by Van ©2021
		Chapter 3

The iron gates barring both ends of the bridge linking St. Ignatius "Island" to the "mainland" rolled aside... which took a few seconds.  Next, the black rental SUV carrying the Purple and Green Binders (Ivy and Ripley) and the Purple and Green Bindees (Betty and Sophie) rolled across the span... then continued on... up and over a rocky ridge... and dropped from view for the rest of California.  The iron gates rolled closed once again.

The main mansion was also screened by the ridge.  There was a generous gravel turnaround, a garage/carriage house, and then the mansion itself, and it was beautiful.  The white-painted, welcoming, Victorian, "coastal" architecture shone brightly under the bright sun.  Ivy and Ripley's smiles widened, as they did every time they arrived at the Corbyns' vacation home.  Betty and Sophie's smiles also widened, but thanks to the waded bandanas they were holding in their mouths, the effect was limited to their brown and blue eyes (respectively).

The landscaping was minimal, with the planting beds carefully positioned and the species chosen to gradually blend into the island's natural setting.  There was a modest green lawn around the saltwater pool on the far side of the main mansion, but on the entrance side there were only drought-tolerant native plants.  The mansion's roof-gutters diverted all rainfall into a large underground cistern, and on normal years it was more than enough to support the human residents and the patch of grass near the pool.  On dry years the lawn was allowed to go sere and dormant.

Alice, Chelsea, and Paige were present to greet the arrivals, standing together near the front porch.  They'd been alerted by the mansion's security system when the SUV turned off the main highway and onto the modest stretch of land owned by the family on the far side of the bridge.  The sisters were in their team uniforms (skimpy string bikinis in purple and green, respectively) with flip-flops protecting their feet, while Paige was in Mexican sandals, jeans, and the cotton blouse with vertical black and white stripes that heralded her Head Umpire status.

The vacationers and their hosts were finally together, so the final giggling/squealing/kissing/hugging reunion of the journey occurred; however, there was a complication.  Neither Betty nor Chelsea wanted to be the first to spit out their bandana-stuffing for fear of forfeiting the warmup event of the Bondage Olympics.  Also, the Green and Purple Bindees' wrists were still hinge-cuffed behind their backs, further limiting their ability to participate in the hugs, kisses, and general conviviality.

"Oh, for crying out loud," Ivy muttered, rolling her eyes and glaring at Betty and Sophie.  "I told you two the instructions said this was a warmup exercise and not an actual part of the competition."  She turned to Paige.  "Correct?"

"Correct," Paige confirmed, then took things into her own strong, freckled hands by stepping behind Sophie—quickly, deftly, untying the folded purple bandana tied as a neck-scarf around the blonde's neck—then swiftly re-tying the folded bandana, giving the startled blonde a tight cleave-gag!  Stuffing retention was now involuntary!

Betty quickly realized what was happening to her fellow Bindee—but her green stuffing was only halfway out of her mouth before, quick as a striking rattlesnake (but with a grin replacing the usual warning rattle) Alice reached out and clamped her hand across Betty's mouth, firmly enough to prevent the wad's expulsion!

"Don't be a spoilsport," Alice purred, locking eyes with her fellow team member and continuing her infuriating smile.

Ivy and Ripley watched with grins of their own as Paige stepped behind Betty, refolded her green, triangular, bandana-neck-scarf into a narrow bandage, then tied it as a cleave-gag through Betty's mouth.

"Mrrrmpfh!" Betty complained, stamping her bare feet in impotent frustration.

"Mrrrrr!" Sophie agreed, batting her blue eyes in dramatic distress.  The façade of her Feisty Damsel act was crumbling rapidly and her more natural Gwendoline persona struggled to break free (much like her hinge-cuffed wrists).

"There," Paige said, stepping back to the front and smiling a broad smile that encompassed both the Purple and Green teams.  "Room assignments are the same as last year.  Make sure everything is out of the rental vehicle..."  She gestured towards the SUV.  "Then, everybody should change into their uniforms.  She focused her smile on Betty and Sophie.  "You'll have to assist your teammates who've decided to start playing early.  Dinner will be burgers on the grill with all the fixings and potato salad."  She clapped her hands.  "Chop-chop."

Betty and Sophie watched (with resentment and trepidation, respectively) as their fellow team members, including the already bikini-clad Corbyn sisters, scurried back to the SUV, gathered the travelers' minimal luggage, the Bindees' shoelaces and shoes, and their former ankle-cuffs.  Betty and Sophie were then dragged (led) through the front doors and into the main mansion.

