#skinhead

“So the new me; the shaved, booted and bleacher-wearing new me was about to go out into the big wide world with Nick and his crew. Me, the new lad. I remember him standing by the front door, arms folded, looking me up and down. He was grinning and told me I was starting the look the part but there was more to do, and we needed to get a move on. 

As we headed into town, he came alongside me and told me that I was being inducted into the crew and that all the lads were excited there would be someone new living in the house. Nick told me that one of the lads, called Chopper, was particularly happy that I would be part of the crew - if you know what I mean. He gave me a big smirk and shouted that we needed to hurry up if we were going to get everything done today. With that he started walking faster.

I didn’t have a clue where we were going. Remember, I was the new lad in town, miles from home; the ‘lost sheep’, Nick was me Shepard and whether I wanted to or not, I was joining his flock.

Just then we came around the corner and I realised where they were taking me. We were going to a tattooist. I was about to ask what we were doing here (I was so naive back then), but the lads came behind me, lifted me off my feet and pushed me through the door.

I remember Nick talking to the tattooist who was called Blake and saying that he wanted everything that they’d previously discussed. The lads pushed me into the chair. I was panicking because I had no idea what they were going to do with me. Nick turned and said, don’t worry lad, you’ll love what is going to happen today. Well you’ll have to, because you’ve got no choice. With that he nodded to Blake, who walked over to me. He told the lads to take my Fred Perry off, which they did. One of the crew was standing on one side of me, and another on the other, both holding me down. Blake started to place tracings on me: on my left arm, right forearm, and back. I won’t bore you with what happened, but that’s how I got the tatts you can see. 

Not only did I get tattooed, but they also gave me my ‘metal’. I got my ears done, a septum piercing and a PA. That was the most painful of all. I was in the tattooists for hours, but you know what? Once you’ve got your first taste of ink you just want more, and more. I’m going back next week, I’m thinking of getting a spiderweb on my right elbow - Chopper said I’d look great with one, and with s-k-i-n-h-e-a-d on my knuckles. Anyway, after the tattooist we went for a couple of pints to numb the pain of the tattooing and piercings. After that Nick said that I needed some more skin gear to wear. So we went to a shop nearby that sold Army surplus (and skinhead gear). I got some cammo pants, 20-hole Oxblood coloured boots, a couple more Fred Perry polo shirts and a black MA1 jacked, which I put on to walk back to Nick’s house.

If you didn’t think my life had changed dramatically in one day, it was about to change further. I got through the door carrying my new skin gear. Nick grabbed the bags off me, and before I knew what was happening, Chopper grabbed the back of my neck and pulled me towards him and started snogging me. At that point, I’d barely kissed half a dozen girls at school, and there I was was kissing a man. I remember Chopper’s mouth tasted amazing, all smokey. Chopper pulled away and asked if I liked him kissing me. I remember smiling and moved back for more. 

Chopper pulled out of the snog, he looked around to see Nick and the rest of the crew in the living room with a few beers on the go. He grabbed my hand and led me up the stairs.

(To be continued)

I can’t believe that my little blog, which is where I share my pervy and kinky thoughts about skinheads, drones, rubbermen, leathermen and bikers has over 1,000 followers. 

Thank you - I’ll try to keep pumping out the captions and short stories. Feedback is always appreciated too.

“So Nick returned to the kitchen, I can remember he had a big smile on his face when he confirmed the first phase of my transformation was complete. He told me to get some sleep as there was so much that still needed to be done. With that he turned the kitchen light out, leaving me with my arms tied to this chair. It wasn’t long before the house was in darkness and I was left to contemplate what had happened to me. 

Somehow, despite the discomfort I liked Nick and his crew, and even though they’d forcibly shaved my head, I felt ‘safe’ in their hands. I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I remember is waking up to see one of the skinheads in Nick’s crew, Dave was sitting on the kitchen worktop opposite me. I remember, he was wearing jeans which looked like they had been splashed with bleach. He had a tattoo on his right arm and was wearing these long black boots with white laces.

He smiled at me, and said “morning lad - we’ve got an exciting day ahead of us. Big changes - and  guess what? You’ll like them”. Then, Stevo joined him in the room with two carrier bags in his hands. Dave then said right, let’s get you dressed properly.” With that he came behind my chair an undid the rope that was restraining my hands. I don’t know why but I didn’t put up a fight. I was lonely, in a new town, in a new job and these guys wanted to be my friends.

With that Stevo picked a white polo shirt and pair of jeans that looked like Dave’s out of one of the bags and told me to put them on.

