Was that was them? That noise. The front door opening. It had to be, didn't it? The Gaming Invaders. It had to be. At last.

After all, Mum would have said "Hello!" & Dad would have been blaming me for not closing the front door properly, when that was hardly my fault as it didn't shut right. You had to yank the damn thing upwards or else the lock wouldn't catch. Been like that for my entire twelve years, probably since the door was hung by some lazy Victorian builder. Blame them not me. Although…

Although, it was me. I had opened it on purpose, even though I wasn't going out, and that was Mum's fault for showing me that thing on the neighbourhood Facebook.

"See what will happen if you don't close the door when you're home alone," she'd said, after shoving her Ipad in my face, making me jump in real life, and die on screen.

After another lecture about having my headphones too loud, and playing games where you shout things, even Zombies, she went off on one. Another one. Only this time I actually listened.

"Do you want to end up bound and gagged in just your underpants? Well, do you, Elliot?"

Erm well.. how was I meant to answer that? Not honestly that's for sure, as Mum was saying it like it was a bad thing, and I… well… I didn't think it was.

I mean I love being tied up, just like she said. Course, I'd only ever done it to myself. Got some soft cotton rope I'd bought from the hardware store, stripped down to my underwear when the house was empty, tying my feet tight, my hands less so. Oh and gagged too, so I could pretend to be the captured boy hero of some old time story. Wriggling, struggling trying to escape and failing until right at the last minute, when I manage to escape and save the day.

But… but… do you know what I really wanted to happen? To be tied up by someone else. Tied up properly, So I couldn't escape, or at least, had to really struggle to get out. That would be the most fantastic thing ever. Which is why I got real excited when Mum showed me just how it could happen.

All I had to do, you see, was spend every day of the school holidays just pretending to slam the front door, after Mum left, knowing full well, it would just bounce, and stay open enough so it could be seen from the street. An open invitation for the Gaming Invaders to come in, and capture me.

Sounds far fetched, I know, perhaps even dangerous, but it had actually happened according to that Facebook post. Some local kid – it never said who – had answered the door early one weekend morning when he was home alone, and had been pounced on by a bunch of teenagers. They'd tied him up with some extension cables, and gagged him with a dish cloth. They'd then left him like that, while they raided the family fridge, eating everything, and spent the day playing with the kid's video games. That's why they were called the Gaming Invaders. Geddit?

Anyway, they kept him like that, all tied up and stuff, for hours, only leaving when the kid's parents came home a bit earlier than they were expected, and rescued him.

Nothing was stolen, neither, so it wasn't a burglary, and not a breaking and entering either, as they just walked in. Okay, so they nicked some food, but I couldn't help but wonder what else had gone on.

I mean, you have a kid, like me, tied up and gagged in his underwear, by horny teenagers, then something is going to happen isn't it? Something no kid is going to tell their parents about, let alone some busy-body running a FaceBook group. Bloody busybodies. The lot of them.

Did I mention, the boy was in his underwear?

Boxer shorts probably, or maybe boxer-briefs, not proper briefs that left nothing to the imagination, but still almost naked. Tied up. Gagged. Helpless and nearly naked.

Oh wow!

Can you imagine what that's like? Well I can, and it ain't nearly as scary as Mum thought. It was sexy. Really sexy. Like "thanks for the wank fodder, Mum" sexy.

Only shame there weren't any photos on Facebook or nowhere else, trust me, I looked. it would have helped me imagining it happening to me, if I knew what it looked like and could swap him out and put me in. Still, that didn't stop me wanking about it. Not a chance. Of course, I waited until Mum had gone back downstairs. Just. Before getting my willy out, and making my wrist ache.

Still, you know what's better than imagining stuff, don't you? Doing stuff, that's what. That's why the front door had been open all week, and why I was sitting downstairs, with headphones on, gaming on the big screen TV, not up in my room, and with my back to the door so it would be easy for someone to sneak up on me.

I even left out some stuff to tie me up with, you know, just in case they didn't bring anything with them.

I'd thought of everything. Except perhaps, what was going to happen after they were in the house and had spotted me. What I didn't want was for them to turn tail and run, so I had to appear to be no threat to them.

Did I mention I was in my underwear?

Well, not my actual underwear, as that was nothing special, but an old pair of briefs I'd found in the back of my drawer from when I was like eight or nine, something like that. They still fit. Well sort of. A bit low at the front, but covering everything. Just. What they did though, was make me look younger though squashing stuff that was always getting bigger, especially when I was tied up.

