By Hunter Perez

I looked out of my apartment window at the thunderstorm soaking the neighborhood. It was a Saturday night and, for once, I was glad that I had no plans to go out. The weather forecast called for downpours into the following afternoon, so the warm comfort of my little one-bedroom sanctuary was more than satisfying.

I heated a frozen pizza, open a bottle of soda, plopped myself on my couch, switched on the TV and found an obscure cable channel that was running an endless series of old-time cartoons. Even though I saw those zany films a hundred million times, I could still laugh at Yosemite Sam getting a cannonball blasted into his face or Sylvester the Cat ingesting a dynamite stick.

Somewhere in the animation mayhem, I fell into a sound sleep. It was a beautiful slumber, until my peace was ended with a pounding on my front door that shook me awake. I glanced at my clock and found it was shortly after midnight. Confused and groggy, I stumbled from the couch to the door. I inquired about the source of the pounding and a loud voice beyond the door declared it was my pal Jock.

“What the hell is he doing here at this hour?” I wondered to myself. I had not heard from Jock for the past two weeks – I ran into his dreadful friend Ralphie who gossiped that Jock was dating “a gorgeous wall of muscle,” so I assumed Jock’s attention span was being happily distracted. I opened the door and found a bleary-eyed Jock swaying slightly, his hair and clothing soaked from the rain.

“Bingo Bingo Bingo baby,” he declared in a slurred voice. “I knew you lived in this building, but I couldn’t remember which apartment. I think I woke up one of your neighbors – some guy with weird hair who told me you were here.”

“What are you doing here at this hour?” I asked. “And how long were you out in the rain?”

Jock rumbled past me into the apartment and found his way into kitchen, where he leaned against the sink and began tumble over, as if preparing to vomit. “I walked over from McSorley’s,” he muttered. “I ran, actually. It’s raining out, Bingo baby. I think I got wet.”

“McSorley’s is three blocks away,” I said, dropping to my knees to pull Jock’s muddy sneakers off and place them on a mat near the front door. “Where’s your car? I hope that you don’t plan to drive in this condition.”

Jock began to shake his head over the sink. “My car is home. Troy picked me and took me to dinner. We went to McSorley’s afterwards to watch the ball game. We had a few drinks.”

“I could see that,” I stated glumly. “So where is Troy?”

Jock exhaled heavily into the sink, but did not vomit. “We had a fight. Fucker. Damn fucker fucker. He left and I was stuck at McSorley’s. I couldn’t get a ride share service and there were no Good Samaritans at McSorley’s, so I remembered you lived around here and I thought I would come in.”

Jock stepped back and lost his balance. He wobbled and fell into the refrigerator, but caught himself and straightened up as if nothing was amiss.

“And I liked him, too,” he added sadly. “Damn fucker leaves me stranded at a bar in the rain. And I had to pay for his drinks. You know, Bingo baby baby Bingo, bourbon is very expensive. Good bourbon costs more than he’s worth. He was really hot, but he cost too much.”

I clenched my jaw and tried to figure out what to do with my drunken pal. I went to a closet and extracted two hangers, and then offered to hang his wet clothing on the shower rod in the bathroom.

“Oh, you just want to see me naked,” he smirked before belching out a laugh. “I can read your mind, your dirty piggy little mind.”

“Jock, you’re soaking wet and you’re getting my floor all wet,” I said, trying not to betray my growing annoyance. “Take the hangers and hang up your clothing in the bathroom. I don’t want you to get a cold or worse from being soaking wet. There’s a clean towel in there, and some aspirin in the medicine cabinet.”

“Can you get me something?” he started to say while taking the hangers. He stopped, blinked a few times and struggled to regain his train of thought before continuing. “Can you get me something to wear? I don’t want walk around here naked with you staring at my body. I wanted Troy to see me naked, not you.”

I shook my head in dismay. “Jock, you’re a foot taller and about 100 pounds heavier than me. None of my clothing is going to fit you.”

Jock grumbled as he brushed his shirt sleeves. “Ridiculous. I feel like I’m in that cartoon with the big guy and the tiny guys. What was that? Oh, yeah, it was Gulliver and the Lily Munsters.”

“The Lilliputians!” I shouted. “Just go in the bathroom and dry yourself off.”

Jock lumbered into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. I walked back to my couch and caught a glimpse of the television showcasing Bugs Bunny being chased in a haunted castle by a giant hairy red monster.

“The Lily Munsters! Drunken idiot!” I cursed as I turned off the television. I could hear Jock making strange retching sounds, followed by the flushing of the toilet. He opened the door and called out, “Bingo, do you have any paper toweling? I think I missed the bowl.”

