From: Cody & Cory Foster <102772.1536@CompuServe.COM>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.fetish.tickling
Subject: [M/M] The Fraternity (all 3 parts)
Date: 27 Sep 1995 20:52:24 GMT
Organization: CompuServe, Inc. (1-800-689-0736)
Lines: 1054
Message-ID: <44cdi8$kh5$4@mhade.production.compuserve.com>

                       "The Fraternity"
The Initiation

     It had been a challenging week but Mark had made it to
Friday and was
feeling pretty confident about his confirmation.  It had taken
some effort
to get the opportunity to pledge the venerable Phi Hunka Pal
fraternity,
only the coolest frat house on campus.  Seems only the really
hip guys
make into the fraternity and they're known for having some of
the most
fun/best parties of any of the frats.  But the main reason Mark
had
singled out this fraternity was the preponderance of good
looking guys who
belonged to it.  Could this really be a coincidence?  Mark would
certainly
fit right in; he could best be described as tall, dark and
handsome with a
clean, All-American, collegiate look about him.
     Of course, he did still have to make it through Hell Night,
the final
and most arduous night certain to include some intense hazing.
But
Mark was pretty tough and just a tad cocky which helped him to
breeze
through the weeks never-ending stream of silly, pointless
demands and
assignments designed to intimidate, humiliate and embarrass the
plebes.
While the field had dropped from 15 to 9 during this process,
Mark really
never was phased much by the amateurish attempts to shame him
out of
contention.  Nope, he was determined to make it in this
fraternity and
find out what really goes on inside, a desire fueled by an
overactive
imagination and penchant for good looking, cool guys.
     "Hey, Alexander, you're gonna' be late!" a voice called out
from
behind as he walked across the campus.  He turned to see Chris
standing
there.  Apparently, every plebe had been assigned one of the
fraternity
brothers to sort of watch over him and manage the initiation
process.  And
it appeared Chris was his nemesis.  Funny thing was that while
on the
exterior Chris had been faithful in carrying out his punishing
duties,
Mark could tell that down deep he was a really nice guy.  And in
a weird
sort of way, they'd formed a certain bond that Mark enjoyed.
     "Yes, sir!" Mark replied according to the arcane code
dictating his
actions this week.  "I'm hurrying."
     "Good," Chris replied with a wink.  "Wouldn't want you to
miss out on
tonight's fun and games.  It should be lots of laughs!"  His
grin was a
mix of delight and evil that made Mark shiver.
     "Yeah, I bet," Mark muttered under his breath.  He was
really
distracted by Chris's handsome, fair-haired, boy-next-door good
looks and
easy going personality, to the point he'd readily follow any
order he gave
him.
     Reporting to the frat house right on time (thankfully),
Mark lined up
with the other plebes on the front porch.  After some silly
speech
filled with rhetoric about the evenings activities and how they
would
prove to be defining moments for these young men followed by
warnings to
explicitly follow every order given them, they were marched
inside the
house and down a back staircase to a basement level the pledges
had never
ventured into.  The other cool thing about the Pals was that
they
undoubtedly had the coolest house on campus.  It was a hundred
year old
mansion, with wrap-around porch and Victorian accents that lent
itself to
hosting many a good time.  And, not surprisingly, was chocked
full of
little nooks and crannies and unexpected rooms like the one you
were led
into.  It was a large cellar-like space, cold and damp.
     "Okay, boys," Chris dictated, "now comes the time to
separate the
wheat from the chaff.  This is the point where we learn who are
the real
men among you and who are the wimps.  I guarantee you that by
the time
this evening is over, this group will be cut by as much as half.
 The
handful of guys who survive will be welcomed into our family
with open
arms and offered the full array of benefits that only Phi Hunka
Pals can
offer."  Chris seemed to relish the role of being in charge, a
natural
born leader you surmised.  He also liked an audience, as he went
on for
several minutes explaining the role of the evening.  It was
clear that in
order to get into this elite group, Mark would simply have to be
tough and
follow orders.  He was ready.
     The plebes were lined up in two rows facing each other with
about
five feet in between them.  They were ordered to place their
hands firmly
on top of their heads, much like the position the police order
suspects to
assume when being arrested.  "Now your directions are quite
simple here,"
Chris continued.  "No matter what, no matter how uncomfortable
or tired
you become, you may not under any circumstance remove your hands
from
their current position until you are given permission to do so.
