homas greeted Ursula and Jane, the two ladies chatting in the kitchen but as always, they barely noticed him. He nodded friendly in direction of Shawna, but she did not even blink. He sighed and went back to his desk. He was just a nobody. Not that they actually bullied or harassed him. No, they just ignored him. Not only the girls, the men, too.
He sighed again and logged himself into the pay slip system to get back to work. The job was really boring, his life was really boring, damn it, he was really boring. He had been boring all his life, coming from a dynasty of boring men. His father had been an accountant, a greyish man in greyish clothes, his grandfather had been an accountant and even his great-grandfather had been one. “It’s in our genes, numbers run in our blood” his dad once had told him.
He was not so sure about that. His father had been content with his life, as far as a son can really understand his dad. He had worked Monday to Friday in the office, the same company for 45 years, everyday after work he had walked home, to clear his head, he had told him many times although he knew his dad was secretly smoking on his way home, a habit his mother hated. Everyday at 6 he had entered the house, kissed his mother, had a drink and at 6:30 it was dinner time, after that news on TV, a movie or sports and around 10 he would go to bed. Saturday was the day for grocery shopping, garden activities or things that had to be done around the house, Sunday was time for reading and board games. Monday was stew day, Tuesday was steak day, Wednesday was cheese and macaroni day, Thursday was meat loaf day, Friday was fish day …
As a teenager, Thomas had tried to rebel, a bit. He grew his hair a bit longer, he read comics, came home ten minutes late. Nothing very exciting but enough for his father to take him for a long walk and explain the importance of a tidy and scheduled life. Discovering that he was gay with 17 was a shock for him as it was something totally unscheduled and unplanned. He could hide his orientation as he was not the flamboyant queer type and he had no boyfriend during school time. He even went out to the prom with Sarah Guntersberg, his only closer friend at school.
In college he had been an outsider, not exactly a nerd nor a jock. He had some friends, the Forgotten Lot they had called themselves, grey boys and girls, just like him.
It was back then, when he realized that he in fact was not that grey, not that boring. He was only forced into that life by education and the circumstances. In fact, he discovered his love for bizarre gay porn. Not too bizarre. But guys in leather or rubber, manly guys with muscles and cigars, with leather caps and harnesses. Really, not that kinky but compared to his boring life, this was super exciting. Of course, he never bought leather for himself, nor did he ever date a guy like that. He was not the muscular type, he had nearly no body hair and even second-hand smoke made him cough. So watched his porn movies and wished to be a bit more like those men.
After graduation, he took a job, recommended by his father. He moved to another town but inside his head, his family was always there. There was no freedom for him in the big city. He bought clothes, he knew his mother would approve of, he got his hair cut always in exact the same boring business cut his father had ordered him to get when he turned 17. He went to bed early because “being up early is a sign of a good character”. He kept his small flat perfectly tidy, always hearing his mother’s voice in his head. When he had first arrived in the city, he had explored the gay area, he finally saw some of those leather men in real life but he was just nervous, spilled his coffee and ashamed ran back home never to return. In month two of his “freedom” he had the crazy idea of getting an earring, nothing extraordinary, just a sign that he now was the master of his own life. He saw other men at the company with earrings, even some had tattoos. “But when other jump from a bridge, would you jumo, too?” he heard his father in his head. And he imagined the disappointed face of his mother when she found out, he had put holes in his body. So, no earring for him. No drinking, no gym (waste of time, according to his father), no party (you have to be respect, today with all those selfies and internet, who knows who will take pictures of you drunk and put them online, his mother had warned him). He went to work, where he was invisible. He went back home, being invisible in the streets. In his flat he always had a small dinner, watched some TV and in the end jerked off to some leather porn.
It was the day of his 27th birthday, when he could not stand it any longer. He looked back and saw, that every decision his life had been made for him. Enough is enough. He needed to take things in his own hand. He did not think of anything really radical, just doing what he wanted, maybe going out to the gay-area again. With nearly 30, he was a bloody virgin. But making a decision and living accordingly are two different things. Where to start? What to do?
It was a Saturday and what better way to celebrate his birthday than returning to the gay area and get his first gay experience. He was excited, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt he felt like a rebel already. But the evening was a disappointment in every aspect. Most of the bars were filled with young, slim, glittering fairy-boys for whom he was invisible. The one bar with leather men had a bouncer and he told Thomas that there was a strict dress code for the club. So around 11 in the night, he was already back home, drinking some beer and then crying himself to sleep.
