Part of the Christmas Jamberry 2014 collection, for the kind and talented HomunculusLover...
When Don walked into the room, he found his little brother Dash staring at a card...
MERRY JAB
"Will you let it go?"
Dash frowned and shook his head. "I still think it's important."
"It's a bad practical joke," Don said. "Two words on a Christmas card."
"Unsigned," Dash said. "Stuck under your door."
Don rolled his eyes. It was hard to figure out what to say when the kid got like this.
Dash rubbed the back of his neck, still staring at the enigmatic words. His fingers slid over tattoos of feathers and flames. He was sleeved.
That ink wasn't even the biggest change.
He stuck to his outrageous story. Kidnapped and worked over, tatted up. He'd been quite the jock in high school, but a year after graduation he pulled that disappearing act for a few months -
"Naw, you don't want a cigarette," Don joked. "One's never enough."
Dash looked over his shoulder at him. "How'd you know?"
"You're gettin' antsy."
The younger guy sighed. "I shouldn't be here. Bad idea."
"Bullshit. I wasn't gonna take no for an answer."
"I hope you don't regret it."
Don and everybody else figured the truth was something a lot more embarrassing than some invisible molester pulling gloves on, and picking up motorized brushes. It didn't pay to argue with Dash about it. "Was there, uh, jabbing?" He finally asked. "I got the idea it wasn't so violent - what you went through."
"Hypodermics," Dash replied.
"Get outa here."
"It better not mean some kind of knockout drug -"
"You need to leave it alone for a while," Don interrupted, tapping his brother's shoulder with a fist. "Goin' nuts."
"Yeah," the younger guy said, not too sure he agreed, but finally he swiveled around and stood up.
They went out to a crab shack for dinner. It was a little hole-in-the-wall unknown by the tourists...
Dash started out with a beer and a shot. The waitress didn't even hesitate. He was twenty. It wasn't that long ago that Don couldn't even talk his brother into getting high, but now look at him.
Eventually he'll tell me the truth -
"Donder," Dash said.
"Dasher," Don laughed. Old nicknames.
"It's good to be out and about."
"Off the leash," the older brother joked. Dash had talked about straps and cuffs -
That got a groan. Then, "For sure."
"Glad you could come down."
"The condo's great," Dash said, nodding his thanks as the waitress set down their drinks. "Who cares about the view?"
"Half the price of the other ones facing the beach," Don said. "I can hear the waves just fine. A lot less noise from everybody else, hanging off the other side of the building like that." Dash nodded. "That surfer chick's eyeing you."
"Who? Her?" He grinned and raised his shot glass toward her, getting a smile in return. No way this was the same skinny kid who was so nervous around women... "You wanna meet her?"
"She's into you. Not me."
"Maybe she's into brothers."
Don stared. "I don't know who you are, sometimes."
His little brother waved his hand a little. "Joke. I'm just not really into the hunt tonight. Maybe later in the week."
"Is that so."
Dash looked at Don, then stared at the table instead. He sighed. Concerned...
"No," Don said. "You're not still worrying about th-"
"We just don't know. If it's a warning. Or an invite, of some kind."
"It's a stupid card," the older brother snapped. "Two words. C'mon."
"I know, I know."
There was no new card under the door when they got home, and Dash relaxed some. Turned on a movie.
Don went to take a leak...
When he came back, Dash was smoking.
"Hey."
Little brother didn't take his eyes off the screen. "What."
"You couldn't stick it out, huh?"
Dash looked at him. "What are you talking about?" Don pointed at the cigarette. "So?"
"You're busted."
That caused some confusion, and the kid looked at his smoke. "I... I was trying to quit, wasn't I? So where did these come from? Why did you put these here?"
"No way."
"They were on the table. I didn't even think twice -"
"You said you didn't have any cigarettes left. Or in your bag."
"I didn't! Is this some kind of test?" Dash said. Grasping at straws, then getting worried... "You really didn't put 'em there?"
Don sighed. He kept his mouth shut.
"Not a good sign. Mysterious shit happening."
"Now wait a sec -"
"This is a sign, probably. I didn't just black out and go get some cigarettes."
"Well, no, but... It's more likely you forgot you stashed 'em."
"No -"
"You're not making sense."
"I know. Welcome to my world..."
