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wileys-russo · 8 months

Note

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZGJv9uRjT/

can you write a fic where reader annoys lessi like this while she is trying to order at a drive through for us plsplspls

inspired by the tik tok obviously and also alessia looking good af driving her mercedes

iced coffee II a.russo

you adjusted your seatbelt and tucked one of your knees up to your chest as alessia pulled up to her favourite cafe, which now did drive through. a god send for the blonde who struggled out of bed every morning despite your insistence she wake up or the two of you would be late to training.

it meant it left little to no time for either of you to stop and get a coffee, or make one at home, and so a drive through was the perfect option.

though today neither of you had training, in fact you really weren't sure how you'd ended up passenger princessing for the day alongside your favourite blonde. ring clad fingers drumming the steering wheel her hair was pulled up into a messy bun and her favourite pair of black prada sunglasses covered her ocean blue eyes.

your girlfriend for once was the first awake today, gently shaking you and kissing your forehead, sweet nothings mumbled in your ear as she held you tightly while you slowly awoke. you were startled at the time, not planning to have gotten up until eleven without any commitments on today.

you also hadn't thought you'd be waking up next to alessia given she had two photo shoots back to back today with adidas and oakley. when you'd gone to bed the plan had been she’d be out until around three in the afternoon, and you’d not needed to go with her.

but as alessia’s alarm had gone off and she groggily awoke, seeing you dead asleep beside her was a sight she rarely saw given that she was always the last one up between you.

your nose twitching every now and then you stirred and cuddled into her more, tucking your face into her chest as she swooned, your cheeks flushed and hair sprawled across the crisp white linen, rosy pink lips slightly pursed.

alessia was absolutely smitten with you and so in that moment as her heart soared with love for you, she decided you were coming with her today wether you wanted to or not, the thought of leaving you all alone like this was one she simply refused to bare.

however with your day planned to include sleeping, napping and lazing around on the lounge you were much less appreciative of the early wake up and the somewhat forceful change to your schedule.

"good morning! what can i get for you?" the barista chimed out happily as alessia rolled down the window. “good morning! can i please start with a large skim iced caramel-“ the blonde squealed suddenly as your fingers poked beneath her armpit where you knew she was incredibly ticklish.

“what are you doing?” she whispered as she shoved your hand away with a frown, turning back to the window and rambling out an apology as you poked her again with a grin as she flinched.

“oh my god.” her hand shot out to tightly grip your wrist, pinning your hand down in her lap as she realised what you were up to.

“sorry! can i please get a skim iced caramel cappuccino with an extra shot? and also a regular oat flat white with-?” alessia began to rattle off both your orders as usual.

“baby no I want the same as you.” you nudged her with your foot, desperately trying to pull your hand away from her iron vice grip but it was to no use as it remained pinned in her lap.

“sorry can you please make that two of the large skim iced-“

“actually no i’ll have my regular order.” you changed your mind, not missing the warning glare thrown your way by the very irritated blonde beside you who without having had her morning coffee yet, was running on a thin level of tolerance for your antics.

“sorry no i will have the same as you!” you changed your mind again as alessia was mid way through re-ordering your normal choice. “are you serious right now?” the girl flicked her sunglasses on top of her head and scowled in your direction, a simple action which was unexplainably hot to you.

“sorry i’m a bit lost. could you start your order over?” the barista requested politely and you winced as alessia’s nails dug into your wrist in warning as she hastily rattled off two of her regular orders, still trying to pull yourself out of her grip.

“beautiful. can i get anything else for you? we actually just added a brand new breakfast sandwich to the menu. it has bacon, egg, hash brown, sausage patty and cheese!” the barista recounted, clearly having been told to push the newest item.

“ooo that sounds lovely!” alessia nodded along with wide eyes, her stomach grumbling at the thought.

“ooo that sounds lovely!” you mocked her, definitely loud enough for the barista to hear as a slight laugh was quickly covered up by a fake cough and echoed through the speaker.

you only smiled innocently as alessia shot you a murderous glare, her jaw clenched as she opened her mouth to say something but thought better of it, turning back around.

you licked your finger and when she wasn’t paying attention you shoved it in her ear, jumping away as she reached over and tried to hit you, her fist thumping into the leather head rest of her merc.

“you’re testing my fucking patience.” the striker warned quietly, nostrils flared as once again you smiled innocently, finding her ungodly attractive when she was angry with you.

“will that be all?”

“actually can I get both those coffees with light ice?” alessia remembered how quickly it would likely melt in the warmer weather, hardly wanting to water down her favourite beverage.

“no i want regular ice.” you shook your head as alessia started to repeat that. “no actually light is fine!” you changed your mind, shoving the blondes shoulder and tickling under her arm now she’d let your hands go.

“oh my god.” alessia forced herself to take a deep breath, apologising calmly to the barista and repeating her order back at the girls request. but as you started to interrupt her she lunged at you, one hand grabbing the back of your neck and the other slapping over your mouth.

she managed to somehow get through the rest of the order, thanking the barista and moving forward, taking her hand off the back of you neck to steer.

alessia battering off your ongoing attempts to annoy her, settled somewhat by the fact she would have a coffee and breakfast in her hands soon, eventually collecting everything and pulling out of the driveway, not without giving you another withering glare as you happily picked at your food and sipped on your coffee with a grin.

“you are such a brat.”

#alessia russo #woso x reader #woso #woso fanfics #woso imagine #alessia russo x reader #woso blurbs #engwnt

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prismatic-bell · 1 year

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So @hejeksbs saw that post about fandom olds freaking out about IWTV stuff being posted on the AO3, and said they’re new to fandom and fandom culture and don’t understand. So congrats, Hejek, you’re one of today’s lucky 10,000. This is going to be a basic primer, but I encourage others to chime in with details. (Also, thanks for reminding me I need an Interview exhibit in the museum. I had that written down somewhere.)