The next morning, he was reading in the magazine OUT he had grabbed in one of the fairy-bars. Maybe there was a club for invisible men like him, or a boring gay club, backgammon maybe. He had nearly finished the magazine when he arrived at the small adds section. It was Sunday, it was raining, he had nothing better to do, so he scanned the adds. He stopped at one. Hypnosis-Therapy by professional psychologist. You have problems with your self-confidence? You are haunted by unexplainable fears? You want to stop smoking or lose weight? Private and discrete sessions. First interview for free. Call or write an email for an appointment.”
Thomas had heard about hypnosis therapies. Surely his parents would tell him that this was all nonsense, but he knew that a guy from work had stopped smoking with the help of hypnosis and he had read something about it in a medical journal in the waiting room of a doctor some months ago. It seemed to be an easier way than a real psychotherapy and he knew that came if he waited any longer. He was unhappy, he was lonely. He needed go get rid of his parents, he needed to make his own decisions – and be a bit more open to changes, to adventure. And what could he lose? He could call the guy, talk to him and decide afterwards. The add said that he could phone 24/7, so why wait? He took a deep breath, grabbed his mobile phone and typed in the number.
“Hello, this is Dr. James Hulternbrock, how can I help you?” “Aehm, yes, aehm, my name is Thomas Hill and I saw your add in the OUT-magazine …” “Ah, yes and how can I help you? Do you want to lose weight, stop smoking?” “Aehm, in fact, I call because I am a very … introvert person…” “Don’t be afraid Mr. Hill, you are not the only man with self-confidence issues, in fact a majority of men, especially gay men, have a problem – in one or the other way. Would you mind coming over to my office? As the add says, the first meeting is always for free. We can discuss your problems and I can see what solution I can offer you, how does that sound?”
Thomas agreed to meet the Doctor in his office in an hour and of course he was perfectly punctual. In fact, he was nearly ten minutes early. “Better wait some minutes than being late” he could hear his mother say. “Oh, why don’t you just shut the fuck up!” he thought and giggled – but felt ashamed a second later.
The doctor was a large man in his 50’s, bearish looks, gut, big full beard, zero cropped fringe around a shiny bald head, very deep and calm voice. He guided Thomas into a small office. No sofa, just chairs, he realized. They had some small talk before they finally came to the point. Thomas opened up in a way, he had never thought he could. He told the doctor everything, about his boring life, his secret love for leather men, his loneliness and the wish to silence his parents voice in his head. “Can you help me, Doctor, I know, I am really messed up!”
The doctor smiled and patted Thomas’s knee with his big, fleshy and hairy hands. “I can assure you that you are not messed up. Not much. A lot of men go through this, it is just the way you were brought up, your socialization, so to speak. What you call your secret desire just shows that you need to come really out of the closet. I cannot do magic, you will not lay down being your old self and wake up being a self-confident muscular leather daddy, BUT I can help you to be free, to take things in your hand. And who knows, maybe you will get that earring in the end.” He laughed a very warm and nice, deep laugh and Thomas smiled. That would be a start.
The price for a therapy sitting was not quite cheap, but he had no hobbies and a good salary. It seemed worth the money and so he accepted a hypnosis-treatment for next Thursday. The doc was alone in his office once again. The minute he saw Thomas leave the building vis his security cam, he grabbed his phone.
“It’s me. Yes. I guess I found a new candidate. He is adorably naïve, that’s for sure. Oh yes, he will make a perfect puppy, yes, yes. Just be here 5:30 p.m, next Thursday. I will plant in the trigger word and he should be wax in your hands. Yes, yes, like always. It will last around 2 hours I guess, you can re-trigger him, but only once. When you are done with your job, just call me and we work on his brain a bit longer. Yeah, me, too. Ciao.” Boris had worked together with the Doc for several years now. It was not like his friend was sending him guys on a regular base, just now and then. Guys, who were trapped in their boring lives but had some kink in them. He loved transforming those boring guys in his puppies or rubber slaves – for a while, show them their dark sides and then let them go. He had met four guys like that over the last 15 years. It was not exactly a mafia going on here. He was just a very dominant leather master as was the doc, by the way. And from time to time, he loved having this absolute power over guys, who were unaware of what was happening to them. This Thomas would be his rubber-puppy for some days. He would get him all dressed up, cut his hair into a nice, short, manly cut and they would implant some ideas into his mind, like enjoying this new experience, growing a beard, finding his true self. It was kind of a charity, wasn’t it?
