Latter Jacket

Author: greenbrownblue
Title: Latter Jacket
Date: 20 March 2010

Latter Jacket

This Straitjacket story is not original. It is a “Re-imagined” version of a previous unfinished work by an unknown author entitled “Jacketed.”

I don't know exactly all the details to how the conversation started with Brig but I can certainly tell you where it led. It started on a Tuesday night. More or less every week, my dorm residential advisor Brigham, whom I've known since LDS Sunday school came around at night sometimes just to chat or watch a movie. Over the years, we'd become really close and thought we understood each other well. He was now a grad student, twenty-three years old, and had a body I could never catch up to no matter how much I tried at the gym. We got on extremely well and hardly ever argued and I always looked forward to his company. That night we'd just finished watching a movie on Spike TV. In our critique of the film, we had begun to discuss how much sexual content had been in it for a PG-13 rated movie. Somehow the subject had shifted to masturbation and I recall Brig asking me out of the blue if I ever masturbated. This is where it all started.

It was understandably a rather personal question and usually people would shy away from answering but for some reason, probably because of our mutual trust, I answered. To deny I ever masturbated would have been seen as an embarrassing lie and I was never a good liar. He knew me too well to fall for that. So what did I do? I gave him the honest truth, which was stupid really in light of what I said. Most men might admit to masturbating one or twice a week. The reality was that I was addicted and sometimes would do it five or six times a day! I had started when I was fourteen as most boys did but I was hooked. All this information didn't need to be disclosed but with my brain out of gear, I confessed it all in foolish openness. I even mentioned that it was the first thing I did in the morning and the last thing I did at night. I admitted it was out of control. Brig's response surprised me. I had started to blush with embarrassment and shake with fear at how he would react. I thought I'd just killed our friendship; I thought that he was thinking that he was sitting in a room with a pervert.

He was definitely taken aback but in his typical style of character, warmed by my honesty, said, "Even though we’re taught masturbation is wrong, some occasional masturbation is good for you." I sensed that he didn't want to add to my embarrassment further. After a few seconds of careful thought he added, "Have you tried to stop or cut down or doesn't it bother you?"

I'd tried more times than I could count, but the urge after several days was unbearable. I explained in detail the guilt I sometimes felt but was powerless to stop. "I've tried all sorts of times," I explained.

"But have you ever shared how you feel?" he asked. How could I?! It's not the kind of thing you go around boasting about. Seeing I was at a loss for an answer, Brig continued, "Well, I'm glad you've told me. It sounds like you've always failed because you've tried to deal with this on your own. You need assistance in defeating this thing and I'm willing to help. That is, if you are serious in wanting to stop.”

Brig looked searchingly into my eyes. He loved a good challenge; he was a sucker for lost causes. Deep down I did want to control this thing but stopping completely was something else. But I couldn't tell him that. He might never want to see me again. Gaining some composure I looked back replying, "Yes, I do. I just don't know where to start."

"Well, that's where I come in. We have to deal with this thing in stages," Brig informed.

"What do you have in mind? A set of counseling sessions?" I inquired. "I know you're a good listener," I added to try to lighten the conversation.

"Yes, we do need to get to the reason why you masturbate so much but first we need to attack head on this craving you go on about. There are too many hormones in your blood."

"Almost sounds like I'm a drug addict," I remarked.

"Well, with Joseph, I know about addictions." Joseph was his elder brother and had spent several years as an Alcoholic but now was doing well in a rehab program. He continued, "You need to stop completely for a week before anything else."

I laughed. That’s easier said than done!"

"It is easy. You need to be prevented from masturbating, that's all."

"How?" I frowned cautiously, "A chastity belt perhaps?"

"No, I don't have one of those," he said with a condescending tone. I breathed a sigh of relief for a strange reason, perhaps I hadn't liked where I thought the conversation was going. "But I do have something that I was going to use to help Joseph with his problem," he quickly added.

"Oh, what's that?"

Out of the blue came the reply, "A straitjacket."

I lost a breath. "A what?" I exclaimed in disbelieve.

"A straitjacket," came the calm reply. I was in shock. What was Brig doing having a straitjacket and what was his intent with it? The prospect of being restrained and powerless didn't appeal to me that much. Once helpless, what else could Brig do? A million thoughts and scenarios started running through my mind. "Are you okay?" Brig asked seeing my ashen face. I needed to know more.

