verytoughdudesintrouble

 

Chapter 1: The Challenge

The late afternoon sun beat down on the Benson ranch as Ryan and Jesse finished their usual workout routine behind the barn. At 18 and 19, they were the youngest of the five Benson boys, but their arms told a different story. Four years of serious lifting had packed muscle onto their frames that even their older brothers respected.

"Bet I can still take you," Ryan grunted, flexing his biceps through his green t-shirt as sweat dripped down his face.

"In your dreams, little brother," Jesse shot back, though only by a year. They'd been competing since they could walk, and the gym had just given them new ways to measure who was stronger.

Their father sat on the porch watching his youngest sons, a familiar grin on his weathered face. He'd grown up the same way with his own brothers, always testing, always pushing. The older three boys - Jake, Marcus, and Colt - lounged nearby, cold beers in hand after their own day's work.

"Y'all are pathetic," 26-year-old Jake called out, standing up. "All this flexing and posturing. You want a real competition?"

Ryan and Jesse turned, interested. Jake had that look in his eye - the same one their father got when he was about to make things interesting.

"What kind of competition?" Jesse asked, unconsciously rolling his shoulders to show off his build.

Jake smiled. "What if we tied those precious arms of yours behind your backs? Really tied you up, like you'd been kidnapped or something. Give you ten hours to escape."

The younger brothers exchanged glances. This was different from their usual arm wrestling matches or lifting contests.

"You serious?" Ryan asked.

"Dead serious. Put your money where your mouth is." Jake pulled out his wallet. "You boys each put in $250. Winner takes the pot."

Ryan didn't hesitate. "You're on." He reached for his back pocket.

"Hell yes," Jesse added, already counting bills. "This is gonna be easy money."

As they each threw $250 on the porch table, their father chuckled. "This ought to be good."

Chapter 2: The Betting

"Hold up there, boys," their father said, standing and walking over to the growing pile of cash. "If we're doing this right, we might as well make it interesting."

Marcus cracked his knuckles. "I got $500 says Jesse breaks first. Kid's always been soft."

"Bullshit!" Jesse snapped. "I've been outlifting Ryan for months."

"The hell you have," Ryan shot back.

Colt pulled out his wallet. "I'll take that bet, Marcus. $500 on Ryan. He's got that stubborn streak."

"What the fuck, Colt?" Ryan stared at his brother. "You're betting against me?"

"Business is business, little brother."

Jake counted his bills. "I'm putting $750 on Jesse. Ryan talks big but he's always been a crybaby when things get tough."

"Crybaby?" Ryan's face flushed red. "You piece of shit, Jake. When I get out of this—"

"When you get out?" Jake laughed. "That's some confidence right there."

Their father collected the money, counting carefully. "That's $2,250 in the pot. Winner takes all." He looked at his youngest sons. "Still feeling cocky?"

Jesse flexed his arms one more time. "Damn right. Especially knowing which of you assholes bet against me."

"Language, boys," their father said mildly, though he was grinning.

"Fuck that," Ryan spat. "Jake, you're gonna eat those words."

"We'll see about that," Jake said, pulling a length of rope from behind the porch. "We'll see about that real soon."

Chapter 3: The Binding

"Alright, boys," their father said, pulling three dice from his pocket. "Roll to see who gets the honor."

Marcus, Colt, and Jake each grabbed a die, shaking them in their palms.

"Highest number wins," Jake said with a grin.

They rolled simultaneously. Marcus got a 3, Colt a 4, and Jake a 6.

"Yes!" Jake pumped his fist. "This is gonna be fun."

"Shit," Ryan muttered under his breath.

"You boys better start rolling up those sleeves," Jake said, coiling the rope in his hands. "I want to see those arms you're so proud of."

Ryan and Jesse looked at each other, then slowly rolled their green t-shirt sleeves up past their biceps to their shoulders, exposing the full muscle they'd built over four years of serious lifting.

"Damn," Marcus whistled. "Look at those guns."

"Yeah, well, they won't do you much good tied up," Jake said, walking behind Ryan first. "Hands behind your back, little brother."

Ryan put his hands behind him, still confident. "Make it tight, Jake. I want to earn this money."

"Oh, I will." Jake wrapped the rope around Ryan's wrists first, pulling it tight enough to make Ryan grunt. Then he forced Ryan's forearms together, binding them from wrist to elbow with coil after coil of rope, the hemp digging deep into his skin.

"Fuck, Jake," Ryan said, feeling the rope bite into his triceps as Jake worked upward. "You're cutting off my circulation."