Quite a bit later, Don got up to get a snack.
Dash was out on the balcony, in a deck chair. Coal of his cigarette brightening for a few seconds...
"Thought you were asleep."
The kid shrugged. "Bad dream."
"The usual kind?"
Dash took another drag before he answered. "If you really wanna know... Gloves. Again. A box of 'em. Rubber gloves. Pulling free from the box, one by one, filling up and diving into the steel pan full of oil. Picking out a spot on me. Tight straps, so I couldn't even wiggle."
"I never knew you had such a vivid imagination," Don said.
"Like my tats," Dash mumbled. "Real creative."
"Hey -"
"I didn't make any of these changes. Told you that. Didn't choose this shit."
"Okay. I believe you."
After squinting at his big brother for a few seconds, Dash chuckled. "Okay."
Don sat down in the only other chair on the balcony. "You gotta understand how friggin' weird your experiences are. Hell, I still can't get over seeing you smoke. Such a jock. And drink - hey, I didn't tell you, I had a dream about what you... went through."
"Yeah?"
"The night before last. Guess my subconscious was gettin' ready for you to show up."
Dash stubbed out his cigarette. "A dream about me?"
"No. That's what's weird. I was the, uh, victim." He waited, but his little brother didn't say anything. "First time I remember dreaming about that shit." Don looked around, out of some hardwired reflex, as if their mom might've appeared in the doorway. "Dungeon, I guess. Chains and shackles... spreading me out. All these feather dusters kinda float over."
"Exciting," Dash said.
"Nah."
"Uh. Dude," he said to Don, cocking a thumb toward his brother's package.
Don chuckled nervously. "Well. Okay, yeah, no offense or anything. But yeah. When all that was gonna happen was, y'know, like, not gruesome, it was shaping up more like some kind of hot... massage that just wouldn't quit."
"It's okay. That's probably the best way to deal with it. Jump in."
"Don't be that way. It was a dream."
"I'm not mad," Dash said right away. "It's just so intense, to really be there. Overwhelming. But I'd be lying if I said it wasn't super hot too. Sometimes."
"You know I'm not gonna pull that dismissive shit on ya," Don said. "As if it was just one big party."
The younger brother nodded. "You never have, Donder, and that means a lot."
"Alright."
Dash held the pack out. "So you want a smoke?"
"Get bent."
When Don went to bed, Dash set out to get rid of the rest of the cigarettes, one by one.
An old movie was on the TV. Some couple talking to a freeway message sign...
The younger brother dreamed of letters being rearranged, like in that scene from the movie.
He woke up suddenly - and figured out the mystery.
"Dammit!"
The meaning of the card that had been slipped under their door was now clear.
With a sigh, he got up. Went to the bathroom, pissed, and headed down the hall - seeing the faint glow of Christmas lights that hadn't been there when he went to bed. Somehow that confirmed it.
Yup, there were strings of lights up on the ceiling. They spelled out two words...
MERRY
JAB
An open pack of Luckies and a lighter waited near the foot of one of the racks.
Don was shackled to the other, gagged. Wearing only boxers... with ornaments and candy canes on 'em.
Dash looked over at the door immediately. There was a bar blocking it from opening. Thick plastic sealed the window blinds.
At a loss for what to say, Dash finally walked over and pulled the bandanna from between his brother's teeth.
"Ow," Don said. "Kinda hate you right now."
"Understandable."
"What's the name of this, uh, phantom?"
"Jamberry."
Don cocked his head, studying the words on the ceiling. "J, A, M, B - yup. Dammit. There it is."
"I just figured it out myself."
"Check out the kitchen," the older brother said. "I heard stuff being put in there."
Dash did - and saw many cardboard boxes that hadn't been there before. He didn't need to look. Food, toys, drugs.
When he came back into the main room, he still wasn't able to look his brother in the eye.
"Any chance," Don says, "that I'm dreaming all this? Or misinterpreting it?"
At a loss, Dash sat on his rack and lit a smoke. "Uh, did you sleep through getting carried in here?"
"Yeah."
"Probably drugged, then. But it brought the cuffs out anyway, and got ya."
"I've never seen that bong before," Don said, cocking his head toward the TV stand.
"Well, this fucker's pretty... thorough."