Paige brought up the rear, smiling broadly and very pleased with herself.  "It's good to be the Umpire," she purred under her breath.

At least for Team Alice, what followed was a bit of a kerfuffle.

Once they arrived at Betty's spacious, well-appointed, and very pleasant guest bedroom, the unjustly put upon and very Brave Damsel did her best to squirm, struggle, and prevent her fellow team members from relieving her of her traveling ensemble and dressing her in her scandalously skimpy team uniform, what there was of it.  The lavender-purple bikini in question was waiting patiently (hungrily), draped across the foot of her bed, ready (eager) to embrace and cover Betty's boobs and crotch.  It was identical to Alice's bikini in every way and was very pretty... as well as decidedly minuscule.  Betty made Alice and Ivy's task of carrying out Paige's orders as difficult as she could.  Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on your point of view), Alice and Ivy had the experience and the required supporting technology to overcome their teammate's inexplicable reluctance to conform to proper team standards.

Alice did most of the actual undressing, with Ivy clutching Betty's clothing and arms (as well as the occasional boob) as required, entirely to expedite progress, of course.  The Captain of Team Alice unbuttoned Betty's buttons, unzipped her zippers, and unclasped any clasps she encountered while Ivy smiled sweetly into Betty's gagged and glowering face.  Clearly, Betty's non cuffed and gagged teammates were enjoying the unfortunate damsel's futile resistance.  Betty, on the other hand, stared daggers at her wardrobe assistants and growled muffled insults through her gag.  She could have tried kicking—Ivy's crotch was a tempting and available target—but she knew such leggy resistance would not only be ultimately futile, but downright rude.
 
Once Betty's dress and bra were off her shoulders, pulled down her arms, and bunched around her cuffed wrists—thus baring her upper body from neck to waist—the aforementioned supporting technology came into play.  With Ivy's continued assistance, Alice pulled Betty's upper-arms close together and locked them in the captive's former hinged ankle-cuffs, just above her elbows.  This made it possible to unlock the hinged wrist-cuffs, pull Betty's dress and bra over her desperately clutching hands, then cuff her wrists together once again.

Next, Betty's handlers (and alleged friends) pulled her dress and panties down her legs, Betty stepped free (reluctantly), and was now totally and embarrassingly nude, not counting the green Team Chelsea bandanas plugging and cleaving her mouth and the shiny steel hinged handcuffs locked just above her elbows and around her wrists.  She stamped her bare feet, twisted her shoulders, tossed her head, mewled through her gag, and put on a show, demonstrating her naked helplessness; however, not wanting to mark her skin, she was careful not to tug on her wrist or elbow cuffs with any great enthusiasm.  Betty's long, straight hair swayed and her breasts wobbled as she expressed her dismay.  Her brown eyes flashed in anger and she blushed in mortification.

Alice and Ivy watched the spectacle with their lips curled in the same smug, maddening grins, then began a detailed discussion (and somewhat catty critique) of their victim's physique, noting her all-over tan and firm musculature.  Obviously, in the off season (meaning between her vacations on St. Ignatius Island), Betty made regular, habitual visits to her local gym/spa and the facilities included some sort of tanning arrangement.  Alice suggested that Betty might have added a few pounds since last year, but Ivy wasn't sure.  Betty knew the alleged weight gain was an obvious lie, an overt, cynical attempt on her villainous captors' part to get her goat.  It was infuriating, and she wasn't going to let it work!  (No more than she had already, that is.)

Once Alice and Ivy were sufficiently satisfied that Betty was sufficiently humiliated, they hung up her dress, dropped her panties and bra in the guest bedroom's laundry hamper, then picked up the purple bikini still patiently awaiting its concluding/triumphant role in the involuntary change of apparel melodrama, but instead of unfurling and deploying its very modest number of square inches of fabric and tying its generous strings, they dragged (led) Betty from her bedroom and down the hall to Ivy's guest bedroom! 

That's right!  They paraded Betty's naked, gagged, and double-cuffed body down the public hallway for all the world to see!  Of course, there was no one present, other than her teammates, to actually witness Betty's walk-of-shame... but it's the thought that counts.  Betty was not happy.

"Mrrrf!" the outraged prisoner fumed.