Thomas was nervous, when he came back to the doctor, nervous and excited. This time, they were in a room with a couch and he had to lay down after some small talk. The room was comfortable, warm and the lights dim. The doc had explained him that he had to relax. He drank a funny tasting herbal tea and listened to some smooth urban jazz music, while he actually started to feel relaxed. “Was there something in the tea?” he asked the doc and to his surprise he nodded. “Yes, actually it’s I magical concoction. The recipe is an old secret, given to witchdoctor after witchdoctor for hundreds of years!” Thomas stared at him, but the doc suddenly laughed. “Calm down, it’s just valerian, lemon balm and lavender. It helps you to relax and makes your more receptive to my messages.”
Thomas was not totally sure what was the truth here. But the tea had a calming effect to him. Not that he felt dizzy or strange, nor drug or drunk. He just could feel some warmth in his belly and that the tension in his muscles slowly went away. He felt comfortable and relaxed. And then, the hypnosis began. First, it was just music, a different music now. The doctor asked him to close his eyes and breath. “Just concentrate on your breath, slowly in, slowly out. Listen to the music”.
For the first five minutes or so, Thomas felt no changes, but then, kind of suddenly, he felt a very deep relaxation. It was like dreaming without sleeping in a way. He felt nice, and warm and safe, his arms and legs were heavy and he could actually feel all his muscle relax, even in his face. His mouth dropped open a bit, just as if he was sleeping.
The warm and deep voice of the doctor entered his mind, told him to breathe, concentrate on his voice and keep relaxed and calm. Thomas heard him speak, and speak and speak. A constant flow of words, but after a short time, he could not actually understand what the doc was saying. He felt the words, he felt the vibration of his deep timbre as if his bones swung with the voice. He felt his brain going soft, become liquid. Not a terrifying feeling at all. It was the deepest relaxation he had ever felt in his life.
“Now listen to me, my voice is all that matters now. Thomas, you are haunted by the ghosts of your past. You have to let all that go. You are the master of your life, not our daddy or your mummy, do you understand me, Thomas?” Thomas nodded but that was easier to say than to do. But wait, was it really?
“Thomas, do you see a box? Please, Thomas, imagine a box, a large box. Do you see it now?” Thomas nodded. It was big wooden box with metal fitting, a pirate-treasure box.
“Take all your fears, all your insecurities, and put them in that box for me! You can do it Thomas, just trust me, ok?” Thomas nodded again and started to pack rolls of paper into the box, all inscribed with his fears. He visualized the words. Always being tidy, always being perfect, always thinking what other may think of him. He put a photo of his parents into the box, too.
“Now, lock that box, close it, lock it and put the key aside, will you do that for me?” Thomas did as commanded.
“Now, Thomas, this is good. You are free now, free to discover who you really are. You are free to explore your true self now.” This affirmation went om for several minutes and the doc saw Thomas smiling broadly in his deep trance. So far, so good.
“Now, listen to me, Thomas. I will help you find your true self. When you leave my office after our session, you will meet a man, he is a nice man, a friendly man. When he asks you: “Can you tell me, what time it is” You will hear a click in your mind. This man is good for you, you will know that. You will be do, whatever he suggests, you know it is good what he wants. When he wants you to dress in different clothes, you will obey, when he ask you for a new haircut, your will obey. You know, all this is for your own good. You know, there is no danger. You know this is nothing but a game. And games are fun. You will actually enjoy doing what he says. Even when you are afraid, you know this is for your own good. You will obey, even if some of the commands may sound strange to you. In the end, you will be totally free, you can finally discover who you are. You appreciate the option he offers you.”
This went on for quite some time. The same message over and over again. After that, just some music, while the doc texted Boris. “Will be there!” was his answer. It was time to conclude the hypnosis.
Thomas was coming back to his senses. He felt great, still deeply relaxed and refreshed but he could not actually recapitulate the words of the therapist. He mentioned that to the doctor.
