Part 2 Of My Wildest Dreams!
Becker Denoga leaned against the chain-link fence behind the school, chewing on the frayed end of one of her dark green pigtail knots. The skull on her turquoise shirt stared blankly at the cracked pavement as she scuffed her purple sneakers against the curb, sending little pebbles skittering into the storm drain. A black spiked bracelet dug into her wrist when she adjusted it—not uncomfortable, just present, like most things in her life.
Hailey Banks came bounding up with that uneven gait of hers, the missing strap of her overalls flapping wildly as she nearly tripped over her own pink slip-ons. "Dude!" she gasped, pushing her big red glasses up her nose with one finger. The chipped tooth made her grin lopsided. "Chainsaw says he's got access to his uncle's farm all weekend. Wanna see the baby goats?"
Becker spit out the pigtail knot, eyeing the way Hailey's ponytail bounced with every excitable movement. The red tie matched her sleeves—too coordinated for Becker's taste. "What's the catch?" she asked, kicking off from the fence. Dust rose in little clouds around her torn jeans.
"You're so paranoid," Hailey laughed, but the way her fingers twisted the loose golden button on her overalls gave her away. She lowered her voice, leaning in. "Okay, Paul might've said something about—"
A sharp honk cut her off. Chainsaw leaned out of his rusted pickup truck, red headband soaked with sweat. "Move it, losers! Goat feeding waits for no one!" Paul's green beanie popped up from the passenger seat, his grin all teeth and mischief. Becker's stomach did an uncomfortable flip, but she shoved her hands in her pockets and followed Hailey anyway.
The farm smelled like hay and something sour underneath—fermenting feed maybe, or the lingering ghost of last week's manure haul. Becker's sneakers sank into the soft earth near the barn, where Paul was already uncoiling some suspiciously new-looking rope. Hailey squealed at the sight of the goat pen, not noticing how Chainsaw exchanged a look with Paul over her head.
"Goats are in the back forty," Chainsaw said, wiping his hands on his vest. There was a pause just a fraction too long before he added, "But first, we gotta show you something cool in the barn." The way his fingers tapped against his thigh—quick, staccato—made Becker's shoulders tense. She opened her mouth to protest, but Hailey was already skipping ahead, her pink shoes kicking up dust.
The barn doors groaned like something wounded when Paul pushed them open. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of old wood and dry hay, and—oddly—leather. Becker's eyes took a second to adjust, but when they did, she saw them: two sets of wooden stocks, their hinges gleaming under a dangling work light. The chained cuffs bolted to the sides were unmistakable. Her pulse jackhammered against her wristband.
Hailey laughed nervously, pushing her red glasses up again. "Uh, you guys into historical reenactments or something?" Her fingers found Becker's sleeve, clutching at the fabric like she might float away otherwise. Chainsaw just grinned, stepping between them and the door. His shadow stretched long and jagged across the straw-littered floor.
Paul tested one of the stocks with a metallic clank, his beanie casting shadows over his eyes. "Figured you'd appreciate a little... hands-on experience." His voice was too light, like he was discussing the weather. Becker's stomach dropped when she saw the gags laid out on a nearby barrel—rough cloth strips with knots in the middle. The realization hit her like a punch: they'd planned this.
Hailey's grip tightened on Becker's sleeve, her breath coming fast. "Okay, super funny joke guys—" she started, but Chainsaw was already moving, his sneakers crunching straw as he cut off their retreat. Becker's muscles coiled to run, but Paul grabbed Hailey first, her pink shoes kicking up straw as he yanked her toward the stocks. The golden button on her overalls pinged off the wood and vanished into the hay.
The rough wood scraped Becker's knees as Chainsaw forced her down, his fingers tangling in her dark green pigtails to keep her head still. The gag pressed against her teeth tasted like old rope and sweat, the knot digging into her tongue when she tried to scream. Through the blindfold's thin fabric, she saw Hailey thrashing beside her, the red glasses askew as Paul buckled the wrist cuffs with a click that echoed in the hollow barn.
Straw prickled Becker's bare feet where they stuck out of the stocks—cold air swirling between her toes before the first feather-light touch skittered up her arch. Hailey's muffled shriek hitched higher as Chainsaw's fingers spider-walked along her soles, her pink shoes long discarded in the hay. Becker jerked against the restraints, the metal biting her wrists, but Paul just laughed low in his throat, his breath hot on her ankle.