Plus, and this is a way big plus, they made my bum look fantastic.

Big, full and round, without being the least bit fat. My bum really stood out from my narrow pre-teen waist, and long slender, if a little overly white, legs which were all nicely muscled from playing football, swimming, and generally running around. Everyone thought so, although they never said, obviously, but I used to get loads of random people giving it a pat, if not an outright slap, whenever they could. Not so much now I was older, which I thought was a shame. And who could blame them? Really. My bum was just that great.

The top half of me, wasn't bad either, even if I do say so myself. And I do.

Tight, taut stomach, surrounding a little innie belly button, that would become a six-pack, given time. Hopefully. Solid chest, topped with slightly bony shoulders, around a slender neck, with a cute face hidden amongst hair that Mum said was too long, but which I thought had just the right amount of shag all over, and blond too. Proper blond. Naturally blond. Not like Mum's, although don't tell her I said that, as she thinks it's a secret.

Okay, so I wore glasses. Sometimes. Not as much as I should, because I didn't like the way they made my eyes look, like I was one of those Japanese cartoon boys. Big round things they are. Black, wire frames, with a bit going over my tiny nose. Can't see much without them though. Not clearly. No details. So I always have to wear them when I look at myself because I have the BEST details.

Yes, I knew what I looked like, having spent way too much time in front of mirrors including the full length one in Mum's bedroom where I could see myself all tied up, wriggling about on the carpet, bum stuck up in the air. Front of my briefs, doing much the same.

Nothing better than watching me all sweaty and squirming. Well, actually being tied up was better, but second best thing was watching it. Or imagining it. Worst thing was waiting for it to happen.

The front door creaked as it was opened further swinging back towards the wall with a little bang as it hit the rubber stop that prevented it from crashing into the wall.

A pause followed. A long pause, during which I tried my hardest to hear anything that was going on and they probably did the same.

Then.

Footsteps came closer. Thumping on the hall carpet, when they didn't need to, no doubt attempting to see if any one was home. I was, as they soon discovered.

They reached the arch-way leading from the hall into the living room, and stopped dead. I knew from there they could see me, my having seen Dad in the same way many times.

Only the top of my head though, cos I'm shorter than Dad. Blond hair held down by the band of disconnected headphones just about visible over the back of the sofa.

This was the point where they could have made a run for it, so I made sure they didn't by standing up, and turning round, doing the full Rabbit in the Headlights, wide-eyed thing, like I was surprised to see them. Rather than pleased.

There was two of them looking a little startled to have a little kid pop up like that in his underwear. Both teenagers. Chavs from the council estate. Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, something like that but with hoods up over their heads, drawstrings tight enough to hide everything from mouth to eyebrows, but it was enough for me to recognise them even without my glasses.

Jake and Barry Thatcham. That's who it was. Everyone knows them at school. In Years Nine and Ten, they are, to my Year 7. At least they are when they turn up. Even then they don't wear uniform. Just track suits. Like they were now. Barry all dark grey. Trousers and hoody. North Face, branded all over it, but with Addidas gloves keeping his fingerprints from police records. His younger brother, in a smart EA7 black puffer jacket, that must have cost a bit, if it was genuine, along with the tiny designer bag, slung over his shoulder. By contrast his plain light grey trousers, looked cheep with their skinny legs, that clung to his, well, skinny legs, and gave him a bulge in the middle that was hard to miss, even if it wasn't actually hard. Least I don't think it was. Couldn't stare at it though, as that might have looked weird.

"What are you doing in my house?" I demanded in my squeaky little voice, that wasn't about to scare anyone, let alone, two big teenage chavs, especially when I "accidentally" added my parents weren't home.

Barry grinned. The edges of his mouth stretching out beneath the edges of his hood as he asked if I was on my own, like I hadn't just said I was.

Then he pounced.

Jumping forward, Barry Thatcham vaulted over the sofa like an Olympic gymnast. One hand on the back, his legs bending, almost retracting until the heels of his shiny blue and white trainers, got tucked tight into his backside, and then extending again, so he could land right next to me like he'd was some sort of magician.

A hand clamped on my bare shoulder, made me jump slightly, allowing him to use that to spin me around so my back was to him. That arm then going around my neck, holding me tight against him so the zip of his hoodie, scratched my back. His other hand, let go of the sofa back, to slap over my mouth, fingers curling under my chin, so I wasn't able to utter a word, even if I'd had anything more to say.

