The Guys In White

Author: greenbrownblue
Title: The Guys In White
Date: 03 September 2012

This story is dedicated to John S., whose story Rainy Days has inspired all of us to write more.

T h e G u y s I n W h i t e


Hi. My name is Shane; and well, I’m a guy in white. You know, one of those guys who work at some kind of hospital who are paged to take down an unruly patient. Guys like football line backers that plow in swiftly with their big bodies and big restraints. They arrive confident and overpowering yet relaxed and at ease with themselves. Guys who have no problem man handling anyone from the toughest punk bad ass to the thinnest little bud. You know – the guys in white.

I am sure you’ve seen my kind in movies and TV shows whenever someone gets “committed” to an asylum. Some guys in white pick up some lead character and put them in the pads or something for the night. You probably see the guys in white for like thirty seconds. Maybe another ten if they show one of the guys in white peering in through the eye slots of a cell. Consider yourself lucky if you’ve ever heard a guy in white talk in a film. Well, besides saying “Easy buddy – nice and easy.”

Or maybe, you’ve read about guys in white in online jerk-off stories. I know I’ve read one where a guy in white helps some crazy doctor sedate the hell out of some wrestling team in order to run experiments on them. Sometimes we are mentioned more at length in the more planned out series. But even then we are merely agents of getting a guy good and restrained. If you are one of those authors, can you at least give us names? My name’s Shane, in case you’ve forgotten already.

I do have a point. The guys in white are actually people – people like me. And I’m here to tell you more about me and how I came to be a guy in white. We are not just strong cool alpha guys ready to pounce and get some dude good and restrained, although we are very capable of doing so. We are also guys that are able to control someone in many ways: mentally, emotionally, psychologically, playfully, sincerely, deviously, coyly, and lovingly – if I dare say – and perhaps even logically and judiciously. My point is two fold: we are more than just physically able and we are more than just dominators. We have dimension and mad skill; and, I’m here to tell you about both.

So put your wrist down for a moment and hear me out. I’m a guy in white and consider this your love letter.

*

I was not born a guy in white. I had to become one. If you are still thinking all it takes is a killer body and physical skill, then you would probably think that I grew up playing every single sport imaginable and working out at the gym seven plus days a week. Yes, I know there are only seven days in a week and you should be aware of that too, bud. I actually grew up on a combination of sports and scholastics. I entered a few class projects in the Wisconsin State Fair, where I even earned a few ribbons. I played hockey but everyone played hockey. I held my own but was not going to get through college on a hockey scholarship or anything. My grades were fair: mostly Bs and a few As. I think I got a C in English one year: creative writing.

I became a guy in white in college. I actually ended up meeting up with a few other guys in white, although I did not know they were GIW at the time. How and where we met is not important. You’ve seen alpha types hanging around together before, haven’t you? You’ve seen a group of chill guys tossing around a Frisbee or sitting at the same table at the cafeteria. You don’t sit and ponder how and where and with what luck made them meet, do you? No, it is just sort of animal kingdom natural. Birds of a feather flock together. Guys in white just seem to hang around other guys in white, or at least, guys who have the potential to wear white.

Let me explain our psyche. The thing is being a guy in white is not only about physical skill. You have to have a certain all encompassing adeptness for control. You see, we are not just physically able to subdue somebody. We are also mentally able to get a guy’s guard down. We have to be able - in all ways. Our one mission is to subdue a guy. But it is not easy. We have to cover all bases. We have to go at a guy from all angles, even ones he’s not aware of. When I walk in to a room with a full set of ‘raints, my window of opportunity is slim. I can’t have a guy panicking on me or on us, as the case may be. In the situations we normally encounter, we have to be able to control all factors. Many of which are hard to even describe or name. A football line backer can’t just go play Guy-In-White for a day and try to fasten down a dude in to restraints. The poor patient will end up dead. Physical force is not the sole name of the game. You have to own a guy: his mind, his heart, his body.

