Sans titre

I had been with my mates playing football in the park, it was getting late and the sun was already setting. The game finished and they went one way and I went the other as I needed to go into town to get a gift for my girlfriend as I was seeing later that day.

As I walked out of the park, I walked past some back to back houses it was a short cut to the town centre. the warmth of the sun disappeared, it started to feel really cold round me. the wind stopped and everything became silent.

A shimmering form started to appear in front of me, I was a little scared and tried to move around it,  I moved to my right and the form moved to my right, I turned round to go the other way and the form appeared in front of me, I was doing my best to get out of its way. but I was frozen in place.

The form started to gain details, his upper half of it’s body had a black polo shirt tucked into what looked like bleached jeans, with braces hanging down, on his feet looked like tall boots.

It started to speak, it was not clear to start with, but I did seem to recognize the accent, it started to get clearer, it was then that I recognized the voice, Yes it was that gay skinhead that me and my mates had gay bashed a few months, back, we really did a good job on him, his face blood red, we kicked and kicked  you see I fuckin hate poofters, there not real men like us. After we finished with him we ran off. He was in hospital for a long time and then moved back to his home town. I do remember reading somewhere in a newspapers that he had had died of his injuries.

I was still frozen in place when the ghost, as that all I could think of him now came closer and closer to me, he started to merge with me I could feel his body taking over mine, my thoughts were changing. My past life changing, all the women I had slept with the ones who had my children my present girlfriend fading being replaced with all the men I had slept with the guys I have fucked, I was getting all of his memories, my cock getting hard of all the men that I would be fucking and abusing.

With the last of my own thoughts I heard him say to me, that I was becoming what I hated so much in the world, that I was becoming him, I would have years ahead of me enjoying cock.

I could move again, I was on my own in the the back alley. Yes I was on the hunt, I am a proud Gay Skinhead and I knew who my next targets are going to be. 

Pete had made sure he had given his girlfriend a good shag before she left to go and visit her mother for a few days. So he could now sit and watch the football on TV  or go for a few pints at the pub. It wasn’t a great game so he decided the pub would be  a better bet. He decided on a pub where the lads went to rather than some jumped up bistro pub. He was a good looking guy, a full 6’, worked out at the gym 3 times a week, liked looking at his 6 pack in the mirror knowing it turned his girlfriend on and had a shaved head rather than show his thinning scalp. He was, in his terms, a real man’s man. He put on his jeans and a grey hoodie and then headed off to the pub.

The pub was quiet so many of the lads must have stayed at home to watch the football. Pete ordered his pint and sat at the corner of the bar making small talk from time to time with the barman. Maybe I’ll just have the one pint and then head back home he thought.

He put his pint down and went to the Men’s for a pee. Coming back to the bar he saw two Skinheads standing next to him where his pint was sitting.

‘Hi guys’ he said. ‘All OK?’

‘Sure mate’ the bigger one said. They were dressed in tight bleachers with black DMs both with white laces. One was wearing a checked Fed Perry shirt and green A1 bomber jacket, the other had a tight Fred perry T shirt and maroon bomber jacket. The bigger skin had tattoos all around his neck mainly a large cross while the other had SKIN tattooed on his fingers. Pete thought `’These two blokes take no shit. Bet they like a good punch up after a few beers.’

‘Not watching the footie ?’Peter asked.

‘Fuck no, prefer a few pints and anyway it’s a shit game.’

‘That’s what I thought mate. .Can I get you blokes a pint?’

‘Yes sure mate that’s good of you.’

‘No prob mate good to be with real guys. These days half the guys you see you don’t know if they are queer or not the way they dress. They may all like their tats but the ponytails and clothes they all still look like a bloody group of pansies. You Skins look like what men are meant to look like. Tough and ready’

Fucking right mate. We are always on the lookout for a poof that we can deal with. No one gets in a Skins way. We expect respect. These queers are our fucking subs.’

‘You both sound like guys after my own heart.’

‘Let us buy you a pint mate’ the other Skin said. ‘Good to have a talk with like minded guys. You look pretty fit.’

‘Yeah I work out regularly. I wanna be fit and look like a real man.’

‘You look great. Ever thought of wearing our type of gear?’

‘No, usually its just jeans and hoodies for me.’

‘You should think about it mate.’

‘Jezz don’t you think this guy would look great in skin gear’

‘He sure would. By the way we are Jess and Sam. You?’

‘Pete’ he put out his hand a gave both Skins an real strong handshake, Jezz then slapped Pete on the back.

J’ust an idea Pete but what say once we finish this pint that you try on some skin clothes.’

‘Not sure mate. What do you mean?’

‘Well we live nearby and if you come back to ours we can have another pint or two and you can get into some clothes of mine. We both think you might want to start wearing skin gear with that bod of yours. You have the shaved head anyway.’

Pete thought, ‘its either having  another pint on me own or having another couple with these guys who seem real lads ,my type. I’ve always admired Skinheads but never thought of wearing any of their gear. There’s nothing to lose and it might be a bit of a laugh. No way would my bird allow bleachers and boots and anyway she’s not around.’

‘OK mate but no fucking laughing at me . I’m a black belt and not someone to laugh at.’

‘No mate honestly we think you look like a skin even without the gear so it’d be great to see you kitted out.’

The three left the pub and went to the dingy apartment nearby. The living room had a sofa and Tv and scattered around were empty beer cans and a couple of ashtrays full of ciggie butts. Sorry about th emess mate . Ok wanna beer.?

‘Sure’

As Sam went to get the beers, Jezz went out to the bedroom to find the skinhead gear

He took out a well worn pair of bleachers with  rips on the knees, a pair of red braces, black T shirt and 20 hole boots with red laces. Just before going out he opened a drawer and took out a can of powder before sprinkling some of it into the crotch of the jeans and then rubbing it in so it was not obvious.

That should work he thought smiling to himself.

Sam said to Pete ‘Take the beer in with you and change into the gear. We’ll wait for you.’

Pete went into the bedroom as Jezz came out. I’ve laid it all out for you.  Look forwards to seeing he result.’

‘Not sue about this.’

‘Fuck mate don’t worry we are all men.’

As Jezz came into the Living room he smiled at Sam. ‘It’s all set up mate. Think we have some fun ahead.’

‘Hope it’s more than fun.’

‘Don’t worry. He’ll soon know what skins like us get up to.Seeing that bod of his is a right turn on for me now.’

As Pete stripped off he looked at the gear. I suppose I’ve always wanted to wear something like this. No bloke messes with a Skin. . They are real alpha males. My type of bloke. He pondered over whether to keep his underpants on but decided he might as well take off all his own things and put on all of Jezz’s.

Having put on the T shirt he pulled up the bleachers. ‘Christ these are tight’. As he pulled them up he had to press his thick cock down one side making a large obvious bulge.

‘At least you can see my manhood’ he thought. ‘Fucking A male.’. After slipping the braces over hi shoulders he slipped into the boots realising that it takes a Skin time to get the laces done properly. He stood up and looked at himself in the mirror.

‘Shit I look fucking great. Makes me look a real fucking geezer no one will argue with. Still my bitch wouldn’t allow me but for now she’s not here so who fucking cares ..Tell you what many women would be keen to get that cock of mine up them. Looks fucking great and I’m not even hard.’ As he said this he could feel an itch down his shaft and it was as if his cock was getting hot,. 

As he walked out the room the heat and itch got stronger. He could feel his cock sliding down inside his bleachers it pressing against the denim. Shit was was getting so hard and so quick. He could now feel his cock throbbing with heat, his heavy head had now slipped well out of his foreskin. Not only was the heat giving him a boner like no other but his whole body was starting to feel the warmth radiating through every vein. What was almost worse was that he was walking into the room feeling so fucking horny with two Skin heads who would see his boner.

He was about to turn back and get into his own clothes when Sam opened the living room door.

‘So let’s see you mate. Christ you looking fucking great. Just like a real Skinhead What the fuck is that bulging out in yer bleachers. What a fucking cock. Is our gear giving you a huge boner?’

Pete blushed. ‘I don’t fucking know what is going on mate  but when I put on the bleachers I could feel heat all the way up my dick and now its fucking  throbbing. Iv’e never had such an erection.’

‘That’s Skin clothes for you mate. Always makes you feel like a real geezer and all real men are horny.’

‘Horny? Pete replied ‘I can’t tell you how fucking horny I am  and my girlfriend has gone off for a few days so a fuck is out of the question.’

‘One thing for sure Pete you need to get that big cock of yours out the bleachers before you rip the cloth. Its fucking huge. Lucky man to have a dick that size, it’s  what all men want.’

Jezz said, ‘Sam is right if you are that horny then get it out. We are all men together, nothing fazes  us. Skins are up for anything.’

‘Shit its fucking sore stuffed down these bleachers and so hot. Sorry guys but I need to get it out. Hope you don’t mind.’

‘No probs mate. Let’s see if it is as big as it’s looking in that bulge.’

Pete didn’t care where he was or what they might think he just need to get to his cock.

He unzipped his flies and then squeezed his hand well down his inside leg, grabbing hold of his shaft and then breathing in pulled his cock up. It felt sore but at the same time he was so high sexually. With one final pull he yanked it out and let go, his meaty dick springing almost vertically.

‘Shit sorry mates but that feels better not so hot.’

‘Not so hot, mate you look so fucking hot it’s not true.’

‘I’ll need to use your bog and have a wank ‘.

‘You are joking Pete. You have a boner like that and you think a quick wank is the best thing.’

‘What else. I’d love to have a blow job but unless you got any birds around it will have to be a wank.’

‘Look mate we are all men, proper horny men and Skinheads to boot. Well you dressed like that you are as good as one. Us Skinhead are there to help our mates out when necessary.’

‘What do you mean Sam,’

‘ Shit man do I need to spell it out. That cock of yours needs to get rid of some spunk and you want to blow job. You have two good mates both Skinheads in front of you. We can help you out.’