"Shut the door, Jakey! This place'll do. He's got all his game stuff all set up, ready for us." he shouted, almost in a bark, sending his little brother racing back to the hall, where after two or three slams he managed to do just that, good enough that even my Dad would have been happy.

Jake was soon back and there was some quick and tense conversation between the two of them, about what they was going to do now, and checking that I had some decent games, which of course I did, as Dad pretty much gets me all of them, despite what Mum says.

I couldn't say anything of course, not with Barry Thatcham's hand clamped on my face, filling my nose with the sickly smell of that Vaping stuff, he was too young to use.

Barely able to wriggle, such was the hold he had on me, but far from being scared, I was excited. This was just like I'd imagined it. No real danger, but plenty of threat. The front of my pants tingling at the sensations coursing through me, at being held so tight, and so close.

You see, the thing was, the Thatcham brothers, as rough as they looked, and pretended to be weren't nearly as mean as they liked to make out. Sure they did stuff they shouldn't. Like graffiti, and stuff like that. And, yeah, they picked on littler kids, but they never did anything to actually hurt anyone, unlike some of their more, goody-goody peers did, when they thought no one was looking. For them, it was more for show, and because they had nothing else to do, living on the rundown estate, just a few streets away.

Of course, I wasn't just going to stand there, and let them do what they wanted. I didn't want them to think I was some sort of wimp, or worse, a sissy, after all. No, that's not what boy detectives do. I was going to give them a fight, or at least as best I could, seeing as I barely came up to Barry's shoulder.

They were still talking and funny thing was, their conversation would have taken half the time, if all the swearing was taken out, but then I wouldn't have had the chance to escape, would I, and if there was one thing I learned from all those Boy Detective stories, was that you should take any chance you get to escape.

A little wriggle made the arm around my neck tense a little, and worried he was going to choke me, when I coughed – well that and the spit on his hand – got Barry to relax his grip slightly as he wiped his slimy hand on my shoulder.

Yuck!

Anyway, my arms and legs were still free, which gave me quite a few options of what to do. For example, I could have stamped down hard, with my heel, right on the top of Barry's foot, where the thin, if expensive trainers offered him no protection.

Or, I could have gone for the nuclear option, and whacked him in the balls, but wasn't about to do that as it was totally against the boy code. Plus the payback from that would have been a bitch. Instead, I played it simple, and just elbowed him in the stomach.

There wasn't much give there, as Barry was clearly packing more muscle than his baggy tracksuit showed, but it was still enough for him to loosen his hold on my neck, as he gasped, which was just enough so I could duck down underneath his arms and make a run for the archway, where Jake Thatcham was waiting for me.

Well, I didn't want to actually escape did I? Not that there was anywhere I wanted to go in just my pants. I just had to look like I was trying. After all, that's what boys were meant to do when they'd been captured, wasn't it? So that's what I did.

"Get the little fucker!" Barry gasped, a little breathless, which was strangely satisfying, but Jake had done that even before his brother got the chance to speak.

If anything Jake Thatcham was even fitter than his brother. Maybe even taller. Not exactly thin, but like he'd just been stretched out, from when he was a boy like me, into being the height of a man. Long arms, stretching out of padded sleeves, with matching long fingers, easily reaching for me as I apparently attempted to get past him.

Pushing rather than grabbing as I'd expected, I was thrown completely off balance, by a well timed shove that slammed me, face first, into the side of the archway, knocking the air out of my young body and bending my stiffy in a direction it really didn't want to go, which is the real reason I yelped, as I face palmed the wall.

Yeah, I was stiff just as always happened when I imagined being tied up, so now I was so close to being so for real, I was as hard as ever. All three-and-three-quarter inches [9.5 cm] of my twelve year old willy, once pointing due south, across my hairless little sac was now standing up and being squashed against an unforgiving concrete archway covered in expensive floral designer wallpaper.

Suddenly, Barry appeared at my side, his hands grabbing my wrists before I'd even attempted to struggle, holding them in the small of my back, just inches from my bottom.

"Please don't spank me!" I yelled, even though he'd done nothing to suggest he would. He did though. Just once. But it was hard enough to make me yelp again.

"Hold him. Baz." encouraged Jake, using a nick-name no would else would have dared, "Get his wrists together."

There was the sound of a zipper being opened but I barely heard it, as it disappeared beneath that of my twelve year old bottom being slapped for a second time and my willy popped right back upright again.

A second later, my wrists were crossed over and I felt the familiar sensation of cords being wrapped around them. This though wasn't me attempting to tie myself up, but the real thing.