He told me that the jeans were called bleachers and everyone in Nick’s crew either wore bleachers or cammo pants.  The bleachers were skintight and were cut in such a way that they just covered my knees. I would be wearing on my top half. I pulled the shirt over my head and Steve then pulled a pair of red braces and white socks out of the carrier. He told me to get the socks on first and then it would be time for the boots. 

He opened the other bag and took out a pair of brand new black boots. First of all he pulled out the black laces that were already laced in the boots. He told me that they only wear white laces in their black boots. It’s Nick’s rule. 

For the next thirty minutes Stevo instructed me on how to ladder lace my boots and supervised my every move. I remember him nodding and smiling as I mastered the lacing of my new boots. I was used to wearing trainers, so these boots felt so very different and way heavier to what I was used to wearing on my feet. 

I heard Nick shout down, is he ready yet? Steve said, “all good.” And Nick said right lads bring him along, we’re off into town.”

“Several rounds of Special Brew later and I was in a pretty bad state. I tried to stand up but didn’t succeed, so Nick told the lads to help me out of the pub and that we were all going to go to crash at his place for the night. Little did I know that this would be the night that I would be turned into the newest member of Nick’s skinhead crew.

When we got back to Nick’s house there was someone already standing in the doorway. Little did I know that he  had made sure that one of his crew stayed at the house, sober that evening in order to welcome me into the crewI.  vaguely remember Nick shouting “Stevo, get over here and give us a hand…”

I felt another pair of hands supporting me as we walked through the hallway and into the kitchen. They lead me over to a chair that was in the middle of the room, and plonked me down on it. First they removed my T-shirt and then they tied my hands behind my back. I heard Stevo say to Nick that I wouldn’t be going anywhere unless they let me. The other lads left me alone in the kitchen with Stevo.

The next thing I heard through my drunken state was the familiar clack of hair clippers. Whoever was in charge of using the clippers showed me that they had removed the guard. As drunk as I was I knew they were going to to shear off every hair that was growing on my head. They made short work of ploughing through my hair. Very soon I could feel a coolness on my exposed head. Just as I was getting used to this I felt hot water being poured over my head. Then I felt what must have been shaving cream being applied to my head. Stevo looked down at me and smiled a very sinister smile as he was working the cream it into my scalp. He told me that he wanted to guarantee closest of shaves. Next he reached for a pack of Mach III razors. I remember Hutch saying, “You’ll be doing this next time my lad so listen, watch and learn. Shave with the grain of your hair, like you do your face. The best way is to start with the softer hair on the top of the scalp first, then the sides, then the back, by leaving this for last, you allow them to soften for a longer period of time under the shaving cream.”

After each stroke, Stevo rinsed the blade in hot water. Very soon my head was completely shaved and devoid of hair. He rinsed my head with cold water from the kitchen sink. He said there were a couple nicks that he dealt with using a styptic pen. Then he shouted for Nick to come and look at the new-boi.”

(To be continued)

“Alright m8″?

I stared back at him, but said nothing. What did he expect me to say? My younger brother, who I’d not seen for I don’t know how long comes to visit. We have a few drinks and the next thing I know is that my arms and legs are tied to the four corners of the bed.

“You kept asking a lot of questions last night about my new look, didn’t you”?

“Yes, it’s severe to say the least. Shaved head, boots, tattoos, smoking. What do mum and dad think”? I was unsure what the answer would be whilst still trying to work out a way to free myself from the restraints.

“They don’t know”. He’d seen me struggling and said “I wouldn’t bother mate, you’re not going to free yourself anytime soon”.

I glared at my younger brother. He just smiled and carried on speaking. “When I started my apprenticeship I didn’t know anyone. I was a long way from home, and I was never the ‘going out to make friends type’. to the people I worked with I looked like a lost sheep. I think that’s why one of the experienced guys on the production line called Nick took me ‘under his wing’ so to speak”.

“You didn’t have to tie me up to tell me this, why tie me up”? I was getting so frustrated with my immobilisation.

“I’ll come to that in a minute if you’ll let me finish? You wanted to know about the changes you see in me”?

Clearly, my brother wanted my full attention, which is why he tied me down.

“If I can carry on”? He was clearly irked by my continued interruptions. “So, anyways Nick’s a nice fella, he’s always asking me to go to the pub after work with him, most nights I’d say no and go back to my flat. But this one time he insisted I went with him because a few of his mates were meeting for beers after work and it was payday for everyone. I had said no so many times, but on this occasion I don’t know why but I agreed to go with him. He told me where everyone was meeting and gave me the instruction to be there at 6pm.