‘Shit you’re gonna give me a blow job. Fuck No guy has ever done that. I’m not a fucking poof and neither are you two.’

 ‘Of course but we just want to help a mate out. You can always close yer eyes and think it’s yer girlfriend but I bet you I can give much better head than her.’

‘Christ you gonna go down on me?’

‘Stop acting such a pussy boy. Your cock needs sucking and I’m now going down on my knees to help you. So shut the fuck up.’

Without waiting for Pete to reply Sam got down on his knees and grabbed hold of his massive tool. 

‘Fuck that sure is throbbing . Il’l need all my spit to get that rod of yours down my throat.’

Sam let his hand slide up and down the shaft while letting his tongue slip itself around the bulging head poking it into the slit making Pete wince with pleasure. Letting as much spit spill over the head and then rubbing some into his entire tool Sam started to open wide and take the tip of Pete’s head into his throat.

‘Fucking hell mate me bird has never done that before.’ 

Jezz said ‘I told you Pete we Skins help one another. We are all men, butch men who take no shit.’. As Jezz said this he moved round behind Pete and brought his arms around on to Pete’s chest.

‘I can see you work out mate, you look as if you have been pumping those pecs. You sure have a nice juicy pair of tits sticking through yer T shirt. Us Skins need to get a bit of pain at times. We give it out to all but good we have some ourselves at times.’

And with that Jezz took hold of Pete’s tit sand squeezed tight pulling them outwards.

‘Fucking hell’ Pete shouted ‘that’s fucking sore.’

‘Relax mate and think of Sam’s mouth getting further and further down that big dick of yours. Let me rub them a bit more before I give a further pinch.’

As Jezz played with his nipples between his fingers Pete suddenly started feeling pleasure in the pain. And with the pleasure in his nipples it made his cock even harder and he took Sma;s head and started to push it further and further down his throbbing shaft. He could feel his nipples expanding. The pain made him shudder and he looked down to see Jezz pulling them as far out as he could.

‘Fuck what are you doing to me.. I’m not a fucking poof you know.’

‘Don’t worry we know that mate you are a Skin getting some pleasure with two Skin mates. Nothing wrong with that.’

Jezz pressed his bulging cock against Pete’s arse and moved it up and down.

Pete said.

‘Fuck man you have a right boner there I can feel it.’

As Pete said this Jezz took one of his hands away from Pete’s nipples and pulled down the rear zip of Pete’s bleachers.

‘Shit man I didn’t know these bleachers of yours had a rear zip.’ 

‘We all have a rear zip mate. Also means we an have a shit without taking boots and bleachers off. But it also means we can have some fun when still in our gear. Stop talking so much and enjoy Sam’s blow job..’

Jezz let a gob of spit drop onto two of his fingers and pressed them against Pete’s hole. As Pete had started to move his arse in time with Sams throat the two fingers quickly vanished up Pete’s crack.

‘Jesus what’s going on?’

‘Just opening you up a bit. A good size hole you got there. Me fingers have disappeared.’

‘Yeah but what the fuck are you doing?’

Just testing mate. You just enjoy Sam’s throat. The way you have his head in your hands shows me that he’s doing a great job on you.’

‘Fuck does he know how to give a blow job.’

‘We only do this for Skins and you are looking and now acting like one of us.’

As Jezz said this he unzipped his flies and pulled out his rock hard cock, the foreskin pulled back to show a gleaming head with the precum starting to ooze out. He pressed it against Pete’s bum.

‘Christ man is that your cock pushing into my crack.’

‘It’s not a fucking Policeman’s baton mate.’

‘You’re not going to fuck  me are you? I keep telling you I ain’t a queer, no one would think to fuck me.’

‘ Yeah but no one has seen you look like a skin and you been with any skinheads. Don’t call us queer mate unless you are looking for trouble.’

Jezz let a large gob of spit fall onto his cock and stroked his shaft. As he did he took a phial out of his pocket and opened the cap. He put his arm around Pete and brought it up to his nose.

‘Now mate take a deep shot of this up both your nostrils It’ll make you nice and ready.. If you were hot before this should give you the same if not better feeling.’

Inhaling deeply as he was told, Pete suddenly felt like a fire in his body, his head was almost ready to explode but the fire rapidly spread down his body and into his cock making it throb even more and his balls felt so fucking full of spunk. The heat the spread to his arse and he could feel his opening enlarging, it was as if it was wanting to be speared. Pete took his hands away from Sam’s head and put them on his arse. He split his cheeks as wide as he could as if to let the heat out .At that moment Jezz took his cock , found Pete’s hole and rammed it the whole way in right up to the hilt.

‘Fucking hell’ Pete shouted but the pain of Jezz’s cock was not real pain but pure pleasure. His hole was needing a cock inside him.

‘Shit I’m being fucked and I ain’t ever been with a bloke but this is something else.’

‘You see mate not that bad after all. Now you are like a sandwich filling between two Skinheads. It doesn’t get better than that. Us blokes stick together and make sure a bit of pain brings a fucking lot of pleasure. Now have another sniff. That should see you fill Sam’s mouth with your cum.’

Pete eagerly took an even bigger snort and within seconds was face fucking Sam’s mouth for all he could feeling his big dick deep inside Sam’s mouth and with Sam’s mouth deep inside his pubes. As he used Sam’s head to drive his prick in and out so he pushed his arse back to let Jezz’s cock as deep inside as he could go.

‘Christ guys this is the best sex I’ve ever had and it’s with two real blokes two Skins who know what to do.’

‘You won’t get better than us mate so go for it . While you are shooting into Sam’s mouth and he will swallow the whole fucking load you will feel my juice all the way up that lovely meaty arse of yours.’

‘Fuck I’ve never felt so fucking horny. I’m ready to shoot Sam.’

‘Then fucking go for it mate,’ Jezz replied his breathing rising ready to shoot his own load. ‘Once you feel my spunk you will shoot trust me.’

Jezz gave one final push yanking his cock as deep as he could inside Pete and the feel of the hot spunk rising inside him was too much feeling Sam’s face fully into his pubes and knowing his cock was all the way down Sam’s throat.

‘Oh fuck I’m cumming.’ With a loud groan Pete discharged wave after wave down Sam’s throat who gulped and gulped so he would take the whole stream.

All 3 men sank back.

‘Shit what I have just done ?’Pete suddenly realised. ‘I’ve hated fucking poofs and now I have done exactly what they do.’

‘Don’t talk such fucking rubbish. You have been with two Skinheads and treated you like a real man. No fucking poofs, got it.’

Jezz looked into Pete’s face and then said. ‘Never say that again, got it mate. Anyway we all needed to get some spunk out and we sure did. You’ve got to admit you loved every fucking minute the way to shoved your dick into Sam’s mouth and Christ that arse of yours wanted every inch of my prick.’

‘Tell you what Pete why don’t’ you leave your things here for now and go home in the Skinhead gear. You would look a bit rougher if we give you a couple of transfers. Not like a tat but it will scare the hell out of others. Un peeling Jess put a large Fist on Pete’s rear neck and towards the front of his neck a large spider’s web. Now everyone will see you coming. Watch the difference.’

‘I should change’ Pete said.

‘Look mate I’ve given you the transfers now. Besides you got so fucking hard when you got into me bleachers and boots I know you want to keep them all on. Just make sure you don’t walk down the road with such a throbbing cock or you will be arrested. It looks big enough without the hard on. Anyway it would be good to see you tomorrow night. We have some plans. Now get off and we look forwards to how you get on.’

As Pete walked down the street he could see people crossing the road to avoid passing him. No one wanted to bump into him. He could feel his masculinity poring out of every part of his body. It was how a man should feel. Respected and also making others nervous of his power.

‘When he got home he immediately looked in the mirror. Shit he looked hot his cock making a clear outline down his left leg. He sneered at his reflection. He looked like a Skinhead. This is how I want to look not just wearing fucking normal boring clothes. No one is gonna mess with me. As he looked again he said. Christ I would so fucking like to beat up a simpering queer looking like this.’

His clothes felt like a second skin and he decided he wanted to keep them on and wear to bed. He could smell the remnants of Jezz’s cum slightly oozing out of his arse and the last drips of his own cum staining the denim on his leg.

Pete took the day off work so he could keep his skin gear on and went to meet his new mates early evening.

Jezz looked at him. ‘Fuck you look mean man. Look more of a Skin than us and you also look as if you need a bit of action.’

T’ell you what mate I could sure do with grabbing a poof and seeing to him. When you are dressed like this all you want is action and to give pain .’

‘Then let’s just stand back in this alley and see what comes by. ‘Sam said.

A few minutes later a young guy was about to walk past them in trendy gear and long wavy hair. Pete looked at his two fellow skinheads and nodded. He stepped out in front of the guy.

‘Are you a fucking fairy?’

‘What?’ the guy mumbled and went to turn round and run but Sam and Jezz were behind him.

‘Don’t think you are going very far eh? ‘Jezz said grabbing the shoulder bag.

Pete grabbed the guy by the shoulders and put his face up close to the young one.

‘You look like a fucking poof to me.’

‘No no no.’

‘Snivelling little bugger though I guess you love being buggered.’ Bringing his head back a bit Pete spat a large gob of spit into the youngsters’ face and then taking his hand rubbed it all around his face ‘This is all you are fit for  you little runt’

‘Hey boys grab his arms.’

When the guy was unable to move Pete brought his fisty back and rammed hard into the stomach, the boy bending double in agony.

‘Be a man and take it.’ Pete sneered aiming another punch . ‘Its’ all you are goodfor   bloody punchbag.. Then grabbing the boys hair he said.

‘I should fucking well cut all those girly curls off you but I like grabbing the hair. Time you got down on yer knees and cleaned my boots. I want to see you lick them clean. I wanna hear your spit slurping over the toe caps so they gleam. Now get fucking down and started.’