There was no need for me to loop one end of a four feet [120 cm] long cotton rope over my bedroom door handle, with another around my wrists, as I stood with the rope as taut as possible between them. From there it was a matter of walking slowly backwards – or rather hopping as I would have tied my ankles and knees by then – twisting my arms around so the rope would wrap itself around my wrists. Finally with a lot of fumbling about, I'd attempt to tie a knot that would keep the rope there. It never worked all that well, to be honest, but for a while I could be a very happy captured boy hero.

What Jake Thatcham did was much the same, and yet different, in that it actually worked.

First encircling my wrists as Barry held them crossed over behind my back, Jake then wound the cord around them both a few times, before clinching it between them, instantly providing me with what I'd always sought after, a pair of rope handcuffs.

"Get off!" I yelled, several times because, that's what a boy being tied up should do, half expecting Barry Thatcham to hand gag me again.

He didn't. He gagged me, for real.

The brothers must have had it prepared. A long strip of cloth with a large knot tied in the middle. That knot went into my mouth, when I next attempted to say something. All the way inside until it was behind my teeth. The ends then tied at the base of my neck, keeping it there. It worked brilliantly, reducing my words to muffled mumbling, making me wish I'd thought of doing it before, but knowing I would from now on.

"That'll hold the little fucker." Barry released my arms which were now firmly tied, but kept a hand between my shoulder blades, as he slapped my bum. Again.

He didn't do it as hard as the last time, as he wasn't trying to get me to do anything. Just proving that he could. I played my part, squealing and trying to move my hands down protect my bum.

"It's what naughty little boys get when they don't do as they are told," he laughed, his voice rough enough to make him sound a lot like a theatrical villain. But then he was dressed in black – well almost – so looked a bit like one too. If only he'd have had one of those long moustaches he could twirl, or indeed any sort of moustache, at all.

Suddenly there was a second hand slapping me from the other side. Jake joining his brother in taking swipes at my backside. A cheek each, almost, laughing, joking as the rounded flesh wobbled within the tight fitting underwear, turning slightly pink through the stretched white cotton, as I was held against the wall helpless, and getting increasingly horny.

It was exactly the sort of thing I'd lie in bed dreaming about. Being at the mercy of two older, bigger, rougher bad boys, who I'd be powerless to resist, yet still I would try, and I did try, as helpless as it would have seemed to anyone watching. My feet, shuffling from side to side, attempting to take my stinging bottom out of the firing line. My chest doing the same, easily sliding across Mum's fancy wallpaper, rubbing my nipples a little raw in the process, until I was in the hallway, my body falling forward, free from the wall's support. Stumbling towards the front door, as if making for the freedom beyond the door I'd never be able to open, even if Barry had let me get there.

"Still not learnt your lesson, have you, boy?"

He yanked me backwards, his arm coming around my stomach, squeezing slightly, as he lifted me clean from my feet as if I didn't weigh the fifty or so pounds I knew I did.

Promising to "teach me a lesson the old fashioned way" he carried me with my head shaking about, trying to loosen the gag and bare legs dangling from his arm, over to the sofa, where he tossed me in the air for just as long as it took him to sit down, and for me to land, face down over his lap.

"This is what REALLY happens to naughty little boys." he laughed, left hand grabbing hold of my bound wrists once more, while his right started to give me the first real spanking of my life. At least from another person.

Barry Thatcham was fifteen, by my calculations, almost sixteen, practically a man at five foot eight or nine [175 cm]. Beneath his track suit his body was tough and lean, with muscles from working out with improvised weights, as there wasn't a gym he could have afforded to attend, or which would have taken him. It was therefore very easy for him to hold a twelve year old kid across his lap, spanking me to tears and beyond in a few sore minutes.

"Have you learned your lesson, you little fucker?" he asked to the back of my head, his hand resting on my now stinging bottom, pinching and poking at the flesh through the stretched cotton of my underpants.

I could have said I had. Could have given in. Said anything to get him to stop. To let me go. But that wasn't what boy detective heroes did, was it? They never gave up. Always trying to escape. To get away.

It didn't work. I could barely move such was the way Barry was holding me down by my bound arms. Sure I could kick my legs, but they were just flapping about in the air, even before Jake slid onto the sofa next to his brother and grabbed hold of them.

Now I was no longer just over a chavy teenager's lap, but stretched out, over two chavy teenagers' laps. Chest on one of Barry's thighs. Hips on the other. Thighs and shins on each of Jake's legs. Three arms wrapped around me. Rendering me totally unable to move anything but my head as they held me fast.