Is that
clear?"  In perfect obedient fashion, the plebes answered "yes
sir" in
unison.  "I can't hear you!" he barked.  "Yes, sir!" they
replied louder.
He repeated his line and they repeated theirs, just like in all
the old
military movies, until the recruits were yelling, their voices
echoing
throughout the dank chamber.  Mark, in typical smart aleckness,
rolled his
eyes in reaction to the corniness of this exercise.
     "Alexander, you got something to say?" Chris fired back
unexpectedly,
apparently catching Mark's careless expression.  He snapped
to attention, realizing that he'd better watch himself.  Chris
moved next
to Mark, right in his face, and asked him again.  "No, sir!" he
responded
as firmly as possible, feeling a mix of fear and excitement as
this good
looking guy he had admired for days now brushed up against his
vulnerable
body.  "Well, then, I suggest you keep your opinions to
yourself, you
understand?"  Mark nodded nervously.  He thought he caught a
slight smile
on Chris's face as he turned away.  He knew Chris was enjoying
keeping him
firmly under his control, and frankly so was he.
     "You know, these guys are looking a tad warm," Matt,
another one of
the particularly good-looking fraternity brothers, remarked
suddenly.  You
were thinking how wrong Matt was, the chills getting stronger in
that cold
room.
     "Yeah, the shirts have to go!" another one of the brothers
chimed in.
 They were suddenly in front of the plebes, their fingers
reaching
for their shirt tales.  Not surprisingly, it was Chris that
ended up
handling Mark.  Most of the guys had worn sweatshirts but Mark
had
dressed a bit more preppy, opting for cotton, button-down shirt
with white
cotton T-shirt underneath.  So Chris quickly unbuttoned Mark's
shirt.  As
he worked the last visible one right below Mark's belly button,
his finger
slipped through the opening and brushed against Mark's skin.  It
apparently struck a particularly ticklish spot because Mark's
stomach
instinctively spasmed and he let out a little "yip," followed by
a
sheepish grin.  Chris paused for a moment and looked up at
Mark's face, a
devilish smile sweeping his own face.
     Mark's heart beat quickly as he realized Chris had
discovered one of
his great weaknesses--Mark is extremely ticklish.  And Chris
wasn't about
to let this fact slip.  After pulling out his shirt and slipping
it off,
he began to work at removing Mark's skin tight T-shirt,
indicating a
nicely sculpted body.  As he reached into Mark's jeans and
pulled the
shirt tail out, he allowed his finger to scrape across his belly
again
causing a similar reaction in Mark.  Mark also couldn't help
noticing his
fingers sliding up his sides as Chris worked the tight shirt up
his body.
He really jumped when they bounced across his rib cage and again
through
his armpits.  Chris knew he was getting to Mark and he was
seizing the
opportunity fully.
     But Mark's heart was really beating and not just because
Chris had
tickled him a few times.  He knew Chris had no idea how hot Mark
found the
act of being tickled to be.  For Mark, it is the ultimate erotic
scene.
He worried that someone might notice the hard-on forming in his
jeans as
he sat there stunned by the incident even after Chris moved away
from him.
     He tried to concentrate on something less stimulating but
found
himself looking across the row at the other guys standing there
in only
their jeans, their arms held up and leaving their torsos
vulnerable.  Mark
began to notice how good looking each and every one of the
plebes was.
And, or so it was now obvious, in very good shape physically.
Somehow,
he knew this could be no accident.
     Thus began a full two hours of the most bizarre forms of
torture Mark
had ever seen.  The fraternity brothers tried a number of
different
techniques to make the plebes uncomfortable.  So uncomfortable
that they'd
break and lower their arms.  Their poor torsos were subjected to
a variety
of extremes:  ice cubes being rubbed all over their upper body
(which
caused one wuss to drop out); a flame held close enough to their
body in
various spots to be very uncomfortable but not enough to do any
real
damage (again, another one dropped out); a maddening stream of
water being
sprayed against their torsos alternating between cold and hot
water;
clothes pins being attached to their nipples (which seemed
unbelievably
close to being a gay act, you pondered silently); weights being
attached
to their already tired arms at the elbows (yet another dropping
out at
this point) and a variety of other wicked, cruel acts that
bordered on
torture but never really crossing a line of unreasonableness.