This psyche that all guys in white have is what is important, not how I actually ended up meeting John and Jacks. We identified with each other from the start. I was no where near their level at the time; but, they saw something fledgling in me that I was seeing fully developed in them. They saw an ability hidden down inside me; an ability that all guys in white have. We have this way of walking in to a room and just sort of causing people to let their guards down. Whether they are aware of it or not, whether they want it to happen or not, people just sort of fall in line with us. Sometimes it can work against us, but just seemingly. For instance, sometimes a guy will recognize our power right away (most people respond to it of course but to actually recognize it is different) and they sort of panic. I mean, they know we are there and they know they are going to fall in line with us and they just sort of panic over their inability to counter us (and make no mistake, they do have an outright inability with us). If we are wearing white and we are carrying restraints, people can easily mistake this panic as a response against being restrained. But they would be wrong. It’s not the ‘raints; it’s us.

If we guys in white walk in to a frat house living room with our street clothes on and a book bag over our shoulders (our restraint kits tucked safely away), our unmistakable presence is still felt. We just have this ability to swoop in and be there – solidly there. We try to make it easy on people. We try to call everyone buddy or bro (no matter how big of a guy you are or how small for that matter). We try and often succeed at getting a guy to relax with us. We often get guys feeling comfortable with us without them even realizing.

So, I’m going back to John, Jacks, and I. We always had an understanding between us even if I was young, perhaps naïve, and a little unsure of what capabilities I actually had. We started off slow but eventually were inseparable. We’d study together, started taking the same classes together, and we’d go away on spring break trips together. They were the cool guys. I was their little bro trying to be like them. They would teach me things that I never knew existed. For instance, they showed me how to choke a guy out. I never knew how easy it was to do so until they did it on me one night. While I hated having it done on myself, it was the coolest thing ever to get my revenge and do it to each of them.

How exactly I first learned about GIW – Guys In White – and how John and Jacks were involved, I couldn’t say. By the time I knew I thought that I had always known. Would you know when you found out your friend worked at a bank? I didn’t think so, bud. So, don’t expect me to give you the exact date and time when I found out Jacks and John worked up at Edgewood. And when I was told specifics about their job I never dwelled on words like “maximum security wing” or “pad row.” The only words that made an impression on my memory were “twenty five an hour.”

Now, there was an allure. I won’t lie. But it was not the allure found in asylum bondage fiction or what ever you want to name it. It was instead the allure of the elite professional fraternity surrounding the GIW. You’ve heard of professional organizations before, right? You know, like the Accountants of America or the National Screen Writers Guild? It’s the same as GIW. It is a professional group of, well, guys in white. Male orderlies if you must know the layman’s term. Who wants to say they are a male orderly though? That sounds kind of lame. Anyways, I wanted to get in to the GIW. And Jacks and John were my ticket in. It is a small highly competitive field, this business of male orderlies. After Reagan shut down like every public mental institution, job openings have been sparce. And, once you get in to one of the few, mostly private institutions, you are in for good (this applies to patients as well, ha ha). No one leaves a job where all you have to do is befriend the patients and keep them docile. Well, not guys like true GIWs at least. It is like in our blood.

So, long story short, I had to prove myself to John and Jacks. They were not going to recommend just anyone to the GIW, even if I we were tight buds. I had to go through an initiation. I had to prove that I had the stuff. A wrestling match you are thinking? Hell no. Do not forget the stuff I told you about. This is not about pure force. This is a skill. You either have it or you don’t and no amount of time spent in the gym is going to make you a GIW. I had to completely capture somebody. I had to get a guy from not being in my control to being in my complete control. I had to take a wild animal and have him eating out of my palm. And, the best way to do it would be without him even knowing it.

**

I was allowed to pick out my mark. You know, mark as in a target? Once I found my mark, John and Jacks both had to approve it. They didn’t want me picking out some weakling or someone that they thought was too advanced for a beginner. I picked a really kinda cool guy. He frequented our school fitness center always doing a healthy mix of cardio and weight lifting. He was kind of an offbeat but still completely a guy-guy. I mean, his body had good proportions. He could hold his own if he needed to but I could also sense that he could quote a few literary works, again, if he needed to. To this day, I love the multi-dimensional subjects.

Anyways, I laid a lot of ground work. I think the first time I talked to him was to tell him to spot me. I just said, “hey bud, I need a spot” and then motioned my hand to the spot in which I needed his body to be. He did not fight me. He did not seem questioning. It was normal. We were okay. I was okay. He was okay. That is my job, right there. I make me in control be as normal as restraints on limbs. I mean, I make me in control be as normal as wet on rain.