So if you go back to the 1990s and early 2000s—the pre-AO3 digital years—you’re going to see an official disclaimer on just about every fic. These basically said “I don’t own anything here, please don’t sue me.” Some were quoted elaborate.

These started because of Anne Rice.

See, Anne Rice was, how can I say this nicely…an asshole? The day she died there were literally people posting crab rave and “Ding Dong, The Witch Is Dead” from The Wizard of Oz on Tumblr. Because before Harry Potter fanfiction was pretty frowned upon and you might get a C&D if you didn’t keep your head down properly, but Anne Rice.

ANNE RICE.

Anne Rice literally recruited her “loyal fans” to harass people who made fanworks. At least one person was doxxed to her workplace by rabid Ricers, and at the time fanfiction was taboo enough you could absolutely get fired for that. I was eleven and friends with someone who was 13 who’d just read Interview and drew this wonky I-am-a-kid-who-can’t-really-draw-yet-but-I-loved-this-SO-MUCH piece of fanart of Louis and Lestat, and she literally dipped off the internet because she got an extremely nasty “I’m suing you” threat from Rice. (Are you out there, Mercury000? It’s me, sailorsharon0722.)

Anne Rice did everything in her power to ensure there was no IWTV fandom at all. I’ve heard from people older than me that she used to host a “vampire’s ball” every year in New Orleans for her “loyal fans” but if you showed up and she felt your costume outshone her own, she’d make you leave. People didn’t dare so much as put “Lestat” and “fanfiction” in the same sentence.

And then, irony of ironies, when her reputation got so bad she was struggling to sell books, she…became a Christian and started writing Bible fanfiction to sell.

Yeah.

Over the years there were claims she’d changed her mind about fanfiction, but nobody ever had evidence to back this up. I even saw a dude on Quora claiming to be a close friend of hers saying we were all lying, and he got absolutely ratioed by fans going “I still have my C&D letter, you wanna fucking try again?”

Incidentally, I would like to point out that her attitude wasn’t uniform. It’s easy to say “that’s just how it was,” but Neil Gaiman has been around since the 1980s and has always appreciated fanfiction. Stephen King’s approach is “please tell me, to my face, that me explicitly writing about Cthulhu isn’t fanfiction” and otherwise pretty lassez-faire (he has no interest in knowing you’re writing fanfiction of his stuff, he just genuinely doesn’t care), and his first book was published in the early 1970s. Gene Roddenberry, creator of Star Trek, actually accepted submissions of fanfiction scripts DURING THE SHOW’S ORIGINAL RUN, at least according to popular lore. (@dduane, can you check me on this?) Mercedes Lackey—who’s 1980s-and-1990s fantasy royalty—has been asked on Quora about why she “changed her mind about fanfiction” and her response was “I never changed my mind, I just had to talk my publisher into accepting it. I’ve always been okay with it but I had to say no because of my contract.” Sure, Diana Galbaldon was out there comparing fanfiction to rape(????), but even among those who disapproved of fanfiction, Rice’s attitude and actions were extreme. And they persisted into the 2000s, too, with her egging on fans who harassed and sent death threats to a YouTube reviewer who didn’t like one of her books.

AO3 changed ALL of that.

AO3 said “here is our well-researched legal claim that fanfiction is legal, and if someone gives you shit about works you have posted on our website, our lawyers will represent you. You can post safely here. It’s okay. We got your back.”

Even so, the fear about Anne Rice continued. And can you blame people? This woman’s name held the same power in fannish conversations as “Voldemort.” (A moniker by which I’ve actually heard her called.) She all but destroyed the old guard, on purpose.

….and then a new generation of fans happened. A new generation that didn’t remember life before AO3, had never known anyone who literally had to move house to get away from Rice’s minions’ threats and harassment. I know we use “nature is healing” as a joke on this website, but really truly, that’s what happened here. She left charred tree trunks and bushes that were old-school fans and from their ashes tiny little 2010s-fans seedlings began to grow.

The thousand-odd fics you saw in those screenshots (which I feel I should clarify are from before the new show came out—a show that must have her turning in her grave, because she was absolutely adamant that all her vampires were STRAIGHT and if you thought otherwise you were DISGUSTING, and I hope she spins so hard her corpse combusts) are absolutely shocking to us older fans because it’s like staggering out of a nuclear wasteland and spotting a little garden with signs saying “free nuclear-illness medical services” and realizing it’s real. What the fuck, what the fuck, but also, holy shit y’all we’re so proud of you. YES. Keep going. Don’t let the witch get you down.

EDIT: I’ve been informed by someone in the notes that IT ACTUALLY GETS WORSE:

I’m not going to transcribe the whole thing because I’m on mobile and most of it is just bog-standard post notes, but what’s relevant is @theoriginalvelocipastor saying “OP forgot the part where she [Anne Rice] would take ideas from fanfiction.”

Like holy motherFUCKER this woman’s hypocrisy.

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illicitlimerence-writes · 2 years

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lost in japan | m. schumacher

pairing: mick schumacher x vettel!reader word count: 5.5k words request: yes by anon: “could you please write an imagine where mick and reader have a crush on each other but whenever they're together they always get shy or flustered and it's all cute and stuff?” & “may i please have some crumbs of vettel!reader and mick slowly catching feelings for one another and seb is in the front row eating popcorn watching as it unfolds” warnings: language, time jumps (i tried my best with the years and ages (reader and mick are the same age)). also! again! seb’s age makes no sense here!!!!!!!!!!! another thing, i know cherry blossom season is in march-may but let’s pretend it’s also in september-october okay byeeee. a/n: it is 4:30 am and i just finished this, kinda glad bc it confirms my theory that i work best during the night.

my masterlist

meeting him was the beginning of everything.

there was nothing special about their first meeting, but her life would change completely from that moment on.

she always wanted to go with her father to his races, she loved that her dad was so passionate about the sport, everytime he returned home he’d explain everything to her, she always had a million questions.

so, when she was eleven years old, in 2010, she joined her father, sebastian, for the first time. they traveled to monaco, a track that his father loved and could potentially give him the lead of the championship if he were to win it.

age 11, 2010.

she held her father’s hand and looked at everything surrounding her. everything was so big and shiny and new to her.