"Oh, the drama," Ivy chuckled.

"Such histrionics," Alice agreed.  "You'd think she'd never been kidnapped and marched around bound, gagged, and naked before."

When they arrived at Ivy's bedroom, Betty and Alice watched as Ivy stripped naked, hung up her dress and deposited her underwear in her laundry hamper, then quickly donned her copy of the team uniform.

Oh-by-the-way, like Betty, Ivy was meticulous in the maintenance of her fitness program, and both of her teammates (nude and bound and bikini-clad and unbound) agreed that her shimmering ebony complexion, athletic figure, and feminine assets were as exquisitely attractive as ever.

Finally—apparently deciding that enough was enough and working jointly with the same deft teamwork they'd demonstrated back in Betty's bedroom—Alice and Ivy positioned the bra-cups and bottom of Betty's uniform over the appropriate regions of her anatomy and tied the tiny garment's strings.

Team Alice was suited up and ready for the fray!

And speaking of drama... much the same stripping and dressing scenario played out for Team Chelsea in Sophie's guest bedroom; however, having reached the limit of her Feisty Damsel reserves, the helpless blonde had reverted to her more natural Gwendoline persona.  She whined, whimpered, and heaved shuddering sighs.  It was truly heartbreaking and poignant.  And to go with her display of tragic and undeserved captivity, Sophie offered only pathetically weak and ineffective resistance as her grinning teammates replaced her summer dress and sexy underwear with her jade-green Team Chelsea bikini uniform.  Her opposition didn't even rise to the level of inconvenience for her handlers.

There had been no preliminary intramural discussion of handling techniques between the two teams, but even so, Chelsea and Ripley used the exact same wrist and elbow cuffing technique on Sophie that Team Alice had used to deal with Feisty Betty, thus keeping the pathetic blonde under their complete control during her entire involuntary wardrobe change.  (It's an effective technique, of course, and both teams are experienced, so its use shouldn't be all that surprising.)

Anyway—bikini-clad, wrist and elbow cuffed, and cleave-gagged (with stuffing)—Sweet Sophie found her innocent and undeserving-of-punishment self being dragged (led by the arms) down the hall to Ripley's guest bedroom.  Once there, Chelsea hooked a finger through the left hip-strings of Sophie's bikini bottom to keep her close, and the Innocent Damsel was forced to watch (with Maidenly Mortification) as Ripley removed and hung up her black traveling outfit, dropped her black undies in the bedroom's laundry hamper, then donned the Team Chelsea bikini waiting on the foot of her bed.

Now, all three teammates were sharing the overwhelming majority of their physiques with the world, and it was clear they were all in the same exquisite state of physical fitness and feminine pulchritude expected of members-in-good-standing of Team Chelsea.

Sophie had a rich tan, and her undressing and redressing had made it clear she did not make use of either a tanning bed or a nude sunbathing venue during the off-season.

Ripley did not have an all-over tan, but she did have a dusting of freckles on her shoulders, chest, and legs that matched the dappling on her cheeks and across the bridge of her button nose.  Her breasts and bikini area were milky white (light pink) and freckle-free, although no well-defined tan-lines were on display.  Ripley's teammates decided her freckles were consistent with regular outdoor exercise, with the proper use of sunblock and the wearing conventional running/sports attire (all of which would probably be black, of course).

Finally, the team was ready.  At their captain's suggestion they headed for the pool.

For what was left of the afternoon, a good time was had by all.

Initially, of course, a good time was had by most.  Alice, Chelsea, Ivy, and Ripley frolicked in the pool and thoroughly enjoyed the cool, refreshing, filtered seawater pumped up from the Pacific; however, Betty and Sophie were still gagged and double-cuffed and were watching the watery fun from the dappled shade of the pool's vine-covered pergola with Glowering Resentment and Tragic Ennui (respectively).  Cleave-gags (with stuffing) and double-cuffed arms put a real damper on aquatic frolicking.

Finally (after only a few minutes, actually) Paige emerged from the mansion pushing a cart laden with numerous bottles of different varieties of alcohol, a large ice bucket, and acrylic glasses in various shapes.  It was a mobile bar.  She put a stop to the ongoing nonsense by admonishing the four wet vacationers for not releasing the two dry vacationers.

Chelsea pointed out that this was, indeed, rich, as Paige was the one who had caused the current "nonsense" to happen, first by supplying the required nonsensical supplies, and then by personally gagging Betty and Sophie immediately upon their arrival.

