The Bet AI inspired

 

The Bet

Jake should have known better than to bet against Tanner on game day. As a sophomore at Sigma Beta, he'd witnessed enough of these wagers gone wrong to recognize the pattern. Yet there he was, standing in the middle of the frat house living room, surrounded by his brothers, ready to pay up.

"Rules are rules, bro," Tanner said, twirling the length of rope between his fingers. "You called Alabama by ten points. Not even close."

Jake sighed dramatically but couldn't hide his smile. "Fine. I'm a man of my word."

The room erupted in cheers as Jake removed his shirt. This was part of the tradition—lose a bet, face a consequence. Today's special: being hogtied while everyone else headed to the post-game party.

"Arms behind your back," directed Tanner, who'd apparently watched too many YouTube tutorials on knot tying. He crossed Jake's wrists and secured them with several loops of rope, then connected another length up to his neck—not tight enough to cause discomfort, but enough to limit movement.

"This is completely unnecessary," Jake protested, though he was laughing.

"Next time don't bet against a sure thing," called out Ryan from the couch, raising his beer.

Tanner continued his work, wrapping rope around Jake's torso in an elaborate pattern that seemed excessive for what was supposed to be a simple prank. When he moved to Jake's legs, binding each shin to thigh, Jake realized he'd be completely immobile.

"Dude, how am I supposed to get to the bathroom like this?" Jake asked as Tanner finished securing his bare feet.

"That's future Jake's problem," Tanner replied with a grin. "Alright boys, party at Kappa Sig starts in twenty. Jake's got some quality time with these ropes until we get back."

"Wait, what? You're just leaving me here?" Jake protested. "Not cool, guys. Seriously—"

"Oh wait, one more thing," Tanner said, pulling a roll of tape from his pocket. "Can't have you yelling for help from the neighbors."

Jake's eyes widened. "Come on, man—"

Before he could finish, Tanner pressed a strip of tape firmly over Jake's mouth.

"Mmph!" Jake's objections were now effectively muffled.

"Don't worry," Tanner said, patting Jake's shoulder. "We'll be back in a couple hours. Maybe. Unless we forget." He winked. "Have fun working on those knots."

The front door slammed, and suddenly the house was eerily quiet.

Jake tested his bonds, twisting his wrists against the rope. Tanner had done a thorough job—these weren't amateur knots. As an athlete, Jake had decent flexibility and strength, but the way his limbs were secured made it nearly impossible to gain any leverage. The tape across his mouth made it impossible to call for help, not that he would—a bet was a bet, after all.

"Mmmph," he muttered behind the tape, but couldn't help finding some humor in his predicament.

For the next hour, Jake alternated between periods of furious struggling and resigned acceptance. He managed to roll himself from the living room to the hallway—a minor victory that left him sweaty and exhausted.

By the time he heard the front door open again, he'd made exactly zero progress on loosening his bonds, but had somehow wedged himself halfway into the kitchen. What had started as a humorous acceptance of his situation had gradually shifted to genuine frustration. Two hours had stretched into four, and being left tied up that long wasn't what he'd signed up for.

"Look who's still exactly where we left him," Tanner announced as the group filed back in, clearly having enjoyed the party.

Jake glared up at them, his eyes no longer showing amusement but real anger. He mumbled something forceful behind the tape.

"What's that? Can't hear you," Ryan laughed, kneeling down beside him.

Jake's glare intensified. This had gone beyond a prank now.

"Oh, he's mad," Tanner observed with a grin. "Look at his face."

"You know what would make this better?" said Ryan, a mischievous look crossing his face. "Remember what happened to Phillips last semester?"

Without warning, Ryan grabbed one of Jake's bare feet and ran his fingers along the sole. Jake's eyes went wide, and despite his anger, his body reacted instantly to the tickling sensation.

"MMMMPH!" Jake's muffled yell was accompanied by uncontrollable squirming as he tried desperately to pull his foot away.

"Jackpot!" laughed Tanner, joining in by targeting Jake's other foot. "Guys, our star athlete is ticklish!"

Jake thrashed against his bonds, a complicated mix of rage and involuntary laughter building behind the tape. The more he struggled, the more his brothers seemed to enjoy the reaction.

After what felt like an eternity but was probably only a minute, Tanner finally relented. "Alright, alright, let's cut him loose before he has an aneurysm."

As the tape came off and the ropes were untied, Jake took several deep breaths, flexing his freed limbs.

"I can't believe you guys left me like that for four hours," he said, his voice hoarse.

"Sorry, man. Party was better than expected," Tanner shrugged, not looking particularly sorry.

Jake slowly stood up, stretching his stiff muscles. "You know what this means, right?"

"That you're a good sport?" Ryan offered hopefully.

Jake shook his head slowly, a dangerous smile spreading across his face. "This means war."

Sometimes at Sigma Beta, a prank wasn't just a prank—it was the opening move in an escalating game that could last an entire semester. And Jake was already planning his revenge.