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Whuddup, peeps and other candies! Today Aunt Scripty wants to talk about a really important aspect of pharmacology, especially important for surgeries (both back-alley and OR) and emergency medicine types.

Today we’re going to differentiate anesthesia, analgesia, and paralysis. We’re going to talk about drugs that affect each of these.

I swear to you, dear keyboard-smashers, by the end of this article you will know more than a lot of junior doctors know, or at least manage to remember in the heat of trying to fix a critically ill patient, and you will understand why I want to slap so very many of my medical directors.

So let’s start with some definitions, some what-does-this-do:

Anon, this was so good I had to toss together a quick thing for it. Whumpee is he/him, the doctor is she/her. TW for drugging, restraint, medical whump(?), fear-aggressive whumpee.

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Whumpee kicked and heaved, bucking against the hands holding him down. “No! No!” His eyes were wild and unfocused, and he twisted against the exam table as three nurses wrestled him onto it. 

“Get him onto the table, there-” A doctor in a white coat follows, and her hair is scattered and clothing rumpled, as if just recently in a tousle. “Nurse, prep me seven hundred cc’s of amytal diazapine.” If her appearance is ruffled, her manner is practiced and stern as the door to the room swings shut behind her. 

“No! No, no, get off! Get off of me!” The whumpee is frantic, raging, nearly feral with it as he shakes and thrashes. The nurses manage to pin his upper half to the exam table, and the doctor lunges for one of the wrist restraints, wrapping the worn fabric around a straining wrist. The whumpee feels it happen, and the next scream that leaves his mouth rends through the air as something ragged and animal. The cuff is tightened, and the whumpee twists around and down and sinks his teeth into the closest nurses’ wrist. 

“Ah! God fucking damn it!” 

“Nurse! Get me that amytral!” 

The nurse staggers back with blood pouring from their wrist, and whumpee is halfway off the table before he’s stopped by the cuff. 

“Hold his legs,” she snaps, and the two remaining nurses obey with wide eyes. “Martinez, you’re out. Go.” The injured nurse staggers to their feet and quickly exits, and the doctor moves with decisive motions to prep the sedative herself. 

“No!” The whumpee is still crying and screaming as she approaches with the needle, and the blood staining his teeth is garish in the white florescent lights. 

“I know you don’t understand,” she says simply. “We are here to help you.” The whumpee bares his teeth and makes a bestial sound, and the doctor plunges the needle into the meat of his thigh. 

He shakes and snarls for a while after; long enough that the orderlies can’t let go of him, long enough for the doctor to double-check the dosage of the drug. But eventually his struggling weakens, and it is easier to pin his other wrist down and restrain it, then do the same for his ankles. 

Unconsciousness doesn’t take him, in the end. But the drug has flooded his system, and he still whimpers weakly as the nurses step away. 

“Holy shit,” one of them says quietly, and the other nods a breathless agreement. 

The doctor is breathless herself; and she takes only a moment to regain her composure. 

Well it depends partly on how ‘immobile’ you mean. Keeping someonecompletely still is pretty bad for their health in and of itself.

I also feel like I should include a general reminder that this iswriting advice. If I say something could be dangerous please don’t try it outon yourself or someone else.

I tend to approach restraints in terms of them all having differentrisks associated with them. Metal isn’t inherently more dangerous than plastic,it’s about how the restraint is constructed and what it’s used for.

And for obvious reasons I tend to know more about the ways modernrestraints are abused and misused than I do about the risks when something isused properly.

Plastic ties tighten easily. They can cut off circulation and that canfeed into tortures similar to finger-milking (hitting painful swellings in thehands caused by limiting circulation). They can also cause nerve damage bydigging into flesh for long periods, especially when they’re used in suspensiontortures and stress positions.

Rope can do exactly the same thing. But it tends to have more ‘give’ toit and it takes quite a bit more physical effort to cut off circulation withrope than with a plastic tie. It’s used less often nowadays so I’m actually notsure how likely nerve damage is with rope.

Metal restraints are more likely to cause broken bones. But I’ve hadmuch less problems with metal restraints cutting off circulation or causing generalpain. So long as they actually fit I’ve found them more comfortable.

I used to wear a pair of darby-style handcuffs as a bracelet. They’re heavy and that can make themuncomfortable in the long term (hours) but they’ve never left lasting welts theway plastic ties have or a numb tingling sensation the way rope has.

Generally speaking keeping people restrained in the longer term,anything over a handful of hours, is bad for their health in a variety of ways.

Being kept in an uncomfortable position where muscles are strained iswell- basically a stress position. It’s intensely painful and causes massivemuscle damage. The fluid release caused by the die off of muscle cells usuallyresults in visible swelling in the first 24 hours. After 48 hours it can leadto kidney failure.

Most long term restraint tortures allow a degree of movement becauseotherwise victims die.

Being kept immobile in a position where the muscles aren’t strained also kills. But it kills more slowly.