"Huh. Listen, dude - I don't really blame you for this. I heard what you said, and ordered you to get your ass down here anyway. " Don tried to wriggle, and soon gave it up. "You made it through whatever's coming, and you're okay, so I guess I will be."
"I'm still... real sorry -"
"Did you want this to happen? No? Didn't think so."
A canvas bag floated up, landed on the countertop, unzipped. A tattoo gun floated out.
"Oh, c'mon now!" Don yelled.
Dash shivered, taking a long drag while he could.
Invisible hands got hold of his forearms.
It was time to anchor him down.
Jamberry was as eerily smooth as before, pulling Dash's clothes off and strapping him to his bench in no time. The new boxers it had pulled on him were decorated with skulls wearing Santa hats. A cigarette floated on up to his mouth.
"What's the holdup?" Don grumbled.
"No need to hurry. It's probably diggin' this. Twofer. Plus there's the suspense," his little brother said, kicking out smoke gratefully. "Make us think about it."
"I can't know what it's like -"
"Not that. The whole setup. Whoa, isn't this bizarre. Impossible shit. Gloves, strong enough to wrestle me down. All this planning. So much food. Can't be real." He took another tug on the cigarette. "Shit like that."
"Yeah. I've been chasing those thoughts around and around. It's so fuckin' weird to be... unable to move," Don finally said. "This kind of thing just doesn't happen. But here we are."
"You know I would've given anything to do this again, if it would've been instead of you."
"Shut up," his big brother sighed. "No way out of this. If there was, I know you'd take it."
"Yup."
Both of them saw movement. Eye-masks were floating over. Thin leather, dual straps -
"This is new," Dash said.
When they were blindfolded...
"I think I get it now," the younger dude said. "Fucker doesn't want me spoiling the surprise. Any of the, uh, games."
"My heart's pounding like a jackhammer," Don said. "Is that normal?"
"Oh, yeah."
"If I can fake a heart attack, will it lay off?"
"Unfortunately it's real good at... monitoring. Pulling back, until I catch my breath, or whatever. Then it's back to the races."
Don made a quiet whimpering sound.
Right away Dash jumped - something had touched his left foot. Barely sweeping over the little strap that steadied his big toe.
A feather.
"Hang on, Donner," Dash said through gritted teeth.
"Aw, hell."
"If you can let go and g-get into it, y'know, whatever it takes..."
Don snorted quickly - fighting not to laugh.
As if his big brother wouldn't let go until he heard some bysterical chaos, Dash felt many more feathers land. They started to gently tease his arches, sides, insteps - between his toes.
Fuck! Not again, he thought wildly, I can't take another month like last time...
He was a writhing mess already, but of course the straps didn't give. He was caught by the bastard again, really stuck, totally unable to move at all - and just like before, Jamberry got into tickling him extensively, thoroughly, with all those textures and fingers.
That set him off. Dash froze up and howled at the ceiling.
Don was cackling soon after.
Oh, they thrashed until the fatigue made it impossible to squirm.
Laughing harder, and harder, past the point where any sound came out. The sensation didn't ease off at all. Electrifying impact. Hell, no, it was increasing minute by minute. The men could barely twitch, chests heaving... then dazed chuckles now and then, sounding addled, deranged, moans becoming less and less frequent, the desperate need for oxygen overruling their stoked need to beg Jamberry with their wordless hysteria to lay off.
Feathers covered Dash's feet.
Two explored Don, learning his ticklish places, driving him mad with the frustration of being unable to cover up anywhere... and the mindblowing certainty of so much hardcore stimulation to come.
After a while - probably much less time than he feared - Don caught his breath and listened to his brother going nuts.
Then it was his turn again, but Dash didn't seem to be laughing. Don smelled smoke. Break time, indeed.
"C-call it off!" he laughed. "Duh huh huh duh Dash make it staaa hah hah hah huh huh hoh..."
Don woke up suddenly from a bizarre dream.
To his amazement, his arms and toes still wouldn't move. So he'd just dozed off. He had decidedly mixed feelings about opening his eyes.
MERRY JAB, above him and his brother. It was still light outside, which was somehow horrifying because that he didn't feel like he'd slept for hours and hours, so this could be the same day they were caught.