“woud you look at that?” a tall man said as they walked the paddock. he had a big smile on his face, she recognized him.

“dad, that’s your friend!” she said, pointing at the man.

“yes, darling, that’s my friend, michael,” seb looked down at her, smiling.

“hi, michael!” she waved her hand, the older german ruffled her hair in return.

“it’s great to finally meet you, and see you here. is this your first time here?”

“yeah! i’ve always wanted to see this in real life,” her smile was big as she looked at the teams’ motorhomes around her.

“and what’s your first impression?”

“i don’t think i want to leave,” she giggled, looking up at her father.

“well, i’ll let you get back to your tour. but when you have some free time make sure to stop by the mercedes garage, okay? i think my son could use a friend,”

“ah, you’ve brought mick with you?” sebastian asked, his friend nodded. “then he’ll have to come to the dark side, cause my kid is not going anywhere near that garage,” he shook his head, as both his friend and his daughter laughed.

“we’ll figure it out, these two need to meet, though.”

okay, maybe meeting him did have something special about it. a thought ran through her mind, maybe they’d grow to be as close as their fathers.

age 22, 2021.

“hey kid,” she froze, eyes widening as she turned around.

“dad!” she wrapped her arms around her father, closing her eyes as she hid her face in his chest. “what are you doing here?”

“good to see you’ve missed me, you haven’t called in so long i thought you’d forgotten about me.”

“it was only three days, dad. but i’m so sorry, it’s just… i’ve been busy here, and with the schedules and time difference, i-”

“it’s okay. i’m just happy to know you’re alright,” he smiled, ruffling her hair.

“i am. i am, it’s… kinda hard to believe that this is finally happening,”

“well after all these years and all your hard work, you deserve this, my love,” he threw an arm over his daughter’s shoulders, holding her close.

after endless classes, auditions, she was finally about to star her first movie as the lead actress. when she was about thirteen an idea got to her head, and it was impossible to get it out. she took as many acting classes as she could, even left her home when she was seventeen to fly overseas and hopefully get more opportunities to be in the spotlight.

it didn’t surprise sebastian, that his daughter would find her passion in acting. when she was little she used to always set up plays where she portrayed every role, most times recreating a disney movie she’d seen that day. he trusted her. he knew that a child’s dream had to be supported as much as possible, just like his own parents had done with his.

distance had been difficult at first, but once her first roles started coming, once she started to get so busy she barely had time to sleep, she knew it was all worth it. her first roles were small, but slowly, she caught people’s attention. casting directors, actors she’d worked with were asking to work with her again. it was simply out of this world.

“i- but dad… don’t you have a race this weekend?” she said, walking through the different sets of the studio until she reached her trailer. she was in the middle of shooting, but sebastian arrived just in time since she was about to take a break.

“yeah, that’s why i’m here. i’d like you to come with me,”

“dad,” she smiled. it had been years since she stepped foot in the f1 paddock, she remembered when her entire life revolved around that sport, when she wanted to know every detail there was to know about it… that’s not to say that that wasn’t the truth anymore, but her passion for the sport moved aside, leaving space for what would become her job, her favorite thing in her life. of course, she still followed the sport, tried to not miss any races, supporting her father, her favorite person and biggest inspiration.

“come on, i know you have the weekend off,”

“how did you-” she frowned

“your mother,” he answered. she sighed, but smiled after a second.

“okay. i’ll go”

a beautiful ‘before and after’ picture would be created later on the weekend, as she walked side by side with her father down the f1 paddock. just like she’d done when she was little. she was getting deja vu. she was happy she’d decided to join her dad, they didn’t spend as much time together as of lately, but this weekend she was determined to make the most of their time together.

as they walked, sebastian was catching her up on everything she’d missed since the last time she was there, which was about two years ago. she knew some things from speaking with him, and from the things she saw online, but there was nothing like seeing it all in real life.

they were stopped several times, by fans, journalists, and even people who knew her since she was just a kid. mechanics, engineers, and other team members from both red bull and ferrari.

then, someone caught up to them, embracing sebastian and smiling, her father patted the young man on the back, keeping a hand on his shoulder once they separated.

“all good?” sebastian asked, the younger blonde nodded, noticing her.

“(y/n)?” he asked, his eyes drifting back and forth between the father-daughter pair. sebastian smiled at the way mick’s eyes widened. he knew it.

she nodded, frowning as she couldn’t quite name the person infront of her.

“it’s been so long, how have you been?” he asked, smiling.

that was it.

she recognized that smile.

age 11, 2010.

contrary to the previous days, that saturday afternoon, she found herself watching the qualifying session with company. of course, the day before she hadn’t been completely alone, but she wasn’t with people she knew that well.

seb had meant his words, his daughter couldn’t leave the red bull motorhome, not because he didn’t allow it, but because he didn’t trust anyone to really take her through the paddock to the mercedes garage. so, corinna schumacher and her kids, mick and gina, went to find the young girl.

‘michael, his wife and kids, you can trust them.’ those had been her father’s words before introducing her to them.

she’d been quite shy at first, keeping to herself and just staring at the screens. she’d already had all of her questions answered during the first two practice sessions, but quali was different. she didn’t get it.

mick noticed her small frown, and he turned to his mother, who was busy staring at the screens showing michael’s data.

“mom,” he called, the woman turned to him, running her fingers through his hair, making a mental note to take him to get a haircut soon. “she’s upset,” he said. “why?”

“well, i don’t know. why don’t you ask her? maybe you can help her feel better.” mick turned his head back, pursing his lips, then nodded.

he walked to the young vettel girl, standing behind her. but he couldn’t figure out how to talk to her. then, he heard her talking to herself.

“why is it only eighteen minutes?” she huffed, her eyes glued to the moving cars.