Had I not been gagged, I'd have shouted all the new words I'd learned since moving up to senior school, but with a wad of cloth in my mouth, they probably all ended up sounding the same anyway. The intent was clear though. I wasn't going to give up. So the Gaming Invaders took things up a notch.

Down came the back of my underwear so suddenly I jerked in surprise, as my privates became entangled in the front pouch that hadn't been big enough for them, even when I'd worn the pants normally.

Now, with the rear part stretched down beneath my rear cheeks, my front parts were being squashed in a way, that was far from comfortable. This though did little to stop my willy from keeping its stiffness. My bottom now exposed, to the gaze of the two teens. They, and only they, were able to see the pinkness that had no doubt been spanked into the soft, pliable white rounded flesh of my cheeks. No way would they be able to resist the temptation to add to that. To spank my bottom until it was glowing red, and tender to the touch. No one could.

There was just one blow. Then a pause. Followed by another, that was louder and came with a distinctive smacking sound of skin on skin.

Barry Thatcham had taken his addidas branded glove off, so he could give me a proper hand spanking.

The stinging was so much worse, even though I'd used my own hand to do what Barry was doing, only he was stronger than me, and his angle was easier. His hand was bigger too. His palm covering most of one of my buttocks each time. Fingers spreading to cover anything missed, as he jumped from one buttock to the other, in a rapidly increasing succession of blows, that had me sobbing way faster than I'd ever imagined to be possible.

"Now, can we do some gaming?" Jake pleaded with his brother, while I was left sobbing over Barry's knee. That was what the brothers had come for, after all. A day of gaming, uninterrupted by adults, their family or even pesky little boys as Barry was quick to point out.

"We'll have to deal with this one first. He's a feisty little fucker, not like that last one. Don't think that rope will hold him for long. See if you can find something better, to tie him up with."

My legs were shoved sideways when Jake got up, dragging my middle across the smooth cloth of Barry's firm thighs, making the contents of my undies tingle once more despite, or probably due to the stinging state of my bottom.

Jake Thatcham wasn't gone long, being quite observant now he'd taken down his hood, showing off the type of haircut that was common amongst teenagers in our town. His dirty blond hair shaved close at the sides and around the back but left long enough on top, to allow the slightly curly strands to protrude down between similarly coloured eyebrows, onto the top of a slightly upturned nose, which would soon dominate his face until his head was more of a man's shape.

Two rolls. Big rolls. Duct tape. Two inches wide, with thin cords running through them lengthways that made it tricky to cut, and impossible to tear, even with your teeth. Great for fixing almost anything, sealing parcels and, as if I didn't know, tying up young boys.

In movies, a two or maybe three inch length would be used to silence the victim, simply pressed down across their mouth, but as I'd discovered that was only effective for a short time, less if you got sweaty, before it would simply peel away. It was also expensive, which is what I was complaining about, when Jake started to wrap it around my ankles, and then up my shins, as he held my knees in his other hand.

I must have been making quite a bit of noise despite the gag in my mouth, as Barry soon snatch up another roll, to make a much more effective gag. One that left most of the lower half of my face covered in sticky grey tape, from my chin all the way up to my nose. Thankfully, he lifted my hair out of the way, when he went around the back of my head, but all the same it was going to be a bitch to get that off.

Having been gagged before, I knew to breath through my nose and not panic, which was just as well, seeing as my mouth was now, not only completely covered over, but still stuffed full of the knot from the strip of cloth, making it impossible for me to even pretend to make any sounds.

By then Jake was up to my knees, combining both my legs into one, solid limb pressed tightly together now with my bound ankles tucked under his armpit inadvertently giving him the perfect view of my latest escape attempt.

"Quick do his hands, he's trying to undo his wrists."

Barry watching for a second as my fingers felt along the cords binding me, attempting to find the knots, holding me captive, "Little fucker!" he laughed, and I could sense a sort of admiration in his voice, although that didn't prevent him from putting a stop to it. After he'd given my bottom a few more slaps, obviously.

Minutes later, Jake was taping up my thighs, and my hands had been turned into blunt stubs, where my fingers bent in on themselves, and then encased in duct tape mittens that rendered them pointless.

All I could do now, was wriggle my torso, bouncing it on Barry's lap, as the tape continued up my thighs, getting closer and closer to my bottom only Jake stopped before he got there, to ask his brother a question. And this time it wasn't about my console.

"Are we going to do the thing?"