The blindfold made every sensation sharper—the way Hailey's panicked breathing hitched beside her, the creak of the barn timbers above, the dry scratch of the feather Paul dragged along Becker's instep in slow, deliberate strokes. Her stomach clenched with involuntary laughter already building, teeth grinding against the gag. Chainsaw's calloused thumb found the dip below Hailey's toes, circling mercilessly until her giggles turned frantic, her overall straps straining against her shoulders.
Dust motes swirled in the shafts of light slicing through the barn's cracks, catching on Becker's flailing pigtails as she threw her head back against the stocks. The tickling wasn't just touches now—it was Paul's nails tracing the whorls of her soles, Chainsaw blowing raspberries against Hailey's arch between taunts. "Bet you regret those slip-ons now," he chuckled, pausing just long enough for her to suck in a shuddering breath before skittering his fingers up to her anklebone.
Hailey's glasses slipped off entirely with a soft thump into the hay, her laughter turning wet and hiccuping behind the gag. The missing strap of her overalls dangled uselessly as she convulsed against the restraints, her bare toes curling and uncurling against nothing. Becker caught the scent of her own sweat mixed with the oiled leather of the cuffs—muscles burning where she strained to twist away from Paul's relentless assault on her sensitive spots.
Chainsaw's breath hit the back of Becker's neck as he leaned over her shoulder, his voice a rough whisper against her blindfolded ear. "Knew you'd be ticklish here," he murmured before dragging a single fingernail down the length of her exposed side. The touch barely grazed her turquoise shirt, but it sent electric jolts through her ribs, her breath punching out in a muffled shriek. Straw rustled as Hailey kicked wildly, her heel connecting with Paul's shin—a brief victory before he retaliated by pinching the tender skin behind her knee.
The stocks groaned under their struggles, the ancient wood absorbing every shudder and jerk. Becker's pigtails swung wildly as she tossed her head, the green knots unraveling slightly with the motion. Through the thin blindfold, she caught flashes of Hailey's bare feet—dusty pink soles twitching under Paul's merciless scribbling fingers—before Chainsaw hooked a thumb under Becker's jawline, tilting her head back to expose her throat. His laugh vibrated against her skin as he blew a slow, deliberate stream of air along her collarbone.
Hailey's muffled squeals pitched higher when Chainsaw abandoned Becker momentarily to press both palms flat against Hailey's ribcage, thumbs circling just below the swell of her bust The rolled-up sleeves of her shirt rode higher with each frantic breath, exposing the delicate skin of her inner arms where Paul began alternating between feather-light strokes and sudden pinches. Becker caught the wet sound of Hailey's gag soaking through with spit, her chipped tooth no doubt digging into the cloth.
The blindfold did nothing to soften the image burned into Becker's mind—Paul's green beanie bobbing as he ducked between Hailey's flailing legs, his teeth grazing the arch of one foot while his fingers spider-walked up her opposite calf. Dust and sweat made the denim straps of Hailey's overalls stick to her shoulders, the remaining golden button straining against its thread with every convulsive jerk. Becker's own throat ached around the gag, laughter and screams trapped behind the knot as Chainsaw's wandering hands found the hem of her skull-printed shirt.
A splinter dug into Becker's kneecap when she bucked violently against the stocks, the pain sharp and clarifying beneath the overwhelming ticklish onslaught. Somewhere to her left, Hailey's breath came in desperate, nasal whistles through her flared nostrils—Paul had switched tactics, now tracing slow, unbearable circles around each of her big toes with just the tip of his pinky finger. The missing strap of her overalls finally gave way with a faint tear, the fabric sliding down to pool at her waist where the stocks held her bent forward.
Chainsaw's teeth scraped unexpectedly against Becker's earlobe before his fingers found the hem of her shirt, rucking it up to expose the vulnerable dip of her navel. His exhale was hot and damp against the newly bared skin there, his pause deliberate—letting her squirm in anticipation before his tongue flicked out in one wet stripe across the ticklish hollow. Becker's scream was pure vibration against the gag, her spine arching so violently the wood groaned in protest. Straw stuck to the sweat-slick skin of Hailey's thighs as Paul blew a sudden raspberry against her sole, her entire body jolting like she'd been electrocuted.
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