It was not that we had a respect for each other. Okay, so maybe it was. I respected his place in the world and he respected mine. No, actually, he respected the place I made for him in the world and I respected him being there. Ha ha. It is really layered and complicated, isn’t it? I mean, the natural way seems so natural that you do not even realize that it includes me being in control and you being at ease with me in control. Because we are both at ease, you can mistake it for you being on the same level as me, but you’re not. And when I say same level, I do not mean to say that you are inferior. I just mean to say that you are in a situation that is being controlled. And that guy in control is me.

Anyways, from that initial meet I made sure to remain present in his life. If I saw him working out, I began to nod or confidently make myself in his way and allow him to respectfully give just a little. If I was walking north and he was walking south and we were going to crash in to each other, I’d make sure we both gave but that he gave a little more. It was a win-win and soon he was hanging out at my house chilling.

Okay, it wasn’t actually my house. It was Jacks’ dad’s cabin. But it was spring and an easy way to not only get Matt alone (Matt was my mark) but also to get the initiation on video. Jacks had set up the hidden camera in the master suite. They had to be able to see that I had indeed accomplished my task.

So, there we were, Matt and I, hanging out at my family’s, err Jacks’ cabin on a weekend. Please don’t get the picture that I was dominating him. Remember, most of the time a guy doesn’t even know that I’m in control. It just all happens naturally. I don’t boss them around or get all up in their face physically. This all requires a much greater finesse and ease. If your goal is entrapment, you don’t pounce on the poor little fawn. They’ll never eat out of your palm that way.

After a full day of activity (swimming, diving, eating) Matt found himself alone in the master suite with yours truly. How Matt got there, he probably wouldn’t have been able to say. Most of the time, people do not retrace their steps with me because they aren’t actually even questioning those routes with their mind. If you asked him why he was alone at a cabin with me in the master suite, it would be like asking him why he was at a certain longitude and latitude in space. His brain just wasn’t thinking in those terms. It was being influenced by my terms.

Anyways, there he was in his adidas black shorts and red sleeveless shirt. His muscular arms were fully exposed. He was barefoot having left his leather sandals at the door. I had all four limbs of his completely vulnerable for the taking: two wrists and two ankles.

I would like to say that I had the leathers fully attached to the bed beforehand, but Jacks and John kept insisting that it violated the rules.

“They’ve got ‘straints all ready and locked down to the beds at E-Wood!” I had protested. But they wouldn’t give. Fuck how much of them I saw in myself.

So, I pulled the leathers out of the closet and threw them on the bed. Matt’s eyes went wide but only for a second. It was an unconscious reaction easily pacified by his conscious desire to continue to be at ease with me. I had developed such a good rapport with Matt that he resisted his own unconscious efforts to be out-of-line with me. Still, Matt was searching for any cues from me on how he should react.

“Grab hold of that side and help me anchor these down to the bed,” I instructed Matt.

Confused, Matt grabbed hold of one of the thick brown leather cuffs with attaching leather belt and began folding it about in his hands like clay. I could tell he had no idea what he was looking at.

“The smaller belt wraps around the bed frame, like this,” I demonstrated to Matt as I looped the short leather belt of my second leather cuff around my side of the bed frame. I quickly worked the metal hardware and gently pressed in the metal prong that sealed the latch on the belt. I plopped the heavy wrist cuff on to the mattress’ edge, which was now effectively anchored to the bed. Matt struggled to comprehend the restraint as well as the situation.

The poor little jock fawn had no idea he was with a man trying to wear white.

“Uhm, Shay—ne, what is this stuff?” Matt finally questioned as he struggled to examine the leather cuff and belt he was handling.

I have to admit, if you’ve never seen a full set of leathers, well, it is hard to get your head wrapped around them. I think I played with the stuff for nearly five hours after John and Jacks had first showed them to me.

I picked up the chunky ankle cuffs, which were already attached together and began looping their single corresponding belt around the frame at the foot of the bed.

“Matt, bud, like this,” I answered.