Sam pushed the boy down to the ground.

‘You heard what the Skin said, let’s see you fucking lick.’ As the boy got down to his knees Sam then pushed his face into the toe cap. 

The youngster started to lick across the surface as hard as his tongue would allow. After a couple of minutes Jezz wrenched his hair back to see the result. 

‘Not bad for a fairy boy. Now get on and do the other.’

The boy was groaning as he licked trying to get as much spit out of his mouth to satisfy this skinhead master.

Seeing the boy kneeling in front of him as a type of slave and being at Pete’s command made him realise the power of being a Skinhead. He loved this wave of power through his body and as he glared down he knew his cock was rock hard. This made the blood throb in his shaft. He was getting off seeing this poof and the pressure of his dick inside his bleachers made him need to get it out. He now had someone in front of him who could suck him off . He unzipped his flies and put his hand deep inside the leg and pulled out his pulsating prick.

‘Now look up boy’ he shouted 

The youngster looked up his head level with Pete’s dick

‘This is what you like to do eh, suck dick. Bet you don’t get many as big as this tool of mine. And it’s going all the way down that throat of yours. You are gonna feel my cum all the way through that puny body of yours. Now boys grab his head.’.

Jezz and Sam took hold of the hair and directed his mouth.

‘Don’t even think to close your mouth or I’ll fucking thump you again and it will be even harder.’ The boy had no option but to open his mouth wide and his face was pushed into Pete’s cock

‘Just breathe properly and you can let this monster of mine slip down that throat of yours’.

As the cock entered the boy’s mouth tears were streaming down his cheeks.

‘Stop being such a fucking pansy. You know what to do and count yerself lucky this dick of mine ain’t going up that arse of yours. Now suck.’

The boy opened his mouth as wide as he could straining to take the width of cock. Little by little the shaft moved further and further inside to a point when Pete grabbed the guy’s head and pushed it in until he could feel the boy’s mouth against his pubes.

‘That’s it . Shit I’m so fucking horny seeing to suck that dick of mine.’

‘Let him have it .’Sam shouted

‘Lets’ see you cum inside that pretty mouth. Give it to him let him have the whole fucking length of your prick.’

Being goaded on by his new skinhead mates made Pete’s cock even harder and the was now ramming the boys head in and out taking the full length. He loved having all this power. He felt more of a man, a Skinhead man than ever. He was ready to explode. With one final lunge and heavy groan he shot his bolt. The spunk driving deep inside the boy’s throat. So much that he could not swallow it , wads streaming out of his mouth and down his chin.

‘Shit boy you know how to suck. Bet you loved having a Skin cum inside you. Now stand up and bugger off. If you think of telling anyone I will come after you. Anyway I bet you enjoyed it ‘and as he said this he grabbed the guys cock through his trousers and immediately felt a large wet patch around a stiff dick.

‘I fucking knew it. You came sucking me off you little whore. Maybe I should have fucked you. Perhaps you wanna see me again for another session. You fucking love a Skin eh. If I see you again you can count on a fuck and you won’t get a better cock up thyat arse of yours. Maybe I see you here again tomorrow. Now fuck off’ and with that Pete’s pushed him away and Sam threw his shoulder pack at him,.

‘Get the fuck out of here.’

Pete looked over at his mates and grinned. 

‘Shit man being a Skin head is fucking great’

‘Told you that last night mate’

Pete then noticed that both his new mates were rubbing their crotches, their cocks bulging in their bleachers

‘Looks as if I have turned you guys on.’

‘Are you fucking surprised. Seeing that big cock of yours down the guy’s throat, who wouldn’t get a knob on. Its alright for you Pete he sucked you off good and proper and got rid of that spunk for you’

‘Looks as if you two need the same eh?’

‘Think you need to return the favour to your Skinhead mates.’

‘Well don’t just stand their rubbing yerselves. Get them out. If you are gonna do one might as well make it two.’

The two Skins pulled out their cocks and stood side by side

‘Fuck you two ain’t washed those cocks of your since last night. That’s some stink of piss and cum.’

‘Just the way we Skins like it. You’’ll learn.

Pete got down on his knees and admired the cocks both with their foreskins pulled back showing gleaming heads.

‘Not sure I can take both in my mouth but I will at least do you both one at a time.’

 He took hold of Sam’s cock. He was hungry and remembered the way Sam had gobbled his cock last night. He was desperate to feel it all the way in. It wasn’t as big as Pete’s but a decent size and having never sucked cock before Pete was gagging to suck and feel the cum explode in his mouth. This was no homo thing. This was for Skins.

As Pete started letting his spit ooze out over Sam’s shaft, Jess let his cock rub up and down Pete’s face reminding him that he was waiting. Pete knew Jezz wanted his throat and so took Sam’s cock out and then started on Jezz. The cock stank but that excited Pete even more. Soon he was sucking one dick and pausing to suck the other. He was a mechanic the way he was servicing both guys at the same time. Seeing Pete deal with both made the two Skins ready and while their cocks were being sucked they then were tonguing each other their arms wrapped around each others neck. Pete was oblivious to what they were doing ,all he wanted was Skin cock and for them to cum in his mouth.

Sam was ready to explode and ramming his shaft deep inside Pete’s throat he let out all the creamy cum. Seeing Sam orgasm was too much for Jezz to hold back and he let his cum spurt out over Pete’s face. The two men let out a mighty groan.’

Fuck, fucking hell man,’ Jezz said to Pete ‘for someone who has never sucked before it was as if you are born for it.’

‘I told you I ain’t a fucking fairy but I’ll do anything for you Skins.’

Pete took the arm of his bomber jacket and wiped the face cum.

‘Hey mate that’s my fucking jacket’

‘Its’ your fucking spunk mate .’Pete laughed. ‘Tell you what mate you can get rid of my gear from last night from now its Skin gear for me and just tell me where to go. I want the lot.. I loved seeing all the those people scared of me on my way home. I think it’s time to get rid of those transfers and get the real thing.’

‘We knew you would say that mate. We knew you wanted to be one of us. Tell you what we are going off to see some other Skins. It will be beers some poppers and I reckon a good bit of fucking. The guys would love that cock of yours. Wanna come?

‘Count me in.’

‘What about that girlfriend of yours?’

(The Truck Cleaning Crew)

Inspired by a Tumble post I saw with 2 guys in dry suits – ok they were not dirty, but I put My slant on them.

I’d been out of work for eight months. My name is, or should I say it was, Dan, aged 38, and now single after a messy divorce. I had moved away. I haven't been in contact with family and friends since the divorce; it was better for both parties that way.

An ad popped up on my phone: “Truck Cleaning Crew, Immediate Hire, No Experience Needed, Live-On-Site Housing Provided.” The pay was terrible, but it was better than the life I had at the time. I applied online and was told to report the next day. I walked out to the industrial estate on the edge of town at dawn, up ahead of me, I saw the sign, “FILTH FUNNEL CLEANERS.” With the tag line “You Pour It In, We Drain It Out,” odd, I thought, but it was a job.

A thick-necked guy wearing a filthy, stained tight dry suit met me at the gate. “Name’s Stan. No need for an interview,” he said, 'You're hired.” Suit up and you start today.” He shoved a heavy, rolled-up bundle into my arms. The one-piece dry suit was filthy, black rubber gone grey with grime, streaked with dried mud, oil, and what looked like even worse. It smelled like rot and chemicals. The zipper ran from the crotch to the collar. No gloves or boots attached; the feet were built in, thick and clammy.

“Strip naked, put it on in the shed,” Stan grunted. “Seal it tight, or it doesn’t work right.”

I stripped in the dim metal shed and stepped into the cold, slimy legs. The interior was slick with someone else’s residue. I pulled the rubber up over my shoulders, slid my arms in, and tugged the hood over my head. The zipper made a wet, final sound as I dragged it all the way up and locked the flap over it.

For a second, nothing happened. Then the suit tightened. My cock being squeezed caused it to go hard.

It wasn’t shrinking, it was invading. Tiny needles or filaments were punched through my skin at the spine, neck, wrists, and groin. I tried to scream, but my throat locked up. My vision flickered red, then clear again. Thoughts that weren’t mine flooded in: Connection established. Unit online. Obedience protocol active. My arms moved without me telling them to. My legs straightened. I stood at attention even though every nerve screamed to rip the thing off.

Instead, my mouth opened, and in a calm, flat voice that used to be mine said, “Connection has been made.” My cock exploded with an intense orgasm one of the strongest I could remember. Then the suit seemed to drain it away. 

Stan smiled like he’d seen it a hundred times. “You will do nicely. Welcome to the crew, drone. Report to Bay Three.”

I walked, it walked me, across the yard, rubber feet squelching in the filth. My mind was still there, trapped behind my eyes, watching. I could feel every disgusting inch of the suit clinging to me, warm now with my body heat and whatever else it was pumping into my bloodstream. I tried to fight, but the signals never reached my muscles.

Time blurred. We cleaned out tankers full of chemical sludge, septic trucks, and hazmat hauliers. The suit never came off. We pissed and shit inside it; the rubber processed it somehow, recycling fluids while the stench stayed trapped against our skin. At night, we marched single-file into the bunkhouse, a long, windowless block building that reeked of mildew, sweat, and unwashed rubber.

I was assigned a top bunk. The man below me never spoke. None of them did, unless they were required to submit work reports. Their eyes were dull, like mine, faces slack inside the tight rubber.

At lights-out, the suit contracted, mine as well as the other crew members. The suits stimulated our cocks, I could hear moans of pleasure from the crew. I joined in as well, then, as if it was planned, we all came at the same time. I/we were forced into “rest mode” rigid, eyes open, our breathing slow, while it kept pumping whatever kept us compliant. I could still think. I still remember my old life. But I couldn’t act on any of it. The suit owned my body now.