“are-are you mad?” mick asked her, not thinking twice about his words, or how he could’ve startled her. she jumped, moving to the side and looking back at him.

“what?” she asked.

“are you… upset?” he tried again, raising his eyebrows, he didn’t know why he felt nervous talking to her.

“no. yes. i- i don’t know,” she said, looking back at the wall of screens in front of her. “dad said ‘see you in an hour’, but the clock says there’s only fifteen minutes left,” she pointed.

“oh!” he said, “that’s just the end of q1,” he continued, but she stared at him only with confusion in her face. “sorry, qualifying is divided in three, q1, q2, and q3,” he started, she nodded.

“i know that, but-”

“all qualifying sessions last different times, and when you add it all up it takes about an hour, a little longer sometimes,” he explained, “i know it can be confusing, but that’s why i’m here! and my mom and my sister. we’re here to take care of you. that’s what my dad said,”

“thanks, that’s… nice.”

“you’re welcome. and… i know that our dads are friends. so… maybe we’ll be like them when we grow up!” mick smiled, and her eyes drifted down to his lips, he had a nice smile. she could still see it in her head seconds after, that was a smile she’d never forget.

“i was thinking the same thing.”

–

age 22, 2021.

“mick?” she asked, eyes wide. “no way, you made it to f1?” she asked, eyeing his shirt and cap.

“finally,” he smiled, she chuckled, she remembered hearing him talk non-stop about one day being like his father. she was happy he’d finally reached that dream.

“congratulations! i- that’s amazing!” she smiled, “why didn’t you tell me? any of you?” she asked, looking from her old friend to her father.

“well, you’ve barely had time to pick up the phone and say hi, i didn’t even get a chance,” sebastian shrugged. she turned to mick, raising an eyebrow.

“well i… you know… we haven’t talked in a long time and… i didn’t think you’d care,”

“oh, come on! it’s me! i’ve known you… forever!” she was genuinely shocked that she’d missed this news, “you know you can tell me anything-”

“yeah, she’ll just answer three days later,” her father butted in.

“but i’ll answer,” she defended herself, “anyway, as i was saying before being rudely interrupted, doesn’t matter how much time passes, i’m here for you, yeah?” she smiled, trying to think when the last time they’d spoken was. too long ago.

“got it, and… same goes to you,” he grinned too, and she was immediately transported back to her teenage years. “i have to go, but it was great seeing you, you’re staying the whole weekend?” he raised his eyebrows, smiling as she nodded, “great, guess i’ll see you around,”

she nodded again, waving her hand at him, but he took a step closer to her, moving to wrap his arms around her, she was caught off guard, but slid her hands around his waist in return.

“good luck,” she told him, watching him walk away after he said goodbye to sebastian. she turned to her father, and frowned. “what?”

“anything i should know?”

“what?” she asked, seb raised his eyebrows.

“you’re… flustered,” he noticed, she rolled her eyes.

“i’m not,” she grunted, pushing him with her shoulder. seb chuckled, walking beside her, “everything used to be so big,”

“it’s all the same, you just grew up,” he smiled, a nostalgic smile.

“don’t get emotional,” she chuckled.

“you and mick…” seb started, “what… what happened between you two?”

“what do you mean?”

“well, one day you wre hanging out, the next it’s like you never knew each other.”

“i don’t know, i mean… i still consider him my friend, you know? like… he was a big part of my adolescence and i just… got busy. but, so did he. i’ve followed his career, well, i must’ve messed up somewhere along the way since i missed the news that he was in f1.”

“maybe this weekend you guys can work on that,” he suggested as they reached the aston martin hospitality. “i’m sure he’s missed you. he always asks me about you,”

“really?” she asked, taking one last look behind her shoulder, hoping to catch a glimpse of him, but he was nowhere in sight.

“every weekend.” seb nodded. “he’s a good kid. you two have my blessing, you know? in case you both ever want to… you know.”

“dad!”

age 23, 2022.

seoul had always been one of her favorite cities. the culture, the people, the different traditions compared to what she was used to from living in europe for so long. it was always special when she was there.

but that night, she wasn’t as ecstatic about being there.

not when he was so near yet so far at the same time.

it was pathetic, really, to be that infatuated with someone. she’d lived many years without him in her life, and it only took him one weekend to turn her life upside down.

mick and her father were in japan, it was the last time sebastian would race there, and her stomach hurt at the fact that they were really close, but she was stuck in south korea for the press junket of her first movie, a little over a year’s work was finally ready for the world to see.

to say that she was stuck would be an exaggeration, she’d arrived a few days before to get used to the time difference, she didn’t have to be there until wednesday, and it was currently monday. and all she wanted to do was get out of there.

she was being dramatic.

but she did wish she could be there with him.

her phone rang, and she ran to the bed, picking it up. she smiled as she picked up the call.

“hey,” she said, a smile appearing on her face before even hearing his voice, just reading his name in the contact was enough to turn her stomach upside down, to make her heart beat at high speed.

“hi, i didn’t know if you were busy, i-”

“no, i’m free,” she bit her lip, “how’s japan?”

“well, i actually haven’t had the chance to check it out, i’ve been sleeping all day,” he chuckled, she let herself fall on the hotel bed, looking up at the ceiling.

“tired?”

“not anymore,” he laughed, which made her chuckle, too. “and you? have you explored seoul yet?”

“ah, well that’s the plan. that’s why i got here a few days before necessary,” she explained.

“oh, that’s nice, i’m sure there’s a ton of things to do there,” mick said, his voice sounding lower than before.

“yeah,” she sighed, “tokyo sounds great right now, though.”

“so does seoul.”

“what a tragedy we are,” she chuckled, biting her lip. “if only… there was a way to solve this,”

“switch places?” mick joked, though there was nearly no humor in his voice.

“maybe… we could get lost in japan.”

“we?"

"you're two hours away," she whispered, standing up and walking to the window, the sun was starting to go down, the best of seoul's night life would be starting soon. "i'm only a couple hundred miles away,"

"do you want to get lost in japan?" he asked, and she could hear the smile on his face.

