SkinMarvin Gay Stories

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Chapter 10

Charlie and the lads were pleased with what Jimmy had done to Anthony. He'd had the letters of the word "SKINHEAD" put across his fingers, two matching swallows so high up his neck he'd never be able to hide them, and a good-sized Union Jack plastered onto the back of his skull, the skull that he himself (with help from Nisbo) shaved that morning. To cap it all off, Anthony had been initiated into the gang by having the word "SKINS" tattooed on the inside of his lower lip. His physical appearance was being transformed by the skins he was now living with.

Charlie released Anthony's ankles from the chair. "Right, Buster, let's get you sorted out. We're taking you out this afternoon and you can't go out naked, we'd better get you properly dressed. As we knew you were coming, the lads did a little shopping for ya last week. We got you a whole new set of clobber," said Charlie, as he pulled Anthony out of the chair. "We do hope you like it," he added with a snigger.

"OK, lads, make our Buster here look a bit more decent." Anthony was still reeling from realising that he'd been marked visibly for life. With that realisation in mind, Anthony had just about given up all fight in him.

Nisbo handed him a jockstrap. "Put it on, mate."

"But it's a small size. I wear medium."

"Not here you don't - we all wear small jocks round our balls all day every day, Buster, they stay sweatier that way, and we don't wash them either. Get it on," ordered Charlie. Anthony put the jock on as he was told.

Next came a pair of used-to-be-white football socks. Anthony could smell that they were worn, and were worn recently, the soles of the socks were crusty with sweat. "Gobbo here, he's been wearin these socks in for ya for two weeks, Buster, say "thank you Gobbo", Buster," said Charlie. A muffled 'thank you Gobbo' came from Anthony's lips as he put the smelly footie socks on.

"These we call bleachers," said Deck as he handed Anthony a pair of 501s that had been bleached white in patches, like most of the skins were already wearing, including Nisbo. When Anthony put them on, he realised that they only just reached a few inches below his knee. The jeans had been deliberately cut very short. Nisbo came forward with a small plastic bag. "Turn around, Buster."

Anthony felt Nisbo fiddling at the back of his new bleachers and then saw that he was attaching a pair of white braces at the front of the jeans. "Here you go, Buster. Pull them up." Anthony did as he was told and the white braces crossed his bare chest just touching his nipples. He shivered.

The next item, Charlie fished out of a plastic bag. It was a Fred Perry teeshirt, black, with a red and white stripe collar. Like everything else it fitted Anthony perfectly, so well had the skins done their homework. The white braces looked even whiter against the black of the Perry.

By now, Anthony was wearing a too-tight jockstrap in which he already felt sweaty, a stinking pair of white football socks, a pair of bleached jeans that were tight at the crotch and way too short for his liking in the leg, a pair of spanking new white braces and a black Fred Perry. Even Anthony knew what was coming next.

Charlie and Deck handed the large box with "GETTA GRIP" in green writing on it to Anthony so that he could discover the next bit for himself. Anthony gingerly opened the lid and even more gingerly removed the 20 hole black Rangers, brand new, from the box. He knew he'd have to wear them. What else did he have? "Have a seat, Buster, and try em out," ordered Charlie, "but before you do, take the laces out."

Anthony looked at Charlie, puzzled. "Yeah, give em here." Anthony dutifully took the laces from the box and handed them to Charlie. He was even more puzzled when Charlie took a knife from his pocket and cut through the black laces. "We only ever wear white laces in this house," he said, handing Anthony a pair of white laces, "and you're no exception, Buster."

Anthony couldn't do the laces. "Help him out, Nisbo," suggested Charlie. Anthony sat on the chair and Nisbo knelt in front of him, taking Anthony's foot and nestling it on his crotch. Expertly, Nisbo threaded one end of the white lace from the bottom hole of the boot on one side to the twentieth hole on the opposite side, and began to ladder-lace the boot all the way up. Anthony could feel through the sole of the boot that Nisbo's dick was moving inside his bleachers the higher he laced Anthony into the Rangers. By the time that Anthony was booted up, Nisbo's dick was bulging so hard he could have burst the buttons in his fly. The trouble was, so was Anthony's.

The last piece of kit for Anthony was an olive green MA1 bomber jacket, again brand new. As he put it on, a huge cheer erupted from the gang. "Yeah, Buster, now you're one of us." "Oi, Buster, you look as sexy as fuck." "Grrr, Buster, ain't noticed before but you got a fuckin nice ass." "We saw your bulge, Buster, you can't fuckin deny it." Nisbo was smiling the broadest.

Charlie lead Anthony in front of a full-length mirror. Now properly dressed by the other skins, he really did look like one of them, especially with the tattoos. As he saw himself for the first time in the mirror, he let out a loud, "oh, fuck". The rest of the gang just laughed. "Yeah, Buster, remember though we want ya unrecognisable," reminded Charlie. "Right, lads, we're goin' into town."

Anthony couldn't begin to imagine what was next.

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