SkinMarvin Gay Stories

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Chapter 5

David went to move off the chair. "No you don't mate. Stay there, we've a lot more fuckin work to do on you yet," said Buster, who was beginning to relish seeing the young lad's normality being stripped away from him. "You still want to do this a hundred percent, mate?"

"Yes, Buster I do. Nothing can be worse than losing my eyebrows, I suppose."

"OK, Jimmy, all yours," said Buster, nodding to the huge tattooist.

"What you want done with him?" asked the fat one. "The usual starter?"

"Yep, that's a good start," confirmed Buster. "Then we'll see after that." Buster turned to address Dave. "This next bit will show us how serious you are about all this, Dave," he began, "you're goin to get fuckin marked now."

"What's marked mean?" asked David, gulping.

"It's somethin we've all done here and if you want to stay here, you have to do it too. Show him, lads." Nisbo, Charlie and Jimmy faced the young lad. In unison, they pulled down their bottom lips, all to reveal the word "SKINS" which was tattooed on the inside of their lips. Buster then showed David that he'd been similarly tattooed. "Jimmy's gonna do it for you now, mate, it'll hurt you a bit but you gotta fuckin go through with it. But I want you to show these geezers that you really want it. We could make you fuckin do it, but I reckon you gotta want this yourself." David heard what Buster was saying. He weighed it all up again in his mind. Here he was sitting on a Friday night with four complete strangers, all big skinheads, one of whom had just shaved his head bald, using his own cum as shaving foam, and to top it all off he'd just had his eyebrows shaved off to make him "look hard". He stared at himself again in the mirror, and indeed the last act, the eyebrow removal, had really changed his appearance. The strange thing was, however, he knew deep inside that this is what he WANTED. He wanted to be different from those at the school he'd just left, he wanted to be different from the other kids, all the same and all as boring as the other.

He continued to stare at his reflection for what seemed an age, weighing it all up. He sat back in the chair, and slowly and deliberately pulled down his bottom lip.

Without another word being said, Jimmy advanced on the lad, nodding to Nisbo to take up the same position again, holding the lad's head in place. When the needle first hit, David jumped with the shock. Nisbo lay a reassuring hand on the lad's shoulder. Jimmy inked in the letters one by one, all the time nodding approval. Charlie and Buster looked on as the letters were slowly embedded in the lad's lower lip.

David only half caught Buster's conversation with Charlie.

"What do you reckon next, Charlie?"

"Aww, no, I'm takin no fuckin responsibility for this one, Buster. You gotta decide what he's havin, he's your fuckin lad, not mine. I had my fuckin fun with you, remember?" How could Buster have forgotten. "Yeah, Charlie, I remember all right."

"This young lad seems to want to be a skinhead like you Buster, so if I were you, I'd fuckin make his wish come true," said Charlie, "I'd give him a proper inking right at the start, just like you got."

"So what will I put on him, Charlie?"

"Whatever fuckin turns you on, Buster," replied Charlie with a laugh, "but don't be lettin him away with just his lip job there, that's a fuckin minimum for anybody in this house, you know that."

Jimmy had done the deed. "SKINS" was forever more embedded in the lad's mouth. When it was over, David let out a huge sigh of relief and again looked up at Buster for approval. Buster smiled down at him. "Good lad. Charlie and I were just talkin, and we reckon you need more ink, son," said Buster, like a dad talking to his child. "Nisbo bring the lad a can of beer, he's gonna need it."

"I don't drink, Buster," protested David. Buster and Charlie laughed out loud. Listen, lad, we've just marked you as a skinhead and you're tellin us you don't fuckin drink. Let me tell you somethin mate, you're startin to drink now. Get used to it. We all fuckin drink in this house, OK?"

Nisbo brought out a can of Special Brew, strong stuff for a non-drinker. "Think of it as medicine," advised Nisbo as he opened the can and handed it to David in the chair. The lad took one mouthful, swallowed and could barely conceal the fact that he didn't like the taste.

"Give it here, lad," said Buster, again taking charge. "Nisbo, open the lad's mouth." Nisbo again assumed his favourite position and pried open David's mouth. "Right, lad, just swallow as fast as you can," said Buster as he poured the strong ale in a slow but steady stream down David's gullet. Gurgle, gurgle, gurgle......

"He's about ready now, that beer'll numb him down for a bit. Go ahead, Jimmy, get your kit ready again," said Buster. Charlie beamed at Buster, "that's my boy," he said laughing, not caring too much about David's plight.

"OK, Buster, let me know what you want on him so I can get started," asked Jimmy.

Buster took a deep breath. "I want a pair of matching swallows on the backs of his hands between his thumb and first finger and I want the word "SKINHEAD" in Olde English lettering on the left side of his head, above his ear, and I want the letters an inch tall. That'll fuckin do him for tonight, I reckon, we'll bring him to visit ya tomorrow, Jimmy and if you've got time then, we can do some more on him."