"let's get lost."

age 22, 2021.

she felt like a little kid again. she remembered the thrill and excitement the pre-race brought, but living it as an adult, after years and years being away from this world, it felt like living it for the first time.

watching her father get ready, she thought about how lucky she was to have him. he’d taught her to fight for her dreams and not give up until she achieved them, to love people with kindness and give back whenever she could.

there were cameras all over the place, something she’d gotten used to. her eyes shifted from her dad, who was talking to the mechanics, to the screens on the side of the garage.

after a few seconds, she saw herself. she smiled at her ‘reflection’, turning to the side until she spotted the camera, giving it a small wave before looking back to the screen. she saw herself doing that, then the broadcast changed from her, to mick. who was also smiling at the screen, and the delay allowed her to watch him smile at her.

she looked down, feeling her face getting flustered. she and mick had been rekindling their friendship that weekend, catching up when he had free time, remembering the days when the paddock was their playground. it was easy and she was happy that they’d had the chance to do it, she felt bad for losing touch with him years ago.

“it’s time,” her father said, walking to her. she smiled, hugging him.

“good luck and fight hard,” she said, watching his eyes light up as he recognized those words. the same words she told him the day of her first f1 race.

after watching her dad step in the car and wait until he drove away, she stood up and walked down the paddock, sneaking into a different garage.

mick was zipping up his suit, adjusting the velcro strap. her lips curled up as she watched his concentrated face, his eyebrows furrowed as he seemed to be in deep thought. a second later, he turned his head to his side, and he had to do a double take to make sure he was really seeing her there.

she smiled sheepishly now that she’d been caught, she took one careful step in, relaxing as he walked to her.

“hey,” she said, smiling wider. “just wanted to wish you good luck,”

“thank you,” he grinned, a light pink tint creeping on his cheeks, “i’m really gonna need it,” he exhaled deeply.

“you’re gonna do great,” she reassured him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “come here,” she pulled him closer, giving him what was supposed to be a quick hug, but he wrapped an arm around her back, keeping her there for longer than what was deemed appropriate. “i know this place brings back a lot of memories, but just enjoy it. it’s your first time here, racing in f1, your dream. you got this, mick.”

after the race she went to the pit lane, hugging her dad, but spotting another blonde german behind him.

“i’ll be right back, dad,” she told him, making her way to mick. “hey, that was so cool. congrats on finishing your first monaco race,” she hugged him, feeling his arms around her back.

“your dad is watching us. he’s smiling really weird, make him stop, please,” he pleaded, and she turned around to see her dad raise his eyebrows. she rolled her eyes, smiling sheepishly at mick.

“it sometimes feels as if he’s the kid. i should go. i’ll talk to you later,” she raised on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

age 23, 2022.

she’d landed in tokyo. the city was filled with lights, skyscrapers, and she never wanted to leave. she’d told her dad about her plans, and had arranged a dinner for the three of them. she was the first to arrive, and was waiting for the two drivers to get there. the place was packed, but of course they’d given priority to sebastian vettel and his daughter. her booth was away from the rest of the other tables, it felt closed off and she was glad the place was good for talking. it would be good for catching up with them.

it was night, and she was feeling quite tired after a hectic and busy day, but she had limited time before having to jump back to her own responsibilities. she wanted to make the most of her free time.

footsteps caught her attention, she looked up, a happy smile on her face.

“mick!” she jumped up from her seat, wrapping her arms around him in a tight embrace. it had been about a month since she last saw him, but she missed him as if it had been years. “how have you been?”

“i’m good, you?” he asked, pressing a kiss to her cheek as his way to say hi.

“same. i… on my way here i was thinking that maybe… i was overreacting, and that i could’ve just come here after the race and-”

“no, i- it’s fine. actually i- as soon as i landed i just knew that you’d love this place if you were here. so i guess i- i’m glad that you wanted to get lost-” they both smiled at his words, “with me.” the concept of ‘getting lost’ in a new place fascinated her, to be so mesmerized and hypnotized by the people and the little markets and stores, that you forget about time, responsibilities.

she smiled at him, nodding, she sat back in her place, with mick in front of her.

“oh, great, i thought i was late,” mick said, sitting in front of her, “your dad’s always pestering me about being on time, and look at him, or- well, you know, you can’t because he’s not here.” he continued, “shutting up now.” he raised his hands as she laughed.

just at that moment her phone rang.

“sorry,” she excused herself as she picked up her phone. “dad?”

“hey, kid, so… i won’t be able to make it tonight. some last minute thing with the team came up. but! you two enjoy a nice dinner, catch up, behave and use protection,” he rushed the last few words before hanging up.

she was left with wide eyes and heat creeping up her cheeks, she shyly looked over at mick, thinking about how to explain what her father just said.

“what did he say?” mick asked, still so confused about everything happening.

“um… dad’s not coming, um, he said we should have a nice time and catch up.”

“oh… well, that’s alright with me, if…” he started, raising his eyebrows as he waited for her answer.

“yeah, i- yeah, let’s do it, we’re already here.” she smiled, pushing aside her nerves, reminding herself who she’s with. it’s mick. sweet, kind, thoughtful mick. her friend mick.

mick, who was staring at her with those big, bright blue eyes that took her breath away.

they talked, ate, drank wine and felt as if they were the only people in the world. conversation flowed easily with him, and the best part was that he really seemed interested in watever she was saying, he asked questions, gave suggestions and advice. and when it was his turn to talk, it took everything in her not to swoon right then and there. he spoke with such confidence and eloquence, softly. and even used his hands to emphasize important points.

they had to be basically thrown out of the restaurant, since they’d stayed thirty minutes past their closing time already. but that ddn’t mean they had to go their separate ways. they walked the streets of tokyo, side by side, speaking lowly as to not disturb the people sleeping, even though it seemed that no one was in their homes, since there were lots of people enjoying the nightlife. but it never crossed either of their minds to do anything other than walk and talk, and laugh and smile. mick took his jacket off when he noticed her skin got goosebumps after a particularly strong gust of wind, draping it over her shoulders, his heart stopped at the soft sigh that left her throat as she felt the comforting warmth enveloping her.