"Good," Jake said, keeping Ryan's biceps a few inches apart as he wrapped rope around them and across his chest. "Don't want you slipping out."

Already sweat was beading on Ryan's bare arms, the hair on his forearms standing up from the tight rope. Jake cinched the chest ropes tighter, pulling Ryan's shoulders back.

"Jesus Christ," Ryan breathed, testing the bonds. His muscular arms were completely immobilized, rope cutting into every inch of exposed skin.

"My turn," Jesse said, but his voice had lost its earlier confidence.

Jake moved behind Jesse, repeating the same methodical process. Wrists bound, forearms forced together and wrapped tight, rope digging into Jesse's triceps and biceps.

"Holy shit," Jesse gasped as Jake pulled the chest ropes tight. "This is way tighter than I expected."

"Check it," Marcus said, walking over to examine both brothers. "Make sure it's fair."

Colt joined him, tugging at the ropes on both boys. "Looks equal to me. They're both fucked."

Jake wasn't finished. He wrapped rope around their chests again, then down around their guts, cinching it tight against their t-shirts. Then he moved to their legs, binding their ankles and wrapping rope around their thighs.

"There," Jake said, stepping back. Both brothers stood with their arms completely immobilized, sweat already trickling down their bound forearms, rope cutting into their muscles at every point. "Let's see those gym arms work now."

Ryan and Jesse looked at each other, both already breathing harder, the reality of their situation starting to sink in.

"Ten hours," Ryan said, but his voice was strained.

"Easy money," Jesse added, though he was already testing his bonds and finding nothing but tight rope.

Their father chuckled. "We'll see about that."

Chapter 4: Into the Barn

"Alright, boys," their father said, standing up from his chair. "Time to get you settled in for the night."

Jake and Colt each grabbed an arm, half-carrying, half-dragging the bound brothers toward the old barn. Ryan and Jesse stumbled along, their leg ropes making walking nearly impossible.

"Shit, this is harder than I thought," Jesse muttered, sweat already staining his green t-shirt.

"Speak for yourself," Ryan shot back, though he was breathing just as hard.

Inside the barn, Jake dropped them both onto a pile of hay in the corner. "There you go, boys. Home sweet home for the next ten hours."

"We'll be checking on you every couple hours," their father announced, leaning against the doorframe. "Want to see how those gym muscles are holding up."

Marcus pulled out his phone. "It's 6 PM now. First check at 8, then 10, midnight, 2 AM, and we'll be back at 6 AM to see who won."

"And boys," Colt added with a grin, "we might have some side bets going throughout the night. Maybe throw some more money in that pot."

"Like what?" Ryan asked, already tugging at his bonds.

"Oh, we'll think of something," Jake said. "Who cries first, who begs to be let out, who gives up trying to escape. Could be worth another grand easy."

Jesse's eyes widened. "Another thousand? Fuck that, I'm getting out of here."

"Sure you are," their father chuckled. "Sure you are."

The three older brothers headed for the door, leaving Ryan and Jesse alone in the dim barn with nothing but time, tight ropes, and their competitive pride.

"Ten hours," Ryan said, immediately starting to work against his bonds.

"Easy money," Jesse replied, though both boys were already discovering just how thorough Jake had been.

The competition was officially underway.

Chapter 5: The Ten Hour Marathon

6:00 PM - 8:00 PM

"Alright, Jesse," Ryan said, immediately rolling onto his side and working his shoulders against the ropes. "Time to show these assholes what four years of lifting can do."

"You're gonna be eating my dust, little brother," Jesse shot back, twisting his wrists and pulling hard against the bindings around his forearms. "I've been beating you in arm wrestling for months."

"Bullshit. Last time was a fluke and you know it."

Both brothers attacked their bonds with everything they had, grunting and straining against Jake's handiwork. The rope cut deeper into their triceps as they flexed and twisted, trying to find any weak point.

"Fuck," Ryan gasped after twenty minutes of solid struggling. "Jake really cinched this tight."

"No kidding," Jesse panted, sweat now soaking his green t-shirt. "But I'm making progress. Feel that?" He twisted his shoulders. "Getting some give in the chest ropes."

"Like hell you are. I'm already loosening my wrists." Ryan rolled over, pressing his back against a wooden post. "Using leverage, something your thick skull never figured out."

For the next hour, they competed as fiercely as they had their whole lives, each claiming to be making better progress, each trying to prove their superior strength and technique.

8:00 PM - First Check

"Well, well," their father said, stepping into the barn with the three older brothers. "How are my youngest boys doing?"