This bit is getting outside my area and into @scriptmedic’s so I’dsuggest consulting her for more detail. I’m thinking about bedsores (orpressure ulcers if you prefer), which develop when people don’t move much forlong periods. There are several different categories based on the severity,ranging from a sort of spongy blister to a deep open wound that reaches themuscle or bone.

Historically these meant a severely reduced life expectancy forparalysed people: medics literally didn’t realise they needed to be moved. Aquick search on bedsores came up with not only direct infection and sepsis, butinfections that spread into the bones and joints and a form of cancer ascomplications that could be lethal.

Which brings me to suggestions:

I’d say tailor the restraints in your story to what you want from thestory. The main questions to consider are how immobile the character needs tobe and for how long.

If keeping the character completely immobile is important then I thinkthe ‘safest’ option is probably a medical bed with 6 or 8 point restraints. Thisis a wheeled bed with tough fabric straps which secure someone in place. They’redesigned to reduce discomfort and the chance of injury and they keep peoplevery still.

There are also good reasons they’re used as a last resort.

Patients can experience friction burns, dislocated bones and broken bonesstruggling against either the application of restraints or the restraintsthemselves. Therehave also been cases of death in relatively short period of time from heartattacks. Keeping patients in such restraints for prolonged periods is notonly dehumanising but damaging to both their physical and mental health.

I don’t have exact time-frames for this. I’m aware that there have beencases of patients restrained in this fashion for a horrifically long period oftime who survived. But realistically…the kind of time frame these restraints aretypically used for is in the realm of hours not days.

If complete immobility is less important to the story but longer timeperiods are important I’d suggest using the sorts of restraints currentlycommon in China for restraint torture.

These are metal ratchetting cuff restraints with a chain between the cuffedhands and the legs. They allow the victim considerably more movement, they canwalk (but not run), handle objects and for the most part take care ofthemselves. They can’t straighten their back, the restraints keep them in anuncomfortable hunched position which causes general pain and discomfort.

But the degree of mobility and ability to relieve strained muscles meansthat unlike a stress position it doesn’t tend to kill.

Victimshave been kept like this for months at a time.

There are long term complications but less risk of sudden death. Longterm complications include chronic pain, weakened muscles, joint and muscularproblems, mobility problems and reduced fine motor control (in some cases dueto nerve damage in the hands caused by prolonged use of restraints.) These areproblems I’d expect to see after a month or more of constant use of these torturousrestraints.

Obviouslyvictims would also be affected by the general symptoms of torture.

Generally speaking there are also some things I’d advise avoiding inyour story if you don’t want the character to be injured.

Any restraint around the neck isdangerous.

Anything that tightens easily isdangerous; plasticties fall into this category and I’d suggest avoiding them in fiction andreality. Whether ropes fall into this category or not depends on the type ofknot.

Anything with a sharp edge isdangerous; metalcuffs can fall into this category but don’t always. Their edges can be rounded.Plastic ties almost always fall into this category.

A hangman’s knot is dangerous whatever part of the body it’sapplied too. It was designed to kill and unless you want the character dead orseriously injured it’s an unrealistic thing to use. If you’re interested in arealistic portrayal of injury from these knots and over 18 Sunstone by SSejic contains a pretty powerful scene of a serious injury in the BDSMcommunity.

I hope that helps. :)

Trust Us 1, 2, and 3 (MM/mm - State Asylum)      Post by heybro » 3 years ago              168-214 minutes              