"How come you have a straitjacket?" I started with.

"Well, I've had it for a few years. It was originally meant for Joseph. You remember how violent he could be. He used to come in at two or three in the morning drunk out of his skull shouting and threatening. Nothing could be done with him in that state, we just stayed out of his way, but come the morning he was worse. He nearly attacked a neighbor boy on more than one occasion. Something had to be done. I was despairing until I talked with a friend of mine, Hunter. He worked as a Psychiatric orderly at a high security wing at Salt Lake Regional. I thought he could give me some advice, Social Services was useless. Well as you can guess, his solution was rather a bit unorthodox. He was the one who gave me the straitjacket. Apparently they can't be used to restrain patients anymore. He had found the jacket boxed away in a disused storeroom, still unused by its appearance. He said nobody would miss it and they haven't."

"So, what was the plan? Put him in it when he got home?" I said with intrigue.

Brig laughed, "You've got to be kidding! No one could go near him, never mind handle him. No, the plan was to wait until he'd finally gone to sleep for a few hours. Then he would be groggy and not able to put up much of a fight. He wouldn't remember anything until he woke in the morning and had a shock."

"How did he react then?" I asked, "I bet he put up a real fight, shouting and kicking."

“Don't know," Brig sullenly replied, "the day Hunter brought the straitjacket, Joseph had finally been accepted into the rehab program over in Federal Heights. He's got no idea what nearly happened." I sensed that he was disappointed not to have tried out the jacket. Joseph had caused him so much grief and I felt he wanted to get his brother back just a little.

"So, the jacket's never been worn then?" I inquired.

"Nope, not as far as I know. Well, not until now," he smiled. Brig obviously had decided that I was going through with this plan even though it had just been conceived.

"I haven't agreed to wear it yet Brigham," I pointed out. A look of annoyance came over his face.

"I thought you wanted to beat this thing," he scowled.

"I do," I replied with earnest, "It's just a bit too much, too soon, you know."

He shuffled in agitation in my leather computer chair. "No, I don't."

He was going to get me to admit my fears. What were they? Only a minute had gone by since the word ‘straitjacket’ had entered my ears but already my mind was constructing a whole host of scenarios and apprehensions. The first thought had been of sitting in that chair, arms wrapped around my body totally helpless. Then of Brig standing there able to do anything he wished. Not knowing his intentions and motives really bothered me. I began to imagine what he would do when I was vulnerable. It suddenly dawned on me that I expected him to regard this whole thing as something rather primal, even kinky but there wasn’t a hint of sexual connotation, just a deep sense of care. If he detected I was thinking about it this way, our friendship could have been completely blown. I had to be careful how I answered him next.

"Don't you think it's a bit severe? Besides I don't know how this plan of yours is going to work yet," I reasoned. This explanation seemed logical to Brig.

"Okay, first I believe I am right in that we do need to break this habit and I'm correct in thinking it's a chemical addiction – hormones, in other words. The only way I see is going ‘cold turkey'. A heroin addict has to go and buy his fix. All you need though is your hand if I can put it that crudely so we need some form of physical prevention. A Chastity belt would be better but like I said, I don't have one. What I do have is a straitjacket and it will stop your masturbating."

"Yeah, but a Chastity belt wouldn't restrict my freedom. I could still go out and about. I can't wear a straitjacket all the time can I?" I said suddenly hoping that ‘cold turkey' didn't mean ‘all the time'.

"No," he replied to my relief, "but this is my plan. We can't do anything tonight. It's too late now and besides, I've got to find the straitjacket at my parent’s house and clean it if need be. I think I stored it with my weight-set still in its original box. I thought we could start Friday evening since I'm free that night and it gives us all weekend. I'll come around eight o'clock as usual. Now then, do you find that you masturbate more at night?" he asked. I nodded. I had more time then and boredom soon set in. "Good, er I mean that's what I expected. This will be the time you will be restrained – from late evening to early morning when the urges are strongest. It also means that way you won't need supervision; you'll have nothing else to do but sleep. As long as you don't have to go to work on Saturday, it means I don't have to get up too soon either. Perfect." I looked alarmed. The later he came the longer I was imprisoned and alone at that. "Don't worry, I won't be that late," he smiled.