"Almost out," Ryan said confidently, though angry red welts were already forming where the rope cut into his biceps and forearms.

"Yeah, give me another hour and I'll be collecting that money," Jesse added, sweat dripping from his rope-burned arms.

Jake examined his handiwork, running his finger along the tight hemp. "Look at those marks, boys. Rope's really biting in there. You sure you don't want to quit?"

"Fuck you, Jake," Jesse snapped, wincing as he moved his shoulders. "I don't want your damn money."

"I'll take that bet," Marcus said. "Another $250 on Ryan. Kid's got more fight in him."

"You're both idiots," Colt said, pulling out bills. "$500 says neither one of them gets out by midnight."

"You're on," Ryan said through gritted teeth, the rope around his chest making it hard to breathe deeply.

8:00 PM - 10:00 PM

Alone again, the brothers' confidence began to waver slightly, though neither would admit it.

"My arms are killing me," Jesse muttered, the constant friction having rubbed his skin raw. "These ropes are cutting into my triceps like barbed wire."

"Mine too, but I'm not giving up," Ryan replied, though his struggles were becoming more methodical, less frantic. The rope around his biceps had begun to swell the muscle, making the bindings even tighter.

"Jake's a sadistic piece of shit for tying us this tight."

"No kidding. When I get out, I'm gonna kick his ass." Ryan flexed against the chest ropes, feeling them dig deeper into his ribs.

"You mean when I get out."

They continued their competition, but with growing desperation rather than confidence, their bare arms now streaked with angry red rope burns.

10:00 PM - Second Check

"How's it going, boys?" their father asked, finding both brothers exhausted and obviously suffering.

"Just... just give us more time," Ryan panted, his arms visibly swollen above and below the tight rope coils.

"Yeah, we're making progress," Jesse lied, though the rope burns on his forearms were beginning to bleed slightly.

"Progress?" Jake examined his rope work, pressing his thumb against the swollen muscle above Ryan's bicep ropes. "You haven't loosened a single knot. Look at those arms - they're twice their normal size. I'm adding another $300 to the pot that both of you are still tied up at dawn."

"Goddamn it, Jake!" both brothers shouted, their voices strained from the chest ropes restricting their breathing.

10:00 PM - 12:00 AM

The midnight hours brought a shift in their dynamic. The constant competition was wearing them down, and reality was beginning to set in.

"Ryan," Jesse said quietly, "I don't think we're getting out of this. My arms are so fucking swollen I can barely move them."

"Don't talk like that," Ryan replied, but his voice lacked conviction. The rope around his forearms had cut deep grooves in his skin, and his hands were completely numb.

"Look at us. We've been at this for six hours and we're nowhere close. These ropes are only getting tighter."

"So what, you're giving up?"

"I'm not giving up. I'm just... thinking." Jesse tried to flex his biceps, but the swelling made it impossible. "The rope's cutting off all the circulation."

"Well think harder. There's got to be something we haven't tried."

12:00 AM - Midnight Check

"Midnight, boys," their father announced, taking in the sight of his sons' rope-burned, swollen arms. "Colt just won $500. You boys want to concede?"

"Hell no," Ryan said, though his voice was hoarse and his arms were purple above the rope coils.

"We're not quitting," Jesse added weakly, fresh blood trickling from where the rope had worn through his skin.

"Jesus," Marcus said, examining Jesse's arms. "Those are some serious rope burns."

"Another $200 says they're both crying by 2 AM," he added.

"You son of a bitch," Jesse spat, though the effort made the chest ropes cut deeper.

12:00 AM - 2:00 AM

The small hours brought desperation and the first cracks in their competitive facade.

"My arms are completely numb," Jesse admitted, his biceps swollen to nearly double their normal size.

"Mine too. I can't feel my hands anymore." Ryan's forearms were a mass of rope burns and swelling. "The rope's so tight it's cutting into the muscle."

"Maybe... maybe we should try working together?"

"What? No way. This is about who's stronger."

"Ryan, we've been at this for eight hours. Our arms are fucked. Maybe if we help each other..."

"That's quitting."

"No, that's using our brains for once." Jesse looked at his arms, the rope burns now bleeding freely. "We're gonna have permanent scars from this shit."

2:00 AM - Pre-Dawn Check

"2 AM, boys," their father said, finding them both in obvious distress, their arms grotesquely swollen and rope-burned.

"We're fine," Ryan croaked, though his arms were nearly black with restricted blood flow.

"Sure you are," Jake said, examining the deep grooves the rope had cut into their flesh. "I'm betting another $400 that you boys start begging by 4 AM."

