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With the start of summer break marking the end of an extenuating school year as well as the approach of my fifteenth birthday, I would've normally been looking forward to spending a few weeks up at the lakeside cottage my parents had rented up north. The arrival of my grandparents, aunts and uncles should've been the highlight of that trip, but much to my own unending annoyance, my thoughts continued dwelling on the unforgettable events that had taken place at Sammy's house just a few weeks before.
Spotty cellphone reception aside, my friend's somewhat uncommunicative nature also proved a tad bit irksome. I subtly tried getting him to divulge juicy details about Shane's enforced grounding, but my friend was utterly clueless and not particularly forthcoming about it. I ended up having to press him with very specific questions, but even then, the responses I received did little to quench my curiosity.
Sammy did share a few nuggets of information with me during the second week of my stay at the family cottage. And from what I managed to piece together and deduce, his brother Shane had spent the last week or so heavily restrained pretty much day in and day out.
I, at one point, asked my friend whether Shane was being obnoxious or making a fuss about it at all, but Sam merely told me that he couldn't, mostly due to the fact that his dad always kept the troublesome teen's mouth dutifully taped shut.
Don't ask why, but receiving that particular confirmation pleased me immensely.
It's only a few days prior to my family's planned return home that Sammy seemingly texted me out of the blue, informing me of a somewhat exciting change occurring at his place.
My heart admittedly sank a little when I read the first text message telling me that his dad was tired of keeping Shane restrained via extensive ropework and elaborate, time-consuming knots. The spotty cellphone reception left me in the dark for several long minutes before Sammy's other text messages finally spilt in, immediately lifting my spirits back up.
"Dad just brought home this special chair from his work. It's sorta like a prisoner restraint chair. Has wheels, a headrest and a bunch of straps all over the place. He also brought home this...weird thing for my brother's mouth. Shane absolutely hates it. Haha! But it's actually keeping him quieter than the duct tape did. Plus it's way less of a bitch to take off." his text messages read.
I naturally tried pressing my friend for more info, but Sam just kept answering with frustratingly generic "Yeah, you'll see." type responses.
I was quite honestly thrilled to learn that Officer Bob was still keeping his eldest son under strict captivity, but as you can probably imagine, those text messages from Sam did little to take my mind off things and only served to make the countryside cottage-bound days go by even slower. Suffice it to say, I spent the final stretch of our stay at the lakeside cottage quite literally moping around and counting the hours.
I was so happy during the drive back home, and was even happier to visit my friend the next day and see that troublesome chair-bound brother of his. Even more so upon learning that we had the house to ourselves due to Officer Bob being at work that day.
But yeah, Sam hadn't been kidding when he'd mentioned the profound excessiveness of the specialised restraint chair his dad had brought home. His text messages did not - in any way, shape or form - prepare me for the sight that greeted me as he led me into Shane's messy, sock-littered bedroom.
Considering Shane's habit of being a prick, not only with his younger brother but with pretty much everyone younger than himself, I would've normally been a little skittish about entering the disreputable teen's unruly domain. Shane was no threat to us now though. At least, not in his current state.
Even though my view of the restraint chair was limited due to the fact that it was facing away from me, I could immediately tell that it wasn't the standard wheelchair used to transfer dangerous prisoners from one prison facility to the next. This was something out of a maximum security detention centre; an outrageous contraption designed to ensure the safety of those dealing with the worst criminals and most high-profile crime lords on the planet.
"Come on in. It's okay. He won't bite." Sammy chuckled, motioning for me to follow him into the bedroom upon noticing my hesitant form still standing by the doorway.
The older teen immediately protested upon realising that his brother had brought a guest over, but judging from the surprisingly muffled quality of his complaints, I knew something quite hefty was occupying his notoriously foul-worded oral cavity.
As soon as I followed my friend into the bedroom and walked up to the front of the heavily padded restraint chair, my eyes bulged wide open and my jaw went slack. "Oh my god." was the only thing I could bring myself to mumble.
The angry creaking of jet-black leather filled my ears as the rebellious teen twisted and fought against the innumerable straps keeping him glued down to the very generously padded restraint chair.
Shane's limbs were individually strapped down to the chair's padded arms and leg holders. His palms and fingers flailed around wildly but posed nary a threat to the half-dozen safety straps keeping each of his arms trapped in place. His legs and thighs were splayed open and separately strapped down into equally well-padded leg holders, while the rest of his body endured a similar fate.
Though his torso was kept strictly glued into the chair by a series of thick restraints, not to mention a particularly impressive X-shaped chest harness, the straps that would've normally been used to secure his head to the heavily cushioned headrest had mercifully been left unbuckled; allowing the boisterous prisoner to shake his head from side to side in a crazed attempt at telling his brother that he wasn't okay with guests being paraded into his room like this.
"Mggggghh uuggh mppggh pphhggmm ughphhmm!" Shane angrily cried out, or rather, tried to. As soon as the plethora of indecipherably garbled words left his mouth, the struggling teen broke down into a coughing fit before narrowing his eyes down on the gag keeping his mouth in check and angrily throwing another hissy fit.
Though only a leather strap going over his mouth and around the back of his head remained visible; it would've been plainly obvious even to the most unobservant of onlookers that something truly massive was keeping his screams at bay. Poor Shane's cheeks were left bulging and he very obviously was having a LOT of trouble dealing with his gag.
"What are those for?" I eventually asked, silently marvelling at the massive chair's seemingly unbreakable build before eyeing the unbuckled headrest restraints with a look of unbridled curiosity.
"This one goes over his neck. This one is for his forehead. This one goes like...over his mouth and lower face, and this one goes underneath his chin and connects to the forehead strap. When those straps are done up, he can't even move his head or turn his face at all." Sam snickered, casually explaining what all the head straps were for.
"How come they're not done up then?" I asked, feeling a tinge of excitement at the fact that Shane's predicament could be made even more restrictive than it already was.
"Mmggggpphh! Mggghg pphhgh!" the angry teen threateningly shot, much to my slight surprise and his younger brother's visible amusement.
"Haha! They normally are, but I guess my dad was feeling pretty generous this morning." Sammy shot back, 'causing the older teen to struggle against his restraints and mutter indecipherable curses behind his mesmerisingly effective and truly mysterious gag.
"What's that thing do?" I then questioned, allowing my eyes to roam about the impressive restraint chair for a few more seconds before motioning towards the largest of the circular knobs located at the upper back of it.
"That? Oh, that controls the tightness of the chest restraint." Sammy cooly explained, loud clicks echoing about the room as he grabbed hold of the prominent knob and slowly turned it clockwise.
*CLICK*
*CLICK*
*CLICK*
*CLICK*
"The more you turn those knobs, the tighter the restraints become." my friend uncaringly went on, causing the massively padded chair's X-shaped chest harness to tighten while at the same time completely ignoring the older teen's positively furious complaints.
"That's...pretty intense." I finally commented, causing both of the room's occupants to signal their agreement; one through laughter and the other through hopelessly garbled grunting.
But you know what they say, right? He who laughs last, laughs best. Shane may not have been much of a threat to us that day, or even the next or the one after that, but something beyond my, Sammy or even Bob's control was brewing.
Shane had friends. Many friends. And if there's one thing he didn't take kindly to, it was being mocked and made fun of by his younger brother Sammy. Shane would eventually have his revenge. It was only a matter of time.
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