Paige cautioned the junior Corbyn sister to watch herself, "or else."

Smiling and treading water, Alice, Chelsea, Ivy, and Ripley watched as Paige pulled a key from her pocket, unlocked first Betty's elbow and wrist cuffs... and then Sophie's.  She then concentrating on mixing a pair of her acclaimed Blood Orange, Gin, & Prosecco cocktails.

That left Betty and Sophie to deal with their own gags.  The drinks were ready by the time they teased apart the tight square-knots of their cleave-gags, removed said gags, and expelled the underlying stuffing.  They then dropped the four bandanas (two folded and two crumpled) atop the four hinged cuffs on a nearby table and licked their lips.  The Bindees had made the entire journey from SFO to St. Ignatius Island with cloying cotton wads crammed in their mouths, so their first sips of Paige's cold, potent, and very tasty masterpieces really hit the spot.

By this time the remaining teammates had emerged from the pool, water streaming from their nearly naked bodies and sopping hair, and were placing drink orders.  Paige laughed and told them to mix their own drinks, gathered up the used handcuffs and bandanas, and strolled back towards the mansion amidst a chorus of friendly jibes and catcalls.

It was from that point forward that a good time was had by all.

Betty and Sophie were gracious and forgave their Binders and Team Captains for their horrible and unconscionable pre- and post-arrival mistreatment... meaning they whispered together and resolved to take unspeakable and entirely justified revenge on everybody at their first opportunity... not including Paige, of course.

Much swimming, sunbathing, sunscreen application, and drinking ensued.

The resident hummingbirds made regular visits to the nectar feeders hanging under the pergola, and they seemed more-or-less unperturbed by the more than doubling of the Island's population of giant, bipedal, nearly hairless apes.  As long as the sugar water kept flowing and the feeders were regularly cleaned, they were cool.  The apes in question smiled and appreciated the zooming and hovering tiny avian wonders, all except for Sophie, who smiled and giggled.  Sophie really liked hummingbirds.

Dinner was, indeed, grilled burgers-with-all-the-fixings, as Paige had promised.  In addition to being large, with an attached hot tub, the pool was surrounded by outdoor lounging and dining furniture and included a modern, fully-equipped outdoor kitchen.   Paige did most of the actual grilling, but joined her beloved, bikini-clad "girls" for the actual meal.

So far, the vacation was off to a smashing start.  Also, despite the volume of cocktails, wine, and beer consumed, nobody went to bed actually smashed.  Pleasantly buzzed, yes.  Smashed, no.

That night, even though the competition wouldn't officially start until morning and Paige had ordered everybody to get a good night's rest... things got serious.

Ivy, at least, resolved to follow the Head Umpire's suggestion (order) and retire to her bed for a night of undisturbed rest.  She visited the guest bathroom down the hall and did her business.  Then, bladder empty, face scrubbed, teeth clean, breath minty fresh, goodnight wishes exchanged with all members of both teams, Ivy returned to her bedroom, removed her bikini-uniform, and slid between the sheets, gloriously nude and smiling a happy smile.  She couldn't wait for morning to arrive.  This was going to be fun.  Vacations at Alice and Chelsea's luxurious digs were always fun.  Her smile widened.  Messing with Betty had been fun, and she wasn't fooled by her friend's pretense of Brave Reluctance. 

Ivy snuggled under the smooth, cool covers and against her fluffy pillow.  She knew Sophie had also had fun (although the pouting prisoner would never admit it).  Besides, when it was time to go home, things would have evened out, the tables would have turned like a revolving door (or something), and everyone would have had their fill of both sides of the equation.

She closed her eyes and heaved a deep sigh.  Yes... today had been fun... a lot of fun.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ zzzzzzz ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"Mrrrf?"

The bedroom was dark—and someone was sitting on Ivy's stomach and pinning her on her back on the bed!

A hand was clamped across Ivy's mouth, stifling her screams of alarm, her attempts to summon help, and her expressions of outrage.  At the same time, someone was tightening rope around her right wrist and binding her to the bed!  There was enough light for Ivy to identify her attackers and would be kidnappers as... Betty and Alice.  (Big surprise.)