Barry didn't say anything for a second. His hand having finished taping up my hands, was back holding them, somewhat needlessly, in the small of my back, but his fingers were soon moving. Sliding down to my bottom, parting slightly as they came to my mounds, spreading my stinging cheeks apart, inviting Jake to look between them.

"What do you think?"

My face, what could be seen of it, above the layers of tape, flushed red, as they could only be talking about my hole. But what about it?

Whatever it was, Jake liked it, giggling slightly making him more like one of my mates than a teenager as once more there was the sound of a zip being drawn down.

This time it was the black EA7 puffer jacket which was unzipped. From a pocket somewhere inside the coat, a smart phone was extracted, well practised fingers clipping the button on the side to bring it to life followed by a sideways swipe, and quick tapping of the four button code to gain entry.

For a moment I panicked, thinking the Thatcham brothers were about to call for reinforcements, bringing in the rest of whatever gang they had to tease me, bully me, make me do things no twelve year old boy should do, unless he didn't have a choice in the matter. Rude things. Sex things.

Alas, that wasn't what happened.

Instead, Jake did the teenage cliche thing and took a selfie. Not of himself though. Of me.

Of my bum. My big red bum with the little hole in the middle.

It wasn't the first time someone had done that. Taken a photo of my bum. I had. Loads of times, because, like I said, I've got a great bottom and I loved the way it looked in tight underwear, tight trousers, tight swimsuits, tight… well… anything, and mirrors really don't do it justice. Not always.

Anyway, like a proper selfie, Jake made sure to get both a face and the object in shot. My face and my bum. Barry's hand turning my head towards the camera of the clearly second hand phone, as he explained why they were doing it.

"Insurance!" he said, although it sounded to me much more like blackmail. If I told on them then that photo of my spanked bum and gagged face, would find itself all over the internet, including all the bad places.

Naturally I couldn't ask where the bad places were that allowed photos of boys tied up with spanked bottoms, but I was sure they were out there, or why else would Mum have put that blocker thing on our router. Pain in the arse it is, so thank God for public access nodes.

Anyway, I guess, Barry must have seen something in my eyes, because he thought I didn't believe they'd do it, so he proved that they had. In the last house they'd invaded to play video games.

The photograph was a little blurry without my damn glasses, making me wish, for a change, I'd kept them on. There was no doubting what it showed, though, even I could see that much to spot a small probably blond boy on top of what looked like a vaulting horse like we have at school. He's gagged with a balled up cloth like I was, and all spread out. Arms down the front legs and his legs down the back, with a thick strap going over his back, that holds his middle down, but makes his bum stick out even more, clad only in blue boxers that had been pulled up tight, in a strict wedgie that left most of his buttocks showing. Buttocks that were almost as red as the ping pong bat, that was being used to spank them.

"They had a full fucking gym in their garage. All the gear, everything, the rich fuckers." explained Barry, answering the furthest question from my mind although I now realised this was the other kid. The one Mum had showed me on Facebook. Only trouble was, I couldn't get a good enough look at his face, for my stupid eyes to focus and let me see if I knew him or not. And the next photo was no better.

He was sitting now. On the floor. Legs crossed. Tied and crossed. At the ankles and with the ankles also tied to his thighs. Arms folded, but behind his back, tied in some way I couldn't see, that left ropes cross back and forth around his torso, making his nipples stand out like a girl, only one that didn't have actual tits yet. Same shorts as in the other picture, but now there was ropes going down either side of his little bulge, making it seem bigger. Making it stick out like he was, as Barry put it, "Horny from being spanked, tied up and held captive."

Course I knew how he felt about that, but what's more I now knew why the kid hadn't told anyone about the Thatcham brothers. He couldn't risk it. Could he? But there was more to it, than even that.

"You tell anyone we were here, and what happened, then that's how your Mum is going to find you when she gets home one day."

"Yeah, we'll be back," added Jake, like I couldn't have guessed that's what his brother had meant. Only there was more, I hadn't guessed.

"We'll just tell them, your 'rents, you asked us to do it to you. To tie you up and do stuff to you. Said we could use your gaming stuff, if we did."

Now that was a real threat. Being found bound and gagged as the victim of some random burglars would have been embarrassing enough, especially in my underwear, but would have got my some sympathy if a life time of "I told you so!" lectures from Mum.

I mean, Mum had found the time I'd set up a "Boy Detective Agency" cute, but had she known the sole reason I did so, wasn't to help out our neighbours, but rather so some criminals would tie me up, so I wouldn't reveal their dastardly plans, then she might have thought it was less than cute.