"Right, not a problem, but you'll better have more fuckin beer ready cos the work on his head will hurt him like fuck," warned Jimmy.

"Go for it Jimmy, ink him up."

David knew this was the end of his life as a normal kid. He was being made into a skinhead, something he'd wanted for months now, and he was stuck with it. Even through the beer-induced lightheadedness, he knew he still wanted it. He wanted to take these marks so the others would see that he was for real.

"Yes, please do it," said a small voice from the chair.

"You got it son, here goes." Jimmy drew the swallows on the backs of David's hands freehand. He'd done hundreds of them twenty-five years ago when the skins were in their heyday. It brought back happy memories. "Ah, yes, I fuckin love ruinin a pair of virgin hands..."

David winced a bit as the swallows went on. He took an intense interest at how the ink went in and how after a while it didn't hurt so much. Only when the needles hit thin skin or went near the joints did he make a noise. At those points, Dr Nisbo adminstered more beer. David didn't fight it. He was wise enough to know that it was the beer that was making it bearable.

As the swallows took shape, first the left and then the right, David began to think how his hands would never look the same again. How he'd never again be able to look down at his hands and forget this moment. As these thoughts drifted through his head, to his puzzlement, his dick began to grow again. The thought of being marked was actually turning him on. He couldn't believe it. Or deny it either. "Jimmy?" he advanced timidly. He'd show them he was for real, he thought.

"Yes, lad?"

"Jimmy when you've put those birds on my hands, will you put SKIN HEAD on my knuckles like Buster has?"

"You sure lad?"

David looked up at Buster. Buster nodded slowly. "He's sure. Do what the lad wants, Jimmy."

"Not a problem, mate."

Buster then addressed David again. "David, you can have that on yer knuckles but after that you're still goin to get the same word marked on yer skull where everybody can see it, OK? I want a tattoo on yer head before the night's out."

"On my head?"

"Yeah, here," said Buster as he outlined the spot with his finger. "Right across from here to here."

That did it. David groaned and once more spunked into his briefs. "Oh no," said David.

The swallows were done, and Jimmy had traced out the lettering for David's knuckles. An hour later, David's fingers were a carbon copy of his mentor's.

"Right, lad, out of yer briefs, and get into this. More fuckin suitable for ya." Buster showed David a jockstrap, a nice clean one. "Give me yer panties here, lad," ordered Buster. David did as he was told and watched as Buster took the inside of the briefs where all the sticky cum was and rubbed it against the inside of the jock. "Don't want all this goin to waste, get it on ya now, boy." David sat back in the chair without being told to. A good sign, thought Buster.

"OK, the final inkin for tonight, me boy. I think you'd better have some more fuckin medicine for this one," said Buster, handing the lad a new can of Special Brew. David's head was still a bit light from the first can, but he took a few swigs from the freshly opened one nonetheless.

"I'm ready, Buster."

Nisbo went back to his duties and held the lad's head still as Jimmy applied the transfer about one inch above the lad's left ear. David was about to be marked again, this time on his head. No hiding this one. The needles began the outline. David breathed in sharply. "Told ya this one would sting," said Buster, addressing the young lad.

David sat bravely through the tattooing, every now and then breaking to take a swig of the strong beer. He knew it made sense.

Eventually, the inking was over. David again couldn't help staring at himself in the mirror. The more he did, the more his cock strained to get out of the jockstrap.

"There you go lad," said Jimmy, "All done for tonight, unless Master Buster wants any more put on ya." Buster shook his head. With that, Jimmy gathered up his equipment and made his excuses, "Got a busy fuckin day ahead of me tomorrow, gotta be off. You fuckin enjoy yer new life, Lad," he said with a smile as he punched David gently on the shoulder. Jimmy was proud of taking another victim, so to speak.

"Charlie, can I see you outside a minute," and with that Jimmy and Charlie left out the back door.

"We need to get him into some decent gear now, lads, we'll raid Deck's wardrobe upstairs, him and new boy here are about the same size," said Charlie, turning back as he went out with Jimmy. Charlie had been looking on the whole time, proud of their latest new addition and even more proud of Buster for making the young lad go through with it.

"Good idea, come on Dave, get out into the hall and get in front of that mirror, you'll fuckin enjoy this," agreed Buster. David hesitated in the chair.

"What's wrong mate? Yer cock's tellin me you fuckin like your new ink."

"I just thought about my parents - they'll kill me for this."

"I told ya before lad, we're yer fuckin family now. We'll go to see yer parents tomorrow, they're not fuckin expectin ya back till tomorrow. It'll be fuckin fine, you'll see."

David was beginning to trust everything that Buster said. This was exactly what the older skinhead wanted, of course. Buster took him by the arm and led him into the hall, just as Nisbo was coming down the stairs with a bunch of clothes under his arm. "These will do him for a start."

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