"It's still going to be a long time though isn't it? What happens if I can't hack it or something happens?"

Brig thought for a moment. "Well, I'll tell you what, I'm going to leave my number on redial on your phone. Hopefully you can use your nose to dial in case of emergency or something. On Friday, what we'll do is have a dry-run. I'll put the jacket on you as soon as I come and then you can try it out for a couple of hours and see how you get on while we watch a movie. I'll let you out for a while to stretch your arms and get ready for bed and if you're happy, re-apply the jacket and tuck you in for the night. Well, how does all that sound?" He had thought of everything typically. If I disagreed, he'd conclude either I didn't want to be helped or worse, I didn't trust him. How did I get so trapped in to this?

With a slight trembling I responded, "All right, let's give it a try yes."

Brig slapped my knees with delight and jumped up, "Excellent, well we should call it a night now, there's a lot to get prepared; for both of us." Nothing more was said about the subject.

The next three days seemed like the longest of my life. My mind seemed to be preoccupied with Friday night. I found it hard to concentrate especially at work. A nervous anxiety built up within me that led me to start imagining what the weekend would have in store. How would Brig be with me? What would the jacket be like? How long before he'd release me if at all? Soon I started to have doubts about everything but a peculiar sense of curiosity prevented me from calling the whole thing off. Besides that, I felt really challenged and to not go through with it hurt my pride and would mean giving in to my fears. Also what would Brig think? By Wednesday evening, I concluded that worrying in vain imaginings wasn’t going to help. It didn't matter what I envisaged would occur;
Brig would be in control and the night would play out according to his intent, not mine. The one thing I could do was be prepared and so I decided to do some research on straitjackets: what they looked like, who used them, how they were applied, reactions to wearing them, etc.

I logged on to the Internet and typed ‘straitjacket’ in to the search engine. A whole host of different sites were listed covering different angles on straitjackets, some respectful, others not. I wanted mainly to find out about the design of a straitjacket and how it was applied. I'd seen a few on various TV programs but wondered if they were indicative as to what I'd be wearing. After an hour or so, I had formed a picture of a standard or ‘regulation' straitjacket as it was called. It was usually made of canvas but sometimes leather with usually three to five straps down the back. The jackets commonly were made in a variety of sizes to match different people. It seemed important to have the right size jacket. What was Brig’s like? I obviously had no idea but I knew I was the same size as Joseph. Despite Joseph being Brig’s ‘older’ brother, he was, like me, smaller than Brig. Medium build seemed to fit our description. The straps themselves usually connected with either roller or friction buckles. I was unsure as to which would be the most secure. An important feature I noticed was a strap that dangled down at the front. This was called the ‘crotch strap' and a regulation straitjacket had to have one. It was passed between the legs and fastened at the back. Its purpose was to prevent the wearer from pulling the entire jacket off over the head. It seemed to me that even without this strap, getting the jacket off this way could take a lot of time and effort. I shuddered as I remembered that a straitjacket wasn't supposed to be got out of alone. Would mine have one of these straps? I reasoned that since it was designed to be used in a hospital, it must have had to meet certain requirements and thus must match the ‘regulation' standard. Some of the less reputable sites played to this strap: the fear it could cause, the pain to the wearer, and the sense of power to the applier. I hoped Brig would go easy at this point and not languish on its application, making me feel nervous. From what I knew of him, I expected him to be methodical but humane. He'd probably ensure the crown jewels weren't being crushed and that the strap was only tight enough to function securely but not cause me any unnecessary pain. In this sense, I was glad I knew him so well and that a complete stranger wasn't going to put the jacket on me.