"Go to hell," they both muttered, their voices weak from exhaustion and pain.

2:00 AM - 6:00 AM

The final hours brought complete desperation and, finally, cooperation.

"Ryan," Jesse said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I can't do this anymore. Look at my arms."

"Me neither." Ryan's arms were so swollen the rope had nearly disappeared into the flesh.

"You want to try working together?"

"Yeah. Yeah, let's try."

For the first time all night, they stopped competing and started cooperating, rolling toward each other, trying to work on each other's ropes with their bound hands. But their arms were so swollen and numb they could barely move their fingers.

"If we can just get one of us loose..."

"Then he can untie the other."

"Why didn't we think of this hours ago?"

"Because we're idiots."

They worked frantically for the final four hours, their pride finally broken, their competitive spirit replaced by shared desperation. But Jake's rope work was too thorough, too tight, and their rope-burned, swollen arms were too damaged to be effective.

6:00 AM - The Final Check

"Rise and shine, boys," their father called out as all three older brothers entered the barn.

They found Ryan and Jesse lying side by side, completely exhausted, their arms grotesquely swollen and covered in rope burns, their t-shirts soaked with sweat, their competitive fire finally extinguished.

"Well?" Jake asked.

"We give up," Ryan whispered, his arms so damaged he could barely speak.

"Yeah," Jesse added. "We can't get out."

"I know," their father said gently, examining the serious rope burns on both boys' arms. "I know."

The ten-hour marathon was over. Neither brother had won, but both had learned something about the limits of strength and the value of cooperation.

Even if they'd learned it too late.

Chapter 6: The Aftermath

"Well, well," Marcus said, walking over with a beer while both brothers were still tied up and helpless. "Look who's finally giving up."

"What the hell are you doing?" Ryan asked, watching Marcus uncap the bottle.

"Victory celebration," Marcus laughed, upending the beer over Ryan's head. The cold liquid streamed down his face, soaking his already sweat-stained green t-shirt.

"You son of a bitch!" Ryan sputtered, unable to move his bound arms to wipe his face.

Colt joined in, pouring his beer over Jesse's head. "That's for losing my $500 bet, little brother."

"Fuck you, Colt!" Jesse shouted, shaking his head to clear the beer from his eyes.

Jake wasn't finished. He returned with a can of something thick and sticky. "A little motor oil for the champions," he said, drizzling it over both brothers' rope-burned arms and shirts.

"Jake, you piece of shit!" both brothers yelled, completely helpless to stop him.

"Alright, alright," their father said, finally stepping forward with his knife. "I think they've had enough fun. Let's cut these boys loose."

As the ropes fell away, Ryan and Jesse's arms were a mess of deep red grooves, rope burns, and swelling, now covered in beer and motor oil. They could barely move them, the muscles cramped and damaged from ten hours of constant strain.

"Jesus," Ryan gasped, trying to flex his fingers. "I can't feel anything."

"My arms are fucked," Jesse added, examining the deep rope burns. "Look at these marks."

Their father collected the money from the table, counting it carefully. "Total pot: $3,650. BBQ's gonna cost $800. That leaves $2,850." He divided the remaining money into five equal stacks. "Here's $570 for each of you boys. Now get cleaned up. We're having that barbecue tomorrow."

---

The Next Day - The Family BBQ

By afternoon, the smell of barbecue filled the ranch yard. Just the six Benson men, cold beers, and plenty of good food. Ryan and Jesse's arms were still visibly rope-burned, angry red marks crisscrossing their biceps and forearms, but their competitive spirit was already returning.

"Alright, boys," their father said, setting up the old arm wrestling table. "Time to see if those rope burns taught you anything."

"Hell yes," Ryan said, rolling up his sleeves to show the full extent of his rope burns. "These arms got character now."

"Damn right," Jesse added, flexing his damaged arms. "Rope burns just make me stronger."

As Ryan and Jesse took their positions at the table, Jake pulled out some of his fresh $570. "I got $100 says Ryan can't beat Jesse with those burnt-up arms."

Marcus grinned, reaching for his cash. "Make it $200. Jesse's gonna fold after one match."

"Like hell I will," Jesse shot back.

"$150 says they both tap out before they finish a round," Colt added, waving his bills.

Their father watched his sons with familiar pride as the betting started all over again with their fresh money, the competitive fire burning as bright as ever despite their ordeal.

"Some things never change," he said to himself, watching his youngest sons grip hands at the arm wrestling table, their rope-burned arms shaking but their determination intact.

The Benson boys were back to being themselves.

And they had plenty of fresh money to bet with.