shy smiles and hidden looks when the other was unaware seemed to be their favorite way of communication. their eyes spoke all the words neither of them was ready to speak, perhaps because they didn’t yet know what they were feeling, or couldn’t figure out a way to express it.

he walked her to the hotel, at some point during their walk his hand had found hers.

he’d pulled her close to him, hiding in an alley to avoid a group of drunk men approaching them. it was probably nothing, but mick had been quick to think of a way to avoid them. she’d pressed a hand against his chest, looking up at him as he pressed a finger to her lips, telling her to be quiet. once they passed, and after a few seconds of silence, in which they stared at each other, he leaned down to press a kiss to the side of her head, tugging at her hand to keep walking. she licked her lips, biting her bottom one to try and stop the tingling sensation she was feeling.

they hadn’t let go, not that either of them wanted to. but as she looked down to their joined hands, once they reached the door leading to his hotel room, she realized she never wanted to let him go.

he blushed under her stare, tapping his thumb against the back of her hand as he moved his hand back. since her decision to travel to japan had been a really sudden one, most hotels had been booked for the grand prix, and mick had insisted she stayed with him, claiming to have more than enough room for the two of them.

the next day, they woke up early. it was their only full day they had together in japan, and they were both more than ready to get lost in beautiful tokyo.

their first stop was an electronic store, where she bought an instant camera to capture their adventures of the day. after that they went to have breakfast at a famous cat cafe, which mick was dreading. it’s not like he hated cats, but he was a dog person, and the few times he’d interacted with cats they ended up scratching him, hissing at him or just ignoring him. not this time, a cat immediately crawled in his lap, claiming it as his seat for the day.

he smiled as she took a picture of him and the cat, and he noticed the way her lips curled up softly as she looked at the developed photograph.

that day would go down as one of her favorite days, an entire day with someone who made her feel special, who was almost as excited as she was about doing all the basic tourist stuff.

“i think we really are lost,” mick said, as he stopped in his tracks, making her stop as well. once again, her hand was in his. neither of them noticed when it happened, it just did. but they were both aware of how natural and right it felt.

“we just have to take a right turn,” she pointed.

“you’re sure?” he raised his eyebrows.

“that’s what the lady said,” she nodded, taking a few steps and dragging him behind her. “see? i told you we’d- whoa!” she whispered, looking at the huge park in front of her, filled with big cherry blossom trees. “mick, look at this,” she tugged on his hand running towards the park. she let go of him as she rushed deeper into the park.

“it’s beautiful,” he said, watching her wide eyes take everything in. she looked beautiful. a big smile on her face as she saw all the trees, the pink flowers.

“come here, i want to take a picture of you,” she said, making him pose in front of a tree. in the middle of the photograph stood mick, with his signature grin on, and everything behind him was pink.

“your turn,” he declared once the picture developed. he waited for her to decide how she wanted her picture, but she was simply so taken aback by the beauty of this place, that he decided to capture her like that. with her looking up at the trees, a smile on her face. she didn’t notice him until he was shaking the photograph, and she smiled wide at the gesture. that’s when he snapped a second picture.

“mick!” she laughed, taking the camera from him, he slid an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close as he shook the picture with his free hand.

“hold on,” he said, walking to a girl about their age, he asked her to take a picture of the two of them. once he returned to her side, his arm returned to its previous place, bringing her close to him as she slid an arm around his back. before the girl took the picture he looked at her, which caused her to look up at him. they both smiled at the same time, and that’s when the girl took the picture.

after an entire day out on the streets of tokyo, they went to a sushi restaurant, nothing fancy, just what looked to be like a family-owned business.

“thank you for spending this day with me,” she said, taking a sip from her water. her throat was dry, her feet ached and her makeup probably needed more than just a touch-up. “i loved every second of it.”

“hey, you don’t need to thank me. i- i really enjoyed this day as well, i felt… free,”

she nodded, sharing the same feeling.

“besides i- i don’t think there’s anyone that i’d rather get lost with, other than you,” he smiled, his hand reaching for hers. she let him intertwine their fingers together, she’d gotten used to the feeling of his hand on hers.

“i feel the same way,” she said shyly, and it was not her turn to watch him get flustered under her stare.

once they reached their hotel, with the moon and neon lights illuminating the city, they sat on the balcony to look at the pictures they’d taken throughout the day, with a sharpie in hand to write small notes underneath. they watched the cars passing by, head the sounds a big city like tokyo made. when she got cold, instead of getting her a blanket, mick offered to keep her warm, she sat between his legs, with his arms around her.

“this one is my favorite,” she said, smiling at the picture of the two of them standing in front of the cherry blossoms.

“mine too,” he tightened his arms around her. she leaned her back against his chest, looking up at him.

“what should we name it?” she asked.

“hmm, i’m not sure,” he replied, staring deeply into her eyes. “would ‘lost in japan’ be too obvious?” he asked.

“maybe,” she chuckled. “i know i’ve already said it but… i just wanted to thank you. i really- i can’t describe how much i loved getting lost with you.”

“and i already told you, i only want to get lost with you. and you know what the best part about getting lost is?”

“what?” she asked, leaning her head against his shoulder.

“being found. i- i want… i want to be the person you get lost with, and the one to find you. i want to explore the world by your side, and be consumed by the beauty of it, at the same time as i’m learning more about myself… and about you.”