“That’s quite normal. I just made you lock away your fears and insecurities. Nothing to worry about. It can take some time for the hypnosis to take hold in your mental system, but it will work, I promise. We will have one session in about two weeks as re-affirmation. Don’t expect any miracles. I can jus help you discover, who you really are. It will take time for you to figure that out!” Boris was getting nervous. It was 5:20 already and he was stuck in traffic. Shit. He tried to call the doc, but he did not answer the phone. That was a good sign, it meant that the client was still with him. Ten minutes for 1,5 miles, normally no problem, but with traffic like that he would easily need 15 or 20 minutes. He sent a text message, asking the doc to hold his client back a bit. He arrived at the building 5:37 but could not find a spot to park his car. Damn it! Finally, he was back at the building, sweating. He checked his watch, 5:41 and still no Thomas. Good. He relaxed.
Thomas had left the building, feeling great. He was not sure what had actually happened to him, but he had put away his tie and had opened his shirt – just a bit. His jacket over the arm, he was standing in the afternoon sun. His mother would hate this look, the shirt not properly tugged in, jacket lose over the arm, shirt open, but he did not care. WOW. He really did not care. It was his first triumph! He wanted to go home, enjoy the warmth of the beginning evening, when somebody called “Hey, dude, canna tell mi whatz da time?” He stopped. It was as if he had heard a click in his mind. “Sure, it’s 5:33!” he turned around and looked up – and the smile in his face froze and turned to a kind of grimace. The guy who had asked him, was a filthy looking punk with a tall green mohawk. He was dressed in skinny leather jeans, a black shirt with the arms cut off, a leather vest with rivets, a belt with rivets, high, red boots, he had more metal than skin in his face and ink all over his body. But what shocked Thomas most was the smell. The guy smelled of pot, tobacco, beer, booze, sweat and piss.
“Thanks, mate, but ya know what, u look like a boring fucka! What ya need is a beer, heeheh!” No, he would not drink a beer with a punk. He tried to smile his politest smile and say goodbye, but something made him say: “You know what, that sounds like a fantastic idea. I am in fact very thirsty. So why not have a beer!”.
His mother would totally disapprove of him drinking with a punk and this alone made this a good idea right now. He could not lose anything. Ok, he would need to shower afterwards, he was sure of that. The punk seemed to be at least as surprised as Thomas was himself, but the guy laughed and gave Thomas a high five.
“Hadn’t thought a fucka like you would say, yes, hehe! Wan a smoke? Here!” He gave Thomas a self-rolled cigarette and for a second, Thomas wanted to decline the offer. He never smoked. His father would have killed him. But the punk smiled so nice and friendly, surely the punk only had good intentions. So instead of his natural reaction, he accepted. Of course, he coughed, but the punk explained him how to inhale, he kind of ordered him to smoke in the same way he did, and suddenly, Thomas stopped coughing. He smoked exactly in the way the punk had shown him.
The punk was very surprised. When he had stopped the guy, asking for the time, he just wanted to have some fun. He loved hanging out in this neighborhood and shock all the businessmen and housewives with his appearance. For him, it was fun, when they yelled at him or gave him names. He was here for the mere excitement and provocation. And now he was walking down the street with a guy, who had not yelled at him but actually accepted his offer. And now this smoking. He looked at the guy and could not believe what he saw. What a strange thing. But he still wanted to shock that guy- He would take him to the large house where he lived with several other punks…
Thomas was still not sure why he was following this punk, but it felt good to do something stupid, something had parents would hate, something his old self would have never done, not in a million years.
The neighborhood changed several times before they reached a area of the city, he had never been in before. It was surely not one of the better districts for the middle class. This was a od working class district, old houses, lots of immigrants, cheap shops, cheap cars. The punk had offered him a second cigarette and this time, he smoked it automatically in the way, the guy had shown him. They finally reached a house, that looked more like a ruin than an actual house people would live in. It was smeared with graffiti, some windows were closed with plastic bags or carton, there was garbage. Maybe this was not the best idea. He should find an excuse …
“What are ya waiting for, swing your ass inside!”. He would not harm him, so, ok, he would have a beer with that strange punk in that even stranger house, one beer and he would be on his way back home.
