Happy Birthday Billy!

 

The Benson Hell Night

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the Benson ranch as Billy sat perched on the old barn door, trying to look more confident than he felt. At eighteen, today marked more than just his birthday—it was the day he'd finally undergo the family's Hell Night tradition that had been passed down for generations.

"Hold still now, Billy," Old Pops called out, raising his weathered hands to frame the shot with his ancient camera. "This is the 'before' picture. Every Benson man has one."

Billy adjusted his green cowboy t-shirt and pulled his baseball cap down slightly, folding his arms across his chest. The familiar weight of his boots against the barn door grounded him, but his heart hammered against his ribs.

"You'll have your favorite meal ready tomorrow," his mother Sarah said from the porch, her voice carrying both love and worry. "After you get yourself cleaned up proper."

His father strode over with a grin, extending his hand for a firm high-five. "Good luck, son. You got this."

Billy slapped his dad's palm, feeling the calluses earned from years of ranch work.

Josh, the eldest at thirty, stepped forward with the authority that came with being the first to survive Hell Night in his generation. Behind him, little Billy the Kid—Josh's eight-year-old son—watched with wide eyes, knowing his own turn would come in a decade.

"Ready?" Josh asked, his tone serious but not unkind.

Billy slid down from the barn door, his boots hitting the dirt with a solid thud. He looked around at his family—at Jake, nineteen and still wearing the cocky smirk of someone who'd only recently passed his own Hell Night; at Ray, twenty-six and steady as always; at little Billy the Kid, who was practically vibrating with excitement.

Billy nodded once, firm and decisive.

"Alright then," Josh said, stepping aside to reveal the open barn doors. "Go on inside. We'll start with tying you up."

Old Pops let out a knowing chuckle, his eyes twinkling with memories of his own Hell Night decades ago, and probably his father's before that.

"Happy Birthday, Billy," the old man said, and somehow those three words carried the weight of every Benson man who'd walked into that barn before him.

Billy squared his shoulders and walked toward the darkness beyond the barn doors, ready to earn his place in the family legacy.Chapter Two: The Binding

The barn's interior was thick with shadows and the familiar scent of hay and old leather. Dust motes danced in the shafts of late afternoon sunlight that sliced through gaps in the weathered boards. Billy's boots echoed against the wooden floor as he stepped inside, his heart hammering harder with each step.

Josh stood near a wooden post in the center of the barn, coiling a length of rope in his hands with practiced ease. Ray leaned against a hay bale, his expression serious but not unkind. Jake bounced on his toes, still riding the high of his own Hell Night victory just a year ago.

"Billy the Kid, you get the honor of the first knot," Josh said to his son, who scrambled forward with wide eyes and trembling hands.

"Right here, Uncle Billy," the eight-year-old said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Just like Daddy taught me."

Billy walked to the post and turned around, placing his back against the rough wood. The reality of it hit him then—this was really happening. Every Benson man before him had stood in this exact spot.

"Arms behind the post," Ray instructed, his voice steady and authoritative.

Billy complied, feeling the cool wood against his palms as Josh stepped forward with a dark bandana.

"First things first," Josh said, moving behind him. "This goes on."

"Wait—why are you blindfolding me?" Billy asked, his voice already betraying his nervousness. "Come on, what's the point of—"

The world went dark as the bandana covered his eyes and was tied firmly behind his head.

"I can't see anything!" Billy said, his voice echoing strangely in the barn now that his vision was gone. "Why do I need to be blindfolded for this?"

"You'll understand soon enough," Jake's voice came from somewhere in front of him. "Now for the shirt."

"Wait, what about my shirt?" Billy asked, then felt hands grabbing the hem of his green cowboy t-shirt. "Hey! What are you—"

The sound of tearing fabric filled the barn as Jake ripped the shirt clean off Billy's torso in one swift motion.

"Hey! That was my favorite shirt!" Billy protested, the cool barn air hitting his bare chest and making him shiver. "I can't see and now I'm half naked? What's next?"

"Now we make sure you stay put," Ray said, and Billy could hear rope being uncoiled.