“mick-”

“i’ve liked you, for so long. i think you were my first crush since back in the day. the years when you went away, when we lost touch, i’d convinced myself that i’d lost you forever, and would only have to know about you through your dad. but after last year… in monaco, when i saw you i just knew. i couldn’t let you go again. and i’ve loved every moment, every conversation we’ve shared since that weekend, i’ve loved getting to know you, and knowing that the kid i knew is still in here,” he tapped her chest, where her heart was, with one finger. “and getting lost with you these few days has been the best choice i’ve ever made. i not only got lost in this place… i also got lost in you. in your mind, your ideas and dreams. it’s like a paradise.”

she cut his words off by placing her lips on his. after years, they were both admitting that this thing between them was more than just a friendship, that the reason they couldn’t get the other out of their minds wasn’t just because they were good friends.

getting lost might have been the best decision they ever took. and having the right partner to get lost with. with the promise that they’d find each other during each adventure.

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rbbrbikerthorp · 1 year

Text

Graduating Law Student Transformed Into A Skinboi

It’s the culmination of several months hard work; yet I can chalk up another successful transformation.

As you look at him now, you don’t need me to tell you there’s no way back to the life he once imagined. I have taken away everything he used to be and I have remade him into what will be more appropriate life for him to lead.

You can see the total adulation, respect and appreciation for what I have turned him into. He knows he’s a skinhead now, no questions, no dissent, no complaints, no regrets - just a proud skinhead.

-------------------

Let me tell you just a little about who I am. I’m a gay skinhead in my late forties, living in a nondescript English town in the Midlands. I’ve been one since my early teens. As a young teen in the Eighties I’d hang out with skins in their late teens/early twenties who used to incentivise me to encourage my classmates to become new members of ‘their skinhead gang’. With any money they’d get from work, whether that was stacking shelves, apprenticeships, or learning a trade, they’d buy stuff like ciggies, lager and cider, on occasions, even tickets to the footy and offer these things around as ‘rewards’ to new lads.

And it worked. Word got around that you could do cool things when you became ‘one of us’. We looked out for one another, and if any of the members got into ‘trouble’ we’d be right there with them. There were what could be described of as ‘terms and conditions’ for members to comply with: DMs (black or oxblood) had to be worn in and out of school, 10 hole, preferably and with coloured laces. Outside it was boots plus black or red Harrington (Crombies were also allowed) over a Fred Perry top along with tight, shortened jeans and heads shaved as short as they could get away with. ‘Start ‘em young and keep them for life’ was our mantra.

Enough of the past, so back to the present.

I had been planning my next project. I had three potential ‘candidates’ to choose from; two would be left to carry on blissfully unaware how close they came to being transformed. One ‘fortunate’ lad would be taken by me and given a completely new life.

Some weeks ago I was in a coffee shop when one of potential lads I’d been tracking entered looking rather flustered. It was a perfect opportunity to take a good look at him. “Around twenty, height five ten, maybe five eleven, footballer’s build, dressed in a sharp looking suit - must care about his appearance - hmmm that bodes well for his future life”. The great thing about making coffees to order is that I was able to more fully assess this candidate - and I liked what I had seen. Eventually he got what he came for - four coffees in one of those egg box-like cardboard trays - and left. I decided this lad would probably be my preferred choice.

To confirm this I followed him discreetly all the way to the five floor building, which happened to be the offices of a law firm. He was way too young looking to be a qualified lawyer, so I concluded he was possibly still in law school, combining his studies with some ‘on-the-job’ work. If I step in, I could save him from a life of tediousness: of clock watching, pen pushing, keyboard strokes and general stress. I’d give him a simpler life as a skinhead. He would be waving goodbye to the potential of a five bedroom house, Mercedes and Rolex, but he’d have a proper job. He’d have proper mates and would live a modest life. A skinhead life. Yes, I decided there and then - this lad was the one.

For the next few weeks I tracked all his moves. Where he went, who (if anyone) he met with, what modes of transport he used and most importantly the hours he put in studying and working.

Two days a week he was not in law school. On those days he would leave his digs around 7:40am, walk to the end of the road and wait for the number 17 bus, which would turn up about ten to eight. Traffic depending, the journey to the main bus station took 25 minutes. He would walk from there to the office, some days stopping at McDonalds to get breakfast, sometimes not. Regardless, he would always get to the office for 8:30.

The end of the day was different and seemed less structured. The lad must have been focussed on his future career because I would see an exodus from the building around 5:30pm, but he was never part of that ‘first wave’ in fact he never emerged before 6 and sometimes it was almost 7 before he’d walk out of the main entrance. When he did leave, like most of his generation, he’s be focussed on his phone, distracted from what was going on around him. At that time of the evening the area was pretty much deserted. As this lad was going to be my next project I needed to see what he did after work. So, like a shadow I followed his movements at night.

I discovered that he didn’t have that many friends. A couple of random nights he’d go to the Pure Gym which was just on the edge of the town centre. sometimes he’d be accompanied but mostly he went there on his own. At the weekend he didn’t seem to do much. Occasionally I’d note him board the bus into town, returning several hours later with one or two shopping bags from places like JD Sports, Hollister or Flannels. I didn’t see him go into a pub or bar, nor did I see him smoke but that would all change when I’d finished with his transformation.

I had all the knowledge about his movements but the next question on my mind was how to capture the lad and how to get him back here without causing too much commotion. I started mulling things over, a thought jumped into my head. My mate Mal has a 1997 Ford Transit van that he says I can use whenever I need to. Perhaps I could use the van as a distraction. I finished putting my plan together and decided on next Tuesday (one of the days he always attended the office) would be the day when the lad would become my boi.

I’d need to get him a few bits to wear. From previous projects I had become pretty good a sizing a lad. I wouldn’t know his shoe size but I’d take a guess. Back home I fired up my laptop to see how quickly I could get stuff. I logged into eBay first and found most of what I needed. I selected the ‘buy now’ option to make sure it could be delivered in time for my new guest to ‘arrive’.

So I had his clobber on order - Tuesday couldn’t come around soon enough.

-------------------

Tuesday night came along and I’d parked Mal’s van on the same street as the law firm about twenty or thirty yards along from the entrance so any security cameras or nosy security guards couldn’t see what was going to conspire.