     Between each act, a shot of beer was injected into each
plebe's mouth
with a spritzer-type bottle, adding to the disorienting effects
of
the exercise.  It became obvious which guys were seasoned
drinkers and
which ones were light weights as they experienced greater
difficulty in
keeping their arms in position.  Mark, being in pretty good
shape and an
accomplished beer drinker, managed to hang on and survive a lot
of drop
outs.  After a couple of hours, Mark looked around and realized
that it
was down to only three guys!  He felt a slight sense of
accomplishment for
having outlasted more than twice that many but he was growing
weary and
was starting to wonder how much more he could take.  From the
looks of the
remaining guys, he figured they were awfully close to breaking
also.  Mark
was starting to wonder just how many guys they were trying to
eliminate
through this process.  He figured more than three would have
made it in
the final cut yet the brothers didn't seem to be slowing down.
     "Well men," Chris began in another of his philosophical
speeches,
"and I use that term confidently since you guys have managed to
hang
tough and show the others what real cool dudes are."  This was
it, Mark
figured.  They'd made the final cut and were about to be
relieved from
this painful position.  As he talked he strolled along the
single line of
guys stopping at Mark.  "Yep, frankly you appear to be some of
the
toughest guys to come through initiation here."  As he talked,
he placed
his pointer finger against Mark's side at his rib cage.  Mark
swallowed as
he wondered what Chris was thinking.  He continued to wax
philosophically
about what tough guys they were, the whole time punctuating his
comments
by poking gently against Mark's rib.  Mark tried not to react
but it was
instinctive and he found himself jumping with each touch.  It
didn't take
long for the others to notice.
     "Gee, Chris, it sure looks like Alexander is finding this
to be a
rather ticklish subject!" one of them called out.  Mark's jaw
dropped in
shock at the comment, not believing what was happening.  He knew
he was so
ticklish that he wouldn't be able to hold out long.  Yet he'd
come this
far and didn't want to be disqualified now.
     "Yeah, I think you're right," Chris answered, dropping his
finger to
Mark's flat stomach.  "What's the matter, Mark.  You ticklish?"
With
that, he began dancing his fingers across Mark's belly causing
him to
burst out with laughter, confirming their suspicions.  "Check
the others!"
Chris called out to his brothers as he went to work aggressively
tickling
Mark's torso.  The others began tickling the other plebes.  Mark
was
absolutely shocked at what was happening.  It was a scene from
both his
best fantasy and worst nightmare.  He barely noticed that he was
apparently not the only sensitive one as the room filled with
the laughter
of three guys being mercilessly tickled.
     None of them could take it much, begging their attackers to
stop but
realizing it would do no good.  The fraternity brothers appeared
to
really be enjoying the situation, especially Chris.  Mark was
dying,
roaring with laughter and twisting madly trying to avoid Chris's

hyperactive fingers.  He wanted so bad to keep his arms up and
yet wanted
even more to bring them down and protect his vulnerable and
sensitive
torso.  Finally, his defenses weakened from the grueling night,
he could
take no more and dropped his arms down quickly seizing Chris's
hands and
preventing them from attacking any more.
     He was filled with many emotions:  exhilaration at being
subjected to
his favorite erotic pleasure, disappointment at this causing him
to fail
the test and embarrassment at the fact that he'd produced the
biggest hard
on that he feared might be showing as a bulge in his jeans.
Chris was
laughing with delight, apparently enjoying his attack on Mark.
Mark
glanced down and perked up as he noted what appeared to be a
bulge in
Chris's jeans as well.
     "Well, sorry guys!" Chris said with a laugh but you all
failed the
test.  Sure enough, the other guys had proven to be so sensitive
they
were unable to keep their arms up.  All three looked like they'd
just lost
their best friend, very disappointed at losing at the end.  "No,
no,
I'm just teasing," Chris quickly responded, realizing how
disappointed the
guys were.  "Actually, you have just one more test and if you
pass, you'll
be in!"
     "One more?!" Mark thought to himself, astonished.  What
more could
these guys want.  He felt a nervous twinge in his stomach,
afraid he knew
what these sadistic guys might have in mind.  But what they did
have in
mind he could never have imagined!  But first, they were offered
an
opportunity to shower and have a little something to eat, both
of which
their tired bodies appreciated.  When each of the plebes stepped
out of
the shower, they were surprised to find their clothes gone
replaced by
plush white cotton robes, like those you get in your room at the
Ritz
Carlton.  As Mark slipped the thick, warm material against his
fresh
skin, he thought to himself what a class act these Pal guys are.