In the mornings, we lined up for inspection. I stood straight, rubber creaking, and reported with the others: “Connection stable. Unit ready for duty.”

Stan would walk the line, slapping suits, checking seals. Sometimes he’d laugh and say, “You girls are the best crew I ever had. Never call in sick, never quit.” Then we’d march to the trucks and hose out another load of human waste and industrial poison while the suit drank our sweat and whispered loyalty directly into our minds.

I don’t know how long it’s been. Weeks? Months? The calendar doesn’t matter when you’re no longer driving your own body. Every night I lie in the reeking dark of the bunkhouse, feel my cock go hard, then ejaculate, I would listen to the soft creak of rubber as the others breathe in sync, and I scream inside a skull that won’t answer me anymore.

The suit keeps working. And so do I.

I was hosing down the undercarriage of a septic tanker when Stan’s voice crackled through the suit’s earpiece. “Special task, drone. An old friend of yours showed up at the gate asking questions. Bring him in. Make him useful.”

My body didn’t hesitate. I dropped the hose and marched toward the front gate, rubber suit creaking with every step, the stench of old waste and chemicals rising inside the sealed hood.

There he was. Pete. We’ve known each other since school. That was before everything went to hell. A very small part of me, now, still screaming behind my eyes, tried to warn him. “Run. Don’t come near me.” But my mouth stayed shut. Meanwhile, the more dominant part of me, the suit, the firm, wanted others to join our crew. My cock pulsed in my suit at the thought. An image flashed in my mind of Pete in a matching suit, and him being controlled like I was now.

He looked concerned, scanning the yard. “Jesus, man… is that you? I’ve been looking for months. Your family said you took some sketchy job and vanished. What the hell happened?”

I felt my face arrange itself into a tired smile. The suit was good at that. “Yeah, it’s me. Rough job, but it pays. Come on back, I’ll show you around. Might even get you to join us (the suit telling me “if he likes it or not,” my cock jerking in its confines.)

He laughed uneasily but followed. “You look… off. That suit smells awful. You okay?” “Fine,” my voice answered flatly. I led him into the same dim equipment shed where I’d been changed. A fresh suit, filthy, heavy, identical to mine, hung on a hook. The rubber glistened with residual slime.

Before he could react, my hands moved like pistons. I grabbed him and slammed him against the wall. Another member of the crew appeared, together we stripped him naked. He fought hard. Pete was always stronger than me, but the suit made my body stronger. I forced his legs into the rubber, pulling the slick material up his thighs, over his arse, then his torso. He cursed and swung at me.

“What the fuck! Get off me!”

The words that came out of my mouth were calm. “You’ll understand soon. Connection is necessary.”

I shoved his arms into the sleeves, yanked the hood over his head, and dragged the zipper all the way up. I sealed the flap.

Pete thrashed for maybe ten seconds before the suit took him. His eyes  widened, then turned red, then the familiar glazed look we all had. His body jerked once, twice, and locked upright.

“Connection has been made,” he said in that same flat tone I knew too well. I stepped back. My cock throbbed in the confines of my suit. The man who used to be my friend stared straight ahead, rubber already starting to cling to his skin, filthy interior claiming him. A bulge was forming at the front of his suit. There are no more jokes, no more concern. Just another drone. The worst thing was that I was excited that we had another member of the crew. 

Stan arrived, “You have done well” he said. My cock got instantly hard at the praise and leaked into my suit, which drained it away, as the suit did. Turning to my old friend, I said, “Report to Bay Three for orientation.”  My voice carried no emotion.  

He turned and walked out, not giving me a look. It gave me pleasure seeing a new member of the crew coming online. My suit rewarded me as I shot another load into my suit.

That night, the two of us marched into the bunkhouse together. The others barely glanced up. I took my usual top bunk. Pete was assigned the one directly below me. We lay in the darkness, rubber suits creaking softly, our cock hard, as the suits squeezed. All around us, I could hear moans from my fellow crew members as we all emptied our balls. Once we had all released our loads, our breathing synchronised.

The air was thick with the collective reek of unwashed men sealed inside their prisons.

I could hear him thinking, trapped, just like me. “What did you do?” But neither of us could speak. The suits wouldn’t allow it.

In the morning, we stood side by side for inspection. Stan slapped Pete’s chest and grinned. “Another solid addition. You two old pals can work the same truck today. Real bonding experience.”

We turned in unison and walked out into the sludge-covered yard, two black rubber figures moving as one. Friends no more. Just crew. Just drones. The bunkhouse would hold us both from now on, night after night, in filth and silence.

+++

A full year has passed since the suit that claimed me. Twelve months of sludge, rubber, and the low hum of obedience. There is little left of the “I” anymore, just flickers.  

What remained was only the unit. Only the crew. Only The Firm. My name, my memories, my old life, are almost gone, fading fast. They had been scraped clean, like the tanks we clean. What remains is simple, clean, and perfect: The Suit. Work. Loyalty. The Firm. The suit no longer needs to force my body. The body moves on its own now because the mind inside it wants nothing else. Pete is the same. We do not speak of the past. There is no past. There is only the crew.

Each morning, we rise together from our bunks in perfect sync, rubber suits creaking, bodies coated in a permanent layer of filth and recycled waste. The stench no longer registers as bad. It is simply the smell of duty. We stand at attention.

“Another good year, drones,” Stan says, slapping our chests. He turns to us, while the others look on. “You two are some of my best operatives I have. Never a complaint. Never a sick day.”

“Work is purpose,” we reply together, voices flat and identical. “Loyalty is life.”

We march to the trucks. Day after day, we climb inside tankers full of human waste, chemical runoff, and black sludge, hosing, scraping, and breathing it all in while the suits drink our sweat and reward us with waves of dull pleasure. At night, we return to the bunkhouse, eat the grey nutrient paste, and lie down in our filthy beds. No dreams. Only rest mode. Eyes open. Breathing in unison with the other twenty drones.

Sometimes new men arrive at the gate. Desperate. Unemployed. Curious. We watch them from the yard with empty eyes. Last month, a young guy came looking for his missing brother. I was the one who led him to the shed. I held him down while Pete sealed the zipper. We watched together as his eyes glazed over and he spoke the sacred words:

“Connection has been made.”

He is one of us now. Another tail in the growing list of men who simply disappear. The police come sometimes, asking questions. Stan shows them the paperwork. We stand in the background like silent black statues. They always leave. No one ever finds us.

Pete and I work side by side every single day. We share the same bunk stack. We are not friends. We are not anything except crew. When one of us needs to piss, the suit recycles it. When one of us bleeds from cracked hands, the suit seals the wound. Pain is irrelevant. Only service matters.

Tonight, as we lie in the reeking darkness, another new arrival screams in the shed across the yard. His voice cuts off sharply. Then we hear the words we all look forward to and once spoke:

“Connection has been made.”

A small wave of satisfaction passes through the crew. Each of us feels our cocks  harden. We all climax simultaneously. The Firm becomes stronger. More hands for the filth. More bodies for the suits.

I close my eyes, not because I want to, but because the suit tells me it is time. There is no sadness. No regret. Only the quiet knowledge that tomorrow we will wake and serve again.

The Suit.

Work.

Loyalty.

The Firm.

Nothing else remains.

++++

Two years in. There is no man left inside this suit.

Only the drone. Only the unit.

The original personality is gone, completely erased. No old friends, no name. Pete is the same. We are now perfect extensions of the suits. The rubber is our skin. The suit is our mind. Our thoughts are simple, clean, and repetitive:

Suit. Work. Loyalty. Ejaculation.

That is the full cycle of existence.

During the long shifts, we hose out tankers thick with waste. The filthier the job, the stronger the reward. When the suit detects peak obedience and effort, it begins the stimulation sequence. Tiny nodes inside the groin lining swell and pulse. The rubber milks us with rhythmic, merciless efficiency while we keep working. No moaning. No stopping. Just the wet, mechanical sounds of rubber sliding against skin and the occasional quiet grunt as we unload into the internal collectors, that drain it away. The suit recycles it. Nutrients.

More loyalty chemicals. More pleasure.

“Reward earned,” the suit whispers directly into what's left of our minds. Then we cum again hard, long, brain-melting spurts, while continuing to scrape sludge. It is the only pleasure we are allowed, and we crave it.

At night in the bunkhouse, it is the same. Lights out. Rest mode. The suits synchronise. In our bunkhouse, twenty black rubber bodies are lying rigid in the filth. Then the nightly loyalty cycle begins. The groin sections tighten and vibrate in perfect unison across the entire crew. One by one, we are milked. The air fills with the muffled sounds of rubber and heavy breathing. Pete and I ejaculate at the same moment, our suited bodies twitching in sync on the bunks. Thick ropes pumped out, drained away, processed. Another dose of obedience floods our brains.

We no longer speak. We no longer think in words longer than the four pillars: Suit. Work. Loyalty. Ejaculation.

Pete is no longer a friend. He is simply Unit-17. I am Unit-09. We share the same bunkhouse. We work the same trucks. We ejaculate at the same time. When one suit needs deeper cleaning, which is not that often, we assist each other by rubbing the filth deeper into the rubber, polishing it with our own waste and seed.

We wake, eat the grey paste that's set before us.  and make our way to the first job of the day. 

As we get closer to the tankers that are assigned to us this morning. Stan walked up and nodded with satisfaction.

“You two are completely broken in. Best pair I’ve seen. The suits own you now.”

“Ownership accepted,” we answered together, voices monotone. “Loyalty absolute.”

As he leaves, the reward sequence is triggered immediately. Both our suits locked the groin sections tight and began the long, milking strokes. We stand perfectly still in the yard, black rubber gleaming with grime. We cum hard inside our prisons while staring blankly ahead. Thick pulses. Warmth spreading. Brain flooded with pure obedient bliss.