Trust Us

Supple leather slid from side to side as he worked the shiny smooth material down over his back. Since there was a person sitting on both sides of him, the space given to take off his thick black leather jacket was limited. I always found myself transfixed by the black leather from a few rows behind not only on this Monday but every Monday, Tuesday, and Friday. I hardly ever paid attention to what symptoms this disorder or that disorder had, but I always took notes diligently. I would go over them outside of class when I lacked the opportunity to gaze at this “H O double T” man. He wasn’t some body-builder, yet just a step away from one. He had a very sturdy body. His masculinity shined through just in the way he sat. He was always sure of himself and very self-confident. He would hardly shift his body at all, which reinforced his very solid composure. It was like no one could make him unsure of himself; he was in control of any situation. He sat there immovable by anyone else but himself, and thick shiny parts of his supple leather jacket that he wasn’t sitting on spilled out around his body and over the edge of the chair. His hair was short, thick, and black and his eyes were deep brown. His whole body was fit. His biceps clung to his shirt, as did his thighs to his pants. The clothes were only tight where his muscle bulk pressed through. Now remember he isn’t some body-builder with way too many muscles, but close to it. When I saw him walking in the halls, if he had that supple leather jacket open, his pectorals would show through his shirt. He was like a perfect sculpture made out of stone. One day, I had found myself passing him in the hallway. As my gaze went up from his massive pecks to his eyes, I was shocked to see that he was starring right back at me. His returned gaze put me in an inescapable trance. It was as if his eyes held me before him. At that moment, I imagined that his body was clasping mine, and I couldn’t do anything about it, because his eyes held me right where he wanted me. That was the feeling I got from him. I wasn’t sure if it was me or him, or a combination of both. I forced myself away from looking into those eyes before it became too obvious, or had it already? The course was almost over, just two weeks left until the final. I wondered if he was a psychology major. If so, I would definitely be taking the next chronological psyche course, just to be with him, even though I hadn’t decided on a major yet. “…His shoulders are broad too and he wears this exceptionally thick black leather jacket,” I finished saying to my newly found campus freshman friend named Ryan. Ryan’s eyes got really big. It wasn’t because of my leather obsession; we both loved leather and checking out all the people we saw to have invested in such an easy to drool over jacket. Ryan’s eyes got big because the guy I had pointed out a few days earlier to be “my fixation” in psychology class had just walked past us, and apparently, he must have heard what I had said. My face turned red quite quickly. We both decided he may not have heard what we had said, and even if he did, he wouldn’t know it was geared toward him, would he? So, we just decided to not talk about him in public anymore. Friday came real fast. I couldn’t wait to get to psychology class. It was my last class of the day and it gave me a sort of reward to have it not only be my days closing but my weeks as well. I never grew tiered of looking at that supple shiny authoritative leather jacket. Today I got real daring. I sat right behind the guy and over heard him talking to his friend that always sat next to him. It turns out that this blonde haired, blue eyed equally built and authoritative guy’s name is Joey, yet I sill didn’t know the name of the guy of which I was fixated. I found something odd about their conversation. It came to a point where they were almost whispering and I couldn’t make out what they were saying. I thought I saw my favorite guy gesture in my direction, but it was so subtle that I didn’t give it a second thought. Class ended and I wasn’t satisfied, I wanted to meet “my fixation”, you know just find out his name, maybe even become friends and sit next to him, maybe his leather jacket would brush up against my side or something. But I didn’t have the guts; I couldn’t talk to someone as high-above as him. Yet, I had to do something. I don’t know what came over me as I saw him walking away, because I didn’t turn to leave out the front door to go to my house like I always had before. Instead, I followed him out the side door of the building. What was I doing? I was enjoying the view of that leather jacket stretched across his muscular broad shoulders, that’s what! He entered a parking lot and I followed. I mean if he sees me, I thought, he has no reason to question my being here. I could very well be going to the car that I do not have. Was this rational thinking, or had leather clogged my brain? “No,” I thought, “Everything is fine.” I was just letting my eyes take in his beautiful body and sexy black leather gloves and coat for a few more minutes today. He soon neared a car I was hoping he would. It was a black four-door Jeep Cherokee. I couldn’t tell if the seats were made out of supple leather or not. It wasn’t because I was too far away, I was close enough, but it was because the back windows were tinted. This made “my fixation” even more mysterious and desirable. When he approached the passenger side door he turned around and looked directly at me. His trance came over me again. His piercing eyes held me before him. I was his and there was nothing I could do about it. As he smiled, I felt two strong warm hands clench my wrist and a leathery covered strong body rub up against my back. “Hey Brian and Mark,” the body clenching me from behind said. I recognized the voice. My wrists were released from the strong warm hands and the leather slid away. I now saw that the man who had just expertly and efficiently caught me off guard was Joey, the guy who sat next to “my fixation” in psyche class. “What’s going on?” ‘my fixation’ asked. Joey answered, “Well I recognized you Mark and I thought I would sneak up on ya and surprise ya like.” “We better get going Joey,” my fixation ordered. “Would you like us to give you a ride home Mark?” my fixation asked. “Umm,” I stuttered. “Its no problem at all,” Joey added as he opened the back seat of the jeep and proceeded to guide me up onto the supple black slippery leather seats. Despite the abundance of leather in my vicinity, I managed to process one clear thought. My fixation’s name was Brian. Joey had said “Hello Mark and Brian.” “Brian,” I thought to myself as Joey climbed in after me, causing the seat to scrunch down due to the weight of his muscular body. Joey moved my seat belt across my waist and chest and then securely snapped it into the buckle. Brian started the car and we backed out of the parking lot. My eyes were on overload. They quickly ran from the thick scrumptious leather on Brian’s back in front of me, to Joey’s supple irresistible leather jacket beside me, and finally to a mess of black leather with thick dangling straps diagonally from me. “What’s that on the front seat?” I asked while motioning to the front passenger side. “Oh that’s just a straitjacket,” Joey explained as he put his hand on my neck and gave it a playful yet affirming squeeze. “We use it at our job,” Brian added. “Oh really?” I questioned, “Why would you need that for work?” Joey explained, “Well you see Mark, Brian and I work for the cities mental hospital, and we use this straitjacket for not only our safety but for the safety of the patients that we confine as well.” “Really?” I excitedly questioned. “Yeahhhh really,” Joey answered, “I mean sure we can pacify patients with our bodies, but this straitjacket serves as a nice cozy long-term means of restraint.” “It’s so neat how its made out of leather,” I managed to say. What was I doing! With just one sentence, I revealed my interest in bondage and leather! But Joey instantly responded with an enlightened tone, “Yeah, your right Mark, the leather makes it not only more comfortable for the patient, but it also makes it more durable and unyielding to the futile movements of resistance against the jacket the patient hopelessly makes.” Hey Mark I have an idea,“ Joey suggested, "Maybe you could try it on, just to see what its like.” “No he can’t,” Brian said, “That jacket is to be put on patients only. You know the rules Joey.” “Oh please,” I begged, “I won’t tell anyone, I would love to have it put on me, I have always wondered what it would be like.” Brian answered, “Well there is one way that we could put it on you, without breaking any rules… Oh no, but that wouldn’t work.” “No please, please, tell me what way,” my begging continued. “Well…” Brian explained, “we could somehow admit you into the institution, say … temporarily and somehow … make up an excuse to secure you into the jacket.” “Hey that will work,” Joey explained, “That will work just fine.” “What exactly is temporary admittance?” I asked. “Well we can admit you for a period of say 24 hours, for hmmm … say observation. We can then put you in the jacket for however long you want and then release you from the hospital after those 24 hours are up,” Brian explained. “Okay that will work, I mean it is the weekend, and I could have the jacket on all night?” I asked. “Sure Mark, however long you want,” smiled Joey. “So it’s settled. Mark, we both work tonight too, so this will be real fun,” Joey continued as he gave me a funny grin.