One feature I'd not seen or considered before was a series of loops fixed to the body of the straitjacket which the arms could be passed through. I couldn't recall them being on any straitjacket I'd seen on TV before. Their purpose was to prevent the wearer from pulling the arms up and over the head like I'd seen escape artists do in their acts. Some designs just had a central loop, others two at the sides whilst others had all three. I had thought that unless the sleeves were tied fairly loosely like in the performances I'd watched, escape would normally be impossible, but with these loops I speculated that there might be no way out. No wonder I'd not seen escape artists using jackets with these loops before. This ingenious and devious addition to a straitjacket made me shudder; I only hoped mine wouldn't have any. I next turned my attention to how the jacket was applied. I discovered that the best friend of the escape artist was slack. The wearer could make the jacket look securer than it was by a couple of simple tricks. Breathing in deeply to make the chest expand as the back straps were fastened could give an inch or two of slack which I discovered could be invaluable. Grabbing the inside of the sleeves whilst they were fastened could again give a real advantage of several inches to aide pulling the sleeves over the head but any loops would kill off that path. Perhaps the buckles could be reached though. As the night drew late and my techniques of escape grew more ingenious, I soon discovered things to prevent my would-be escape such as triple stitched seams, padded mitts or leather ends to the sleeves to prevent strap tampering, reinforcing vulnerable places on the jacket with leather, the list went on and on. One thing I did note was that however good a straitjacket was constructed, a crucial factor was the person applying it. An ill applied straitjacket which had sufficient slack or had some of its features not utilized could give the wearer a real advantage but even a poorly designed straitjacket could be a real challenge in the right hands. I knew Brig wasn't an expert but I did know he was very thorough and that worried me to no end.

By the end of Thursday evening, I felt as prepared as I could ever be. I even sensed a strange advantage that wasn't there on Tuesday, that this would be a challenge. The reason for all this, to stop me masturbating had taken a back seat in my mind. In fact, it had added fuel to my fantasies and I was masturbating even more. Stopping now would be up to Brig.

Friday’s classes seemed to drag more than usual. The feeling of apprehension had to some degree subsided thanks to my preparation work and the fact that I couldn't keep the initial level of anxiety for several days. I had just wanted to get home like a child waiting to open a present. It was only once I'd eaten and sat relaxing in the commons room that I started to feel my stomach churn with fear. Why? I didn't have a real explanation. Perhaps it was that the waiting would finally soon be over. Maybe it was the realization that the freedom I had in my own room would soon be reduced to the constraints of a straitjacket. I decided to make the most of my remaining freedom and have what could be my last masturbation for awhile before having a shower and preparing for Brig's arrival. I sank in to my over-sized bean bag chair trying to remain calm and not to show Brig any signs of concern. I purposely hadn't selected a movie to watch or anything out of the normal. Things would appear quite ordinary when he arrived. I now glanced at the clock. It was now eight o'clock and no sign of Brig as it began to grow dark outside. He normally started walking up through the hallways after his weekly Residential Advisors meeting. Based on who he ran in to along the way, he sometimes didn't arrive until nearly half past. The suspense tonight however was killing me.

At ten past there was a knock at the door. I went pale and weak. This was it. Reality closed around me as I shakily went to the door. Preparation was not helping me to remain calm. I turned the lock and opened the door. "Hey buddy," came the reply from Brig looking as composed as ever.

I managed a "Sup" in as friendly a tone as I could muster. He calmly walked past me as I closed and locked the door behind him.

"Have a good week?" he asked with his back still to me.

"Er, yes not bad," I replied as my attention was drawn to a thick black leather duffel bag in his left hand. He walked toward my mini-fridge and took off his leather coat and hung it on the back of my computer chair whilst placing the bag on top of my desk engulfing the papers and books below it.

"How ‘bout some drinks?" he said whilst opening the fridge.

"Okay," I replied still transfixed on the bag.

"Have you chosen a movie for tonight?" he asked.

"Er, no.. not yet," I responded nonchalantly.

"Well, go ahead and select something. I'll leave it to your discretion," he instructed with a loud indignant tone, "Just make sure it's a good one, preferably nice and long."

I hurried towards the TV console and pulled out a new DVD purchase ‘Alexander’ which I'd seen at the cinema starring Colin Farrell. I glanced at the back at its duration – over two and a half hours. "That's how long I will be spending in the straitjacket if things go to plan," I reasoned to myself. I shuddered at the prospect of just sitting there helpless. I'd just started to put the disc in the player when Brig showed up at my back carrying two plastic cups of Gatorade.

"Don't start it yet, let's have a chat and finish these," he said. I went back to my bean bag chair as he sat in my computer chair and passed me my cup. I was expecting him to start discussing the plan for tonight but there was not a hint of anything out of the ordinary. He nursed his Gatorade and started asking how my family was. This initiated the usual ten minutes of casual small-talk as we drank. I was drinking much faster than Brig because I was so nervous and soon reached the bottom of my cup. I was anxious for him to say something about tonight but there was not a hint. I slam dunked my empty cup in to the nearby trash as if to say ‘I'm ready' but Brig didn't seem to notice. It was only when he had finished his drink after what seemed like an eternity that Brig changed subject. He was in control as usual, calm and composed whereas I was pale and blubbering.