 Maybe,
he surmised, there really isn't another test but rather the guys
are just
prolonging the anticipation of being made a member.


"The TEST"

     After a quick snack, however, the guys were ordered back
down to the
basement.  Upon entering the dungeon-like room they were in
before, they
were surprised to see three trampolines laying in the center of
the room.
Looking up at the rather low ceiling, Mark couldn't figure out
how they
were expected to do much jumping around.  He also noticed that
these
trampolines had been modified so that the canvass material that
you
normally jump on was removed, leaving only a web of ropes and
springs.  As
he glanced around, Mark observed that some of the Pal guys had
also
changed into more casual clothes, shorts and T-shirts.  Totally
distracting was the fact that some of these guys had even
removed their
shoes and socks and were now barefoot, a sight which had long
been an
arousing one for Mark.  If only these macho guys knew how into
feet he
was, Mark thought to himself!
     "Okay, boys," Chris began, "this is the test that will tell
us if
you're really serious about getting into Phi Hunka Pal.  We are
a very
tight group and expect what happens here to remain among us.
Your ability
to respect the confidentiality and privacy of our organization
and its members is paramount to your being admitted.  We need to
feel
comfortable that, even under situations of extreme duress, you
have the
character and unwavering loyalty to keep your mouth shut.  Strap
'em down
brothers."  Upon his command, the other Pals sprang to action
grabbing
each of the three unsuspecting plebes, stripping their robes off
and
pulling them down onto the trampolines.  The plebes, confused
and a bit
frightened by this sudden aggression, struggled but were quickly
subdued
by five frat brothers handling each plebe.
     Before they knew what hit them, they found themselves
strapped to the
trampoline frames in spread-eagled positions, their naked bodies
now
completely vulnerable and exposed to all of the fraternity
members.
Several guys continued working even after their wrists and
ankles were
restrained, tying their elbows and knees to the ropes suspending
their
bodies.  No matter how much they struggled, they could move very
little
now.  Mark glanced over at his fellow prisoners and noted a look
of fear
on their confused faces.  He was pleased to note that the two
remaining
plebes happened to be among the best looking of the initial
pledges.
Craig was blonde, very tall, tanned enough to suggest that he
was from
California originally, was stunningly handsome (high cheek
bones, strong
jaw line, penetrating blue eyes) and it was now obvious that he
was a
serious fitness buff, sporting a lean, muscular, chiseled body.
Tony had
the classic dark good looks of an Italian, a little shorter than
Mark, in
good shape but beefy in proportion, his muscular torso coated in
a light
matte of silky black hair, not too thick and actually rather
sexy.  His
quick inspection was abruptly interrupted by Chris's voice.
     "Now this test, the last one you'll have to endure, is
really quite
simple.  A frat brother will whisper a secret word into each of
yours
ear.  Your challenge will be to not reveal what that word is for
the next
30 minutes.  Sound simple enough?"  The three subjects nodded
nervously
wondering what the catch is.  "Now naturally, we're going to
work hard to
get it out of you.  Funny but the earlier tests revealed you all
three
have a similar weakness.  Pal Brothers, do you have your
tickling fingers
ready?"  As the fraternity brothers smiled and nodded at their
leader,
Mark's mind began to spin.  Holy shit!  Could this really be
happening?
Five guys dropped to their knees next to each of the plebes,
their hands
hovering above their helpless bodies ready to attack.
     Mark glanced over at Craig and Tony; the fear in their
faces was very
telling.  The last thing he heard was Chris declaring "dig in!"
when
suddenly dozens of fingers attacked his sensitive body.  He was
not
surprised to look up and see Chris working on him.  In seconds,
the room
was filled with the laughter of these three guys as they endured
the most
intense tickling attack any one had ever experienced before.
Mark twisted
and pulled, roaring with laughter as fifty fingers dancing
unmercifully
across every inch of his body.  No ticklish spot was left
untouched.  He
noticed that a couple of the guys, Chris included, seemed to
have
particularly skillful touches finding his most sensitive spots
and
applying the most agonizing sensations.