It didn’t take too much longer to get to Calm Crescent Psychiatric Institute for the Mentally ill. Brian finished saying “…and we work here to gain extra insight pertaining to our psychology majors,” as he parked the jeep at a side entrance marked, “Admittance.” Brian got out of the jeep and opened my door. It had to be opened from the outside because there were child safety locks on the backseat doors. With Brian right in front of me, sporting his thick leather jacket and gloves, Joey held onto my wrists and from behind escorted me out of the jeep. As Joey slid me out, the leather of his jacket rubbed firmly against the leather interior. Once both of our bodies were out, Joey crossed my arms over my chest, and leaned me firmly into his unzipped leather jacket. I could feel his massive pecks and stomach muscles pressing into my back. I squirmed a little as his unnecessary strong dominance over me felt awkward and out of place. He answered my resistance with a slight give in and a strong firm pull back. Joey’s strong hug continued. The leather from Joey’s jacket wrapped up and around my arms and his hold firmly pressed against my chest. One very strong message was being sent to me. Joey was in control and any resistance was simply futile. No resistance from me would matter. It would have to be his decision to let me go, not mine. I should have expected it; after all, I was going to be admitted as a “temporary mental patient.” They were probably just doing their normal routine of handling mental patients to make the whole thing look legit. Brian pulled out a ring of keys and unlocked the two deadbolts of the side door. I expected to enter a hustling and bustling room much like that of an ER, instead the inside room Joey escorted me into was rather small. A wheel chair sat in the right corner of the room and a massive medal door with two deadbolts was to the left side. Once in Brian used his keys again on the deadbolts. They could only be locked and unlocked with the keys because key holes were on both sides. After all this was a mental hospital. I could hear the swing of each bolt as it went into its locking place. The wheel chair’s seat was made of brown thick supple leather and heavy straps dangled from all sides. Brian clenched onto the brown leather wheel chair with his black leather gloves. This made that wonderful sound of leather rubbing up against leather. Brian pushed the chair away from the wall and towards me. He then set the breaks of the chair and moved to my front side and with Joey right at my back, they escorted me backwards towards the readily awaiting wheel chair of brown leather bondage. I say I was escorted but in reality I was clenched onto by their enticing dominant bodies and pushed firmly to where I needed to be. There was no question of their being in control. There is no way I could have brook free from them if I wanted to. I couldn’t imagine the frustration of what real patients would experience if they were admitted against their will. I was even experiencing major frustration with the dominance they imposed to insure my submissiveness, even though I wanted in deliberately. Joey stepped backwards to the side of the wheelchair as he eased me backwards into the chair. As I sank into the leather, I realized the submissiveness the chair would invoke. I sank into the overly padded leather of the seat as Brian and Joey efficiently and expertly started working on the straps. The chair would require effort to lift oneself out of its encasement even without the straps as I sank in so much. My wrists were tightly pinned to the leather side armrests of the wheel chair. Joey held my arms in place and Brian looped the strap. He then gave it a hard jerk before buckling it. They did this to my other wrist as well. Then my ankles were done in the same way. This time Brian held them securely to the padding of the thick supple leather and Joey looped the strap. Another hard tug was given and then they were buckled. I felt very secure, but only four straps had been done up so far. There were more, many more. Joey tugged a brown thick leather strap over my chest. The firm tug he gave it made it difficult for me to breathe. He slid it through the giant buckle as I heard the sound of leather stretching. Then more straps were tightly bound around my stomach, and neck, and two around both of my calves, knees, thighs, forearms, and biceps. With each strap, Brian or Joey braced the corresponding part of my body overly tight to the reaffirming leather padding of the wheel chair. Then the strap would be tightly looped, followed by a strong jerk and then buckled. Minutes later all the straps were finally secured. During the whole time only once did either of them say a word. They seemed to be so into what they were doing. The only time one of them spoke was when Joey smiled oddly as he was restraining my waist and thighs. He had noticed a little bulge. Not only had he smiled, but he also gently rubbed against it with his hand, pretending to be straightening a thick strap. His actions made me very horny and I wanted to rub against him in return, but the restraints were relentless to my request. When I thought they were all done with me and ready to wheel me to wherever, they both checked and rechecked each strap to make sure it was securely and tightly