SkinMarvin Gay Stories

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Chapter 7

The skins made young David sleep in his gear that night on an old mattress in the spare room. He was still padlocked into his boots and was wearing his full kit when he awoke as the daylight broke through the dirty window of the room onto his bedding. He lay there in the stillness contemplating what had happened to him.

He'd met Buster, and had allowed himself to be transformed from an ordinary looking lad into a bald and tattooed skinhead. That's what had happened. It wasn't a dream, the tattoo was actually stinging on his head, he didn't imagine it. He had swallowed their cum straight from the condom, he hadn't imagined that either. He was stuck in the 20 holers with no way of taking them off, he wasn't imagining that either. Even though he'd only awoke, his heart began to race as he lay there. Today he'd have to go back home. Today he'd have to face his mum and dad. He gulped to himself. What had he allowed to happen? How did he get into this? What about his exams on Monday? What university would accept him dressed as he was?

His thoughts were interrupted by Buster coming into the room. "Time to get up, boy, breakfast's ready," he said cheerfully. "There's a big plate of nosh for ya downstairs, Lad," he continued, "and we gotta fuckin plan out what we're goin to do to ya today." David followed Buster downstairs.

"So how's the world's fuckin newest skinhead then?" asked Charlie.

"I'm a bit worried Charlie," began David, "I think we may have gone a bit too far last night with my tattoo and so on." "Don't be so fuckin silly," countered Charlie, "you fuckin want this - I saw yer fuckin hardon last night Boy," he said.

"Yes, but now I'm not sure, Charlie, I mean what will my parents say? How can I go to school and do my exams on Monday?"

"Eat yer breakfast Lad and let us worry about that," replied Charlie as he winked at Buster. Obviously they knew all the answers already.

"For now, Lad, you just gotta get used to some of our fuckin house rules if yer goin to stay with us, you hear?" David heard. "First of all, you gotta fuckin change yer language. We're goin to give you one fuckin day. We've decided if you ain't swearin enough by the end of today, yer fuckin out on yer ear. It's as fuckin easy as that." David raised his stubbly eyebrows, he only usually swore when he cut his finger or dropped something on his foot. "I'll try," he said meekly. "Well you'd fuckin better, lad, cos if we don't reckon you're swearin enough by the end of today then you fuckin ain't got a fuckin chance livin with us, kid. You'd better start soon, boy."

"Well pass me the fuckin salt then Charlie," said David gingerly. "That's my boy, you'll soon fuckin get the hang of it, but I want ya swearin all fuckin day long, understood?" "Yes, Charlie, understood, fuckin understood." David knew Charlie meant what he'd said about getting turfed out and he figured looking the way he did, he couldn't survive just yet by himself. He was going to make a conscious effort to start talking the way the others did. David finished his breakfast as he listened to what the others had planned for him. Buster did the talking. "We're goin to take you back home after breakfast, Dave. Gotta get those fuckin study books, eh?" he began with a laugh. "Oh and you gotta fuckin pick up some more of yer schoolboy gear as well and all yer other clothes. Then yer goin to tell yer ma and da that yer goin away for a few days with some mates."

"I'm fuckin scared of going home looking like fuckin this, Buster," said David, consciously trying to fit the work "fuckin" in where he could. "What will my parents fuckin say?"

"Doesn't matter - you'll just tell them that you're stayin with a few mates and you'll phone them during the week. Then you'll fuckin leave. Easy."

"OK, Buster, guess I'll have to trust you on that one," said David. "Yes, lad, you will. After we pick up yer old stuff, we'll take you to see Jimmy the Tattooist again - I'm sure he'll want to get more ink on ya."

"Do I really need any more at this stage, Buster? I got a fuckin sore head this morning to be honest where he tattooed me yesterday."

"You can never have enough ink, mate," replied Buster enthusiastically, the others nodding assent. "If yer done with yer breakfast, I'll give yer head another shave for ya. Want you nice and smooth for the parents, don't we mate?"

"Oooh, Buster, I'm not sure about all this now..."

"Get him shaved again Buster," commanded Charlie, interrupting before David could express his doubts any further.

"Come on, Lad, into the bathroom with ya, and sit on the bog, I'll be along in a minute."

David did as he was told and trudged into the bathroom, plonking himself on the toilet, still fully kitted up. Buster followed closely and ordered David to strip to his waist. The young lad did so and obediently sat down on the bog again. "I'll teach ya how to do this yerself tomorrow Lad, but it'll be a bit quicker if I shave ya today. Bend yer head forward mate."

Buster took a facecloth and held it under the hot water tap. Once it was good and hot, he rung out the excess water and draped it over the young lad's head. "You'll get used to livin here mate, you've no fuckin choice now anyway after we inked yer skull," he commented as he removed the cloth and begun to spread shaving foam over the boys head. Once the lad's head was completely covered, Buster cleared away the shaving foam from where the kid had been inked. "We'd better not go near that bit, don't want to fuckin torture ya, do we lad? And another thing, Charlie's dead fuckin serious about you swearin. He wants you fittin in with us, Dave, and he ain't takin no college boy for a free ride either, so if I were you I'd start practicin yer swearin." Buster began to scrape the little stubble there was away from the area where the boy had been tattooed, very carefully and taking great pains not to go near the tender area. David definitely liked the feelings that sitting on a bogseat having his headshaved by a big skinhead engendered. Despite his worry about going back home, his dick was getting hard. Buster noticed.