     In no time at all, the three plebes were begging for their
captors to
stop, but they weren't offered even a minute break.  Mark was
surprised when, after barely five minutes, he heard Craig yell
out the
same word he'd been given as the secret word, "Uncle."  He
looked over to
see that Craig was really in agony, apparently being very
sensitive and
finding their attack more than he could take.  They untied him
and let him
go up to shower.  He was surprised that two of the guys who were
working
on Craig suddenly moved over to him and joined in with the other
five,
while the other three joined in the group tickling Tony.  He
didn't think
the difference between 50 and 70 fingers would be appreciable
but it was.
     Another five minutes of sheer agony passed and both plebes
were
growing horse from laughing nonstop for so long.  Mark was
having trouble
catching his breath but these guys offered very few respites,
constantly
moving and switching spots on his body.  He suddenly heard Tony
call out
with what little voice he had left.  That left only Mark in
contention for
a spot in the fraternity.  He knew his chances were growing
slimmer when
the other guys joined in.  Now there were 15 guys working on
him, all
jockeying for position ensuring that everyone got a shot at his
body.
They were laughing maniacally, amused at the ticklish
predicament their
young victim had found himself in.  Mark's laughter was barely
audible,
his hysteria reaching a point of overload.  His head was
spinning and he
was becoming delirious as more than a hundred fingers danced
across his
body, seemingly touching every spot on his body at once.  He
even felt
fingers dancing along the underneath side of his body, tickling
his tender
ass, thighs, behind his knees, even his surprisingly sensitized
back, all
vulnerable due to the removal of the trampoline canvass.  Sweat
pored from
his body and he was growing weary, not sure how much longer he
could take.

   "Shit, he's got to break any moment here.  No way he can take
this many
guys at once!" Matt provoked.  That was just the challenge Mark
needed to
hang on and show these guys he was tough enough for them.
Unfortunately,
it also rallied the guys to try more furiously to break him and
prove he
was just as big a wimp as the other 8 guys.  Mark's mind raced
to prior
experiences, his two best friends in high school pinning him and
tickling
the shit out of him.  Funny but that seemed so tame now compared
to what
these guys were putting him through.
    Mark was beginning to frustrate and even bore some of these
fraternity
punks, accustomed to guys breaking much quicker than this.  In
fact, in the history of the fraternity, no one had ever lasted
20 minutes
like Mark and they didn't know at what point he'd break.  That's
when
Chris decided to throw some fuel on the fire.  "Let's see how
tough he
really is!" Chris challenged, lifting his bare foot off the cold
floor
and placing it gently on Mark's face, forcing him to see, smell
and even
taste his flesh.  Mark was shocked at this unexpected
development, but
delightedly so since worshipping a hot dude's bare foot is among
his most
powerful fantasies.
     Some of the other guys joined in, placing their feet in
Mark's face
also, intensifying the experience for him.  He surprised them
all by
using his tongue to eagerly lap up the sea of tender flesh
surrounding his
face.  Mark was laughing inside knowing that they didn't
understand
that this only improved the situation, not made it more
unbearable.  Soon,
he felt more bare feet begin to press against his body, from his

head to his toes.  This combined with the continued tickling of
dozens of
fingers provided Mark with the most intense, erotic ecstasy he'd
ever
experienced.  None of his dreams have ever proven so heady even.
 As he
looked up, he could tell by the distant look on many of the
guy's faces
whose feet were being caressed by his tongue and nibbled by his
teeth that
they were thoroughly enjoying the sensations he was providing.
In
fact, it became somewhat of a contest for guys to get a piece of
his
tongue and savor the unique, pleasurable sensations.
     Apparently, his completely swollen and excited dick had not
gone
unnoticed either as he felt the unmistakable sensation of feet
and toes
rubbing and nibbling his shaft.  That, combined with the
continued
tickling and foot probing, was sending Mark dangerously close to
the
edge.  He really wasn't planning to climax but encountered the
final straw
when someone's fingers began lightly, teasingly tickling his
swollen balls, a delightfully ticklish spot on Mark.  Before he
knew what
was happening, he exploded shooting a powerful stream of jism
skyward.
The crowd working on him quickly parted, standing back to
witness his
outburst.  His whole body jerked, his back arching as the sticky
white
substance sprayed out with a vengeance, splattering his heaving
chest.