This is all we are now.

Suits.

Work.

Loyalty.

Ejaculation.

My situation didn’t look good. I’d just been told that I was going to be joining the same skinhead crew that my, now a skinhead, brother had been inducted into. I heard the door open and picked up on a conversation between two of the skinheads, one of which was Stevo. 

“…that’s what I’ve decided. When we are done, he’ll be perfect as a bootlicking rubberskin pisspig”, I was pretty sure that was the voice of Stevo, and that he was talking about yours truly.

The two voices entered the room.

“That’ll take some work, but I know you’ve always had a thing for rubber and piss bois”. It was another voice that I’d not heard before. He went off looking around the house. 

“Nice digs m8, do you own it?” I turned my head to see another of the skinhead crew coming out of my kitchen. He had matching boots and jacket and was wearing camouflage pants. 

Before I could answer Stevo interrupted. “That’s Dunc by the way. We will talk about that later, c’mon let’s get him started on his journey.” 

“Are we not going to get his brother to help”? Asked Dunc. They stopped talking and listened to the noises coming from upstairs, the simultaneously laughed and said. Let’s not interrupt them right now. 

I looked back towards where Stevo standing. He had a big black bag in his left hand, which he put down on the floor “"This is for you. It’s a present, but you’re not ready for it yet”. 

“What is it”? I asked

“Something you’re going to be wearing a lot of the time very soon”. 

I was starting to get worried, but at the same time I was starting to feel a bit ‘strange’. I don’t know whether it was what my brother had told me about what happened to him, what I imagined was going on upstairs, or being surrounded by a gang of hard-looking, booted skinheads.

Stevo camd up to me with a plastic cup filled with an orange liquid, which looked like Fanta. “Here, drink this”. He said and brought it up to my lips. “You’re probably dehydrated so you need to drink something”.

“Thanks” I said as I gulped the drink. The first mouthful tasted rally bitter - not what I expected. But as I got used to the taste, I realised I quite liked it. In no time I’d emptied the contents of the cup.

“Now, if you don’t want to end up in a world of pain, you’re not going move an inch” It sounded like Stevo was giving an order, not making a request. With an evil grin he picked up a set of hair clippers.

Then came the realisation that he was going to shave off all my lovely hair. Worse than that, as I he began I could see how excited Stevo was becoming as I noticed a thick lump slowly swelling in the front of his bleachers. He ran the clippers all over my head. As he did so, clumps of hair were falling to the ground around me. As the ploughing continued, I felt what can only be described as a pleasant ‘buzz’ through my body. I didn’t know whether to put it down to the vibration from the clippers or the strange feeling of the air blowing round my newly clipped head. Whatever it was I was becoming extremely aroused. Worse still I think Stevo noticed this. With that he turned off the clippers and headed off into the kitchen. 

Dunc walked across to me with a mirror in his hand. He turned it towards me so that I could see the result of Stevo’s handiwork. I started to fight against the restraints, but Dunc pushed down on my shoulders. “You’re not done yet. There’s a lot to do before we’ve got you looking right lad. Don’t worry, we’re going to look after you”.

Just then Stevo came back in the room carrying a bowl with steaming water in in. He was also smoking a cigarette. “Take care of this for me, won’t you lad?” Stevo said, took the cigarette out of his mouth and shoved between my lips. Strangely, I felt compelled to suck on it, drawing in the smoke deeper and deeper into my virgin lungs.

As I was taking my first cigarette, something I thought I’d never do, Stevo applied a liberal amount of shaving cream to my skull. With each stoke of the razor over my head he was removing more and more of the stubble, removing more and more of the old me. At the same time he was transforming me into one of them; Into a skinhead just like they had done to my brother, just like them. When Stevo was finally finished, he took a towel and dried my head off. 

Once again, Dunc picked up the mirror and pointed it towards me. I saw my new look in the mirror, I was scared but I was also excited and I could feel my cock stiffen again.

Luke was desperate for a shit. He knew he’d never get home on time and he hated the idea of going into the bushes. As he rounded a corner to his relief he saw a public toilet set back slightly from the road. Generally these days they are all boarded up but he could see this one was open. He rushed in and saw that there were 3 cubicles but the one on the left and the right had a sign saying Out of Order and only the middle one seemed to be in use.

‘Thank God’ he said out loud. As he went to the cubicle he saw out of the corner of his eye two guys in jeans at the urinals but he couldn’t care what they might be doing as all he needed to do was have a crap. He shut the door and went to lock but the lock had been ripped off. Somehow he was able to sit on the loo and keep one foot pressed against the door.

After a few minutes he felt so relieved as he wiped himself clean. What he hadn’t noticed as he sat down and got on with his shit was that on each side of the cubicle was a hole in the partition. As he started to stand to hoist up his boxers he could see a shadow through one of the holes and a pair of shiny boots facing him on the other side of the partition. Seconds later a hard long cock was being put through the hole. Luke had heard about Glory Holes and cruising in toilets but had never had the experience. Sometimes when he had heard guys talk about it he had found his own cock stirring in excitement. Now here he was with a good 8 inch dick all the way through the hole. The head was fully exposed, the foreskin pulled back. It was gleaming with some precum showing. Luke pulled his boxers down to reveal his own erect cock.

Suddenly he heard a voice on the other side.

‘What the fuck are doing mate. Me dick is there for a suck, get your mouth around and make sure you give me a bloody good blow job.’

Luke was at once scared but also so worked up at the command and seeing  the prick waiting for his mouth. He got down on his knees, feeling the cold concrete pissed stained floor and tentatively put his hand around the cock.

‘Forget the fucking hand, gimme yer mouth.’

Still holding the end of the guys dick Luke put his mouth around the head and licked the precum.

‘Like the taste boy eh?’

Luke did like the taste and the smell of a prick that hadn’t been washed for a couple of days and he could taste some piss as well. He opened his mouth wider and let the cock slip down further into his throat. The size was perfect and there was no need to gag. He kept pushing his mouth further towards the partition until he was tight up against it with the guys cock all the way down.

‘You’ve done this before, boy, getting a cock all the way down that gob of yours. So start sucking. I want you to swallow all my cum. ‘

Luke slowly took his mouth back up the shaft savouring the smell of piss and let it guide itself back down. He was getting off on this this sleaze in a public toilet. Why had he never down this before. He was always afraid of cottaging but the thrill was so great.

‘Get yer mouth going up and down quicker mate, I’ve a load of spunk to get out of me balls.’

Hearing the guy sound so dirty made Luke slide his mouth ever faster up and down the shaft whilst keeping his hand firmly clenched at the opening. He could hear the guy grunting on the other side, and the more Luke sucked the more he could feel the precum in his mouth.

‘Yer a fucking horny little bastard,’ the guy said’ making me so ready mate. I’m about to explode my cum down yer throat.’

Luke could feel the guy pressing tight against the hole and he could feel the cock veins throbbing as he sucked.

‘Get ready boy its coming. Fuckin hell’ and with that as he pushed his cock back and forth against the hole so his balls erupted creamy cum all the way down Luke’s throat

‘Shit man that’s what I call cum. Yer fucking great boy.’

As Luke was wiping the cum off his chin he realised he had not wanked himself off and as he went to sit on the bog to masturbate he suddenly saw another rigid hard cock sliding through the hole on the other side and again a pair of shiny boots facing into the partition.

‘Hearin the noise of me mate coming boy, you can do the same for me. Sucking him was a good first but as you can see mine’s bigger and thicker and will just about choke yer fucking throat. Put yer hand round it first and feel the thickness and the size of these dick veins.’

Luke didn’t know what to do but seeing this massive dick being offered up to him made his cock so hard he thought he might cum without wanking

‘Lick me head first. I like the feel man before you gag.’

Luke let his tongue get covered in spit and slowly started on the head which was pink and shiny and like a helmet. Judging by the slit there would be a heap load of cum to swallow. Opening his mouth as wide as possible he started to let the cock enter his throat but at first the size was too much and he started gagging.

‘I told you boy. Relax a bit and you’ll find it goes in easier. Take yer time as I want to feel it go right to the back of your throat.’

Luke did as he was told and inch by inch he changed his breathing and the shaft went further and further in, sliding easily with all Luke’s spit which was spilling out his mouth and down his chin.

‘That’s better boy you’ve got the hang of it. Let me feel yer lips rubbing against this filthy partition. Let me feel as if it’s not there and your mouth is tight in against me pubes.’

Luke kept his hand over the end of the shaft so he could balance to take in the full length. He had never taken such a cock as this but its massiveness was such a turn on he wanted the full length. He was not going to miss out  and this time  his own load of spunk erupt. As he started to let his hand move up and down his own shaft so the need to take the full length of the guys cock was more desperate.  He was sliding his mouth up and down the shaft quicker and quicker and as he did so he hand worked his own good sized dick.

‘I know yer fucking wanking boy I can hear your breathing but shit mate its making me so fucking ready and that mouth of yours is the best suck I’ve had in ages. I want you to come at the same time and hear your jism. Go on spunk it boy I’m ready.’

Luke could not contain it any longer and as his own cum shot out splatting against the partition so he let out a mighty orgasmic sound.

‘That’s it boy I’m coming now.’

Whilst Luke’s spunk was still hitting the partition so the guy let rip an avalanche of cum almost choking Luke who could not swallow quick enough with great wads spilling down his chin.

The guy withdrew his cock and the boots moved away. There seemed quietness as Luke took out his hankie to wipe his chin and the remainder of his own cum from his cock. He leant forward to pull up his trousers and that was the last he remembered as he blanked out as something hit his head with such force.

As Luke had stood up the two guys had kicked the door with their boots with full force smashing into Luke’s head.