"Right now Joey, let's turn to the matter in hand," he calmly spoke placing his cup down for the last time. "Firstly, be a bud and go change your top. Wear a long sleeved sports top if you've got one." I didn't ask why as adrenaline started to rush around my body.

I hurried down the hall to the communal shower room without uttering a word and quickly changed. By the time I came back flushed, Brig was sitting on my bed with the duffel bag beside him. "Sit down," he said which I did quickly catching my breath as he reached for the bag. "Ok, the moment you've been waiting for," he smiled.

"I thought you'd forgotten," I tried to joke.

"Oh nah," came the reply as he began to open the bag. "It took a while to find actually," he remarked opening the thick bag’s zipper. "It wasn't on top of the weight-set as I thought but stuffed in the bottom of my dresser drawer. Unfortunately, it smelt a bit damp so I've had to wash it." I didn't care as I blankly looked for my first glimpse of the bag's contents but Brig thought I regarded this as a problem. "Don't worry, I put it in the drier. It's fine now."

"Great," I commented. Finally, he opened the bag and I chanced my first glimpse of my restraint, a patch of light beige canvas.

He reached inside and gradually pulled the jacket out into view. As he did, one of the sleeves dropped down towards the ground with a clinking sound and I noticed that the end of the sleeve was covered in tan colored leather with a buckle attached. I didn't have much time to think before I concluded that this straitjacket could be reinforced and that what I was looking at was a mitt to hinder accessing any buckles through the canvas. I was glad now that I'd done my research well. By now Brig had got the straitjacket completely out and unfurled it across his knees. "Want to take a close look?" Brig inquired noticing my transfixed facial expression.

I leaned forward and scanned over the jacket. It was indeed made of canvas but the first thing I noticed was that large areas were reinforced with leather, not just the sleeves but around the front and collar was a large yoke of leather riveted to the jacket. I panned across to examine the sleeves. Not only were the ends covered in leather with a buckle on one and a strap of leather about two feet long on the other but leather reinforcements were stitched around the elbow area. This addition seemed unnecessary but I concluded that it was added to make the straitjacket appear even more formidable. Looking back at the body of the jacket, there was a strip of leather that ran down from the leather yoke to the hem of the jacket. Around the hem was another strip of leather that had a buckle at one end and a belt at the other thus making the bottom strap. The strip that ran down from the yoke didn't end at the hem but continued down another two feet and had several buckle holes. I concluded that this was part of the crotch strap. I had been hoping that this straitjacket would have been a simple design but oh no, I wasn't that lucky and it seemed just so typical of Brig's efficiency. If Brig used this strap and there was no reason why he wouldn't, any possible escape could diminish to nil. As I was thinking about this, I remembered that the real problem was the existence of any loops that the arms could be passed through. Now near sheer panic, I scanned the jacket and now noticed something I had easily missed. The strip of Leather from the yoke wasn't stitched to the front of the jacket all the way down. Around mid-chest level it formed a loop with rivets at each end large enough for both arms to pass. I quickly checked for additional loops at the side and my heart sank as I saw more unmistakable leather loops. This straitjacket was as dreadful as I imagined it could be and it appeared strong and well made.

Even though I had never thought of trying to escape whilst Brig was there, the prospect of no escape now petrified me. I began to sweat and shake in my chair.
Brig simply remained composed and handed the Straitjacket to me. I was surprised at just how heavy it felt, more than my thick winter coat. I turned the jacket over and examined the back. There were five straps down the back placed at equal distances which connected with roller buckles. Whether these were easier to undo than friction buckles I was still ensure of. Down one side of the back of the Straitjacket ran another leather strip which ended in a buckle just past the hem which the crotch strap would fasten to. There was one last feature of this jacket. There were two more straps at the collar of the jacket connected to the rear of the yoke which would meant it could be fastened snugly around the neck. I thought this could be a bit unsafe, especially in a hospital but then again, this Jacket had never been used. Perhaps this was why. What it did mean however was that even if the wearer was able to pull his arms out of the sleeves, he was unable to use his hands and open the neck strap and expedite his escape. This had always looked possible with some types of straitjacket I'd seen on the net. My only chance now was that Brig wouldn't use the all the features or that he wouldn't fasten it tightly. Inexperience of applying a straitjacket might be my only friend. I decided to steer away from trying to make extra slack using the techniques I'd learnt. After all, this was to only be a trial and if Brig detected what I was doing, he might end up fastening the jacket tighter and with extra care than he had planned. Surely, he'd be checking his work out his first time and a sloppy application of the straitjacket would not be in his character.