Naturally, if she thought I'd, somehow done it to myself, or caused it to be done, then surely there would be nothing but contempt as something boys just don't do. Well other boys didn't anyway and that's what the Thatcham brothers were relying on. That and one other thing that had to do with what Barry had done with his fingers earlier and which he was doing again. Showing Jake my hole.

"Yeah! He's another one."

Another what? I didn't get it. Then I did.

A finger.

Pressing against the hole in my backside.

In my hole!

My bum hole!

Jake's finger presumably, as Barry couldn't reach and was having to hold me still while I wriggled about with a finger in my bum.

Only, then it wasn't a finger. Couldn't be. It was cold for a starter with no nail to scrape the flesh around the outside. A big soft end instead, squashy even, so it didn't hurt when it went in, yet it was stiff enough that it went in easy. All the way in. Getting wider, and wider, then not getting wider any more. Smaller. Small enough that my hole could almost close around it.

"Yep, went in easy. Just like last time. All these posh boys, do bum stuff, like you said, Baz!"

That wasn't fair. We weren't posh. I went to the same school they did, after all, not some boarding thing out in the country. I was just like them, only we just had money, that's all.

Then there, was the clicking sound they have mobile phones make when they take a photo, so no one can do it secretly. Not that this was a secret as Jake was soon showing me, exactly what he'd take a photo of.

Me. Obviously. My bum. Still red and sore looking as it had been before, only now, there was this thing between my cheeks. Not sticking out but just there. Where the little star-shape of my hole normally was. Just not hidden by my cheeks but right there. visible. Obviously visible. Showing anyone I had something up my bum.

"Okay!" It was Jake's turn to ask his brother a question only he could answer about me. "Did it, do it?"

It did. Barry probably didn't have to turn me over to know that as he could well have been able to feel it on his leg, but he did as, after all, they needed a photo that showed the thing up my bum, and the pointy lump in my briefs, that showed I was enjoying it.

Barry said it was cute, which was embarrassing as no twelve year old wants to hear that about any part of their body, but especially not THAT part, and not from teenagers. Mind you he also said it was "Small" which it wasn't. Not for my age. I'd checked all the boys in my class, and mine looked like most of theirs, if you make allowances for colour, culture and stuff like that. Sure a few were bigger, but not massive, but quite a few were smaller too. A couple really tiny. So saying mine was small, just wasn't fair. Okay so I hadn't seen them stiff – well one or two but that's another story – but seeing as they were teenagers I guess it probably did look little to them. Still wasn't fair for him to say so though. Not that I could do anything about it. And, neither did they. Instead, once they had a few photos they went right back to doing what they'd been doing. Making me their captive.

They used the duct tape. All of it. Even though they didn't need to which wasn't fair cos that stuff wasn't the cheep parcel tape the Post Office sells that don't stick properly and rips just by looking at it. IT was the good stuff from B&Q that cost loads.

Naturally I went into full on wriggle mode, to get them to stop wasting all my tie-up stuff, but they didn't pay any attention, just went right on wrapping me in the stuff. My legs. My arms. Both. Jake finishing up my thighs, while Barry got my arms down by my sides, taping them above the elbows and across my chest and backacross, so all I could do was flap my useless hands, like some weird boy-penguin who wasn't going nowhere.

Only I was. Going somewhere that is. Down mostly.

Spinning, round and round. Rolling down. Both brothers having straightened thier legs. Making them into a sort of ramp, that I was rolling down. Sideways. Getting all dizzy in the process, even after I'd reached the floor.

That's where I stayed too. On the floor. Like I was the family dog. All laid out, in front of the sofa. Two sets of teenagefeet, holding me there. Barry's on the small of my back, between my bound arms and my bum, and his brother's massive – and I mean massive – trainers on my thighs. His heels digging into the tape, pressing it down between my legs.

Course I didn't just lay there and take it, all defeated, I did my wriggle thing, even if it was more of a humping now. Kicking with my feet, like I was a mermaid – well, a merboy I guess – trying to swim away from the teenage sharks, and I even managed to get a little way from time to time, before they dragged me back. At least to start with.

They soon found a way to keep me under control, like people that hold small boys captive should know how to do. Barry would raise up one of his feet and slap it down on my bum, like he was spanking me, assuming, that is, you can spank someone with your foot.

Jake's way was much more effective though and took a lot less effort from him too. All he had to do was slide his foot a little up my legs, until it got to my bum. He didn't spank me though. He just nudged that thing in my bum, and it would send shooting stars all through my body, like it was pressing into some sort of magic spot orsomething. One that made me so dead horny, I couldn't move for several minutes, or I'd leave dodgy stains all over Mum's best rug, that I'd never be able to explain.