Inside, the smell was breathtaking. They entered a kind of large living room of a sort, filled with stained and old furniture, several sofas, matrasses, chairs – and punks. In the dim light he counted five, no, six, but he was sure there were more. Some had mohawks like the one who had invited him, one had a shaved head with only three long dreadlocks, one had a bihawk … all were heavily inked and dressed very similar to the punk, he had met first. Some were naked and to his shock he saw some making out openly for everybody to see. Oh lord, where had he himself gotten into?
“Ay mates, look what the cat dragged in!” the punk who invited him said and hugged the surprised Thomas, who could now actually TASTE the smell of the punk. The smell in the house seemed to be sticking to his skin, his hair and his clothes anyway. Some punks looked at him, others only nodded, and the three or four making out did not even look up. Still in the hug of the green-mohawk punk, he was guided to one of the sofas. “Sit down!” the punk said and after a second of hesitation – the sofa was disgusting – he did as commanded. A beer appeared out of thin air the punk opened his with his teeth. “Go on fucka!” the punk said and Thomas searched for something to open the bottle. There was a lighter but of course, Thomas could not open a bottle with a lighter, nor with the corner of the table, was a second punk was doing, the one with the bihawk. “Aehm, do you have an opener?” he asked and the punks laughed. “Nah fucka, take ya teeth!” He could never — but he tried. He nearly broke off a tooth trying and the punks laughed again. A third guy, the one with the dreadlocks, showed him how he did it. “No, you try it!” he said, and Thomas tried. The bottle was open, wow! The beer was cheap and warm, the smell was disgusting but in a very special way,
Thomas enjoyed the experience. Gay Punks, ha, who would have known that something like that even existed. For him, being here was the proof, that the hypnosis had worked. He did something unthinkable, something stupid and maybe dangerous. Strange, he had not thought about any dangers, like being robbed by those guys. He just knew they wanted only the best for him. Suddenly, the punk with the dreadlocks grabbed his dick and started to piss on Thomas who jumped form the sofa in sock and disgust. “Are you mad!!” he screamed but the other punks just looked, laughed and cheered, some rubbing their cocks. “Ah, fucka, you like that, don’t you, dats what ya needed, na? Yeah, you like it!” Thomas was still in shock, but the disgust was melting away. He had seen golden shower games in porn. Not exactly his taste, he had never understood why guys liked that. But it was nothing really bad, one should try everything, before saying one does not like it, right? Tough thought for a virgin, a tiny voice in his head said. And it was that tiny voice, that finally helped him to relax. It was a strange feeling and there was still a bit of disgust, especially when two other punks joined in and the jet hit his face and soaked his hair. But at the same time, he could feel a growing horniness. He was still not a particular fan but he could slowly understand, why people liked it. “Yeah, you like it, you love it! Yes fucka, open up, fucka!” one of the punks commanded and he could feel that he liked it more every second. Maybe it was something one needed to get used to. And to his own shock and surprise, he not only liked it, but opened his mouth, too. The punk cheered. “Look at dat lil’ fucka, dressed up all nicely and tidy but he is a real piggy, dat fucka. I guess, he likes us, I guess dat fucka wanna be one of us!” Thomas did not. Not really, not permanently, though. Not really being like them … on the other hand, he should enjoy this situation. Maybe he could finally lose his virginity.
While he was in thoughts, suddenly, one of the punks grabbed him by his neck and filled his mouth with his spit and then with his rough, wet, smelly, pierced tongue. He opened his eyes in shock and saw that it was a punk, he had not even noticed before, muscular and with a short red mohawk. A second punk was ripping off his soaked shirt and they laughed, when they saw his white wifebeater. The punk kissing him tore the ugly piece of clothes open and Thomas was shocked but so horny right now. Somebody was massaging his cock, oh man, nobody had ever that his cock except himself. He felt like in those American Pie movies, afraid to just shoot his load into his pants. “Gimme dat dick!” he heard a voice command and he helped to open his pants but then he heard a ripping sound and saw a guy holding a nasty looking knife in his hand. Before he could get afraid, the red punk came back and kissed him. So, Thomas could only hear the guy with the knife cut away his pants and his underpants. He nearly screamed in ecstasy, when he felt a wet and warm mouth close around his shaft.
“Don’t ya come now, fucka, we have plans!” his old friend, the green mohawk, commanded and what a strange thing, he could feel the twitching in his balls and cock ease. He was still super horny but now, he was not longer afraid of coming too soon. He could enjoy the blow job and the kissing even more now.