I now had three of the four points in place and all I needed now was the fourth one anchored and just one, yes, just one of Matty’s four limbs securely strapped. Once that happened, I wouldn’t need to worry as much about psychological control on him.

“Where did you get these? What are they?” Matt quizzically asked.

He was really worlds away from the reality of the situation.

I stepped up at his back almost pressing my pectorals in to his shoulder blades. I let myself become playful and he picked up on it instantly. I moved my hands around his body and grabbed hold of his hands and the ‘raints they were holding. I rubbed his hands and the restraints and playfully, with him giggling a bit by now and leather and skin creaking, demonstrated to him how to anchor the cuff down to the side of the bed. I began looping the belt around the frame. He helped the belt complete its loop and worked it in to the buckle. I gently pushed in the metal prong that sealed the belt in the latch. The only way for those restraints to come off that bed was for me to use a key to pop open the metal prongs. You couldn’t get them to pop back up without the key.

“Lay on down bro,” I told Matt as I gently and playfully pushed his body down on to the bed.

“No way dude!” he replied! He was not resisting. He was reacting to my playfulness. He pushed back against my body but gently. I countered his momentum toward me with a stronger push back against him causing his little ass to sink firmly in to the bed. I leaned in on him and tickled the side of his ribs. His defined obliques jolted with an involuntary muscle spasm and he shouted out a yelp of glee. I grabbed his wrist and began working the thick heavy wrist cuff around it. He pulled his hand back and away. I countered his move and he ended up trying to push his hand forward towards me. With just a quick adjustment on my part, he ended up smacking his wrist directly back up against the cuff. The thick leather padding along the inside of the cuff easily absorbed all of Matt’s impact force. I firmly looped the cuff completely around his wrist and latched it. I locked it. I tickled him some more.

It took little effort to get his other hand in the other wrist restraint. We were still playing the same game. He was laughing. I was tickling him. I was moving him. He would resist here and there but had no idea what he was actually up against. It was cute. It was endearing. It was the perfect initiation.

When I went to anchor his ankles down in to the leather cuffs at the foot of the bed he started to become somewhat conscious of his predicament. Restraints are not restraints until they are fought. One doesn’t realize the consequences of losing freedom of movement until it is already lost. I sat down on his legs before he could think about kicking. As I restrained both ankles in to the leather cuffs, he began fighting the wrist restraints. He tried to raise his hands up and towards his chest like a chest fly I had seen him do countless times at the gym. The leather ‘raints creaked and did not give. The fibers of his muscles strained against the fibers of my leathers. My leathers won out.

I had him in four point and now I knew I would be getting my whites. I eyed the camera and smiled. All I had to do now was entertain him for a few minutes and then eventually let him out. I’d tell him it was just a playful game like any other countless pranks or romps we had engaged in before. Hell, I had picked the dude up out of the lake on my shoulders and thrown him back in. I had dunked him repeatedly even after he tried to get me to stop. This would all fade in to the background as just another fun day with his buddy Shane.

But I was a rookie. This was the first guy I had ever GIW-owned and he had been so easy. An initiation designed to separate the wheat from the chaff had been so simple. I was a natural. I was high on my new power. The thrill of capturing Matt and now having him totally in my control was too much for me to deal with appropriately. I began taunting him. I turned in to something I had never seen before.

He wasn’t aware of what actually had happened to him and I wanted him so desperately to acknowledge the power I had achieved over him. I taunted him verbally. I asked him to get out of the restraints. I said I’d never let him out. I said anything I could to get him riled up. I needed him to fight me. I needed him to fight me so that he could see that I was in power and that I was in complete control. Restraining a wet noodle was no fun. I needed him to fight back. I needed more of my newly pumped adrenalin after tasting its initial sweetness.

And soon I had Matt angry with me. We were no longer bros being bros. He wanted out. He became a fighter that I was in control of; but, it was still not enough for me. I got on top of him. I sat right on his chest with my full weight bearing down on him. He tried to buck me off. He spit in my face. I slapped him. At first I hit his face softly and then I began to hit more forcefully. I grinned down on him like a lion. He was my lamb. I did not know what was coming over me. I was powerless to stop myself. I had become so drunk on power that I just could not let up. I know now that I shouldn’t have let it get that far. But, it was all so new to me and it felt so damn good. Everything in the world was spinning for me. I held the globe in my hand and was at rule.