Satisfied with my inspection of the straitjacket, Brig leaned forward and took it back off me. "Well then, what do you think?" he asked.

What did I think of what? Going through with his treatment plan which still hadn't been properly explained, wearing the straitjacket, the straitjacket itself? Actually seeing the straitjacket had instilled me with total terror. It was an almost unexplainable feeling, not what I expected at all. I had been intrigued to see the straitjacket but now I realized I was just a few minutes away from being restrained in it. I just didn't know what to say. "Er..Well, it's.…," I stuttered.

"What?" Brig exclaimed, "You're not having second thoughts now are you?"

"Well, this…well this jacket just looks so scary," I tried to explain.

"Scary?" Brig frowned.

Didn't he think I'd be just a bit apprehensive about all this. He made me explain more. "Yeah, all those straps and buckles…the heavy fabric…tt's all a bit intimidating."

"Look Joey, this is a straitjacket. It's a restraint, not simply an item of clothing that you decide to put on and off as you desire. These are designed to confine some really dangerous individuals. What were you expecting?"

I was hoping for a flimsy made contraption but obviously couldn't tell him this. "It's not everyday that you surrender your freedom, in fact make yourself totally helpless. If it was anyone else but you, there's no way I'd be considering this."

Brig relaxed a little, "Well, thank you. Remember that I'm trying to help you here. The issue here isn't the straitjacket. It's your persistent and addictive behavior. I take it that you haven't stopped masturbating?"

I blushed.

"As I expected. The prospect of wearing a straitjacket, even of my intervention hasn't helped you has it? Will power obviously isn't enough. Now don't be ashamed of that, we all need help at some time in our lives."

Brig had such a clever way of bringing me around to his way of thinking, dispelling my arguments. He continued, "The jacket is just a tool to help break this. Imagine it to taking an Ibuprofen for a headache."

"What a weak analogy," I thought. I nodded unconvincingly.

"Remember this is just a trial," he reassured, "This is as new to me as it is to you. Now if at any point tonight you feel you can't take wearing the straitjacket any more, either physically or emotionally, I'll release you and that will be the end of the matter if you so desire. I won't think any worse of you. At least you'll have tried."

This seemed fair. In fact, I felt challenged to at least try. I trusted Brig implicitly and what was so bad about having to just sit and watch a movie for a few hours? And part of me was curious to try the straitjacket. "Okay then, you've convinced me," I remarked.

Brig was delighted. "Excellent. How long is this movie?"

"Around two and a half hours," I answered. "Wow! Then we'd better get started, up you get, we shouldn't be more than a few minutes," he ordered.

I gulped and struggled to my feet, my knees weak with fear and my heart racing. Brig reached for the straitjacket and opened it. "So this jacket's never been used?" I asked.

"Nope, not as far as I can tell. It was neatly folded up in its box. Just needed cleaning that's all," Brig said now holding the jacket near the collar with both hands.

I probed a little further, "So this is the first time you've applied it then?"

"Yes, you know that. Our Joseph came real close little did he know it though." I felt a little hope. Maybe Brig wouldn't know how to apply it correctly but this hope was shattered as quickly as it came. "Oh don't worry. Hunter explained in detail how to put it on and I've had plenty of time to study the straitjacket. Arms out." I complied holding my arms out in front. "I'll ensure you're comfortable," he commented. I glanced a renewed hopeful look into his eyes. He read my thoughts. "Comfortable but secure," he smiled as began to guide my arms into the long sleeves, "it wouldn't be a fair trial otherwise would it?"

Slowly my arms slid into their canvas prison as Brig stepped towards me. He brought the body of the jacket over my shoulders and ensured the collar went around my neck before letting go. The weight of the jacket on my shoulders was remarkable. "Man, it's heavy," I remarked.

"You should try lugging it up here through campus," Brig smiled, "You okay so far?"