Grinning hugely as she took her much deserved revenge on the Purple Binder, Betty was the one sitting on Ivy, pinning her down, more-or-less controlling her flailing and thrashing limbs, and hand-gagging her mouth.  Alice (also grinning hugely) was the one binding her to the bed, and thanks to Betty's assistance, her efforts were coalescing into a stringent spreadeagle.

Ivy struggled with all her might!  Okay, truth be told, she pulled her punches and her squirming attempts to buck Betty off her squirming body were strangely ineffectual.  Did she want to be lashed to her bed with her four limbs flung wide?  Well, now that you bring it up... no!  But fair was fair.  Betty was just lucky she'd realized who was doing the dirty deed before she landed a jaw-breaking punch.  Ivy continued struggling, but fair was, indeed, fair.  Betty deserved closure, and of course Alice was helping.  Alice was Alice.

Both Perfidious Kidnappers were wearing their Team Alice uniforms, while Ivy, as previously mentioned, was in her birthday suit.  And now, as Alice tied the final knot at the foot of the bed-frame and down near the floor, Ivy was nude, bound, and helpless!

Still grinning her infuriating grin, Betty released her hand-gag.  She did, however, continue straddling Ivy's naked body.

Ivy licked her lips, worked her jaw, and stared daggers at her friends and captors.  "You assholes!" she growled, then did her best to buck Betty off her stomach.  Needless to say, her efforts were unsuccessful.  "Get off of me, you cow!"

"If you insist," Betty chortled, then lifted a leg, climbed off Ivy's body, and lay on the mattress against Ivy's right side, snuggling close to the frowning, squirming captive.  There was a great deal of skin-on-skin-contact.

Meanwhile, and now smiling her trademark sly smile, Alice turned on the bedside reading lamp, climbed onto the bed, and snuggled close to Ivy's left side.  Ivy was now the filling in a Team Alice sandwich and there was even more skin-on-skin contact.

Alice had brought with her a small plastic bottle of lavender-scented moisturizing lotion.  Ivy watched as Alice spread a generous dollop on one hand, then handed the bottle to Betty, who did the same.

"We talked about it, Betty and I," Alice explained, "and agree you were woefully negligent in your use of sunscreen this afternoon."

Betty nodded.  "Woefully negligent."

Ivy rolled her eyes.  "Bullshit.  I used sunscreen.  And apparently you dimwits haven't noticed that I don't require much in the way of sun protection."

"That's no excuse," Alice countered primly, shaking her head.

"None whatsoever," Betty agreed solemnly.

And with that, Ivy's teammates thoroughly and ruthlessly moisturized every nook and cranny of Ivy's firm, smooth, ebony physique... especially her breasts, stomach, and thighs!

Ivy withstood this oily onslaught with admirable stoicism, but she wasn't happy.  (Maybe a little aroused, but not happy, per se.)  Surprisingly, she didn't scream for help, but this was for a very good reason.  Raising a ruckus might well have summoned help, but it was not a sure thing which side of the current "conflict" would receive help, the moisturizing kidnappers, or the glistening kidnap victim.  No, it was best to just lay there like a glistening lump, "allow" her teammates to anoint her dark skin with the lavender-scented lotion... and ignore the tickling, crawling sensations of her alleged friends' oily palms and fluttering fingers slowly gliding over her breast, nipples, armpits, ribs, toes, etc.  She bit her lower lip, turned her head as required, and glared at Alice and Betty... who smiled back.  Their white teeth were clearly visible in the bedroom's dim light.

And speaking of etc.

Alice climbed off the bed, padded to the guest bedroom's laundry hamper, and returned with Ivy's dirty panties—"MRRRF!"—which she proceeded to stuff into the helpless captive's outraged mouth!  Then, holding one hand over Ivy's mouth to keep the panties in place, she opened the lower drawer of the bedside table, pulled out a roll of stretchy, white, fabric bandage (Vet-wrap), and used it to give her squirming, struggling, dark-skinned guest first a tight, multi-layered cleave-gag... then a smooth, tight, multi-layered, around-the-head-and-over-the-mouth gag.

Betty had been busy thoroughly moisturizing Ivy's inner thighs and labia.  "Need any help?" she inquired politely.

"No, I've got it," Alice purred as she reached the last of the roll and smoothed the end of the tape, ensuring a good grip, "but thanks for the kind offer."  She snuggled back into her former position, used her fingers to comb through Ivy's tousled hair, and smiled down at their naked, spreadeagled, and tape-gagged prisoner.