fastened. These guys were thorough. I could hardly breathe and they needed reassurance that I was not going anywhere! Of course I wasn’t going anywhere, I had some twenty straps encasing me to this sunken in leather wheel chair, in a small room with their two dominate bodies and two deadbolt double locks and they needed reassurance! I wondered if it was reassurance or reinforcement of the idea that I was totally theirs. This is what I had always wanted. I wanted to be securely restrained without the hope of self-release out of something made completely out of leather. All I could think of was that if this was good, the leather straitjacket they so promised me would be even better! Not only would the jacket be sensational, but having these two experts putting me in it would make the experience ten times as great. Especially when one of them was “my fixation” and the other was quickly becoming one himself. “Now just relax Mark,” Joey ordered, “Just relax. Take it nice and easy.” Brian continued, “We have secured you for your own safety as well as ours and thus you are now ready to be formally admitted into the hospital for care.” Brian unlocked the massive two deadbolts on the door to the side, Joey released the wheelchair breaks, and he rolled me down the hallway beyond the door. As soon as I was in, I could hear Brian from behind locking the deadbolts. Joey pushed slowly and steadily. There was something different in the way they were now acting. It was like before I knew them as sexually irresistible acquaintances, but now they had become sexually enticing guards. It must be because they are now at work I thought, and plus everything needs to seem legit. Once we neared what I thought to be the central part of the building, Joey stopped the wheelchair and Brian went into some of what appeared to be offices. “I will meet you in room 3,” Brian ordered Joey as he left. Without a word, Joey wheeled me down another corridor into a room marked 103. There were three deadbolts on the door but none of them had been locked so I was wheeled in without hesitation. The room inside was empty. It was a little bit larger than the room in which Brian and Joey forced me down into this confining leather prison of a wheelchair. There were no windows, and come to think of it, I hadn’t seen any since I arrived. There were only clear cubic blocks on the outside as we drove up, but no windows as for looking out or opening. Joey stopped my chair so I was facing the inside corner wall. A few minutes later I heard footsteps and the sound of leather rubbing up against itself. The footsteps entered the room from behind me and the door was sealed shut with the swing of the three deadbolts, each fitted with a different key. Brian approached me from the right and Joey the left side of the wheel chair. Brian held a clipboard. His hands were both masculine and feminine at the same time. They were strong yet fine up close, although his thick leather gloves no longer covered them. Brian said, “Mark you must now sign this packet of documents which allows us to take you under our care and be admitted into Calm Crescent Psychiatric Institute for the Mentally ill for temporary observation.” “Certainly,” I said and Joey gave me a wink. Brian moved the end of the clipboard towards me and Joey placed a pen in my right hand. Although the brown thick leather tightly and thoroughly held my wrists, I would still be able to move my fingers to write. Joey moved behind me and I didn’t even think about why. Brian pointed to the long thick black line at the bottom of the cover page and I signed my full name: Mark Thomas Fields. With that Brian took away the pen and clipboard and I felt a poke and saw Joey’s muscular hands guide liquid from a syringe into my right arm. I gazed up into his eyes. He was already looking into mine. “What are you doing…” I weakly demanded. “Oh settle down boy, We are in control here, we were before, and we will continue to always be,” Brian uttered with enjoyment. “Yeah Mark, I mean what are you gonna do about this sedative I am administering? Umm lets see … ah yes, you can sit right where you are unable to move due to the strong hard leather straps encasing your body right onto thick hard unavoidable leather,” Joey mocked with a smile. He was right though, I could do nothing as the thick leather straps pressing against my body in almost every location remained relentless to every twist and squirm I managed to make. “You cock,” I shouted in frustration, trying to wipe the smirk off Joey’s face as he watched me struggle. All I did was make his smile bigger. “Oh now there’s some interesting language,” Brian noted, “looks like you need to be calmed down. We can handle that Mark.” “This mild sedative will…” Joey started. As he talked I looked down again at the syringe. If only I had worn a long sleeve shirt I would have foreseen it. Joey’s crotch was at the same level as the syringe he handled and I could easily see massive bulk pressing up from underneath Joey’s pants. He pulled the syringe out and finished saying, “… will do the job of calming you down nicely.” “He’s giving you trouble,” Brian asserted to Joey. “Oh no, everything is fine, everything is just fine for our little Marky here…” Joey mocked as he pressed his hands down into my shoulders and gave them a quick affirming massage.