The rope circled Billy's torso, binding his arms tight against his sides and securing him firmly to the post. With each loop, Billy felt his mobility disappearing.

"That's... that's getting pretty tight, guys," Billy said, testing the bonds. "I can barely move my arms. I literally can't move!"

"That's the point," Josh said from somewhere nearby. "The more you struggle, the worse it gets."

"But I can't see! And I can't move!" Billy's head turned frantically, trying to pick up any sounds that might give him a clue. "Jake? Ray? Come on, talk to me! What are you guys planning?"

Little Billy the Kid's voice piped up nearby, "It's okay, Uncle Billy. Daddy says the not-seeing part is important."

"Important for what?" Billy demanded, pulling against the ropes again. "What's next?"

Josh's voice came from directly in front of him now, low and serious. "Now that, little brother, is where the real fun begins."

Chapter Three: Little Bill's Turn

The barn fell silent for a moment, and Billy strained his ears, trying to figure out where his brothers had gone. He could hear footsteps shuffling around him, whispered voices he couldn't quite make out.

Josh knelt down beside his eight-year-old son, pressing the barn hose into his small hands. "Remember what I taught you, kiddo. Steady grip, and have fun with it. This is your time."

Little Billy the Kid's eyes lit up with pure excitement as he looked up at his tied-up uncle. "Can I really soak him good, Daddy?"

"That's the whole idea, son," Jake whispered with a grin. "Make it count."

"Guys?" Billy called out, his voice echoing in the space. "What's happening? Where did you—"

Little Billy the Kid squeezed the trigger with glee, and the first blast of ice-cold water hit his uncle square in the chest. Billy gasped and jerked, and the little boy burst into delighted laughter.

"What the hell!" Billy shouted, water streaming down his torso. "Who's doing that?"

"This is awesome!" Little Billy the Kid whispered excitedly to his dad, then aimed another spray right at his uncle's face, giggling as Billy sputtered and shook his head.

"Damn it! That's freezing!" Billy fought against his bonds. "Stop it! Who has the hose?"

Little Billy the Kid was having the time of his life. His favorite uncle, who was usually so strong and in control, was completely helpless and at his mercy. He sent a steady stream across Billy's chest, grinning widely at every curse and struggle.

"This is insane!" Billy yelled. "I'm soaked! How long are you going to—"

"Uncle Billy can't even see me!" Little Billy the Kid whispered gleefully to his father. "This is the best!"

"That's my boy," Josh whispered back proudly.

The eight-year-old shifted the spray lower, hitting Billy's stomach and watching with pure delight as his uncle gasped and thrashed against the ropes.

"Son of a bitch!" Billy cursed, pulling desperately at the ropes. "I can't even see who's doing this! Come on!"

Little Billy the Kid giggled uncontrollably. "He's so mad! This is better than water balloon fights!"

"Five minutes," came Josh's voice. "That's the rule."

"Five minutes?" Billy's voice cracked. "It's been five minutes already!"

But Little Billy the Kid was nowhere near done. He moved the hose in circles, making sure every inch of his uncle got soaked, laughing with pure joy at having Uncle Billy completely at his mercy. This was the most fun he'd ever had, and he was already looking forward to telling his friends at school about the night he got to torture his favorite uncle.

Chapter Four: Birthday Slaps

The water finally stopped, leaving Billy dripping and shivering against the post. His chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath, water still streaming from his hair and running down his torso.

"Alright, Billy," Josh's voice came from directly in front of him. "Time for the birthday punches. Here are the rules."

Billy's head snapped up at the sound of his oldest brother's voice. "Birthday punches? What do you mean birthday punches?"

"Eighteen slaps for eighteen years," Josh explained matter-of-factly. "But here's the catch—we're going to spread them out over the next hour. One slap every few minutes or so."

"An hour?" Billy's voice cracked. "You're going to hit me for an hour?"

"Only if you follow the rules," Ray's voice added from somewhere to Billy's right. "The rule is simple: you stand up straight in those ropes and don't move an inch. Not a single movement."

Billy was already shivering from the cold water, his body trembling involuntarily. "I can't help it! I'm freezing! I'm already shaking!"