These guys were impressed with his range and force, and watched
in
amusement as he unloaded all of the tension in his tortured
body.
     When he concluded, they all looked around at each other and
acknowledged that Mark had definitely earned a spot in this
unique
organization.  As they untied his body and allowed him to catch
his
breath, they congratulated him on achieving what no guy ever
tested
before had:  beating them in their merciless game of endurance.
It was
explained that all three of them had actually gotten into the
fraternity;
the last test was merely a ritual played out for fun by these
tickling
enthusiasts.
     "Welcome to our family, Mark!" Chris offered graciously,
patting his
tired back as he pulled himself off the trampoline.  "You see,"
he
continued softly as he helped Mark put on a robe, "we take care
of our
guys.  For starters, you'll room with one of the more
experienced Pals so
that you'll have a buddy who'll take care of you and clue you
in.  I've
decided to let you room with me this year.  I'm sure we'll have
lots of
laughs!"  Chris winked mischievously as he led Mark up the
stairs to the
shower.  "In fact, I'd go so far as to say that every guy who's
ever
roomed with me has been tickled to death to have me as a
roommate," he
whispered in Mark's ear.  "I'm sure you'll be no exception!"
Mark smiled
as he entered the bathroom wearily, knowing he'd found the
perfect
fraternity.
     As he shut the door behind him, he could hear several of
the guys
talking among themselves.  "Have you ever seen anyone as tough
as that
guy before?" one of them asked incredulously.  "Nope," replied
another,
who's voice Mark recognized as that of Matt.  "In fact, I think
we should
make Mark our tickling mascot and tie him up once a week or so!"
he
continued with a laugh.  They all laughed too.  Mark chuckled
softly to
himself.  "I think I've died and gone to heaven," he thought to
himself as
the warm water began to pour from the shower head.


The Conclusion

As Mark put on his swim trunks in preparation for the
fraternity's big
beach trip, he thought about how his life had changed since he
was
accepted into this elite group of guys, the Phi Hunka Pals.
From the
outside, he'd known only that they seemed like a bunch of cool,
good-looking guys who knew how to have a good time.  Little did
he know
how true this was.  These guys not only knew how to have a few
laughs,
they were intensely driven to do so.
        Their favorite activity seems to be torturing Mark and
the other
two freshmen who'd recently joined the organization by tickling
them at
every chance they got.  They get such a kick out of seeing these
guys
squirm, laugh and beg them to stop while they mercilessly tickle
their
very sensitive bodies.  The other two, Craig and Tony, are so
ticklish
that it takes very little to get convince them to do anything
the brothers
want.  They use the barbaric act of tickling to control and
coerce the
young recruits, who have little tolerance for being tickled, to
do
everything from cleaning the bathrooms to running errands.
        But Mark is a different story.  He smiled to himself as
he pulled
the t-shirt over his head, thinking about how he'd frustrated
these
fraternity boys so.  It's not that Mark isn't ticklish--no,
quite the
contrary.  Mark is extremely ticklish, bursting into laughter
almost
immediately and thrashing about trying to avoid their touches.
But what
makes Mark different is the fact that he has incredible
endurance and is
not easily broken.  In fact, Mark finds a bunch of guys pinning
him down
and tickling the shit out of him incredibly erotic.  The idea of
being
helplessly tickled until he's begging for mercy represents both
Mark's
biggest fantasy and worst nightmare.  Which is part of what
makes it so
much fun; it's like riding a roller coaster!
      Consequently, these guys have made it their personal
crusade to find
his achilles heel, to break him and bring him in line.  They
never miss a
chance.  Seems he can't hardly raise his arms or lay around
barefoot
without somebody attacking him.  He's pretty strong so it often
turns into
a wrestling match if the guy is persistent, unless of course a
bunch of
the guys gang up on him, pin him and attack him nonstop until he
can't
breath and tears are rolling down his cheeks.  About the only
times their
attacks have managed to convince him to cooperate has been when
they're
intensity reaches such a fervor, that he's not sure they'll ever
stop and
a class or some other pressing need comes along.  Still, he gets
a raging
hard-on as a result and more than once, these sessions have
ended with
someone getting him off completely.  By this point, he's worn
down and
naturally easier to control.