I became very dizzy and drowsy. I tried to ask why they had found it necessary to sedate me. Its not like I had resisted, and even if I had, I posed no threat to them, they would easily be able to subdue me. Yet, as I tried to talk, my words slurred together considerably. I no longer had the energy to move the muscles in my throat and mouth properly. “Mmm, don’t try to talk Mark you won’t be able to make any sense, absolutely no sense at all, little buddy,” Joey asserted in a very authoritative dominating tone. “Now Mark,” Brian explained, “you won’t have enough energy to do much of anything right now, we have administered a mild sedative. You will remain conscious and awake, although your body is pretty much useless to you now, even if your leather straps weren’t securely bound. Just relax and enjoy the ride. The injection will help your body to remain calm.” I began to feel very frightened. I was no longer in control, well I guess I never was in control, but after I was sedated against my will, I realized the true reality of not being in control. I had no idea what these guys would do to me now. They could do anything they wanted, and they knew it. I watched as they both walked behind me and returned in front of me holding massive bunches of leather. My heart rate began increasing. The leather they held before me was smooth, it was shiny, it was thick, it was black, and it was heavy. What more could you ask for in leather? Brian and Joey both eased themselves out of their thick heavy leather jackets and let them fall to the floor. They then pulled down their pants. Thick muscular legs stood, hugged by white boxer/briefs, before me. Both of their boxer/briefs were being considerably stretched out by something pulsating from within. “Hmm, dress-down Friday’s, I questioned to myself?” I thought their bodies couldn’t look any better. But I was wrong. They pulled their shirts off over their heads in seconds. The sculpted chests I was used to seeing penetrating from under their shirts, were now in naked view. Their bodies were more than I ever could have imagined. They both had beautifully sculpted eight packs and their pectorals sat on their chests like fruit from a tree. Their arms were also to die for. Their biceps were so defined I felt like fainting. Then they both took the leather they had brought which turned out to be leather jeans. They pushed their dominant legs into the leather pants and the supple leather slid up their bodies. This heightened the effect of their dominant, god-like bodies. They were definitely works of art, and deserved to be in a museum. Slowly they began walking towards me. The leather of their pants rubbed against itself with each stride as they towered over me. Then Joey bent over me and proceeded to unstrap my leather bound body. Both of their pulsating bulges were still very much visible to me. The leather of their pants was more malleable in forming around activities that were going on within their pants. It wasn’t like the stiffness of their denim jeans they originally had on. As they both worked on releasing me from my bondage the activity was basically the reverse of being strapped into the chair. A firm tug needed to be applied to each strap, as they had been strapped so tight. Once they were tugged away from me, the buckle could be slid out of its hole. It required much energy from both Brian and Joey, and I could see their biceps and other hard muscles working, including the ones encased by their tight leather pants. With each strap their bodies worked. Each movement was sturdy and non-fluctuant. They were dominate and in control. Slowly my body was able to breathe and the shock of freedom was apparent. Blood rushed to various parts of my body that were previously strained, or shall I say restrained? Yet, although my body was free, it was free to do nothing. I had enough energy to breathe voluntarily and to shift slowly in any given direction. Yet I did not have enough energy to do much constructive movement, like say stand up. And even if I could fester up enough energy to stand on my own or try to do anything else, it would take way to long for me to do so, and their alert and physically fit bodies would react and subdue me in no time. They would be able to handle anything I gave them, absolutely anything. Joey and Brian both clasped onto my wrists and lifted me effortlessly out of the sunken leathery wheel chair. They expertly and efficiently pulled my short sleeve shirt off over my head. I tried to pull back away from them, but they easily controlled my small-uncoordinated movements and returned me back to the position they needed me in, which happened to be right between the two of them. “This way your shirtless Marky, and thus the leather will be a lot more sensational up against your vulnerable body’s skin,” Brian commented. “Yeah, it will enable us to wrap you into the jacket more tighter too,” Joey chuckled. Their bodies were so close I could smell their fresh cleanness. There was no hint of perspiration as controlling me was not a strenuous task for their overly fit bodies. Before I knew it Joey was holding my arms and upper body in a hugged clasp in his strong arms and hands, and Brian unbuttoned and unzipped my pants. I couldn’t do anything about it. Joey held my upper body secure in a lock making my lower body readily available to Brian’s strong demeanor. “Brian’s right Mark,” Joey commented, “Everything you got, has to be made available for the leather. It’s far more sensational this way.” My pants were off like that, and so followed my socks and briefs. I was naked from the waist down and something was up. “Well what do we have here?” Joey laughed as both him and Brian took a turn at firmly squeezing my hard on. This sort of thing just may make your supposed temporary stay a little extended.