I’m not sure how or why or when but soon I had my pants down and my cock brushing up against Matt’s face. He was dazed and confused by now. He didn’t really know what to do. I pushed my cock head against his lips and he allowed them to part. I pushed in further and he tried to turn his head, which would have allowed him reprieve from my cock. But I gently placed my hand on his head and firmly guided his lips back to front and center. It did not take long for me to cum inside of him. I was overwhelmed and shot quickly and easily. I remember the sound of him fighting the leather restraints as a came: a half moan originating from his gut and a full onslaught of leather creaking. I pulled out as tears flowed down his face. I jumped off him and pounced in to the master bath to dry off and try to regain my thoughts.

With a clearer head, I peered in to the bedroom and saw that Matt was fully resigned. He was half asleep and half sobbing on the bed.

I am not a reckless person. I just couldn’t control myself. Things just got out of hand. I didn’t mean to have sex with Matt. It just sort of happened. He had to have been okay with at least part of it because he didn’t really fight me with the restraints initially. However, I have a talent for getting people down in to restraints so perhaps that is not a fair argument.

In any case, I made myself walk in to the room and unstrap Matt. Once free from all my leathers, he had to sort of fight to gain the will to get up off the bed. I was slightly crouched over him. As he stood and passed my body, my mouth met his ear and I whispered to him: “I’m sorry.”

He just sort of stumbled out of the room and then out of the cabin. Moments later, I heard his car driving slowly away.

***

I called up Jacks immediately and explained part of the story. Initially, I just told him about having completed all the requirements: get Matt fully restrained without any tricks, lies, or pre-set anchor points for the restraints. Jacks did not fully congratulate me. He could sense I was uneasy about something. I wasn’t exactly going to tell Jacks what happened over the phone. He agreed to come to the cabin to discuss things, which he was going to do anyway as he and John had planned on staying close.

Once Jacks arrived I explained the whole story. He said that I did well – really well. He eased all my concerns about the sexual activity. He said it was easy for power and sex to get mixed up and that the only thing to be concerned about was that Matt may need some “after-care.” I was elated to have Jacks’ understanding and completely thrilled to be earning my whites. I was going to be a real GUY IN WHITE!

Even though I was high on the thrill of the capture, I still felt bad for Matt. It wasn’t fair of me to do everything I had done to him. He was a victim of my growing pains.

Things seemed okay though. Things seemed resolvable. At least until John called us. He had followed Matt after he had left. Matt had just entered a police station.

****

I found out later that Matt met with Detective Bradley Cale that night. Matt told Brad that he had been raped. Brad questioned Matt extensively. He asked Matt how he got tied up and was curious as to why Matt never fully resisted all the cuffing. Since Matt revealed a history of friendship with me, Brad further questioned Matt. Detective Cale was making Matt second guess everything and become confused as to what actually had happened. Detective Cale left Matt in the small questioning room and told the deputy on duty to make a call up to Edgewood. Brad reasoned that Matt’s case was a special one that required Matt to take some time to sort things out in his head before making formal charges. He further reasoned that Matt should neither sit in a jail cell at the station nor be set free in his current state.

The deputy on duty told Brad that Edgewood was more than happy to send down a few guys to get Matt. They dealt with many different kinds of cases all the time and rarely turned down the chance to admit a new guy.

*****
Edgewood had not formally hired me yet but the GIW agreed that I had earned my whites and that I could ride along with Jacks and John. It was my first time and to say I was excited was an understatement. I don’t remember a time that night when I did not hear my heart beating out of my chest.

******

Robert walked in to the police station. He was dressed completely in white. He had on white sneakers, white socks, and white pants. They were not tight or loose but his thighs pressed against the fabric and he had a slight mound at his crotch. He also wore a white leather belt as well as a tucked in white shirt, both of which worked together to emphasize his defined V-shaped torso. He was well proportioned but he was also young. He had blond hair and an ease about himself. Although technically he was a completely odd sight – a young man dressed in all white – he had an extreme normalcy about himself. He looked like he belonged. He had that GIW power. He made everything seem right.