        His roommate, Chris, is no exception.  He seems to get
off on
tickling Mark as much as Mark gets off on being tickled.  Chris,
who's
all-American good looks and outgoing personality Mark finds very
distracting, is a senior and leader of the fraternity so he
tends to take
control of situations and set down many of the policies Mark
must follow.
Funny but some of the seem incredibly self-serving.  Like the
fact that Mark is not permitted to have an alarm clock for
waking up.
Chris takes it upon himself to wake Mark each morning.  Seems
every
morning Mark is awakened by the unbearable sensations of someone
tickling
him, his totally relaxed body super sensitive when he sleeps.
When he
suddenly awakes, he has no idea how long Chris's tickling has
been going
on.  No place on his body is immune, no technique untried.
        As he stood looking out the window at nothing in the
distance,
Mark was startled to attention by the unmistakable sensation of
someone's
fingers grasping his unprotected ribs and squeezing.  He whirled
around to
find Chris grinning at him, satisfied at having gotten him once
again.
"We're ready to go man," Chris informed him.  "C'mon, grab your
stuff and
let's go."  Mark smile, grabbed his duffle bag with beach towel
and other
accessories he'd need that day and followed Chris out of the
room,
downstairs and out to the other guys waiting for him.
        Three of the guys drove Jeep CJ-7's and were often
designated as
drivers for excursions off campus.  As they all piled into the
three
Jeeps, the three freshman were purposely separated so that each
one ended
up in a different vehicle.  Mark ended up in the back seat,
between Chris
and another one of the frat brothers he'd gotten to know pretty
well,
Matt.  Chris and Matt were like catalysts for each other's
devilish acts,
egging each other on and finding ways for both of them to get
into
trouble.  They loved to laugh and goof around, so Mark figured
this would
proved to be an interesting two-hour trip up the coast to Matt's
parent's
vaction home on the beach.  The fraternity brothers got to use
the house
once or twice a year for a big weekend party, provided they
restore it to
its original condition when the weekend was over, a task which
often took
a great deal of work and sometimes a great deal of money!  Mark
had been
looking forward to this trip, the first one he'd been on with
his new
fraternity.pulledoare,,for  frat memberslaunch a free-for-all
tickling
attackirin the fraternity driareetakes buddies
        Mark looked around as the caravan of Jeeps angled onto
old Route 1
heading north.  He thought it odd, on such a nice day, that the
top of the
Jeep would be on.  Seems more appropriate that they open it and
enjoy the
sun.  Furthermore, he was starting to get pretty hot stuck in
the back
between two other guys.  When he complained, the other guys
seemed to have
no patience.  "Take off your shirt, for God's sake Alexander, if
you're so
damned hot!" Chris barked.  After a few minutes and a few beads
of
perspiration, Mark decided to take their advice.  As he lifted
his arms
and pulled his cotton t-shirt up over his head, he was caught
off guard
when someone grabbed his wrists.
        "What the fuck?!" he exclaimed, confused and not sure
what these
guys were up to.  He realized that both Matt and Chris had each
grabbed a
wrist and when he tried to pull them down, found it impossible
to out
wrestle both of them.  His shirt had slipped off his arms and
hands but
remained covering his face, adding to the confusion.  Mark was
starting to
panic, not knowing what to do but fight them.  He squirmed in
the seat,
pulling on his arms and trying to twist loose.  Suddenly he felt
someone
grab his ankles.  He became even more frantic, confusion setting
in as his
vision was impaired and he had no idea what was going on.
        Suddenly he realized that as he pulled his arms, he was
no longer
wrestling with Chris and Matt but rather some wrist cuffs of
some sort.
The sons of bitches had chained his wrists to the roll bar of
the jeep
above his head, leaving his bare torso completely helpless and
vulnerable.  "Oh shit!" he cried out, becoming even more
desperate as he
wrestled with them while they tried to restrain his ankles.  But
the group
was more powerful than he and he soon realized they'd succeeded
in cuffing
his ankles in some way so that his legs were stretched straight
out,
apparently laying between the two front seats.  "C'mon guys, let
me go!"
he insisted, sounding a tad less convinced that he had any say
in the
matter at this point.
        "Are you kidding?" Chris asked as he yanked his shirt
off his
head, allowing Mark to see again.  "We've got a couple of hours
left on
this trip buddy and we decided to make it really interesting!"
