.” That was going to require some effort soon. “What a good job Bassett spotted that overhead branch. Aren’t you going to thank him?” They certainly were not. “OK, d’Olio, Cook, help them.” The branch was soon supported as Dan was sent for two more ropes. Thompson remarked what a good job it was that they had brought so much rope.

By then, a pair of First-Year pupils had arrived with the empty trek cart. They were obviously exhausted and, in spite of being bare-chested, were sweating profusely. Basset took it upon himself to take their care into his own hands. He unlocked them from the cart and told them they could sit but did not bother to untie their wrists. He did give them water from his own canteen, though. “Well done, good kids, but tell me what you’ve learned.” Bobby was used to the customary rigmarole and, for a newcomer to it, Lisa also made a good fist of grovelling. Once he had heard enough, Basset advised them that they would do well to apologise to Thompson later.

By the time Robinson had a use for an “annoying little midget” to help, Li had had some time to take a rest. He was called into action while Lewis was detailed to take over from Jeremy. Readers might remember that Jeremy was tall, that was going to be useful. Obviously, Bassett was much taller but doing anything as demeaning as giving a bunk-up to an oik would not be appropriate to the dignity of the Head Prefect. Or that’s the way Robinson put it as Bassett continued to take things easy.

Bobby had to balance the “lighter” end of the branch with Ollie supporting the other. Bobby was strong but he was only a First-Year – and a First-Year with his wrists cuffed in front of him. Obviously, he was trying to try to tough it out but he was hoping he would not have to keep it up for too long. Meanwhile, Jeremy crouched down so that Li could sit on his shoulders. Lifting the little Chinese guy was no problem, even one with a coiled rope in his bound hands.

“Reach up.” Li lifted his arms. Robinson was satisfied “OK, now listen carefully.” It was a good job that Li Xia-Jr had a very good command of English especially as Robinson was not the most articulate of the Prefects.

Jeremy had to stand as close to Nigel as he could get, that was quite embarrassing in itself, as Li reached up and tried to throw the end of the rope over the overhanging branch. It took three attempts without a weighted rope but he managed it and, under instruction, pulled over half of the rope through before being handed the end again and taking two more attempts to throw the end over again. Robinson said that would have to do and hoped that there would be enough friction to keep the rope in place.

Li was told to stand down while Robinson got on with some more fiddly work. He hooked his wrist-cuffs behind his neck and forced his elbows back. He might have been a determinedly good kid but he also had a healthy interest in self-preservation.

Robinson added an overhand knot in both rope strands and slipped the free ends in opposite directions through the loop securing Nigel’s right armpit and Gary’s left and tied them together several times before calling Jeremy and Li into action again. Jeremy stood on the opposite side of the log this time and Li took only one attempt at each throw of the new rope. It probably wasn’t wise when he declared, “Ah yes! This guy good!” He still sometimes forgot his rules of English grammar in moments of stress and triumph. Jeremy risked a mini lap of honour before Thomson gave him one of his looks. He quickly let Li down and both mount and rider adopted the hands-on-head pose until Thompson looked away. He seemed to be working on another pair of ropes.

Robinson attached the rope to the other armpit loop leaving Gary and Nigel supported so he ordered Bobby and Ollie to let go of the branch. The captives might have been supported but one end of the cross-spar was still somewhat heavier than the other so Ollie was detailed to support it once more. Bobby took his lead from Li and d’Olio and stood feet apart, legs straight, hands on head and elbows back, not that he needed reminding.

The overhanging branch was a sturdy one with lots of side-shoots which Robinson said would make it most suitable and he thanked the Head Prefect for being so considerate as to notice such a useful facility. Bassett had returned to the demanding task of relaxation once Dan had started the much-needed food prep.

Just to make the crucified Third-Years a bit more secure, Robinson called Li and d’Olio into action once more. Thompson gave Li one of the ropes he had been working on. He had tied a small pebble into a monkey’s fist near the end of it. That would make Li’s job easier and d’Olio could at least stand back a bit while he launched the throwing line over and then round the branch. Two ropes, two stabilising loops later and Nigel and Gary didn’t have to keep the cross-bar balanced any longer. The side branches kept the ropes more-or-less in place and the ends had been tied just outside the knots securing the wrists of the two villains. Neither the ropes nor the victims were going anywhere fast.

TBC