I brought my arms towards my face. It seemed so strange not to see my hands poking out of the sleeves. Instead, they were nearly at the end of the sleeves, engulfed in the leather. I tried to grab the inside of the sleeves as I bent my fingers to feel the canvas and leather and gauge its thickness. Although the material was surprisingly flexible, I could hardly feel my thumb as I closed my fist. Despite the fact that there was a double thickness of material, I knew that if my hands remained in these leather-reinforced ends, any manipulation of the straps would be almost impossible. Brig assumed by my lack of verbal response that things could proceed.

"Be a good bud and turn around," he instructed gesturing at the same time with his hands. I slowly turned to face my chair. "Put your arms at your side Joe," he continued. I was slowly letting my arms drop but this wasn't quick enough for Brig. He grabbed both arms at the wrists and forced them down quickly without saying a word. With Brig now behind me, I was unable to see what was going on. I couldn't really ascertain exactly what he was doing or how well he was fastening the straitjacket. But what troubled me the most was the fact that I could no longer look into his eyes and read his mood. Was he beginning to enjoy this? Was he as calm as he let on? I had to let my senses of touch and sight guide me for now. I felt Brig grab the jacket at just below shoulder height with a hand on each side. He pulled the jacket slightly upwards before sharply tugging the back together. The buckles all clanged and the canvas swished as my arms were forced deeper into the sleeves and now the leather endings reached over my wrists too. I discovered that these sleeves were exactly the right length to cover my arms but not too long that I could pull my hands out of the leather mitts if the back of the straitjacket wasn't firmly fastened and I had an inch or two of slack. I knew that I was the same build as Joseph but the jacket hadn't been made for him. It just seemed so typical that it was appearing to be such a near fit.

I felt Brig's hands move slightly down and he tugged the jacket closed again. The canvas was much more flexible than I had first imagined and easily bent around my body. “Okay, here we go,” remarked Brig with what I sensed was a new-found tone of enjoyment. There was another clang of metal as Brig reached for what I perceived to be the top buckle on the main body of the straitjacket. With his left hand he reached for the strap and fed it through the buckle. I found myself holding my breath in nervous anticipation as he was about to start securing me into the straitjacket. After a second or so of fiddling I felt the strap being pulled back to the left and a slight tensioning of the jacket around the top of my shoulders. With the strap held firmly in his left hand, I felt his other hand rest on my back as his fingers guided the buckle pin into one of the holes in the strap. Brig now let go of the strap but the tension remained. Although this was only the first strap, the jacket didn’t feel tight at all around the top of my chest. I was sure that if he had wanted, a good hard tug would have yielded another inch of two but he was holding to his promise for now that the straitjacket would be comfortable. I was hoping that this presumption was correct and that Brig wouldn’t get carried away and forget about my well-being. Also it was psychologically important as I needed the hope of escape to remain calm, no matter how foolish and futile that hope was. A loud whipping noise came as Brig now finished by pulling the remainder of the strap through the keeper. Although escape was still an easy option at this point, I trained my mind that I was well on the way to being totally restrained.

His hands swiftly moved down the jacket. “Arms out in front bud,” he asked and I complied lifting them slowly, unsure as to why. The answer came quickly as Brig again tugged together the back of the straitjacket pulling it slightly sideways ensuring it was firmly around my body. I sensed him leaning around to inspect my outstretched arms before being satisfied. I realized that he was going to eliminate any slack that was not determined purely by how tight he wanted the straps to be.

“Very meticulous aren’t we?” I thought with a cold admiration. I felt him holding the jacket together with one hand as the other fed the second strap through the buckle and pulled. This time I didn’t feel the jacket tightening any more as Brig had already ensured it was a close fit. As he held the strap secure, the other hand pushed the buckle pin into the strap and then came the usual whipping noise as the remainder of the strap was pulled through the keeper. My arms were now firmly fastened inside the sleeves and the only way to get them out was to lift my arms above my head and pull the entire jacket off. But Brig had only just begun…

Re-Imagined Author’s Note: The original story ends here. While there was an outline of what else is to happen, and certainly the rest of the story may be finished in the near future, it seems the best part of this story is the anticipation and the fear an innocent little jacket may impose. The highlight of this story is imagining one’s worst nightmare and seeing it play out slowly but surely while powerless to stop it.