The next thing Luke knew as he started to come round was that he felt cold and could hardly move his head. Slowly his eyes began to focus and open more. He firstly realised that he was totally naked and in a cage. The reason he could hardly move his head was that there was a hole in the cage that allowed his head through but was too small for him to remove it. The room he was in was dark and smelt of piss and damp. His hands were free but as his head was clamped there was very little he could do. As he looked down there was a bowl of water that he could just reach to drink out of.

‘Christ my head is so sore. I must be bruised to hell and I can feel blood in my mouth. Where the hell am I? What have I done to deserve this? Someone has to hear me.’

Luke started shouting at the top of his voice

‘Help me, help me will someone come and get me out of this?’

After shouting for several minutes and starting to feel hoarse, there was a blinding light. For several seconds he could see nothing and before he could open his eyes there was a thundering noise over his head.

As he opened his eyes slowly the noise was as loud as ever. With the head still looking down he made out a pair of shiny black high laced boots. He felt he had seen them before, yes that was it he saw them under the partition in the toilet block.He was just able to look upwards as to what was going on above him.  A guy with a baseball bat was banging it over the bars, and thumping the bat up and down, grinning from one side of his face to the other.

‘Wakey wakey you cock sucker.’

‘Stop it, stop it please’ Luke screamed over the noise, his ear drums almost bursting.

‘Oh we have a nice little gay guy here don’t we. Stop it please,’ the guy said trying to imitate Luke.

‘Why have you done this to me?’

Another guy in the corner said

‘Well you gave us a great blow job we thought we would keep you a bit longer. But you need to change your look a bit mate.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘A bit preppy for us.’

 Luke looked more closely at the two guys. He had noticed as he rushed in for his shit that both were wearing boots and jeans but had not looked enough.

The two guys were in tight fitting bleachers as if the bleachers had been sprayed on they were so tight and not just their legs and thighs but their cocks and balls showed a huge package stuffed down one leg. They both had their high boots , one with red laces and one with yellow. Both had braces to match their laces with black Fred Perry T shirts. One wore a green A1 jacket the other was black Their heads were shaved and one had a scar all the way down one cheek. Skin 1 and Skin 2.

‘Time to leave you in the dark for a bit but don’t worry we will be back every hour.’ And with that they turned off the lights and left locking the door.

Sure enough one hour later they came back each with their baseball bat and started thumping them across the bars of the cage

‘Stop stop for Gods sake stop.’ Luke screamed

‘You need to get used to this boy.’

Out they went and sure enough every hour they came back  and ran the bats across the bars.

‘This is fucking great. The boy hates it.’

After 8 hours of this they returned again and started up.

‘I’m fucking loving this mate,’ Skin 1 shouted as he beat the bars

‘Fucking stop that fucking noise now.’ Luke shouted.

The skins stopped immediately.

‘Now that’s what we want to hear, a big of aggro in the voice. Say it again.’

‘Fucking stop it.’

‘Good boy.’

‘Now what’s this I see boy. A nice big piss puddle you have made.’

Luke hadn’t noticed but the noise had made him so worked up that he had peed himself and his piss was in a puddle under him.

‘Yer luck’s in boy. We just downed a few cans of lager and both of us are desperate for a piss. Seeing you’ve just pissed yerself then you won’t mind some of ours. A right golden shower is coming your way.’

Skin 1 and 2 unzipped their bleachers and pulled out their cocks. Luke could see they were the two pricks he had so enthusiastically sucked earlier. They stood in front of Luke and took aim at his head with their cocks.

‘Fuck I have a right load of piss here for you mate.’

And with that they both let rip with a heavy stream of bright yellow piss aiming it at Luke’s head and face.

‘Drink it up boy. You loved our cum so swallow our piss.’

Luke could not move his head in the cage as a torrent of pee cascaded down his face. He had no option but to lick it as it poured over his lips. At first it tasted acidic but after some had gone down the back of his throat there was something about being a sub, unable to escape with so much piss that he found himself starting to swallow. The Skins seeing this made sure their stream was directed at his mouth.

‘He fucking loves it. As good as our cum eh boy? Shit look at his cock he’s getting a bloody hard on. Getting a bit more like us and Christ me cock’s starting a boner seeing him. Need to get rid of this pee first.’

Both the Skins shook their cocks and stuffed them back into their bleachers, Skin 1 having more difficulty as he was the one with the thick cock and now semi hard.

‘Got some work to do now. Go get the clippers mate.’

His mate went out the room and came back with a shaver, razor and shaving cream.

‘Your hair is now stinking of our piss so best for you if you get rid’

‘No please don’t do anything to my hair’

‘We’ll fucking do what we want. You ain’t got much option in that cage and don’t fucking shake your head while I have me razor on you.’

Skin 1 got down on his knees in front of Luke who knew he had to obey in his cage. He took the shaver and started on Luke’s head working from the back to the front. Luke could see his hair falling on to the floor and was helpless.

It seemed no time until most had been removed. Skin 1 then sprayed the shaving foam all over his head.

‘Need to get rid of all this fucking stubble you got there.’

Luke could feel the razor tight against his head and a couple of times felt the razor cut his scalp.

‘A couple of cuts wont do you any harm. In fact better for a skin.’

After half an hour Skin 1 sat back and looked

‘I’ve done a fucking great job there boy. Have a look. He walked over and picked up a mirror putting in front of Luke.

 ‘Oh my God I look just like the two of you.’

Fucking right mate what did you think. You’re gonna be one of us. Need to clean you up a bit. He walked over to the wall where a hose was hung on the wall. Unravelling he brought over to the cage and then walked back and turned on the water. He aimed the cold water at Luke at full power and Luke almost froze as the water splashed against him.

‘Stop please, I’m clean now.’

 The water was turned off

‘So now we are gonna leave you for a while. Time to get dressed. Your clothes are on that chair. I’m gonna unlock the cage and let you out. We’ll lock the door so you won’t be getting out. Luke could feel the cage door’s padlocked being undone and the padlock that had made his headstuck in the round opening.

Luke felt he had no strength to do anything and just laid  there at the open cage door.

‘See you later boy’ the Skins said as they went out locking the door

Luke slowly clambered out the cage feeling stiff and slightly disorientated. As he stood up, naked he saw clothes piled on the chair and in front a pair of high lace up boots, It all looked the same gear as the skins.

Luke was cold from the blasting of water and wanted to get into the clothes quickly no matter what he might look like. At the top of the pile was a black Fred Perry T shirt like the other two which was a tight fit but showed off his torso well. They must have had some idea of his size. Next the bleachers. He saw they had a zip back and front. As he pulled them on they were tight to his legs and thighs and as he pulled them up it felt good, so good that his cock started hardening. He pushed it down the inside of his leg making a large obvious bulge. The more it rubbed against the bleached denim the more it got bigger. He attached the black braces which seem to pull up the bleachers even more . ‘Christ what a package I have’ Luke thought staring down at his fully hard cock. He then pulled on the thick white socks which came up to almost his knees and sitting on the chair he forced his feet into the shiny black boots carefully lacing up as though he had done it many times before. Finally he put on the A1 green bomber jacket. He felt so great.

‘Where was that mirror?’ He picked it up from the floor and made sure he ran it over his body so he could see himself. Something suddenly snapped inside him. ‘I’m fucking Luke the skin.’  He had a large bruise down one side of his face from the cubicle door being rammed into him but now it made him even more like a  fucking rough skin. “No more fucking pansy boy for me. I’m up for some action and time those guys got what’s coming to them. He rubbed his crotch examining the bulge. Shit man just hope I can pull this out for my revenge.’

He heard the key turn in the door and jumped back behind it ready for anyone to walk in and be dealt with. Skin 2 marched into the room expecting to see Luke wandering around the space. Luke closed in behind quickly putting his arm around Skin 2 in complete stranglehold, the guy chocking and unable to release the vice like grip. His head was skewered back and he was desperately trying to get air as the grip tightened. The guys arse was tight against Luke’s boner and the slight rubbing made his dick even harder.

‘Not so much a fucking boss now are you. What did you expect doing all this to me and making me dress like you. You wanted a fucking skin and let me tell you mate you’ve got one and one much harder than you. Can’t talk can you. I’d like to fucking strangle you.’ Skin 2 could only splutter and was at the point of passing out.

‘Don’t fucking think about it mate’ Luke shouted as he pushed Skin2 towards the cage. With his other arm he pushed the skins head downwards until it was pressed against the bars of the cage.

‘Gonna make a nice imprint of these bars on that fucking face of yours.’ He then ran the arm over the guys arse.

‘Nice bum you’ve got there and you know what that for. Right a good fuck and I see you have a rear zip so you’ve had it done before. This time my cock will split that arse of yours.’

Luke quickly undid the zip and the bleachers immediately parted revealing a nice dark hairy arse. Luke gave it a couple of sharp slaps making the skin wince with pain.

 ‘Shit you little fairy that ain’t painful’ and with that he slammed his hand with full force over his buttocks. ‘I wanna see that arse of yours tingling red for my cock.’

‘So you ain’t moving much. What that means  it you do wanna be fucked. Now get your legs nice an wide.’

As the skin did what he was told Luke undid his zip and pulled out his cock which was straining inside as it was so hard.

‘To make it easier for you let me gob some nice spit down my shaft’ Luke said and he released a huge gob onto his cock and then he rubbed it.

‘That’s nice nothing better than a slimy cock ready to fuck.’

With one hand firmly of the skin’s back keeping him fully bent over the cage, Luke used his other hand to direct his cock into the crack and loosening up the hole with a couple of his fingers.

‘Christ that hole of yours is desperate for my dick and by the feel of it you have had a few cocks up there in the past.’

 Luke took both hands and spread the skins cheeks apart ready to ram his cock in. The hole widened and Luke’s head slipped in the skin letting out a squeal of pain.

‘Fuck it man it’s not even all the way in. Now this is. With one great push Luke pushed his cock all the way up to the hilt..

