(Although all names have not been changed to protect the innocent, this did actually happen between consenting adults. Also, this version has been modified to better fit your attention-span)
I met Alex at the Uhaul center in Midtown on an uncharacteristically heated Spring day. I, dressed in my best head-to-toe black anarcho-feminist terrorist outfit (replete with black kerchief), and she in her Marlon Brando-esque wife-beater tough girl get-up (actually, that's what she always wears, she's so butch!).
Waiting in line I tap my foot nervously to the beat of the saccharine pop ditty drifting out of the speakers, anticipating what we were about to do. She taps me on the shoulder, points her head at a display of saran wrap, and smiles. I smile back. We grab it and inspect it, making sure that it's the size we need- amused that no one around us even slightly suspects how we might use it. I finger some other items and ponder what they might alternatively be used for, as Alex procures the keys. We pull ourselves into the van- ready to lock n load!
Alex guides the massive machine effortlessly down a matrix of tiny streets, and finally the highway, as we drive to pick up our accomplice, Ms. X. I look out the window- I don't like to be in cars, but feel safe with her at the wheel. Ms. X is to be our decoy, as the victim has not met her yet. Alex and I discuss the salient details of the abduction. We decide the back windows should be covered, and that we should grab him from the side door instead of the back. Ms. X should affect a Southern accent to make herself seem more helpless- lost and alone in the big, scary city.
X jaunts out of her house and squats down between the two of us in front of the van, her long red hair straightened and combed to perfection, grazing her bare shoulders, and dressed all in white. We tell her what we want her to do, where she is to stand, the signal for when we see him coming, and that she is to ask for his help getting a hand-truck out of the side of the van. He, being the noble gentleman he is, will help her- and that is where his predicament will begin.
We drive to the spot in the Flatiron District where Alex has told him to meet her promptly at 5pm on an "urgent matter". Alex and I cover the back windows with garbage bags, while Ms. X gets out and leans casually against the side, a hand on one hip, and a clove cigarette dangling in the other- our charming ruse ready to pounce. I finally spot him- and he's walking down the opposite side of the street! Shit! I call to tell her where he is, that she has to cross and run up to him, exasperated and pleading. She obliges, and we watch as the scene begins. He is walking diligently, swiftly- his head bent in focused duty to his Mistress. But, lo! Suddenly, he's interrupted by a damsel in distress!? He stops short as she cuts off his path, pointing to the van. He seems startled, a bit confused, and a little annoyed that his meeting might be delayed. However, he still takes the bait.
Alex and I stand in the van holding a blanket in front of us. We hear a slightly muffled, "Ah juss caint reach! It's insihde, faah insihde." He opens the door. I can hardly stifle my chuckle as he gets in on his knees... and we nab him! He rolls around, and I grab his arms as X grabs his legs and Alex gets out and starts driving madly, furiously down the block. We strip him completely- X takes off his shoes, "Ew, they stink!" she says. "Well, he is a man, afterall, they're all filthy animals." I say, ripping his shirt off and pinching a nipple. I take the saran wrap and tightly bind his wrists, then throw it to X, who wraps his ankles, while the car swerves, and we struggle to keep ourselves upright. He pleads with us, "What are you doing?" "Who are you?". I slap him and tell him to shut his pie hole if he wants to get out alive.
"Get his wallet, X. Let's see how much he's got."
She takes his pants and looks inside. "Two hundred and thirty-five bucks."
"That's it? Well, pointdexter, we're going to have to amend that, aren't we?"
"Wha, what's going on?"
"I told you to shut the fuck up!" I say, grabbing his mouth. "Let's wrap this little bitch up, X. We've got a squealer."
She hands me the large roll of saran wrap, and I start with his mouth, his eyes bulging, still pleading with me. Then I proceed to wrap his arms to the front of his chest, wrapping down, until his entire body is completely bound and helpless.
"Ha!" I get down close to his ear, "Do you know why you're here?" He shakes his head, no. "Being the dull, male beast that you are, do you know what Female Supremacy is?" He nods his head, yes. "Do you accept that the XY chromosome is inferior to the double X chromosome?" He nods his head again, yes. (I was expecting a little more resistance to that, but okay, I'll roll with it) I get on top of him, knees on his chest, "Good! Then you should have no problem giving us all your money in order to further our cause! Ha ha!" I turn around and high-five Ms. X. We laugh maniacally, looking deep into his eyes, seeing the fear, and unfortunately, smelling it as well.
The van swerves to a halt. We leave him in the back, sweating, teary-eyed and bewildered. X and I cool ourselves off in the air conditioning and tell Alex what we did and said to him. She throws her head back and laughs, and we all look back at him, our perspiring larvae, and continue laughing to each other.
Alex gets out, and we all scamper into the back of the cab and stand above him, hands on our hips, then take turns kicking him, spitting, and cursing at him. He bunches up as much as he can, the saran wrap conveniently keeping him in check. We admonish him for being such a weak, pathetic male creature, and launch into a barrage of questions about feminist theory, discerning his ignorance on the subject. We reference the S.C.U.M. Manifesto and other works of a radical feminist bent, and tell him that he is to pay for all of the indiscretions of his sex- past and present. His first penitence shall be that he is to fund our terrorist activities, in which we kidnap men and keep them as our slaves! Raping them, and making them grovel- to torture however we see fit! We tell him how lucky he is to be chosen for such a distinguished position, and that if he resists, we will kill him.
Alex then jumps in the front and starts driving again. I kneel once more on his chest, and get my face nice and close to his. I think that I want to throw some more scare into him, just for fun. "Do you know what we're REALLY going to do with you, now?" He shakes his head. "We're going to leave you naked on the Brooklyn Bridge. How would you like that?" He shakes his head more violently this time. "Wait! But you don't know the best part yet!" I get down closer and lick some of the sweat off his nose, giving him my best "crazy eyes". I lower my voice to a soft whisper, "Then we're going to call the police, and tell them that a strange man is walking on the bridge, exposing himself to all the young women and children." I hear a low moan come out of him, his eyes flashing with real fear, not the role play pansy kind. "Oh yes! You're playing with the big girls now, we don't fuck around!" X and I laugh maniacally, poking him, watching him being thrown from one side of the van to the other as Alex squeals through the streets. I watch him try to pathetically worm his way out of his plastic body sock for a bit longer before slapping him for his gullibility.
"Alex, where are we really going to leave him off!?" I shout.
"Harlem!" she says. It is about 10pm, and quite dark outside. He had mentioned to her before that he was afraid of being left there alone at night, therefore sealing his fate. Such racist assertions had not fallen on deaf ears, and now it was to be the poisoned cherry on top of his sundae of torment! I could hear his muffled No's and protestations through the plastic gag, which just made me laugh again. He tried to get up over and over, like we were directing him to do sit-ups. X and I just stood there, watching him, pushing him down and bullying him, laughing.
The van finally stops. We take his plastic wrap off and tell him that we are in a secluded alley near 110th street. He is to get out of the van, lean against a building, and count to 20 before he is allowed to start walking. (We had actually left him back in the Flatiron District, but in a place where he would not know it as soon as he stepped out of the van)
We then squealed away again, laughing our asses off, and didn't stop for hours. Damn, that was fun.