- boygaggedThe Stand-In
The guy popped a digital card into a slot of the video camera. He started the camera rolling. "You want any more to drink?"
Danny shook his head, downed the last of the juice in the glass, and winced at the bitter aftertaste.
"Let's do this," he blurted and descended the stairs into the basement.
The filmmaker had been very clear about what he needed. A stand-in for some test video of a kidnap movie he was planning. Danny had met the guy at a wrap party for a film that a friend of his had been working on. Danny wanted to be in the film business – as an actor or producer. He was good looking, kept himself fit. He was young and eager. Plus he had some money he was coming into soon – on his 21st birthday in less than a week. All he knew was, he wanted to be a part of something big.
"I've been watching you all week hanging around the set," the guy had told him at the party. "You're the same age and build as the lead actor for my new film. But he can't make it for the test shots."
Danny jumped at the chance to help. Plus the guy told him there might be a role for him – if he proved photogenic enough in the video. Danny agreed to meet him at his house...after signing a confidentiality agreement that he wouldn't divulge what he was doing and where he was going. "Movie legal stuff," the guy explained. "There's a lot riding on this."
The basement floor was ice cold against Danny's bare feet. He shivered. The costume he had been given to wear didn't cover him much. Tank top and gym shorts. Bare feet. Nothing much else.
"Sorry about the draft, but these are the shooting conditions," the filmmaker explained as he set-up his running camera onto the tripod. "In the movie, a rich kid's been stalked by a kidnapper – and then surprised in his basement during his workout. You work-out, right? Yeah, I thought so. You’ve got the body for it. Anyway, he ties the kid to a chair and takes some video for the ransom request."
All of a sudden, Danny's vision got fuzzy, and he swooned a bit.
“Hey, you okay?" the guy asked, steadying a firm hand against Danny's arm.
"Just a little light headed," Danny said. "I'm fine. We can get started."
The filmmaker widened out the camera to check the shot.
“Now, I’m documenting all this to be sure we can reproduce it perfectly later. Okay, uhm, assume the position,” the guy laughed.
Danny crossed his wrists behind his back, and the guy got to wrapping them with clothesline. He pulled the slack tight, making Danny wince. "They have to be secure for the realism of the scene. Plus I need to know if the actor can take it or not. You doing okay? Too tight?” Danny shook his head. More rope was used to pull his elbows together and knotted in the center. More rope was lashed around Danny’s chest and looped between his armpits, binding Danny's arms snuggly to his sides.
The guy stepped back to check the knots and adjusted the rows of rope so they looked just right.
“How’s that? Still doing all right?”
Danny nodded and coughed. His throat was suddenly going dry.
"Now open up," the guy said. Danny had just a brief moment to take a breath before a rag was being stuffed deep into his mouth. "The kidnapper really does this first,” the filmmaker explained, “so no one will hear the rich kid cry for help." He plastered Danny's mouth shut with several strips of silver duct tape.
“Go on, try to yell for help.”
Danny shrugged.
“Mmmmmmmmmmppppppppppppppppphhhhhhhhhhhhhhf!”
“Yeah, see? Keeps the kid nice and quiet, so no do-gooders come to rescue him,” the guy said. “Okay, into the chair."
The guy helped Danny position his arms back and lowered his body onto the low-backed wooden chair. Danny's ankles were wrapped and tied somewhat loosely to the back right and left legs of the chair, a slack line of rope going from one leg to the other. "You should be able to move your feet and the chair about. Lets the audience think you might have a chance to escape," the guy told him. "Okay, on 'Action', you struggle and try to get free."
Danny nodded, blinked his eyes, and tried to shake off his drowsiness. When the man said "Action," Danny struggled and moaned for all he was worth. Several minutes went by, and the guy didn't yell "cut." Finally, completely exhausted and panting, Danny stopped struggling.
“That was great!” the guy beamed. “You’re a natural, kid.”
The guy moved away from the camera, but it kept recording. He reached into a backpack.
“Bet you're feeling light-headed and ready to pass out right about now." Danny nodded, looking inquisitively at him. "That's good," the guy said as he moved behind the chair and grabbed up the excess rope from behind Danny's feet. "That means the drug I put in the juice is doing its job. You'll be unconscious in another minute." He leaned in close to Danny's ear and whispered: "I want you out for the van ride."
The guy grabbed the excess rope binding Danny's feet and suddenly pulled it up. Danny's feet snapped back and hewn tightly to the legs of the chair. He jumped at the sudden pain and started to struggle again, but he was growing weaker by the moment. The guy wrapped the rope around Danny's wrists, lashing them securely to the lower rung of the chair.
He quickly wrapped more rope around Danny’s chest and stomach, tying him tight to the back of the chair. He took the duct tape roll and wrapped more bands snugly around Danny’s head, about five wraps, sealing in the stuffed gag. Danny cried out for real this time, but he made even less sound. He had been rendered silent.
The guy opened the outer door to the basement, where a van sat with its back doors open. He tossed the backpack of supplies into the waiting vehicle.
"We'll just keep you tucked away somewhere else for a few more days – until you're officially twenty-one and that trust fund of yours comes available," the man said. Danny tried to focus and keep his eyes open. "That gives me plenty of time to get the account number out of you," the guy laughed. Danny tensed as he felt the man's hand encircle his crotch. "By whatever means necessary."
“Of course, your little acting performance won’t go unnoticed,” the guy said, moving the camera to his shoulder and continuing to film as he expertly broke down the tripod with one hand. “Plenty of folks will pay handsomely for an authentic kidnap video — especially when the victim is as innocent and as hot and as stupid as you are. That’s a winning trifecta right there. Thanks for getting me started in the biz, kid.”
The guy zoomed-in tight on Danny’s pleading, desperate, gagged expression.
“So, Danny, tell our audience how it feels to make your own trap — and willingly allow yourself to be tied-up and gagged by a complete stranger? Didn’t your folks teach you any better?”
The guy got rid of the tripod and spun the chair around. He leaned it back and started dragging Danny toward the open door. Danny's vision blurred to black, and just as he finally nodded off to sleep, he heard the man's voice one last time:
"We'd better hurry. The real owners of this house will be back from work any minute now…"
