SkinMarvin Gay Stories

Chapter | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 |

Chapter 15

David approached Spider's office cautiously. Someone in there was being tattooed - even though being inked up was all new to David, he'd had enough done to him to recognise the distinct hum of the tattooist's equipment as it indelibly marked the skin - the change in sound as the artist drew a long line into someone's skin. No doubt about it, someone was being tattooed.

The door was shut and David strained to hear what was going on - Fartlad and Jimmy were chatting to each other, but the buzz of the equipment and the other general noise of the shed was making it impossible for him to hear what was going on.

"Oi, Pisshead, what the fuck do you think yer doin there, you fuckin waster??" David was brought back to the here-and-now by Spider bounding towards him. "There's a fuckin load comin in and you're pissfartin around where you fuckin shouldn't be! Get yer arse in gear and get that fuckin trolley over to the incinerator, NOW!"

David pushed past Spider, practically running towards the conveyor belt. "Sorry, Boss, I just heard funny noises coming from your office, sounded like there was a struggle."

"You'll fuckin see soon enough what's goin on kid, now get that load sorted!" ordered Spider as he got back to stoking up the incinerator. David was pretty sure that it wasn't Fartlad who was being tattooed. What really alarmed him though, was the fact that as he thought of Mohawk being tattooed, and the yelping sounds he'd heard coming from the office earlier, his dick started to twitch in his trousers. "...and once you get that load put into the fire, get that big yardbrush over there and fuckin clean up all the spills between the fuckin conveyor belt and the incinerator. Yer done for the day after that. I'll be drivin ya back to the bus stop when I knock off for the day." Back to this new crazy reality, no time to dwell on his new little friend having his innocent skin marked for life.

David had to work twice as hard to get the afternoon's loads in the furnace as he did before lunch because he was by himself. He was just picking up his brush when someone tapped him on the shoulder. David nearly jumped out of his dirty overalls. "Fuck!" was all he could manage to get out when he saw what they'd done to his young friend Mohawk.

The mohawk was still intact, as jet black as when he'd had it re-dyed a few hours previously. Both his earlobes however had been tattooed with crude five-pointed stars and to accentuate them, they'd been pierced with two really large rings, much thicker already than normal sized ear rings. They'd also given him a septum ring to match David's - exactly the same size and form. What Mohawk had that David didn't was a piercing at the bridge of his nose. A silver ball sat snuggly at the top of each side of Mohawk's nose now, forcing the "viewer" to look directly into the lad's eyes. The piece-de-resistance however was what had been done to Mohawk's head. On one side of his mohawk, he'd been given the word BOOTBOY in stark, angular script that was about two inches high, and on the other side, a large spiderweb seemed to be now emanating out from behind his ear up over his skull. They'd even gone and tattooed a spider on the web just above and behind his ear to complete the job. "They're going to do my neck tomorrow apparently," said Mohawk, with just a quiver on his bottom lip.

"Awww, fuck, Mohawk," was all David could say.

"Spider wants you in his office, Pisshead," replied Mohawk with his characteristic shrug of the shoulders. "Oh, shit, what have I done wrong," asked David, panic rising in his voice. "Don't know, but he told me to come and get you," replied Mohawk. Both of them made their way over to the office.

"Now isn't Mohawk fuckin lookin a lot better now that we've added a few bits here and there," said Spider as the two younger lads came into the office. Fartlad and Monkey were already nursing cans of Special Brew. Jimmy and his case were gone. "Close the door behind you, Mohawk. Take a seat here, our Pisshead," said Spider almost jovially, indicating the wooden kitchen chair that was in the middle of the room. Fear and trepidation swept over David in an instant. He sat down where he was told.

"Well, kid, how was the first day of the fuckin rest of yer life?" said Spider as he rooted around in the box on the table in front of him. "OK, I guess, Boss," said David, wondering why Spider was even asking. "Good lad, well tomorrow's goin to be just as much fuckin fun, lad," laughed Spider, still fishing around in his tin box. Fartlad and Monkey laughed, Mohawk just sat there, obviously still stunned from his inking ordeal. "Aaah, there it is...." he said as he pulled out what looked like a small ball of cotton.