Dash was tugging on a smoke, watching some rubber gloves grease each other up. His eyes had a glazed expression.
When the powerful, empty fingers started back in, Don was incapable of anything... intentional. He screamed laughter and tried to throw his body around. There was nowhere to go, because of the restraints.
Gloves kept riding all over him as he twisted and yanked.
Feathers seemed to cover his plumbing. The pleasure, and frustration, pouring into him from chest to toes was more intense than before. That was baffling. He had nothing at all in his past to compare with the hot, intimate distraction that moved against so many spots simultaneously.
A while later he realized he wasn't moving anymore, or snickering.
The gloves weren't easing off at all.
Neither was the ridiculous blazing fire that lit up his entire body.
He had no idea how long that twisted massage went on. His brother was laughing, wild and raspy. Dash's voice was just wrecked.
Don panted and watched the action next to him. It had become clear, early on, that the sadist using the gloves knew Dash inside and out. Very little movement, in particular places, caused a firestorm of reaction.
That's gonna be me soon, he thought. It's learning where to stick it to me...
The whole situation would've been too bizarre to deal with, if somebody other than his little brother had been caught with him. Braying like a drunken sailor or something.
Soon enough he was groaning, and thrusting - all restless, but still there was nowhere to go.
Slippery fingers rode his thighs, massaged his feet, kept petting his neck... and he just wanted to holler laughter, howl like never before. The attack was almost gentle. It made him want to leap up and run. The occasional swipe between his legs kept him needing that kind of relief in the worst way, but all of the exciting hands everywhere else drove him to distraction.
He completely lost track of how long the fingers roamed, shocked now and then when they burrowed under his knees, slid around in his armpits, crawled over his belly...
Hours later, he heard different laughter. It came from him.
The excitement had kept growing, hitting new peaks again and again. Don was overwhelmed by it, and the persistence of so much contact. Fever without words - but something else too. Eagerness. A shocking response, that he couldn't resist.
Even as he was blown away by the incomprehensible strength of the shock throbbing all through him... somehow he craved more.
There was eventually a break for both of them, following a nap. Dash smoked hard... and that made so much more sense to Don now.
"So it's gonna dig in again pretty soon," Don said.
"Yup."
His big brother nodded. "This sucks. Just wanna get it over with."
Dash studied Don. "Hey. It's me you're talkin' to. Okay?"
"What do you mean?"
The kid took another drag, considering his words. "I know that look, Don. And the feeling. I mean, the only way to live through this kind of intensity is to grab on to something... enjoyable."
"Fuck that."
"The challenge, maybe. Kinda leaning into it."
"No," Don snapped. But his brother had called it, alright. "Shit. Okay, yeah, dammit, there's no other way to put up with so much..."
"Too much," Dash said.
"I'm glad you're here. Too." Then Don shook his head. "I mean, not glad it stalked you, but this would be even weirder if you hadn't gone through it before."
His little brother smirked. "At least somebody else believes me now."
"Fuck."
The third morning of their captivity started with music. Some hard rock lick...
Five notes, repeated -
"Laughing all the way," Dash said, none too pleased about it.
Don finally realized he was referring to a phrase from "Jingle Bells." He nodded.
"Merry Christmas," his little brother said. "Didn't have a chance to wrap your gift," and he pulled at his restraints a little to explain why.
"Same here. And same to you. It's not gonna leave that same lick playing all day or anything, is it?"
"Wouldn't notice, if it did," Dash grinned. "Wait about an hour."
"Good point."
The volume of the music was lowered quite a bit.
"Whew. Thanks for that," Don sighed.
"Careful with that. Gratitude. It'll use that to fuck with your head."
"Ah. Right -"
They both shut up and stared as a silver tray floated into position between them, covered with small gifts. No two boxes had the same wrapping paper.
"Somebody got into the holiday spirit," Don finally said.
A pair of gloves came over the tray. Red cloth, fake white fur cuffs.
"You are seeing this, right?" Dash said.
One of the fingers pointed to him, and then to the tray.
"All for me?"
The glove gave him a thumbs-down, and the hand made a sweeping motion over the gifts, like some kind of freaky spokesmodel. Then it stuck up the index finger, pointed at the presents and then jabbed toward Dash.