The red mohawk grabbed him by his hair. “Hey, fucka, what is dat mess ya calling haircut. If ya wann be my fuck toy for t’night, we gonna change that!” Thomas was afraid and tried to say no, but the punk sealed his mouth with his tongue. “Ya get a new style dat fits in here, no question, dat’s a damn command!” the bald punk with the dreadlocks said and Thomas relaxed. They would not give him a stupid haircut. If getting his boring hair cut was the price for his first sexual encounter, then it was worth. He wanted to try a shorter hair anyway. Some of the punks in the room had spiked up hair, maybe he would end up like them? The red mohawk was now sitting on his lap, nailing him to the sofa, still kissing him, when he heard a humming sound. He could not see a thing, but he felt clippers, old and very heavy clippers, mow his hair away. He did not see a thing, he only felt hands moving his head not very gentle and he felt the clipper dance on his head. He had no idea, how short they were cutting his hair or what it would look like the in the end, but to his own surprise, he could not care less.
In the end, it was just hair, and hair would grow back. After minutes of brutal shearing, he felt warm piss running over his head and he knew, that it was damn short. The red punk now held his face between his hand, firm and straight, while another punk covered a large amount of his skull with shaving foam. Bald. Fuck. Ah, damn it, he could wear a hat. His mother would kill him, hahaha, yeah, that was the best part about it. The shaving with a cheap disposable razor began and he kind of got an idea of what he would look like later. What he did not expect was, that the clippers came back and shaved off his brows. That was too much! Shit, he got to carried away, he “You love dat, lil’ fucka, I can see dat!” the red punk said. And Thomas relaxed. He was sure that look would be brutal and he would regret it later, but right now, all he wanted was to please his new friends and get laid. He even allowed them to shave the brows smooth, down to the skin. “Look at da lil’ fucka, already looking much better!” he heard green mohawk say, who rubbed the smooth areas of Thomas’s head. “Yah, much betta, but he need some ink and some metal!”
Now, Thomas knew, it was time to end that game. Getting a strange haircut as the price for a blow job and some hot making out was one thing, but getting inked or pierced, that was way too much. Yes, sure, his mother and father would have it and he always liked some small ink on his fantasy leather guys, but no, thank you!
“Yeah, dat lil’ fucka needs a good marking, som’ing dat shows is part of da gang! Yeah, lil’ fucka, ya get the gang branding, we mark you, dat is what we want and what we will do, cause you need dat, don’t ya?”
No, no, he actually did not need that. But on the other hand. They would not do anything really supid? Nah, never … a tiny tattoos, on his arm maybe … it was surely not the most hygienic place to get a tatoo but … they grabbed him and carried him to a table. His protest was merely symbolic, he kind of gave into the idea already. Thomas knew, something was wrong. It was a strange feeling. He knew that he should not be here, he knew, he was acting strangely and he knew that what would happen next was absolutely the worst idea of his entire life. But it was his decision, in a way. Right now, it was all he wanted and all he ever wanted. Right now, it felt very good to make bad choices.
But even in this state of mind, he had neither expected the pain of a tattoo nor that three punks would tattoo him simultaneously, while some punk force-fed him with booze and spit. There were breaks and after around 1 hour of inking, one punk asked “Ey, what time is it?” Thomas kind of relaxed, when he heard those words, he still knew that it was absolutely crazy, he still knew he would probably (no, surely!) regret this later, but at the same time he gave into the experience, now nearly enjoyed the strange constant pain. A second break with some nice cock sucking – it was the first time, Thomas had a cock in his mouth and he was afraid to choke, but when the punk ordered him to do it “properly” he was suddenly able to take the full length of that smelly pierced cock. Then, the inking was over and Thomas realized that he had felt pain and pleasure but could not tell, what had been inked. That was really strange, wasn’t it? Surely, they had chosen discrete parts as they were interested in the best for him. “Now some metal and dat lil’ fucka finally looks like a propper mate! Get dat nose pierced and those ears!” the red punk commanded, and Thomas accepted the orders. He always wanted an earring, remember? And you can take out a piercing. So, no problem. The pain in the nose was bad, but the red punk kissed him wet and deep and that help him forget the pain. The ears were not that bad …
There was no mirror anywhere in the room but now, standing naked in the living room, he saw the ink. For a second, panic was creeping up his spine. His right arm sported a tribal, black and heavy, from his shoulder down to his wrist, with some of the lines ending on his hand. On the back of his left hand was a skull with the letters G and P, gay punk, the groups branding. He had seen that all of them sported that tattoo, he should have known – oh lord, and they all had the same tattoo at the left side of the neck, a skull in flames, again with G and P and automatically his hand reached out for his neck. The skin was hot and felt sore, oh god, oh god! He touched his head, too. Mostly smooth, shaved skin, but there was hair … his bangs were still there and small tuft in the back, like a mini rattail. “We braid som’ing in that fucking rattgail!” the punk with the dreadlocks said and the green mohawk rubbed Thomas’s head again. “Ya look great now, lil’ fucka. I know, ya will fuckin’ lova dat look, we do, and so must you!”