"That's too bad," Jake chimed in, sounding far too cheerful. "Because if you move—even a little bit—one of us is going to give you all eighteen birthday slaps to your belly at once."

"That's insane! I can't control—" Billy jerked involuntarily as another shiver ran through his body.

"Oops," Josh said. "That's movement. Jake, you want to do the honors?"

"Wait, no!" Billy protested, but he could already hear footsteps approaching. "Jake, come on, man! I can't help the shivering!"

"Sorry, little brother," Jake said, stepping close enough that Billy could feel his presence. "Rules are rules. You moved."

The first slap landed hard on Billy's wet belly, the sound echoing through the barn. Billy gasped and jerked against the ropes.

"Ow! Jake, that stings!" Billy protested.

"That's one," Jake said cheerfully. "Seventeen to go."

SLAP "Two!" SLAP "Three!"

"Jake, stop!" Billy pleaded between slaps. "My stomach's on fire!"

"Should have stood still," Jake replied, continuing the count. "Ten! Eleven!"

By the time Jake finished all eighteen slaps, Billy's belly was already turning pink, the wet skin making each impact sting worse.

"My turn," Ray announced, stepping forward. "These are for good luck."

"Ray, please," Billy gasped, his stomach already burning. "I can't take much more."

"Just getting started, birthday boy," Ray said, and delivered another series of slaps to Billy's increasingly red belly.

For the next hour, the brothers took turns, spacing out the punishment slaps with the regular birthday count. By the end, Billy's stomach was dark red and tender, and he was barely able to stand upright in his bindings, exhausted from an hour of enduring the painful birthday tradition.

Chapter Five: Bath Time

Billy hung limply against the post, his belly still throbbing from the hour of birthday slaps. His breath came in short gasps, and sweat mixed with the remaining water on his skin.

"Time for a bath," Ray announced, and Billy could hear something heavy being dragged across the barn floor.

"A bath?" Billy lifted his head weakly. "What kind of bath?"

"Here," Ray said, his voice closer now. "Smell this."

Billy caught a whiff of something absolutely foul—sweet molasses mixed with the sharp chemical smell of motor oil, something soapy, and the earthy stench of dirt.

"Oh God, what is that?" Billy recoiled, trying to pull his head away. "Ray, no! That smells disgusting!"

"It's your birthday spa treatment," Jake called out with laughter in the voice. "Only the finest ingredients for our birthday boy."

Billy began struggling against the ropes with renewed energy. "Ray, please! Don't you dare! I'm begging you!"

"Hold still now," Ray said calmly, and Billy could hear him dipping something into the bucket. "This will go a lot easier if you don't fight."

"No, no, no!" Billy thrashed as much as his bindings would allow. "Ray, I'm your brother! Come on!"

The first stroke of the paint brush across his hair made Billy cry out in disgust. The thick, gooey mixture matted his hair down immediately.

"This is sick!" Billy yelled as Ray methodically painted the foul concoction down his arms. "It's in my hair! It smells like death!"

"Almost done," Ray said cheerfully, covering Billy's chest and working his way down to his already-tender belly. "Got to get the sides too."

Billy was coated from head to waist in the revolting mixture, the smell making him gag. "How long do I have to stay like this?"

"Oh, about twenty minutes," Josh's voice came from the shadows. "Let it really soak in."

Twenty minutes felt like hours as Billy hung there, the mixture dripping slowly off him and creating a puddle at his feet. The smell was overwhelming, and he could feel insects starting to buzz around him.

"Alright, Little Bill," Ray finally called out. "Time for the rinse cycle."

"Yes!" Little Billy the Kid exclaimed excitedly. "I get to hose him again!"

"Please," Billy begged weakly. "Just get this stuff off me."

The first blast of cold water hit him, and this time Billy actually sighed with relief.

"Oh thank God," Billy gasped as the water washed away the sticky mixture. "Don't stop, kiddo! Get it all off!"

"Uncle Billy likes the hose now!" Little Billy the Kid laughed, spraying enthusiastically.