Mark
looked frantically around the car, at all of the guys looking at
him and
smiling with evil grins.  There was no doubt what these guys had
in mind
for Mark and he knew he was helpless to stop them.  Looking down
at his
swimtrunks, a nice tent forming in the crotch, he decided if he
couldn't
beat them he'd egg them on.
        "Look you assholes," he fired back, "let me go now or
you're
really going to be sorry!"
        "Oh, yeah?" Matt responded in his usual sarcastic way.
"In case
you didn't notice, Marky, you're not in a position to make
demands.  In
fact, I'd say you'd have better luck at this point begging.
Don't you
agree Chris?"
        "Oh absolutely.  C'mon, Mark, let's here you beg!"
Chris began to
drag his finger up Mark's side.  Mark closed his eyes and bit
his lip,
trying to ignore the tickling sensations radiating up through
his body.
But then Matt began stroking his finger through the hair lining
Mark's
armpit on his other side.  Mark held his breath, trying
desperately to
ignore the sensations but knowing this was a losing battle.  It
only took
a few more seconds of tickling before Mark couldn't stand it any
longer
and burst out laughing.  That was all they needed as both they
launched an
agressive, two-handed attack on Mark's sensitive upper body.  He
cried out
in agony, twisting back and forth as much as the restraints
would allow,
as twenty fingers danced mercilessly up and down his sides,
across his
flat stomach, through his armpits, under his neck, anywhere
there was bare
skin.
        His laughter reverberated throughout the car as they
tickled him
non-stop.  Meanwhile, Rob, the passenger in the front who'd been

instrumental in chaining Mark's ankles to the console between
the seats,
reached down and began untying Mark's tennis shoes.  He was only
barely
aware of this as his mind spun from the overwhelming attack he
was
receiving on his torso.  Rob slipped off his tennis shoes one by
one and
then his athletic socks exposing his warm, moist, bare soles.
Mark was
now aware of Rob's activities and was struggling even more in
anticipation
of the agony he was about to feel, but the restraints succeeded
in holding
his bare feet perilously between the two front seats.
        He roared even harder as Rob's fingers began stroking up
and down
his wriggling sole.  By the time Jack, the guy driving joined in
on his
other foot, Mark was really losing it.  Tears streamed down his
cheeks as
these four guys aggressively tickled his sensitive body, and in
no time he
was begging for them to stop.  But it would do no good, for they
had
settled in for the two hour trip.
        And so it went, these guys tickling Mark the whole way
up to the
beach trip.  When they would get tired, they'd stop and give him
a chance
to catch his breath but the sight of Mark's almost nude body
helplessly
bound between them proved too enticing and soon they'd resume
the attack
on his body.  Mark now understood why the top was up, realizing
they
needed this privacy for the fun they had planned at his expense.
 He
really didn't mind though, as he found the whole situation
incredibly
stimulating and hot.  He looked ahead during one of the brief
respites and
noticed that he could see arms in the air in the Jeep ahead.  He
knew then
why the freshman had been separated.  Poor Tony and Craig, he
thought to
himself.  He knew that two hours would be almost unbearable for
them.  But
I guess it was the price they had to pay to belong to this
fraternity.
        Mark was hoarse from laughter and drenched in sweat by
the time
they rolled into the beach house.  They uncuffed his wrists and
ankles and
let him out of the Jeep.  He looked at the other freshman who
looked like
they'd just been through hell.  Which, frankly, they all really
had been.
Mark trudged upstairs, weary from his ordeal and took a shower.
As he
soaped up his wet body, he couldn't help but think back to the
unbelievable ride up to the house that afternoon.  His hand
began
massaging his dick, growing hard as he recalled the intensity of
the
experience.  In seconds, he was exploding, hosing down the
shower wall
with his manhood.  As he leaned back against the shower wall,
his chest
heaving back and forth trying to regain his breath, he thought
to himself
about the weekend.  He wondered what other diabolical plans
these devilish
guys had planned for their young recruits.  He could hardly wait
to find
out!
-- 
Cody & Cory Foster (6'4" Bl/Bl 25 y/o 205# GAY)<<PERSONAL QUOTE>> 
"It's NOT easy being young popular drop-dead-gorgeous wealthy 
identical TWINS with bodies for SIN, but HEY !! Somebody's got to 
do it !!" PEACE!!