Loving was too big a word, but the panic disappeared and again he felt a strange sensation of being in the best hands, being safe and being cared for. So he sat down and allowed the dreadlock-punk to braid long strands of neon green, blue and red artificial hair into the small tuft at the back of his head.
While Thomas sat on the chair, a new punk with a ice-blue mohawk sucked his dick and a third one with neon green hair stuffed his cock into Thomas’s mouth. He still knew that all these were bad decisions, things he knew he would regret the moment he left this house, and still he was horny and calm, enjoying all the fun he had. Thinking about the fact, that he had been totally deformed and transformed by all those punks, turned into one of them was so hot, cause it was all his parents would hate and condemn. The thought of his mother’s face, nearly made him cum. But he had not got the order to cum and so he didn’t. They grabbed him and forced him to one of the matrasses. He was in heaven. He knew what would come, he knew, his virgin days were over. His first time. Here and now. And so it started with the red punk who ordered him to take it like a man and so the pain eased away, giving way to pleasure, when the thick cock entered his virgin ass.
Every punk – and suddenly there seemed to be more – had his turn and all told him, he loved it – and so he did. And he did not only receive, oh no, virginboy-no-more-Thomas had his share in active penetration as well and when they ordered him to be ruthless, he was. It was as if he had never done anything but smoking, spitting, fucking and pissing. Orgasm after orgasm sent him to the heavens – and some pot and beer helped him there.
When it was done, there was just a pile of bodies, soaked in piss, sweat, cum and beer – and Thomas was a part of that pile, enjoying every second of it, taking in the smell deep, trying to keep it. He had to walk around a bit and he needed some water so, with deep regrets, he grabbed his way out of the pile of stinking punks.
In the kitchen, he looked at the clock. It was, as if that set something in motion. The smell turned from being hot and delicious to disgusting and revolting. He looked at the stained glass he just had drank from and nearly vomited. What had he done? He was shaking, the panic he had waited for, now hit him like a bus. Why had he accepted to go with that punk? What made him decide to let him cut his hair and get him inked. He looked at the rudely made ink he could see and thought about the heavy mark on his neck. His nose suddenly ached and he touched the ring dangling from it. He was shaking, he was terrified, he was … why was he shocked?
He thought about the box. All his useless fears were inside the box. Hidden away. His new personality was still kind of blank, the new Thomas who would take matters in his own hands and would not care about other persons opinions. He closed his eyes and saw that clean, pure, new-born Thomas and he concentrated. He saw that inner self change, getting a shaved head with bangs and a long rattail in the back, the naked body got inked with a heavy tribal, a skull on the back of his hand and a second one at his neck. He saw the piercings now clearly. It was as if he was looking into a mirror. He saw the inner Thomas in punk clothes now, leather skinny jeans, leather vest, he saw him smoke a self-rolled ciggi. This all made sense. This was the real inner Thomas, no Tommy aka li’l Fucka. Maybe this gay punk had always slept deep inside the tidy Thomas. He should be afraid, he should be concerned. He had a job, he had a flat, he had parents. He had a job he hated, an office filled with people who ignored him, he had a flat that was as personal as a hotel room and he had a father who wanted his son to be his clone, a mother who wanted a doll, to manipulate and play with.
He would need to get used to live with the guys, being a punk, but something told him, all would be alright. For the first time in his life, Tommy really made a decision. And this decision was, that he would go back to the boys for a second round …
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