“ "What,” I thought, “what were these two cocks talking about?” I couldn’t think straight. All I could manage to process through my sedated head was the fact that I was completely naked and completely theirs. I was theirs and no restraints were on me. The so-called “mild sedative” and the deadbolts would easily hold me. With their bodies in the room, I didn’t stand a chance. Then Joey, still behind me, clasped my wrists as he did earlier in the school parking lot. Again, I felt the firmness and strength of his smooth hands grab ever so tightly and wrap around my wrists. Before he had at this point let go of me, but this time he positioned his arms parallel to mine and wrapped his arms around my body. Another thing that made this clasp different from before, was that before my layers of clothing and Joey’s thick leather jacket were part of the embrace. But now, we were skin to skin. My upper body touched Joey’s firm pectorals and his biceps were wrapped around me. They were firm and well pressed up against my skin, because he was clenching so tightly. I was in a lock and he further expressed his control of me by leaning me back into his body. Before he had his upper body covered in leather. This time it was his pants, and I felt something at my back. It was hard, firm, and protruding. It was Joey, and it just got closer and harder as he pressed me back. From across the room I could see Brian pick up a mess of leather with dangling straps from all sides. He shook it out revealing a heavy, duty black leather rough straitjacket. This was not the one I had seen in the car. It was considerably more advanced as it looked more solid and secure. There were straps everywhere on it! It was very extensive, very thick, and very supple. It was also very intimidating as my heart raced. “Oh my God,” I thought slowly, or as fast as I could given my state, this was it. All my endless days of fantasizing came down to this. My dream was about to come true. Joey sensed my increase of heart beat and told me to just relax and that it was only a jacket. He said I was lucky to be fortunate to be placed into it. It was almost the size of my entire body! With the sight of this jacket, more blood rushed into my already pulsating hard on. I was ready to burst, and the jacket wasn’t even on me yet. I couldn’t hold it in, a load gushed out. Joey laughed, “Yep, an extensive stay may be in order.” He then released my right wrist and stroked me. I was still entirely his even with just one of his hands holding my arms across his and my body. Even without my sedated mind state, there was no doubt in my mind that he would still have had me. All the flipping and flailing I could possibly do transferred into no movements of Joey’s body. It was as if Newton’s laws had broken down. All my force transferred into nothing upon Joey. I could build up all the energy I had, but it would do nothing in altering Joey’s structural hold. Brian opened the black leather straitjacket towards my vulnerable body encased in Joey’s arms. The noise of leather rubbing against itself and Brian’s fleshy hands working it into the correct position kept my volcanic ejaculations coming. He held the jacket open and Joey began to outstretch my arms. I naturally tried to keep my arms from being extended. But it was useless. The weak muscles of my forearms and biceps were nothing compared to the granite works of Joey’s. My resistance wasn’t even noticeable. Joey outstretched my arms with great ease. No resistance on my part was great enough to show even the smallest sign of movement. The extremely cold sleeves touched Joey’s skin and mine at the same time as our arms were pushed into the gripping sleeves of the jacket. It slid on tightly and coated us as one. Even my shivers from the coldness of the leather jacket were pacified with no contest by Joey’s body. Then Brian clenched onto my wrists over the leather of the straitjacket and Joey released his clasp. At no time were my wrists free, they had simply shifted their grips. As Joey’s hands came out of the sleeves they slid down my arms and he gently rubbed his hands sensually against my skin. Once he had worked his arms the entire way out of the sleeves, his hands fell down onto my hips. He caressed my skin and firmly squeezed. “Mmm just relax,” Joey whispered into my ear. The leather jacket encasing my arms felt very heavy. By the look of it, it was also very reinforced. My hard on rubbed against the leather of the dangling straitjacket in front of me. It didn’t dangle for long. Joey soon was tugging on the backsides of the straitjacket. Brian guided the sleeves of my arms across my chest and up over my shoulders and Joey found their respective ends and tugged on those two. Joey gripped tightly onto the back bulk of the suit. They then pushed me over to a mammoth black leather couch that I hadn’t been able to see before. It was at an angle to the back of the room where the door was. I had previously been restricted to see this side of the room due to the position of my pacifying brown leather wheel chair. Joey pushed me down onto the leather couch. My hard on fell gently against the ever-soothing soft leather of the couch. The rest of my body followed as Brian and Joey pressed me down, crushing my hard on deep into the grains of the leather overflowing on the couch. Then they diligently tugged on the sides of the already cold binding jacket. They looped the middle thick heavy back leather strap and tugged on it with a hard jerk until they were convinced that this was as tight as possible. Then they buckled it and slid the remaining part of the strap through its pinning leather loop. With every tug and shift, the skin of my hard on rubbed against the leather couch with increasing noise and the threatening restriction of the jackets hug upon me grew stronger. After they had secured the middle back strap, it seemed to take them forever as they worked on four straps above this one, and four below it.