"Oh." He looked at his big brother and shrugged. "There's no way to skip this bullshit, right? Get the tickling over with for the day?"
The glove slowly made a fist.
"Alright. Um, I'll take the shiny green one."
The gloves unwrapped the little box - and pulled out a vibrating cock ring.
"Aw, hell," Dash groaned.
"Sorry," Don said, "though I'm kinda surprised it hasn't, y'know, put that to use already." His brother rolled his eyes, and the glove pointed at Don, then the wrapped boxes. He heaved a sigh.
His first "gift" was a plastic squeeze bottle with red stripes.
"Shit," Dash said. "I forgot all about that. Super-arousing. Down there."
"Got it," Don shot back. "And I really hate you again."
"Can't say I blame you." One of the Santa-gloves pointed at him. "Uh, the one with the snowmen."
That package just had an index card...
-4 HOURS
"Wait a minute," Don complained. "Does that mean you get cut loose four hours earlier? Or four hours of tickling will be skipped?"
"Works for me. Either way. Your turn," Dash chuckled.
Don got two packs of Lucky Strikes.
"I don't smoke - and it knows that."
"You will," Dash said, "if it wants you to. But don't worry about it just now. I think I get the drift..."
Then he opened a box that had a half-bottle of amphetamines.
His big brother's next score was a leather half-hood with thick pads over each ear.
Dash was given a leather spanking-paddle shaped like a hand.
They looked at the index card inside Don's next box...
STEAL 1 GIFT
"C'mon, now," Dash said hopefully.
But Don shook his head. "The minus-four-hours. You're used to this shit."
"I'm not used to it, exactly..."
The next box Dash selected also contained an index card.
SWAP ALL GIFTS
"No way," Don complained, but his brother just nodded. And smirked.
Don's last gift was a thick roll of cash.
Dash watched the gloves open a sampler pack of lubes...
"Yeah, you really suck," Don told his brother, studying the paddle.
"You got off easy. That gel is unbearable." He took a drag and thought of something. "Hey. That one card, with four less hours - that's a good sign."
"How?"
"This bastard worked me over for almost a month," he said. "The card doesn't say 'days', but 'hours.' This whole ordeal is a test, I bet. Brother-to-brother dynamic. Or an intro."
"If this isn't full-bore," Don said, "I can't imagine how you made it through -"
"Hey," Dash interrupted. "Jamberry. One more gift, okay? Please? Since you took over our Christmas. I'm right, aren't I? You wouldn't bring all the racks and shit here instead of moving us to the real dungeon... a secret dungeon... so throw my brother a fuckin' bone, okay? We're talkin' a matter of days, here?"
One of the Santa gloves slowly cruised in front of Dash...
And made the OK sign with its thumb and forefinger.
"How do you know it's telling the truth?" Don asked.
"It gains nothing by lying, this time. I mean, hardcore disappointment - like, despair - isn't one of the head-games it likes. Probably counterproductive."
"You're way too used to all of this."
Dash squinted at him. "Like I had a choice? And it didn't have to answer. I think it's the holiday, again. It's ignored me before, plenty of times."
"So... that's good?"
"Compared to four full weeks of this shit, you bet your ass it's good. Jamberry does its homework. I bet it knows when your lease is up - with the next people showing up right after. And," Dash grumbled louder, "it's probably found my return plane ticket."
"I don't see it feeling like it has to stop by then."
"It doesn't have to, but this is different than just bushwacking one dude. You'd be missed. Right? And I warned Beth this might happen."
Maybe this time, Don thought - but he made eye contact with Dash and shut up before he said that out loud.
Oh, wow, they laughed their guts out that day.
Two frozen turkey dinners apiece, and after Dash got a couple smokes the next attack started out low and slow, murderously patient, teasing, sure to ratchet up at any time.
Somewhere around the one-week mark the brothers giggled and squealed and hooted, with tears dripping off their faces. The bong had been passed back and forth throughout the night.
Tattoos covered most of Don's arms too.
Repeated eruptions of the most personal kind eventually outlasted any embarrassment. Jamberry showed no inclination to ease off from the thorough tickling, everywhere.
Even the spanking was revving Don up now. All those toys kept moving without any hands he could see, carrying 'em. None of the action ever revealed any fatigue or boredom...
And apparently anything was possible.
22dec14