"Right kid, you fuckin know by now yer here for the fuckin duration," said Spider, "and yer one of my lads, one of my boys on this team." David knew something was going to happen. He just felt it. "I put them papers you signed at the house yesterday into the office, and they've put you on a permanent contract straight away. So this is yer job now, yer new fuckin life, so you can forget all that fuckin studyin you did. You'll fuckin learn in time that yer better off with me and the boys here, just like young Mohawk is too. Isn't that right, Mohawk?"

"Yes, Boss," came the ever so slightly hesitant reply from the freshly inked young punk.

As Spider was giving forth, David could see that he was furiously winding the white cotton around and around and around something he had in between his fingers, it seemed. Half concentrating on the task at hand, Spider said, "Mohawk, get yer new mate a beer, he's goin to fuckin need it." Mohawk scurried off and back with a can of Special Brew, handing it to David who was still rooted to the chair. "Drink up," ordered Spider, this time without looking up. David's sense of foreboding told him to open the can and begin to slurp down the contents.

Spider rose from his seat and came round the table. As he did so, David was aware of the two older men now flanking him on either side. "Right lad, yer one of us now, gotta fuckin get yer team colours, don't ya," said Spider, looking down at the lad, who hadn't allowed himself even to guess what was coming next. "Hold him, boys. Mohawk, get over here and watch this, yer about to get a kid brother," laughed Spider as Fartlad and Monkey grabbed David and held him still. Fartlad came from behind and grabbed David's head in a wrestle hold and Monkey then approached the lad and taking a Marlboro out of his pack, lit it and held it in place in David's mouth. "Just to steady yer nerves, kid," he said as he withdrew the red. David exhaled.

Spider then spoke. "Right kid, here goes, now fuckin KEEP STILL, otherwise you'll be fuckin blinded in one eye, understood?" For good measure, Spider held up the cotton wool ball, out of which jutted a needle, to David's eyelevel. Spider showed David that in his other hand there was a small bottle of indian ink.

Finally it dawned on David that it was "teardrop time". He was right. "Now fuckin HOLD STILL," menaced Spider. "But, Spid.., Boss, please don't do this, pl..." Monkey silenced him with another drag of the red, followed by a long slug of Special Brew. As he was gulping for breath, Spider dipped the needle in the ink and began tapping on David's skin, below his eye. Too late. David was being marked like the rest of the binmen crew. Naturally enough, compared to Jimmy's work, what Spider was doing on David looked amateur and decidedly makeshift. Then again, all the other members of the crew's "teardrop" tattoos were just as rough looking.

"I've fuckin done this to all the lads when they were signed up, kid. You're no exception," confirmed Spider. "This'll fuckin set you apart from the rest of the crews in this dump, you fuckin belong to my crew, you fuckin wear my mark," said Spider as he dipped the needle in the ink again and tapped furiously. "More beer for the kid, Mohawk," ordered Spider.

It took a good hour and a half. David's whole head was throbbing in pain when he was finally released from Fartlad's strangle hold and given a mirror to look at his newest addition. He gasped in horror when he saw it, a reflex action. It did indeed look rough and "home-made". But what could he do. Spider had marked him for life. "Right lads, home time, another fuckin good day's work done," announced Spider as he began putting away his tattoo implements.

The four workers piled again into the back of Spider's van as the gates of Shed No.7 slammed shut. "Nice one, Pisshead," enthused Fartlad as he pointed to David's new mark. David wasn't so sure. He travelled the rest of the road in silence.

His silence was broken by Spider. "Right, lad, well done, you lasted till fuckin five o'clock, same time tomorrow, kid." It wasn't a suggestion. David clambered out of the back of the van and was relieved to see that there was no one at the bus stop to gawp at how he looked. "Bye, Pisshead," said a small voice from the back of the van. "See ya tomorrow, Mohawk," replied David.

David's relief was short lived. His bus soon arrived and getting on, he realised every seat was taken. He had to stand in the middle of the bus, near the doors. Here he was, filthy rubber boots, filthy overalls, an old donkey jacket, his bald head, his hands and now his face inked up to look like a young thug. He felt that there were hundreds of eyes on him, that he was the centre of attention. A few looks around confirmed his thoughts. Funny though, as he looked at a few of his fellow passengers, every single one of them looked away. Markedly so. He couldn't work out why, but when he realised this, he felt his dick starting to stir. He looked out the window for the rest of the journey.

Chapter | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 |