With each tug and re-tug and with each additional strap, the restraining straitjacket, hugged my body every so tighter and the pool I was producing on the black slippery leather supple couch increased. I was almost scared that the pool would run to where my face rubbed into the hard leather of the couch and that I would drown from it. I was immobile and would not be able to move my head to breathe if this happened. Fortunately, it did not happen. While restraining the back-straps occasionally one of their hands would run down my thigh and firmly caress it. This did not help the pulsating-ness causing my pool. I could imagine their bodies working above me. Leather from the waist down and flesh from the waist up. I could picture them struggling, not to control my meek movements, but to adequately secure the thick hard straps of the leather straitjacket as tightly as possible. Finally all the back straps were secured tightly and I was pulled up to a standing position. Joey got in front of me and they guided my arms in the sleeves of leather slightly back in front of me and through loops near my armpits. Then they both tugged on these and strapped them as they had the back-straps. Yet this time additional straps were tugged which apparently held the straps of my sleeves to my back. It was crazy, a strap on a strap! I was having trouble breathing and I was breaking into a sweat. I needed to take deeper breaths and the increasing need for air did not help my situation. The jacket’s extreme hug of tightness made it hard for me to take normal breaths. They both then guided two thick heavy padded leather straps down each side of my member. The two overly thick sensational sensual leather crotch straps came down from the front and up to the back. They firmly tugged on both and although the leather was padded and soft, it hurt a little near my member as they tugged. They tightened it so very much that the two straps merged together from my front and into my butt crack. It was a new feeling of captivity. I was almost split into two as they jerked the straps for tightness. They had just applied thick supple leather near my privates: my penis and my anus. In this it symbolized having control over these parts. The leather was not going to move. It was going to continue to have its pressure applied to these areas and stay wrapped around me and in control. The jacket now had an affirming hold on me. I could not squirm out of it because it bound the front of the jacket to the back with the firm straps up my ass crack. I tried to spread my legs in hopes the ass straps would slide down just a little bit. But it was no use, they were not going anywhere. The two leather straps firmly tugged and remained that way against my body. Then they started working on two straps in my front to make my leather coated arms unable to go over my head. Like the straps in the back and my armpits weren’t enough! They were in no way going to go over my head like the straps of prick Houdini’s straitjackets. As they buckled them, I felt so hopeless. My eyes were looking right down at the straps being looped but my arms were bound across my chest and useless to do anything. It was so frustrating, my hands were like two feet away, but the lack of holes in my sleeves made my hands useless to do anything, but remain in their restrained state. I could do nothing but watch their strong fleshy hands tug the front strap into place. My arms were definitely not going anywhere. Next my soft supple leather collar was strapped against and around my neck with the strap applied overly snug; it went up right under my chin and caressed right up against my skin. They then checked and rechecked every strap and every body part. By this time the jacket was anything but cold. My body heat and my perspiration made the jacket considerably warm. I was having trouble breathing and they told me to, “Just relax. The jacket has you and it won’t hear of you leaving it, or maybe we should say, it won’t hear of you trying to leave it.” They were right, the jacket was in no way going to let me leave, and in fact wouldn’t even let me try to leave. True I was in a drugged state, but the reality of it all was that I could not even begin to squirm. There was simply no room! My arms were extremely tight in being wrapped around myself. They could go neither up or down and the leather slightly clung to my skin. I say only slightly because they had not finished strapping. Soon they fastened small straps that circled my biceps, and forearms. I struggled hopelessly against the straps, the leather, and their tugs. I went no where with it, the leather jacket continued to hug me and wouldn’t budge, and they continued to strap. The smaller straps sealing the leather to my body made the leather stick to my skin. If I could dislocate my shoulder, which would not work anyway with this tightness, I would not be able to pull my arm away from its matching location of the leather. The leather literally was on me. I tried tugging my arms from right to left; they budged a fraction of a inch. Brian saw this and pushed my left side into his bare rock hard chest and firmly sculpted abs. He then pulled my right elbow towards him. He ordered me to take a deep breath and then let it all out. I did, and he said it wasn’t good enough and had me do it again. I took in as much air as I could, but the tightness of the jacket’s hug made deep breathes almost impossible. I then let out the air I managed to get in. A small amount of slack was produced because they instantly tightened more of the straps with very hard jerks, that almost knocked me off my feet. Joey would have easily caught me though, his body continued to press firmly against mine. This was ridiculous; I was theirs already, why nit-pick about a fraction of a fraction of slack! But they were experts and perfectionist I suppose. As I tried to breathe in again there was an even smaller amount of room to breathe. My chest barely moved with each breath; there was no room to expand my lungs. The leather was as tight as tight could be. I sensed they felt great pleasure in having me be in this straitjacket. I felt pleasure too, I loved the feeling of helplessness, and submissiveness that I was not only the leather straitjackets, but I was theirs! The fact that they were cocks only increased the sensation.