He just walked through the police station and went up to the back counter. He told the deputy, “I’m picking up one of your guys.”

Brad actually interrupted the deputy and talked to the guy in white off towards the side. They discussed the details of Matt’s case.

“Sorry Sir, but we are just here to transport him. We have full legal authority. We don’t deal with personal details,” Robert informed the detective.

It was true. We didn’t care about anything but getting a guy in to restraints and in to the pads up at Edgewood. Details were a distraction. No one ever wanted us to take them away. We had a specific goal to accomplish and it was very hard to deter us from that goal. Once legalities were set in motion, there was no stopping us. If something was amiss, by the time the red tape was sorted out, our subject would have been safely tucked in the pads for days. We were a train ride that did not stop once set in motion.

Brad stated, “Of course.” He continued, “I’m assuming you’ll need to – strap - him?”

Robert nodded. “I’ve got three more guys like me in the van. Restraints are just a precaution. But, they’re always required.”

Rob scanned the facility while Brad wondered if there was anything else to discuss.

“Where is he?” Robert asked.

*******

By now everything had been set in motion. There was no turning back. One of the rules in the GIW code of ethics is to never go backward. Things can be sorted out later. You do not get distracted on a take down.

Jacks and John saw to the white leather bag restraint kit as I followed behind them in to the police station. Once inside, Robert gave us a signal that indicated that everything was set. The specific signal meant that we were in “take-down phase.” In that phase you take down the subject and restrain him upon visual sight. There is no legal work or further approval needed despite what the subject may say. When I saw Robert give that sign, an animal came alive inside of me. I hoped I would be a tamer animal than previously.

We all seemed to overwhelm the deputy as well as the detective. They were all looking at us for cues. Remember how I said that people just naturally fall in line whenever we are around.

Robert told the detective, “We’ll all go to the room; you open the door, and then back out of the way.”

The detective nodded and sprang down the hall. We were all right at his heal.

Brad opened the door revealing the small room containing a vulnerable young man sullen in his chair.

Robert entered, dressed all in white, made eye contact with Matt and said, “Matthew Stone?”

It was really more of an order than a question.

Matt looked up and nodded. If he spoke to say yes it was inaudible.

Robert continued, “You’re going to Edgewood. We’ve got tools for transport safety. Just comply, Matthew.”

As Matthew mentally struggled to contemplate the words Robert uttered, Robert finished, “Relax bud.”

By this time Jacks and John had already removed the white canvas strait jacket from the large white leather duffel bag. When they entered the room holding the restraint between them, the brown leather straps of the jacket glistened under the florescent lighting.

John eyed Matthew and cooed, “Hey there buddy. Be calm.”

“We’re going to get you to some place safe there Matty,” Jacks added.

Matt was calm. He really was. Robert had secured a solid position behind Matt. He had threaded his arms through Matt’s armpits and had tightly wrapped his hands around both of Matt’s wrists. It was a classic crisscross. Robert’s left hand was wrapped on Matty’s right wrist; his right hand was wrapped on Matty’s left wrist. Robert had leverage advantage and was now beginning to guide Matt’s young torso up out of his seat. Jacks and John were ready with the strait jacket in front of Matt. It was all going so smoothly.

I really shouldn’t have been there what with Matt’s most recent experience with me. You see, the instant Matt saw me, he started bucking back against Robert and kicking out at John and Jacks.

In hindsight, I now realize that the guys were deliberately egging Matt on to make my first take down “special.” Rob’s lips were pressed firmly against Matt’s earlobes whispering things like “Don’t try to fight this here Matty Stone. Be a good boy, ‘right?” and “Shane-ey’s leathers you had on earlier are nothing compared to a STRAIT JACKET.”

I really was only supposed to watch but I really had to step in and help Robert hold Matt down. It was the only way Jacks and John were going to be able to get Matt jacketed.

In the small confines of the room, I pushed past John and Jacks and clamped my arm around Matt’s neck. I began choking him out. We really are not supposed to do that. When I had snaked my arm around his innocent buttery soft neck, I never had the intention of keeping such a tight grip for long. But Jacks, John, and Robert kept escalating everything. My inner beast was gaining more and more control. Adrenaline kicked in. I was on top of Matt on that leather tethered bed all over again. I held my arm lock around his throat tight. I maintained the “sleeper hold.”