"Mmmm, you fuckin like this don't ya, lad," said Buster. "I fuckin do, Buster. It feels so fuckin nice," said David, practising his new language skills.

Once Buster had scraped away the stubble near the tattooed bit, he began to shave from David's forehead back to his crown, once that was done, Buster began to shave the back of the young lad's head, able to go a bit faster because there was nothing tender there to watch out for. David couldn't see, but as Buster shaved the back of his neck, he momentarily twisted the Mach III razor in his hand, very slightly nicking the young lad's neck. "Aaah," yelped David.

"Aww mate, sorry about that, it's just a small nick, don't worry, I'll fuckin patch you up, hang on a sec," said Buster, turning to the old rickety medicine cupboard on the wall. "I've got a special plaster here, that'll sort ya, no problem." Buster stuck the plaster over the cut, and continued to shave the rest of David's skull, wiping off the remains of the foam with the facecloth that was lying over the sink. "There, you're done," announced Buster.

David stood up but as he did so he nearly lost his balance and had to hang on to Buster for support. "Fuck thanks, Buster, I feel a bit dizzy, sorry," said David, panting a bit. Buster knew at that point that the nicotine from the "special plaster" nicotine patch over the cut was making its presence felt in the young lad's bloodstream. It'd pass after a few minutes.

"No probs Lad, just sit there on the bog till you feel better," said Buster, smiling to himself. The others had decided too that not only would the lad learn to swear like the rest of the family, he'd learn to smoke like them too. The nicotine patch would kick start him over the next day or two.

"Come down when you're feelin OK," said Buster. "It's passing now Buster, I guess it must have been the reaction to the cut on my neck," replied David innocently. "Well, I'll keep an eye on it for ya mate, and I'll change that plaster for ya later today just to make sure, OK?" "Thanks Buster," said David, "thanks a fuckin lot." Buster couldn't help smiling, the lad would get the hang of the swearing eventually.

The two of them went down the stairs to join Charlie and Nisbo. "Right, son, Buster's goin to take you home now to collect yer books and stuff, then we'll meet ya at Jimmy's," said Charlie. It was a done deal, Charlie wasn't to be argued with and he was, as usual, simply stating what was going to happen.

"Please can I be unlocked from the boots? My parents are going to freak out when they see me like this. They're going to be totally shocked, I don't know what I'm going to say to them," pleaded David. Buster realised immediately that the kid was beginning to really panic at these thoughts because the young lad had forgotten all about swearing obviously. "Ah you mean they're goin to be totally FUCKIN shocked, and you don't know what your FUCKIN goin to say to them, and they're goin to FUCKIN freak out?" David got the message, he knew that if his parents did in fact freak out, he'd need somewhere to stay for the night.

"I fuckin mean it Buster, I'm fuckin scared about even going out fuckin dressed like this. I fuckin wish I hadn't done it now," he began as tears welled up in his eyes. He fought hard to hold them back, in vain. "I'm sorry Buster," he blubbed in embarrassment, "but I fuckin am not cut out for this as I thought, I fuckin am worried about what my mum will say when she sees me, and now it's too fuckin late with this fuckin tattoo on my head and my hands, and I fuckin don't know..." Buster went over to the lad and put his arms on his shoulders and gave him a good shake.

"We're your fuckin family now lad, you gotta learn this. You're fuckin stuck with us now, boy. We're goin to look after ya. You were fuckin born to be a skinhead, and we ain't goin to let you out of it now. Stick with us, lad, come back for the rest of the weekend and you'll see. We just need to get ya sorted with yer family that's all and you gotta get it over with. I'll be fuckin waitin outside yer house for ya." As David nodded in agreement , Buster, kind as he was, still took the opportunity to surreptitiously press the nicotine patch tightly against the cut he'd made in the lad's skin only a few minutes earlier.

David was momentarily calmed down. Buster checked him over. "Let me see ya, lad, gotta get you lookin the part before we take ya home to get yer stuff. I think you know that life with yer parents is fuckin over, don't ya?"

"I don't think my parents will like me living with them in this condition, Buster. I mean, in this fuckin condition," said David. "I really think I fuckin have to stay here with you guys."

"Well, boy," chimed in Charlie, "as long as you fuckin do as yer told around here, and live like us, then yer sorted boy," he said. Buster looked at the young protege' and smiled. "Let's get yer stuff collected from your old house and bring it home, Lad."

Buster checked that David looked the part - the bleachers were stained at the knees especially but the young lad's boots looked good - 20 hole Rangers with white laces and red footie socks over the tops to conceal the padlocks that kept the boy in the boots all night. David also wore a black Fred Perry and olive MA1 bomber jacket to complete the picture. Looking at the lad, because of the inkwork already on him, anyone would have thought he'd been a skinhead for years. Being with such an experienced skin as Buster added to this impression.

"Right boy, let's go. Charlie, I'll bring him to Jimmy's later." Buster and David went out into the street. David's heart was racing beyond belief.

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