We went on for ages like that. Ages. The Gaming Invaders lived up to their name, playing games on my console, both against each other and on line, where they used my pass. Not that I minded cos they were really great, and I – well they – got levelled up loads of times.

Sure I watched them play cos, like, it wasn't like I could do anything else, but act like some horny little wriggling foot-rest for the teenagers as they battled kids from all over the world and drank my Pepsi.

Barry got it from the fridge. The 2-litre [4 pt(US)] bottle that was meant to last me the entire week so my teeth don't fall out, or something. No glasses, of course, cos they did the chavy thing and drank right from the bottle, passing it between them and resting it on my bum in between.

Really, REALLY cold it was which was kind of nice, seeing how hot my bum was even if it did make my bunched up briefs a bit wet back there, from the condensation and stuff. That was uncomfortable but also nice at the same time. A bit like the thing in my bum, I guess. And my willy. And being so tightly gagged. And taped up helpless. And… well you get the idea?

Time passed, both slowly and fast. Not that I could see a clock in any case but Barry Thatcham was keeping a close eye on the time waiting, like I was, for Mum and Dad to get home.

"Okay, that's it!" he announced putting down his controller, and making his brother do the "five more minutes" thing, like I do, only it was funny coming from his croaky voice.

I got a few extra spanks for that, until Barry said it would be a better punishment if Jake tickled my feet, so he did that instead.

He had them bent up behind me, somehow my knees still working despite all the duct tape around them. Long fingers, going up and down my dirty soles, driving me to a point where I was nearly making another stain on Mum's rug.

Thankfully Barry stopped him before I wet myself, and not a minute too soon, if I'm honest, sending Jake to make sure they had cleared up all their stuff, and didn't leave anything behind that could get them into trouble. Other than me, that is.

"Thanks for letting us use your stuff.," he laughed, like I'd had some choice in the matter, patting me on the top of my head, and stroking my blond hair, making me feel like his pet dog. Again.

Course I told him where to go, and what to do when he got there, only the gag did its job, and I didn't say anything, lust made noises, but at least he turned me over.

That was an experience, I can tell you. I mean I'd forgotten my bum had been spanked, until it came into contact with the rug, but that was nothing to when I ended up laying on the bum-thing, pushing it right up me, until I was seeing stars. Nice stars. Horny stars.

At least I wasn't about to wet myself now. Not when my stiffy was back, making the front of the briefs all stand up, like the only tent on a camp site.

Barry called it "Cute!" again, which set me off wriggling again so he did the thing villains always do with their captive. He stuck his foot on my belly pinning me to the floor. Only he had the toe of his trainer, right up against my tent, giving it little taps, to make it wobble.

Naturally that was then added to the "insurance" photos and then it was time to leave, and I got a little scared for the first time they were going to leave me like that. Instead they offered me a challenge.

Twenty minutes it took me to free myself, and another ten on top of that, to clear up all the bits of cut up duct tape that were scattered around the living room, once I was able to move.

The Gaming Invaders were long gone by then and thankfully Mum and Dad were a little late back so all was normal by the time they were home, even if I was a little out of breath from having had three wanks on the trot, and red in the face, from what Barry Thatcham had said before he'd left.

Kneeling beside me, on the rug, using a pair of scissors to free my right hand, he told me it had been fun, and I'd been the best prisoner they'd ever had. That made me proud, weirdly, even though I hadn't managed to escape, or anything and if I could have smiled I would have.

Not for long though.

After Jake had opened the front door, and checked outside, Barry patted me on the head once more, making my briefs tingle, which he noticed, smiling in a way, that made his face look a little more spotty then I'd thought. But only a little.

He put the scissors he'd used to free my hand, in my hand, telling me to free myself and pulled his hood back up over his head.

"Don't worry we'll be seeing you around, little Elliot Bruno."

"Have fun," he said, eyes glancing down to the bulge in my briefs, "Elliot Bruno!"

My name! He knew my name!

"Oh yeah, we know who you are, kid." he laughed noticing my reaction, "Everyone at school knows that cute arse of yours."

I stared at him, the back of him, as he joined his giggling brother, at the door.

Then they left. The Gaming Invaders. Just left me all tied up, like a real schoolboy detective. Only one that desperately wanted a wank. Or two.

But.

But first I had to escape and find out just what it was, the Thatcham brothers had stuck up my bum.

To Be Continued