I wanted to scream, but I caught myself. I marched into the kitchen, pulled a roll of paper toweling from the cabinet, then marched to the bathroom and shoved the roll into his chest. I ordered him to get out of his wet clothing and to take an aspirin.

Jock closed the door and the apartment became silent for a few minutes. A loud clap of thunder resonated from beyond the window, and I looked out to see the intensity of the rain became more violent.

“At least he won’t get nabbed by the cops for public drunkenness,” I thought to myself. “I never want to go through that again.”

A loud noise came from the bathroom and I assumed that Jock was taking a mighty long piss. The toilet flushed, followed by the sink faucet being turned on and off. Jock exited the bathroom completely naked – I looked beyond him and saw his clothing dumped on the floor. I rushed into the bathroom and hung his wet shirt and pants on hangers while draping his underwear and socks on the shower rack. He left his cell phone on the edge of the sink – I wiped toilet paper over its surface and put it on a dry washcloth. The paper towel roll was untouched and thankfully there was no sign of vomit on the floor.

Emerging from the bathroom, I found Jock in my bedroom – he was flat on his back on my bed, his arms and legs stretching to the four corners of the mattress. He had a big stupid grin on his face and viewed me through half-open eyes.

“I know what you’re thinking, Bingo Bingo baby,” he belched. “Little you wants to climb on the giant. We can play Jack and the Beanstalk – or Jock as the Beanstalk.”

“You’re ridiculous,” I said, sadly. “You should see yourself, Jock.”

Jock laughed derisively. “Do you still have toys, Bingo Bingo?”

“What toys?” I responded.

He laughed louder. “Don’t play dumb, little guy. Those toys you use when you hire those escorts to molest you. I remember you telling me about them.”

I cringed internally at being reminded of my vices, but I tried to remain stoic. “Maybe when you’re sober.”

“I am sober,” he yelled. “And I’m not going to catch a cold – I took some cold medicine you had in the cabinet.”

I groaned at the prospect of the cold medicine interacting with his advanced inebriation. I announced I would sleep on the couch and would allow him to have my bed for the night.

“Hey!” he called out as I started to leave the bedroom. “If you still have those handcuffs, I want you to handcuff me to your bedpost. I want to see what it’s like to be your prisoner. Prisoner Jock, Jock, Jock.”

Jock stretched his thickly muscled arms to the brass bars of the headboard and wiggled his fingers while miming a kiss. I shook my head in confusion – part of me was distressed at how Jock could drink himself into an advanced state of stupidity. And yet, it was difficult not to enjoy the spectacle of his nudity. As Ralphie would say, he was a wall of muscle – he was truly the most beautiful man I’ve seen, and while his inebriation made him obnoxious it didn’t dilute his physical appeal.

“Maybe I should handcuff him to the bed,” I thought. “That could teach him a lesson on what happens when he goes overboard with the booze. I just hope he doesn’t break the headboard once he realizes that he’s trapped.”

I walked over to the dresser next to the bed and opened the bottom drawer. I pulled out my handcuff box and emptied its contents, placing the keys on top of the dresser.

“Now, you’re sure this is what you want?” I asked Jock as I held the handcuffs up before my face.

“Yeah, Bingo Bingo Bingo,” he cheered, flexing his arms while his wrists rested on the brass headboard. “Slap ‘em on. I want you to be my jailer tonight. Jailer Bingo does Jock lock-up.”

“I have some more toys in the bottom drawer,” I said. “Now, you’re really sure this is what you want?”

“Cuff me, little guy,” he cooed.

I smirked as I opened the cuffs. I approached the headboard and reached to lock his right wrist when he abruptly sprang up and grabbed me by the shoulders. Jock twisted me into the air, forcing me to land on my back on the bed. He pulled the handcuffs from me and quickly locked a manacle on my right wrist before thrusting my arms into the headboard’s open space. Within a few seconds, my left wrist was locked and I was secured to the headboard.

I yelled to Jock to unlock me as he dug through the open bottom drawer where I stored my sex toys.

“Too much talk from you,” he snarled as he pulled out an oversized ball gag. He pushed the device to my mouth and I tried to keep my jaws clenched, but he pressed on my larynx and forced my jaws open, where he quickly filled locking the ball gag into place.

Jock then removed a long, thin orange rope from the drawer. He grabbed my right ankle, which I tried to kick out of his grip – he forced his knee on my leg and quickly tied one end of the rope around the ankle. He then threw the rope under the bed, walked to the other side, picked up the rope from the floor and repeated his action on my left ankle. When he was done, my legs were immobilized by the rope.

A flash from the thunderstorm’s lightning filled the space with a brief and blinding white light, which was followed by a hideous roar of thunder. Jock stood over me, clapped his hands and folded his arms across his chest. He gloated at my imprisonment and declared, “Gotcha!”

To be continued…