"Yes! Yes, I love the hose!" Billy said gratefully as the disgusting concoction washed away. "Get my hair, get everything! Thank you, Little Bill!"

For the first time all night, Billy was actually happy to be soaked with the freezing barn hose.

Chapter Six: Rope Mummy

Billy was still catching his breath from the relief of being cleaned off when he heard his brothers moving around the barn, gathering more supplies.

"Alright, birthday boy," Josh said, approaching with something in his hands. "Time for the next part. But first, we need to keep you a little quieter."

"What do you mean quieter?" Billy asked, but before he could say another word, Josh stuffed a bandana into his mouth and tied another one behind his head to keep it in place.

"Mmph! Mmmph!" Billy tried to speak but could only make muffled sounds through the gag.

"Much better," Jake laughed. "Now for the real fun."

Billy heard them gathering more ropes, lots of them by the sound of it. Then Little Billy the Kid's excited voice piped up.

"Can we really play Indians, Daddy?"

"You bet, son," Josh replied. "Just like we did with your uncles. Remember the war dance?"

Suddenly, Billy heard whooping sounds—"Whoo-whoo-whoo!"—as his brothers and nephew began circling him. Their boots stomped rhythmically on the barn floor.

"Whoo-whoo-whoo!" Ray joined in, and Billy could hear rope being uncoiled.

"Mmmph!" Billy protested through his gag as he felt the first rope being wound around his shoulders, just below where the original binding held him to the post.

"Hold still, paleface!" Jake called out playfully, continuing the whooping sounds as he wrapped rope around Billy's chest. "The mighty Benson tribe is claiming its prisoner!"

Little Billy the Kid was having a blast, dancing around his uncle while making exaggerated "Whoo-whoo-whoo!" sounds and clapping his hands.

The ropes kept coming—around his waist, his hips, his thighs. Billy could feel himself being transformed into a rope mummy as his brothers worked methodically, wrapping him from shoulders to feet while keeping up their "Indian" game.

"Whoo-whoo-whoo! The rope spirits demand sacrifice!" Ray chanted dramatically.

"Mmmph! Mmmph!" was all Billy could manage as the ropes grew tighter and more numerous, binding his entire body except for his head. He was completely immobilized now, looking like an ancient mummy made of rope instead of cloth.

"Perfect," Josh declared, stepping back to admire their work. "Welcome to the Benson tribe, little brother."

Chapter Seven: The Interlude

The whooping sounds died down, and Billy heard his brothers moving away from him. There was the scraping of chairs being dragged across the barn floor, the crack and hiss of beer cans opening.

"Whew," Jake said, settling into what sounded like a lawn chair. "Working up an appetite."

Billy could hear the portable grill being fired up, the familiar whoosh of propane igniting. Soon the smell of charcoal and lighter fluid filled the barn, followed by the sizzling sound of meat hitting the grill.

"Mmph! Mmmph!" Billy tried to get their attention through his gag, but his brothers seemed to be ignoring him completely.

"Pass me another beer, Ray," Josh said casually. "This is thirsty work."

"Here you go, Little Bill," Ray said, and Billy could hear a can of soda being popped open. "Coca-Cola for the hardest working Benson tonight."

The smell of grilling hamburgers began to fill the barn, making Billy's stomach growl audibly. He hadn't eaten since lunch, and the combination of stress, cold water, and physical exhaustion was making him ravenous.

"Mmph! Mmmph!" Billy struggled against his rope cocoon, trying to get their attention.

"Those burgers smell good," Jake said conversationally. "Billy, you smell that? Your favorite—the ones with the cheese melted just right."

Billy's mouth watered behind the gag, the aroma driving him crazy with hunger.

After what felt like an eternity of listening to them eat and drink, Josh finally approached him.

"Alright, let's see if our mummy has anything to say," Josh said, reaching behind Billy's head to untie the gag.

The moment the bandana was pulled from his mouth, Billy gasped for air.

"Please," Billy croaked, his voice hoarse. "I'm starving. Can I have something? Anything? Even just a sip of water?"

"Listen to him," Jake chuckled. "What do you think, boys? Has he earned it yet?"