I got the bus home, changed out of my work overalls, into some jeans and a t-shirt. Then took the 15 minute walk to the where Nick told me to meet him. As I got near to the venue, I caught a glimpse of a guy with a shaved head, sitting on wall smoking. As I got near I realised it was Nick. He smiled, I knew he was glad that I’d decided to join him and his mates.

I remember being surprised at what Nick was wearing. Boots, jeans that looked like they’d been splashed with bleach or something and a black jacket.

We walked together for the last few hundred yards. Nick put his arm around my shoulder and came ‘up close’ to talk to me. He told me he really liked me and that i would really like his friends too, and they would like me. I could smell his smokey breath. He got his pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and offered me one, but I told him I didn’t smoke. I remember him laughing and giving me what I can only describe as a ‘knowing’ look.

As we arrived at the venue, there were three more guys who we dressed similar to Nick. I asked if this was the dress-code or something, they all grinned. Nick said it was what hew like his crew to wear. I was introduced to Nick’s mates, they were Daz, Tom and Will. Here they are…”

He brought his phone over to show me a picture of them. “It’s funny looking back on that first meeting now. I remember them asking if this is the new lad, and seeing Nick making a face at them as if to say ‘shut it’.

“We sort of acknowledged one another and then went inside the pub. Daz said he’ll get the first round in. Four pints of Special Brew it is then”.

I found my brother’s recollection of the events of that evening tedious to say the least but I was so intrigued to know how a night at the pub turned into my brother the tattooed skinhead.

(to be continued)

Frankly, I didn’t know how to answer his question. I was in total shock at what i was looking at. “It’s different”, was about all I could muster. He came up to me and gave me a big hug. He absolutely stank of cigarettes, which was another shock because when he lived at home he’s always moan about smokers and hated the fact that dad would sneak out of the house to smoke a cigar in his shed.

Anyway we spent the evening drinking Special Brew that he’d brought with him and eating pizza that I’d ordered to be delivered. We discussed everything family, friends, sport, TV, relationships and work. But every time I tried to bring the conversation onto his appearance, he’d abruptly change the subject to something else.

I was starting to feel sleepy, and I’ pretty sure my brother could see my predicament but he said, “let’s just have once more and then we can turn in”. I was about to get up, “no, mate you stay put, I’ll get them”. My head was spinning not just from the alcohol; my brother was a skinhead, when? how? why? I was speechless.

He returned with the two bottles, and handed me one of them. “Thanks”, the beer had already done its worst. My speech was less coherent and I was struggling to put a sentence together. I managed a few words “This has to be the last one, then I must hit the sack”. He smiled, but said nothing. I finished my beer, and like a newly born foal, stood up. Worse for wear somehow I managed to tell him that the spare bed is made, so he can sleep in there. I left him in the sitting room and went to my room. All the time saying to myself, my brother is a skinhead, my … brother … is … a … skinhead! How? I closed the door to my room, undressed and got into bed. Very quickly, I was unconscious.

The next thing I knew was waking up abruptly to find my brother leaning over me. “Oi Oi mate, how’s my big brother?” I was about to sit up when I realised I’d been restrained.

He just smiled.

(To be continued)

[I’m posting this again because it seems to have disappeared from my blog]

You’d not heard much from your younger brother once he’d left home to take an apprenticeship job for a firm based somewhere near Wolverhampton in the UK’s Midlands. After months of radio silence, out of the blue he messaged to say he would like to spend a few days staying with his older brother.

You’d never been that close so you were surprised by his request, but also glad to have some company in the flat for a few days. You messaged him with your address and in case you were not home when he arrived you told him where to find the spare key.

After returning home from work, you put the key in the door, but before you could turn the handle it was opened from the inside. Standing in front of you was your brother, but he didn’t look like the innocent lad you remember.

The dramatic change took you completely by surprise. His head was now shaved, he was wearing boots with white laces, tight jeans and a black jacket. What shocked you the most was tattoos on the backs of his hands and fingers.

“Oi oi, m8″, he said, “I bet that surprised you. What do you think of the new me”?    

markz1232001:

Another successful acquisition. 

Before being wrapped in gaffer tape, the skinhead inserted AirPods in the lad’s ears. Over the next few days the combination of sight deprivation, white noise and hypnotic suggestions fed through the AirPods will re-programme the lad.

When he’s removed from his isolation, he will see himself in a mirror. His programming means he will hate the lad-next-door reflection he see. He will fall to the floor and instinctively beg to lick his new skinhead boss’s boots.

He will then plead with his new skinhead boss to shave his head. Afterwards he won’t think twice about putting on the Fred Perry shirt, bleachers and braces that have been put out for him. Nor the 20 hold black boots that will be on the floor. He will ask his skinhead boss to take him to the tattooist to get inked and pierced.