Thomas was exploring an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of town. The derelict building has been out of commission for year. Kudzu vines enthral the concrete exterior, wrapping and twisting around metal bars and broken glass. The sun painted the sky with crimson strokes as it set below the horizon. Thomas was hoping to take some industrial photos for his college photography class.

The warehouse was easily accessed by a doorway devoured by rust and and decay. The metal door ajar and inviting.

Inside the warehouse was nondescript and barren. Vibes crept through broken windows and exploded across the metal beams supporting the roof of the building.

Thomas paused to explore a pile of boxes, only to be surprised by an ambush of tape.

Sentient rolls of thick, sticky duct tape sprang into action. Firstly wrapping his arms and legs tightly. Thomas was stunned, stumbling back as his arms were forced across his chest in a tight bear hug, resembling the feeling of an inescapable straight jacket.

Thomas bumped into his camera stand and knocked it over, he swiftly followed it to the ground. The tape continued to wrap and ensnare him under multiple layers of bondage despite his struggling and writhing on the ground.

The tape was wrapped around him so tight he could hardly struggle. It wouldn’t budge, firmly holding him in his mummified position.

Finally, the tape wrapped around his head.

“Mmpphh!”

“Grmmphhh!”

Thomas’ struggles were futile. He belonged to the tape now by noir 100