Ivy glowered back.  Gagging her with her own panties had been unnecessary, discourteous, and even cruel, just the sort of thing she might expect from her Team Captain when Alice was in one of her frisky moods, with her lips curled in a sinister smile (like now).

And speaking of frisky moods.

Ivy lifted her gagged head and glared down her glistening body at Betty, who had continued moisturizing her crotch region the entire time Alice had been applying her gag.  Betty's oily, sliding hands had made concentrating on her outrage and resentment at being involuntarily silenced most difficult.  And now, her teammates' pretense of remedial skin maintenance was wearing very thin.  "Mrrrrrf!"

Betty's smile was also "sinister," and her moisturizing efforts had settled into a slow, gradually escalating, gentle, but increasingly emphatic massage... an erotic massage.  "What?" Betty inquired, apparently referencing Ivy's panty-gagged complaint.  "What kind of friends would we be it we didn't help you relax after a long, hard journey?"

"Oh, exactly," Alice agreed, gently kneading Ivy's right breast with her left hand.  "But don't worry.  After an orgasm or two... we'll let you sleep."

Betty frowned.  "Only two?  Really?"

Her smiling gaze locked with Ivy's worried (aroused) eyes, Alice continued her boob massage.  "I suppose we could err on the side of excess.  Yes, let's do that.  Make it at least three orgasms."

Betty's smile returned.  "I can live with that."

Ivy's nostrils flared as she took deep, even, well-gagged breaths.  She tugged weakly on her stringent bonds with no real hope of escape.  Betty's hands were working their inevitable magic and her first orgasm of the evening was drawing nigh.  It was horrible!  (She loved it!)

Uncharacteristically, Team Chelsea acted responsibly.  Go figure.

The bikini-clad "youngsters" held a brief conference in Chelsea's bedroom soon after Paige decreed that everybody should retire for the night.

"This year we're gonna win!" Chelsea announced (in a near whisper), and the nearly naked trio exchanged high-fives.  "That means getting a good night's sleep so we'll all be at our best tomorrow."

Ripley and Sophie nodded in agreement (but exchanged a slightly puzzled look).  Chelsea was usually the party animal of the group.  She was the one who usually had to be reined in... sometimes with several yards of rope and a nice gag to keep the peace.

Chelsea's mouth twisted in a slightly sheepish grin.  She'd noticed her teammates' skepticism.  "Okay, I get ya, but we have to get serious about this.  We did horribly last year and Alice has been gloating ever since.  It's been hell around here."

Ripley and Sophie exchanged a knowing smile.

"Hell," Ripley purred.  "Right."

"How bittersweet the lap of luxury," Sophie declaimed in an appropriately dramatic manner, "when competitive catastrophe leads to the sinister suffering of sisterly satisfaction."

"Nice alliteration," Chelsea purred, "but don't make me slap you."

"We did okay last year," Ripley objected.  "And you know Paige is more or less arbitrary when it comes to handing out points."

"Yeah," Sophie agreed.  "It's obvious she's making this up as she goes along."

"Not so!" Chelsea objected.  "She puts a lot of effort into organizing the events."

"Which is completely irrelevant," Ripley grumbled.  "We're talking about how she hands out points.  She's like Dumbledore at the end of Sorcerer's Stone, dispensing 'extra' points and rigging the game so Gryffindor wins the House Cup."

Sophie nodded.  "If I'd been in Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw, I'd have been furious."

"Not so," Chelsea objected.  "They all hate Slytherin."

"Snape was livid," Ripley observed, "which is rich, as he'd been rigging the game for Slytherin all year."

"Who cares what Snape thinks?" Sophie chuckled.

Ripley frowned.  "I've always found him... kinda sexy."

Sophie grinned and theatrically rolled her eyes.  "Goth nerd!" she accused.

"Focus!" Chelsea barked.  "Get a good night's sleep and bring your A-game to breakfast.  Oh, and prop a chair under the doorknob of your bedroom door before climbing into bed."

"Good idea," Ripley grinned.

Sophie nodded.  "Who knows what kind of Purple Monsters might be roaming the halls after dark?"

"Then we're in agreement," Chelsea noted, then held out her right hand.

Ripley grabbed Chelsea's hand... then Sophie grabbed both hands.

"Go green!" the teammates shouted (in a near whisper), then dispersed to their beds.  (And they did prop chairs under the doorknobs of their bedroom doors.)