Matt could not breathe. Soon his arm and leg thrashing subsided substantially. Jacks and John instantly stepped up with the strait jacket and as Rob held Matt’s arms forward, they slid the white rigid canvas right over Matt’s fully exposed arms. He still wore that sleeveless red adidas shirt. Matt began convulsing and Robert had to pull me and my arm off of Matt. He managed to get me off just after Matt’s head slumped backwards on to my shoulder.

Matt was out. He’d be out for just a few seconds. For another couple seconds after that he’d be severely disorientated. He would think he had just woken up from an entire night of sleep. He wouldn’t comprehend where he was, or who we were, or what we were doing to his body, much less what a strait jacket even was. He would be defenseless – completely defenseless until we had the jacket entirely on him. By then it would be too late for him.

Robert tightly wrapped the white canvas of the strait jacket firmly against Matty’s muscular back and nodded for me to do up the back leather straps. It was my first strait jacketing. I’ll never forget the high of firmly grabbing a hold of that middle brown leather strap. It was thick and meaty in my hands. It was warm. The brown leather dynamically glinted. Its surface shine constantly shifted based on the angle of sight as well as the angle of the light. The raw smell of leather assailed my nostrils. The world was right. I was in control. I was firmly and effectively manipulating a monstrous devious on to a cute little buck that would be hopelessly pacified. And not just any buck, but the buck who I had initiated in to my power a mere couple hours ago. I was completing my rhyme, solving my riddle.

I looped the meaty leather strap in to the buckle’s loop and firmly pulled. I zealously tried to work the strap up to the farthest notch possible. The leather did not want to keep stretching but I malleably worked the massy chunky strip of leather to one of the furthest notches and satisfyingly buckled it in hard. I eagerly jumped on to another strap. I had to balance my glee with timing. Matty would wake soon. The euphoria of restraining the subsequent straps was just as magical as the first. However, Robert began making attempts to soften me because I was strapping Matty up too tightly.

“We’ll readjust it all once he’s completely wrapped,” Robert bargained.

In total, I did five back straps and a collar strap.

By the time I was done at the back, Jacks and John already had little Matty’s arms threaded through the chest loops and the side loops. I quickly grabbed hold of Matty’s arm sleeve strap and yanked it around the back. Robert was holding the buckle attached to the end of the opposite arm sleeve ready for me to attach the two together. I yanked the long sleeve strap through the buckle with such force the leather strap cracked against the thick air of the stuffy room. Robert helped me quickly latch the belting and tidy up the long strap’s slack. I next grabbed the crotch strap greedily and Robert likewise helped me strap it up.

Robert then set up readjusting Matty. He executed a combination of subtracting notches to loosen Matty in some places and adding notches to tighten Matty in others. In truth, nothing I had done needed tightening. But when Robert loosened some areas, it made other areas looser as well. So, he retightened them. I made sure.

Matt started to wake up. Just as foreshadowed, it took him awhile to even wake. We kept scrutinizing and prodding and I took the opportunity to really check out that crotch strap because I really wanted to know that Matty’s guy was secured. He he. I liked Matt. I really did.

Jacks and John left to get the stretcher. Matt had signs of full consciousness just after I had satisfied myself checking the straps. I wrapped my arms around Matt as he began to reprocess what was going on.

He looked down at his chest. He just stared down. He didn’t even try to move his arms he just gaped down at himself. Matt then made an awkward confused sideways glance back towards my head only to discover that it was in fact me who was holding him.

I cooed, “Easy there Matty, take it nice and easy. Just breathe.”

Matt was realizing I was in control – in complete control – and he started going what we in the business professionally call BIZURK! He shouted animalistic sounds out at the top of his lungs. He was beyond any mental state that would allow him to formulate intelligible words much less a complete question or statement. Remember that overwhelming feeling we can give people that I told you about. This is that in action.

He tried to thrash his arms. They only made small awkward creases against the heavy canvas. He kicked his legs every which way. They just thrashed about in the un-resistant air. He tried to do everything in his power, but he had no power to do anything.

I clamped my hand around Matty’s mouth and whispered in his ear: “Submit Matty. Just submit your mind and body. It will help.”