‘Nice and juicy that hole of yours. Hope for your sake there’s no shit in there. Can you feel my pubes right up against that hairy arse of yours?’

The skin squealed but a squeal of delight.

‘Knew you’d love that you fucking little whore.’

As Luke said that the door opened and Skin 1 walked in.

‘Well you’ve changed you hungry skin. You look the part. Knew you would when you walked in to that bog. You are right up there mate so let’s see you get the rythmn going and fuck him hard.’ As he said this he was rubbing his crotch which was now half way down his legs and bulging thick.

‘I remember that dick of yours. Go on get it out and let’s see you wank while I roger your mate.’

‘We’re all mates now boy.’

‘or a start you can bloody well stop calling me boy if that’s the case.’

‘Ok man give it to him

‘Seeing that meaty cock of your mate has me even more ready to shoot my load inside him.’

‘Then go on really slide it in and out.’

 Luke started ramming his prick in and out, faster and faster his breathing rapidly increasing, skin 2 grunting more and more, while skin 1’s hand was working his shaft faster having let a big gob of spit grease him up.

‘Ride him man, I’m ready’

With one final push Luke shot his hot spunk in fierce spurts right up Skin 2 arse. Skin one arched back and sprayed the floor with his cum. As Luke let Skin 2 move the bloke had come in his bleachers with a great wet patch showing and some cum oozing through.

‘That’s what I call a fuck man’ Skin 2 said.

‘You’ll have to stay here mate’ he said to Skin 2, ‘you cannae come out with all that cum showing on yer bleachers.’

‘So man stuff that dick back it but shake off the left overs first. We have a job to do.’

‘What’s that?’

‘Follow me we have to go and do some cottaging.’

The two went back to the same toilet where it had first all happened. This time Luke and Skin 1 stood facing the urinal. Skin 1 moved his hand over to rub Luke’s cock and it was no time until his shaft was a full boner.

‘That’s you ready now. You can go first.’

As he said this, so a young guy walked in and quickly looked at the two blokes at the urinal and went into the middle cubicle and shut the door.

‘I’m ready ‘Luke said unzipping his bleachers, ‘just hope he is’

(I was feeling horny, so I wrote this story, well, my cock did most of the writing lol.)

I never gave the new tenant much thought until the day he moved in. I’d lived in this quiet, leafy block of flats for six years, solid brick, good neighbours, mostly professional men. The kind of place where solicitors and accountants waved politely in the hallway. Then he arrived. Bald head gleaming under the corridor lights, thick tattoos crawling up his neck, heavy boots thudding on the carpet. I told myself it was none of my business. I was Alexander Thorp, thirty-eight, senior manager at Hargrove & Partners. Suits, spreadsheets, and a glass of Merlot after work. Orderly. Safe. That summed me up.

The first knock came that same evening.

I opened the door, and there he was, two cans of lager in one meaty hand. “Name’s Mal,” he said, voice low and rolling, as distant thunder smoothed with gravel. “Just moved in next door. Thought we should get acquainted.”

“My name is Alexander,” I stuttered, nice to meet you. “Yeah, good to meet you to, Alex.” I hated being called Alex. I tried to tell him that. But he brushed it off.

He offered me a lager, something I don’t usually drink, but something about the way he looked at me made refusing feel rude. We stood in my kitchen.

He cracked open the cans and started talking, nothing special, just about the building, the area, how he liked it here. His voice had this rhythm. Steady. Deep. Each sentence seemed to settle in my chest and loosen something. My shoulders dropped. The usual tension from the office drained away.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he murmured after a while. “Just two mates having a drink. We’re going to be best of friends, Alex. Real close.”

I laughed, a little hazy. “Yeah… sure.”

He smiled like he knew I’d say it.

He started coming round most evenings. Always with drinks. Always that same calm, rolling voice telling me to relax, to let the day go. I found myself looking forward to the knocks. The flat felt warmer with him in it. One night, he handed me a cigarette without asking. I hadn’t smoked since university, but I took it. The first drag made my head spin pleasantly. Mal nodded approvingly.

“Looks right on you,” he said. “A man should have a smoke at the end of the day. Clears the bullshit out.”

I started keeping a pack in the drawer. When I got home from work, I’d change out of the suit into jeans and a polo shirt, comfortable things I suddenly preferred. Mal would already be on my sofa, boots up on the coffee table, and I’d join him. We’d drink, smoke, talk. Or rather, he’d talk, and I’d listen. It felt… good. Simple.

The changes at work crept in so quietly I barely noticed them at first.

I snapped at a junior solicitor over a minor filing error. Nothing major, just a sharper tone than usual. The satisfaction that followed surprised me. A week later, I caught myself loosening my tie in the lift, impatient with the starched collar.

Once a month, we had dress-down Friday. We paid one hundred pounds, all the money went to charity, that Friday morning I pulled on a pair of black Doc Martens I’d bought on a whim after Mal mentioned them. They looked ridiculous with chinos, so I swapped the chinos for darker jeans. Then I added a crisp Ben Sherman shirt, pale blue, buttoned neatly, and a set of white braces I found tucked in the back of my wardrobe. I don’t remember buying the braces, but they felt correct. Natural.

I looked in the mirror before leaving and felt a low, warm pulse of approval. Stronger. More solid.

Colleagues noticed. Sarah from Accounts raised an eyebrow. “New look, Alexander?” “Comfortable,” I grunted. The old easy smile I used to wear felt like an effort.

When one of the partners questioned a report later that morning, I felt heat rise in my neck. My voice came out harder than intended. “It’s correct. Don’t waste my time.

”The words tasted metallic and sweet.

Mal was waiting when I got home that evening. He looked me up and down and grinned slowly.

“Starting to look the part, mate.”

I should have asked what he meant. Instead, I opened two cans, lit a cigarette, and let that deep voice wash over me again. He told me how much better I looked. How much clearer things were becoming. How weak the old version of me had been, always apologising, always smoothing things over, always soft. His words sank in like warm oil.

“You’re stronger than that, Alex. You feel it, don’t you?”

I did. The anger at work wasn’t a problem; it was honest. The boots felt powerful on the pavement. The braces held me upright. When I walked into meetings, I now saw the little flinches, the way eyes dropped. Respect, finally.

Last night, Mal brought round a razor. He sat me down in the bathroom, clippers buzzing.

“Time to clean it up proper,” he said softly.

I watched in the mirror as my hair fell away. The man staring back looked harder. Clearer. Mal’s hands were firm on my scalp. His voice never stopped murmuring, friends, crew, belonging, strength. When he finished, he rested a heavy hand on my shoulder.

“You’re coming along nicely he whispered.” Taking me out of my trance-like state.

The old Alex, the quiet, careful, soft-handed man, felt like someone I used to know. Distant. Irrelevant. I took a long drag on my cigarette and smiled at my reflection. The boots, the braces, the fresh-shaved head. It all fit.

Mal asked how I felt. My answer surprised me, “About time,” I said, voice lower than it used to be.

Mal clapped me on the back and laughed. I laughed with him deep, easy, certain.

It was Friday night I stood in front of the mirror, running my hand over my freshly shaved head. It still felt strange, smooth, cool, powerful. The old Alexander would have been horrified. The new Alex felt a low, steady thrill every time I caught my reflection.

Mal had been watching me from the doorway, that slow, satisfied grin on his face.

“Looking sharp, mate,” he said, voice low and warm like always. “But we’re stepping it up tonight. My lads are down at The Crown. Proper local pub, none of that poncey wine-bar shit you used to go to. Time you met the crew.”

I nodded without thinking. Of course. Mal was my best mate. The only one who really understood what I needed now.

He disappeared into the hallway for a moment and came back carrying a pair of bleachers. They looked tight, heavily worn. The kind of trousers I would have sneered at six weeks ago.

“Get changed,” he told me. Not a suggestion. A calm instruction.

I trusted him completely. He was the one who had shown me how weak I used to be. I stripped off the dark jeans I’d been wearing and pulled on the bleachers. They hugged my arse and legs tightly. I then laced up my boots after Mal had told me to replace the laces with white laces. I kept the Ben Sherman shirt. Pulled the white braces over my shoulders.

The whole outfit felt locked together now. Complete.

Mal stepped up behind me as I adjusted the braces in the mirror. I felt the heat of his body close, his breath on the back of my newly shaved head. One heavy hand came down on my shoulder and squeezed. “Fuck me, you look the part now, Alex,” he murmured, voice dropping into that hypnotic rhythm that always melted my thoughts. “No more pretending. No more soft little manager hiding behind a suit. This is you. Tonight’s going to seal it. You’ll drink with the lads, you’ll stand tall, and you’ll feel exactly who I have changed you into.”

A shiver ran down my spine, part nerves, part excitement. I met his eyes in the mirror.

“I’m ready,” I said. My voice sounded deeper. Rougher.

Mal clapped me on the back, hard enough to make me straighten up.

“Good lad. Let’s go.”

We walked out of the flat together. The bleachers felt strange at first, tight and obvious, but every step made them feel more natural. The heavy Docs thudded on the stairs. A couple of neighbours glanced at us on the way down, eyes widening before they quickly looked away. I didn’t care. I actually liked it.

Outside, the evening air was cool on my shaved head. Mal walked beside me, shoulder to shoulder, guiding me towards the pub at the end of the road I’d never bothered visiting before. I could already hear the low rumble of voices and music spilling out. I felt my heart beating harder, but not with fear. But with anticipation.

Mal glanced sideways at me and smirked.

“Tonight, you stop being their Alexander,” he said quietly. “Tonight you become Alex and ours.”

I pulled a cigarette from my pack, lit it, and took a long drag as we approached the door. The smoke curled up past my face. I exhaled slowly, feeling the last faint traces of the old me dissolve.

“About time,” I replied.

And I meant it.