"Please!" Billy begged, his head turning toward the sound of their voices. "I can smell those burgers. Come on, just a bite? I'll do anything!"

The brothers exchanged glances, clearly enjoying having their tough little brother reduced to begging for scraps.

Chapter Eight: The Final Event

"Alright, Billy," Josh said, standing up and brushing crumbs off his hands. "Time for the grand finale."

Billy's heart sank at the ominous tone in his oldest brother's voice. "What do you mean, grand finale?"

"Ray, grab the duct tape," Josh called out. "The industrial rolls."

Billy heard the distinctive sound of heavy tape rolls being set down near him, and his stomach dropped. "Duct tape? What are you going to do with duct tape?"

"Complete the mummy," Jake said cheerfully. "Can't have you wiggling out of those ropes during the night."

The first strip of tape was pulled from the roll with that sharp, ripping sound that made Billy's skin crawl. Then another. And another.

"No, no, no!" Billy pleaded as he heard Josh approaching. "Come on, guys! Haven't you done enough?"

But they were already starting, wrapping the silver tape around his shoulders, over the ropes. The sound of tape being pulled from the roll filled the barn—rip, rip, rip—driving Billy to near panic.

"Stop! Please!" Billy begged as they worked their way down his body, encasing him completely. "I can't move at all! This is crazy!"

Ray took over at his waist, wrapping methodically while Jake handled his legs. Little Billy the Kid helped by holding the tape rolls and watching in fascination as his uncle disappeared under layers of silver duct tape.

"There," Josh said, stepping back to admire their work. "Perfect duct tape and rope mummy."

Billy was completely immobilized now, a silver cocoon from shoulders to feet, still bound to the post.

"Goodnight, little brother," Ray said, patting Billy's taped shoulder. "See you at dawn."

"What? You're leaving me here?" Billy's voice pitched higher with panic. "Guys! Come back!"

But their footsteps were already fading as they filed out of the barn, leaving Billy alone in the darkness.

Twenty minutes later, Old Pops shuffled in with his ancient camera, took one look at his grandson, and burst into delighted laughter.

"Well, I'll be damned!" the old man wheezed, raising his camera. "Look at you, boy! Every bit as pathetic as your daddy was!"

The camera flash went off, capturing Billy's "after" photo.

"It's about 1 AM now," Pops said, checking his pocket watch. "Dawn's at 5:30. Sweet dreams, grandson!"

As Pops left, Billy realized he was truly alone for the next four and a half hours. He spent most of the night screaming, begging, and pleading with anyone who might hear him, but the only response was the distant sound of coyotes howling across the ranch.Chapter Nine: Dawn

The first rays of sunlight crept through the barn slats as Billy hung exhausted against the post, his voice hoarse from hours of pleading. He'd finally fallen into a fitful half-sleep when he heard the barn doors creak open.

"Rise and shine, birthday boy!" Josh's voice boomed across the barn.

Billy's head jerked up to see his three brothers filing in, followed by Old Pops and his father. Little Billy the Kid was notably absent.

"Where's... where's Billy the Kid?" Billy croaked.

"Passed out cold," Ray chuckled. "Too much excitement. Kid crashed hard around 3 AM."

His father approached with a pocket knife, grinning widely. "Well, son, looks like you survived your Hell Night."

"Dad?" Billy's voice was barely a whisper. "Get me out of this thing."

"Easy now," his father said, beginning to carefully cut through the layers of duct tape. "This is going to take a few minutes. We don't want to cut you."

The slow process of cutting through tape and rope felt eternal to Billy. Each strip that came away brought blessed relief, but his muscles were cramped and stiff from being bound for so long.

Finally, after what felt like another hour but was probably only ten minutes, the last rope fell away. Billy stumbled forward, his legs barely supporting him.

For a split second, rage flashed across his face. "You sons of—"

But then Josh slapped him hard on the back, nearly knocking him over. "Welcome to the club, little brother!"

Ray thrust a glass of orange juice into his hands. "Here, drink this. You're probably dehydrated."