My fleshy hand around Matty’s mouth along with my words ringing deep in to his ears actually did help him to calm down a bit.

But then he saw the large white stretcher with black heavy restraints and straps coiling like a pile of snakes in all directions and he, once again, became unglued.

Robert and I easily picked up Matty’s tightly canvas and leather wrapped torso; Jacks and John steadily grabbed hold of his legs. We lay him down on to the stretcher. His body was drowning in a sea of straps. I kept a strong hold of Matty. I sensed my firm pressure would help him. It would make him feel safe. My arms were tightly wound around his strait jacketed body.

His arms were wrapped in the strait jacket. Both he and his strait jacket were wrapped in my arms.

John and Jacks kept hold of Matty’s legs and Robert moved down to roll our leg restraint wrap around Matty, which would cover his thighs, knees, calves, and ankles. For all his might, Matty was really trying to kick his legs up. All his muscles were straining – more so than I had ever seen them push at the school gym. But Jacks was planted on one leg and John was on the other. No amount of gym training could prepare a dude for that. There just is no hope. And, with his arms wrapped tightly around his own body, the mind just psychologically folds in on itself. What use is there to try to gain leg movement when you have no upper body function what so ever? I love my job.

Once Robert had the large heavy fleshy piece of leather wrapping around Matty’s legs, Jacks and John maneuvered their hands to help Robert fasten the black nylon straps around the device. It would effectively cocoon Matty’s legs straight together. After just the first strap near Matty’s ankles, Matty’s legs were anchored and stuck. The makers of that wrap state that ninety percent of leg movement is eliminated with just that one strap. Ninety fucking percent! The leather wrap also contains several thin steel bars embedded between the outer layers of leather and inner leather cushion that run the length of the device. Once fully restrained, Matty would not be able to bend his legs whatsoever. John, Jacks, and Robert kept threading, pulling, and fastening the remaining four nylon straps around the leather coating effectively subduing Matty’s legs inside a marshmallow prison of unrelenting leather.

When his legs stopped working, I could feel something let go in Matty’s upper torso. He began going limp and relaxed in my arms. Matty began allowing the strait jacket to embrace him.

Matty closed his eyes and let go. To complete the rest of the transport, I had to let go as well. I had to remove my firm embrace. But, I knew Matty would remain in the state I had effectively put him in.

********

We then secured a nylon harness around Matty’s strait jacketed torso, which attached to the leg device. Next we all busily went about attaching the black leather restraints of the stretcher around Matty’s strait jacketed upper body and his leather cocooned lower body. The straps were easy to snug taut because Matty had no resistance. He was now securely tied to the stretcher. His breathing slowed and he seemed to be almost sleeping.

Once he was fully secure, we wheeled him out of the police station and to the back of our van. Our van is pretty sweet. It is all white and in black letters it says “Edgewood.” There is a picture of a red snake on a red cross below the text. Many of us GIWs joke that we are the Vipers.

Jacks and John opened up the doors and Robert and I guided the stretcher up in to the back of the van. Jacks and John ran around to the front and Robert and I jumped up in to the back. The right inside wall has a long steel bench with a slippery black leather cushion for us to sit on. The other side is filled with white leather bags each in varying size of restraint kits. Some are on hooks and some are in cubbies. There are also a few extra white uniforms tucked away.

Jacks pulled out of the police station and John hit a button up front for our sirens to ring. As we drove up to Edgewood, Robert fiddled around with a syringe.

“What’s that, Rob?” I naively asked.

“Just something to help Matt keep sleeping – to stay relaxed,” Robert smiled.

John piped in from the front: “It’s a heavy sedative to knock him out cold for at least – how much do you think he weighs? 150? 160?” John interrupted himself.

“160 tops,” Jacks proclaimed.

“Then for at least 24 hours,” John finished.

“He’ll be going in one of the pads then, huh?” I asked.

Robert, Jacks, and John just smiled. They grinned so big that I had to smile too. I looked down at little Matty – still resting in the peaceful state I had put him in and that he would remain in – and I knew. I knew I was a true Guy-In-White.

Matty had no idea though. Would you? Would you know if you were with a guy in white?