The heavy wooden door of The Crown swung open and the noise hit me like a wave: laughter, shouting, the clink of glasses, old Oi! tracks playing low on the speakers. The smell of beer, smoke, and sweat filled the air. For a split second, I hesitated on the threshold in my bleachers, braces, and boots.

Then Mal put his hand reassuringly between my shoulder blades and pushed me inside.

Everything changed the moment I crossed into the pub.

My shoulders squared. My jaw tightened. The nervous middle-manager part of me that still lingered in the background simply switched off. I felt my face settle into a hard, confident sneer as we walked through the pub. Heads turned. A few older lads nodded at Mal, then their eyes moved to me, appraising, measuring.

Mal steered me toward a large table in the corner where five skinheads were already drinking. All shaved, all tattooed, all dressed in similar: tight polos, bleachers, braces, and boots. They looked up.

“This is Alex,” Mal announced, his voice carrying. “The new neighbour. He’s sound. He’s One of us now.”

For a second, they just stared. Then the biggest one, a stocky bloke with a spiderweb tattoo on his neck, grinned and slammed a fresh pint down in front of me.

“Welcome to the crew, Alex. Any mate of Mal’s is welcome here.”

I didn’t smile politely as the old me would have. I grabbed the pint, raised it, and took a long, deep gulp. Beer spilt down my chin. I wiped it with the back of my hand and slammed the glass back on the table.

“Cheers, lads,” I said, my voice loud and rough. “Fucking good to be here.”

They cheered. One of them clapped me hard on the back. Another lit a cigarette and passed it straight to me. I took it naturally, inhaling deep while I eyeballed every one of them. No weakness. No hesitation. I felt powerful. Accepted. Home.

The rest of the night blurred into pints, stories, and aggression. I laughed louder than I ever had. When one of the lads told a story about smashing some posh twat who looked at him funny, I found myself adding my own sharp comments, my temper quick and vicious. They loved it. They accepted me completely. I was no longer the suited middle manager from the nice flats. I was Alex the skinhead.

Mal’s boy.

By closing time, I was buzzing, half-drunk, fully alive.

Mal and I left together, arms slung around each other’s shoulders as we walked back through the quiet streets. My bleachers and boots felt like a second skin now. The shaved head, the braces, the attitude, it all fit perfectly.

“You did well tonight,” Mal said, that deep hypnotic tone back in his voice.

“Proud of you, mate.”

I nodded. “I’m still at the law firm during the day,” I told him, almost amused by the absurdity. “Still closing deals, still wearing the suit. But it’s just a disguise now. The real me is this.”

Mal grinned. “Exactly. And you’re going to help me bring in the rest of the block. Starting with that accountant on the third floor. Soft hands, soft life. He needs fixing. You’ll invite him round for drinks. You’ll talk to him the way I talked to you. Yeah?” “Yeah,” I said without a flicker of doubt. “I know exactly how to do it. He’ll trust me. I used to be like him.”

Mal clapped me on the back again as we reached our building. “Good lad. I’m the boss, but you’re my right hand in that block. We’re going to own it.”

We stopped outside my door. I looked at him, my best mate, my leader and felt nothing but loyalty and pride.

“Fancy a nightcap, Boss,” I said.

We stepped into my flat, wearing our bleachers and braces, I caught my reflection in the hallway mirror. Hard face. Shaved head. Cold eyes. A proud smile crept across my lips.

I fetched two more lagers and settled on the sofa, our boots resting on the coffee table in front of us.

As I leaned over, something snapped inside of me. I felt a great attraction for this man, who had broken me and remade me in his liking. I kissed him deeply, our cocks sprang to life. I soon found myself on my knees looking up at him as he gave me the nod.

We made our way to the bedroom, where he fucked me hard, dominating me, l knew that this was my place with my skinhead Boss. I might be the one in charge in the workplace, but at home, he was the Boss in every aspect of my life from now on.

The rest of the weekend was spent in bed, or lounging around the flat, both of us knowing our places. We ventured out to The Crown that night. The rest of the crew could see the dynamic had changed between the two of us, but did not say anything.

On Monday morning, I looked at the clock, five-thirty AM. I leaned over, my Boss took me into a passionate kiss, and entered me. I had lost count of how many times over the weekend I had been fucked.

I got dressed for work in my suit, I wore a pair of braces, not my skinhead ones. Also, I was wearing a pair of black DM shoes with black laces.

When I walked into the office, several people looked at me, now with a closely cropped head. My secretary asked me about it, “What have you done with your hair?” she asked. “I did it for charity” I jokingly said. Knowing too well, I would never let it grow any longer, Boss’s orders.  

That night, The Boss was waiting for me in my flat; he had full access now. I stripped out of my suit and changed back into my Skin gear. The stress of the day melted instantly. He then handed me a lager, in the same place where it all started six weeks ago.

The Boss turned to me, “We had some planning to do.” Adding “you will need a few tattoos to fit in with the crew.”

I just nodded, “Yes Boss.”

Soon, the rest of the building would join us.

One by one.

What part of us is real, and what is just a facade?

Andrew Samson was in a hurry. It was his sister’s wedding the next day, and he still had lots to do. He was currently trying to find a hairdresser’s as he desperately needed a trim and his beard tidying up.

To most people walking past, Andrew would probably have looked a little nerdy. Boringly dressed, carrying a rucksack, scarf tight around his neck to keep out the cold. But underneath the overcoat and scarf, he wore a clerical shirt. He was proud that, at the age of 35 he was the vicar of the local church. Even though it was in a run-down town in Greater Manchester, he was happy in his work, despite the fact that he didn’t have many parishioners, and he was looking forward to performing the wedding tomorrow.

As he rushed through the town centre, he spotted an old-fashioned barber’s down a side street that he hadn’t seen before, and with a sigh of relief he pushed the door open and went in, the bell on the door giving a pleasing ring as it opened. The shop was warm, and he removed his overcoat and scarf and hung them on a coat-hook on the wall and set his bag on the floor below them.

‘Welcome sir,’ said the barber, a young man in his 20s. ‘What can I do for you today?’

Andrew explained what he wanted, and the young man gestured to a red leather seat facing a mirror on the back wall of the shop. As the man put a ring of crepe paper round Andrew’s neck and then snapped a black cape shut over it.

‘You seem very stressed Father,’ he told Andrew, who explained why, comfortable in the chair. ‘In that case, let me give you a quick shoulder massage before I start.’ Before he could object, the young man had started kneading his shoulders and neck. It certainly felt good.

‘You’re good at that, er…’

‘Max is my name,’ said the barber.

‘Very good indeed Max, thank you,’ Andrew muttered.

Max continued for a few more minutes, now also massaging Andrew’s head. He then pulled a little box out of his pocket.

‘I think this will help de-stress you even more,’ he said, as he removed a pair of wireless earbuds from the box, and inserted them into Andrew’s ears. There was no objection from the priest.

Max then opened an app on his phone and soon Andrew was listening to calming music, laced at the edge of hearing with words suggesting he relax more and more. Max then went and locked the front door, pulled down the blinds and turned down the lighting so that all that was left in the shop were a few lights illuminating the chair.

Max could see that Andrew was deeply asleep under the influence of the sounds coming from the earbuds, so he leant the chair back and started trimming his beard, making it shorter and neater.

He went into a room at the back of the shop and had a quick smoke while he boiled a kettle to prepare the shaving cream.

Smoke finished, he returned to the still dozing Andrew and, with a pair of electric clippers, began to reduce his hair to a stubble. Once done, Max used a shaving brush to liberally coat Andrew’s head with foam. Meticulously, he used a straight blade to remove all of the stubble, taking care not to dislodge the buds from Andrew’s ears.

Once that was completed, Max lathered up the priest’s cheeks and neck and covered his face with a hot towel before making a couple of calls on his mobile. He then returned to complete the work, ensuring a smooth finish.

He removed the cape and crepe collar and then told Andrew to stand up, which he did in a daze. Max helped him on with his coat and scarf and put the rucksack on his own shoulder, before guiding Andrew out the back door of the shop into the rapidly darkening alleyway.

A few yards down the alley, Max knocked on a door, which was opened. Andrew was led inside and he stared blankly ahead of him as Max shook hands with a man in his 40s.

‘Hi Rob,’ he said, ‘this is the one I called you about.’

Together, Rob and Max removed Andrew’s coat, scarf and shirt, stuffing them into the rucksack, which was then put into a black plastic bag and left in the back room. They guided him into the main part of the shop which was a tattoo studio. Andrew was seated in a chair and Max and Rob speedily shaved the fine hairs from his arms. They taped over the earbuds to make sure they wouldn’t fall out.

Then Rob began his work. It was going to be a long job, but Rob worked away on intricate black tribal designs on Andrew’s arms and the backs of his hands. Max made sure that the hypnotic tracks being fed to Andrew were working well, and Rob joined him occasionally for a smoke out the back of the shop.

Arms and hands complete, Rob then leant the chair all the way back and he and Max shaved Andrew’s chest, before Rob started more work there.

It was almost midnight before he had finished and so Max went and got some pizza that they ate together.

Once they’d finished eating, Rob was ready to go again and began the last part of Andrew’s inking. The designs flowed up Andrew’s neck and onto the sides of his head and finally a black teardrop was added below his left eye.

The last job was to add some piercings. Small black plugs were installed in both his earlobes, and a ring was pierced through his septum.

Rob made sure that all of the new tattoos were protected and he was just finishing when there was a quiet knock at the back door. Max let the two men in and Billy and Dave came to look at Andrew.

‘Is he ready?’ Dave asked. Rob nodded with a grin and grabbed the bag containing Andrew’s possessions. Billy and Max helped to pull a black hoodie on to Andrew. Hood up, he was led to Dave and Billy’s car in the alley. Max sat with Andrew in the back, Billy got in the driver’s seat with Dave beside him, and Billy drove off into the morning rush hour.