Jake appeared with a piece of buttered toast. "And eat something. You need your strength."

Old Pops shuffled forward, holding out a faded t-shirt with "I'M A BENSON!" printed across the front in bold letters.

"Every man in this family has earned one of these," Pops said proudly, his eyes twinkling. "Your daddy's got his, your granddaddy before him, and now you."

Billy looked around at their faces—all grinning, all proud, all welcoming him into something bigger than himself. Despite everything he'd endured, he found himself starting to laugh.

"That was... that was insane," Billy said, pulling on the t-shirt over his bare chest.

"That was tradition," Josh corrected, wrapping his arm around Billy's shoulders.

Twenty minutes later, Billy stumbled into the house where the smell of bacon, eggs, and pancakes filled the air. Sarah had been up since 5 AM preparing his favorite breakfast.

"There's my man," she said, pulling him into a fierce hug. "Go get cleaned up. Breakfast will be ready when you're done."

Billy took the longest, hottest shower of his life, scrubbing away every trace of the night's ordeal. When he came downstairs in fresh clothes, the entire family was gathered around the kitchen table, waiting for him.

After demolishing a plate piled high with food, Billy could barely keep his eyes open.

"Alright, birthday boy," his father said gently. "Time for some real sleep."

Billy trudged upstairs and collapsed onto his bed, still wearing his new "I'M A BENSON!" t-shirt. As he drifted off to sleep, he could hear his brothers laughing and telling stories downstairs, and for the first time since the whole thing began, Billy smiled.

He was officially a Benson man.

Billy Benson Night

That evening, the entire ranch seemed to buzz with celebration. The smell of roasting pork filled the air as Old Pops tended to the pig slowly turning over the fire pit. Classic rock music—Billy's favorites—blared from speakers set up on the back porch.

Billy's father approached with two cold beers, handing one to his newly-initiated son with a proud grin. "Here's to my boy," he said, clinking bottles. "Welcome to manhood, son."

Billy had never felt so connected to his family. His brothers weren't just his tormentors from the night before—they were his brotherhood, his legacy. They slapped his back, shared stories of their own Hell Nights, and treated him like he'd finally earned his place among them.

Little Billy the Kid bounced around the gathering, still riding high on excitement from his starring role the night before.

"Uncle Billy, you should have seen your face when I got you with the hose!" the eight-year-old bragged to anyone who would listen. "You were all 'Stop it! Who's doing that?' and I was just soaking you and soaking you!"

Billy grinned and nodded along, letting his nephew enjoy his moment. "You got me good, kiddo. Really good."

"And when you were all tied up like a mummy, you looked so funny!" Little Billy the Kid continued, demonstrating how Billy had struggled against the ropes.

"I'll be right back," Billy said casually, standing up. "Just need to hit the bathroom."

But instead of heading to the house bathroom, Billy quietly made his way around to the side where the long garden hose was coiled. He grabbed it, turned on the spigot, and began sneaking around the house toward where Little Billy the Kid was still regaling the family with tales of his uncle's torment.

"—and then when I sprayed his face, he went like this—" Little Billy the Kid was demonstrating when Billy appeared behind him with the hose.

The family spotted Billy first, their eyes widening with anticipation and amusement.

"SURPRISE!" Billy shouted, and unleashed the full force of the hose on his unsuspecting nephew.

Little Billy the Kid let out a shriek that could probably be heard three counties over and took off running across the yard, Billy in hot pursuit with the hose.

"UNCLE BILLY! NO! STOP!" the boy screamed, but he was laughing even as he ran.

Old Pops nearly fell out of his lawn chair laughing. "Revenge is sweet!" he cackled, slapping his knee. "Run, boy, run!"

Billy chased his nephew around the yard for a full five minutes, soaking him thoroughly while the whole family cheered and laughed. When he finally turned off the hose, Little Billy the Kid stood there dripping and grinning.

"Now we're even, kiddo," Billy said, ruffling his nephew's wet hair.

"That was awesome!" Little Billy the Kid exclaimed. "Can we do it again?"

The whole family burst into laughter, and Billy realized this was what it truly meant to be a Benson.