I checked the time, 5:15pm. Good I was pretty confident I’d be ready for when he emerged from the building after all his colleagues had left.

It got to 5:30 - suddenly there was an exodus of dozens and dozens people. I watched out for him looking in my wing mirrors. Good, as predicted the lad wasn’t one of them. When the rush had died down I needed to time my next move carefully. It was 6:15 and no one had emerged from the building for over a quarter of an hour. I made my move. I pulled the lever, which opened the bonnet on Mal’s van. My pretext for getting into conversation with the lad would be that I was having trouble with the engine and I needed to stand in front of the van whilst someone turned the key. That was something anyone could do.

Sure enough just before half past, the lad emerged with a ruck sack on his back. I’d been standing by the wall looking like I was waiting for a breakdown service to attend to me, but I wasn’t.

I called out to the lad, who as I had seen countless times was looking down at his phone, "Oi mate - I’m 'avin a bit of trouble, can you help?”

The lad looked up, “Erm me, you need a hand?"” he queried

“I’d appreciate it, my van’s playing up and I can’t get hold of the breakdown service. If you could spare me two minutes, I might be able to get it going.”

He looked around and then said “Sure, but I’m not sure I can do any good. I don’t know anything about van mechanics.”

He must have been surprised to see the way I was dressed - DM's. bleached jeans, olive green bomber jacket and beanie hat covering my shaved head.

He cautiously walked towards me, everything was going to plan.

“Don’t worry lad, I’ll take care of the engine. All I need you to do is jump behind the wheel and turn the key but not before I tell you to, okay?”

The lad simply nodded and climbed into the van.

I spent a few moments checking the engine, an engine that in truth was working perfectly. I had pulled the distributor wire, so I knew nothing would happen when the key was turned. Timing was of the essence, because you really can drain the battery if you continuously try to start a van disabled in this fashion.

I spoke to the lad, “nothing appears out of place - go on and turn the key. The engine kind of turned over, but stalled and died. “Shit”.

I kept the charade going for several minutes. Spending a minute or two between each key-turn pretending to fiddle with the engine and then telling the lad to turn the key, knowing it wouldn’t start.

With a frustrated look on my face I came round to the driver’s door and said, “I think I’m going try call the breakdown service again and hope they can get to me tonight” He just kind of nodded at me as I rubbed my hands briskly. “Before I do there’s one more thing I’m going to try that I need your help with,” and before he could reply I continued to speak, “It’s a bit parky this evening. D'you fancy a drink? I got a flask of coffee in the back.”

There was a risk that he would decline the offer, but I’d got him invested in my problem so he simply nodded.

“C'mon then"

The lad jumped out of the drivers seat and followed me round to the back of the van. I got the flask out and poured me some coffee onto two plastic cups. I lifted the cup to my mouth and held it there as I watched the naive lad take a sip "That's it mate - drink it all down"

“It’s really nice,” he told me, so I poured some out another cup. He took a few gulps more, then the cup fell out of his hand.

-------------------

The lad knew nothing more until he came around later tied to a chair. At first he didn’t know what had happened only that he had a blinding headache. As he became more conscious he could see there was someone sitting across the room from him. He became lucid enough to realise it was me, the same skinhead with the broken down van that asked him for help. The same skinhead with a lit cigarette in my mouth. The lad then realised all his clothes with the exception of his underwear had been removed. He was also fully aware of the ropes that were restraining him. He started to struggle and started to hurl verbal abuse at me. I was mildly surprised; I thought a trainee lawyer might have had a better grasp of English.

I said nothing, I stood up walked over to the lad and stuffed a dirty football sock in his mouth. “That’ll stop you making too much noise. It’s late, I’m going to bed. You’re my ‘guest’ for as long as I want to keep you, g'night”

-------------------

The next morning, the lad was woken by cold water being thrown in has face.

I left the room and came back with a pair of clippers. The lad’s eyes widened, I could see him begin to panic. A muffled "no" came from his sock-filled mouth. The cold teeth of the clippers slid across the middle of his head from forehead to crown, the first clump of hair slipped onto the floor. The lad started to struggle so I said “if you struggle you will get cut now that’s fine with me but you might not like it”. My grip changing aggressively as I worked around his head moving front to back, and all around the sides. I rubbed all over his head, happy with my work I turned the clippers off. The lad now had a zero crop. I walked into the bathroom and returned with a bowl and shaving kit.

I put down a bowl of warm water, can of shaving foam and an old fashioned razor. Again, he started to struggle against his bonds. He was saying something but I just ignored and started wetting his stubble, after-which I worked the shaving foam into his stubbly scalp. Then, more for effect than anything else, I picked up a cut-throat razor. Once again I explained that if the lad didn’t keep still he might lose a lot of blood before he was finished. This time the lad was motionless. I have to say for the duration of his head shave, he really didn’t move a muscle.

The last stroke of the razor was the longest and the best. I wrapped his head in a towel to remove the last bit of foam. Then drizzled some balm and messaged it into my freshly shaved scalp. I took the bowl and stuff back into the bathroom. Happy with my work I sat down on a chair across the room from him. “Now, let explain what is happening to you. First, I’m only going to release you if you accept these rules. You will not speak unless spoken to. You will not move unless I tell you to. You will do what I say without question. From now on until I tell you otherwise you call me Boss. Do you accept these rules boi?” He just nodded - I’m pretty sure he’d agree to anything just to get the stale sock out of his mouth. I carried on setting out the rules, “I’m warning you now, disobey me and you will again be restrained on that chair and you will also get a severe punishment is that clear?”

Forlorn looking he nodded again.

“Now listen to me. Your old life is over. You have been chosen by me to become a skinhead. I will turn you into a proud skinhead, eventually you will be inked and then pierced to my specification but in the meantime you are going wear skin gear.” Today you begin a new life with me. Now, the first thing I need is your signature on a few pieces of paper…you know just to make everything legal”. I handed the lad a pen but he didn’t take it straight away, “now I’ve told you there is an easy way with you accepting the new life I’m offering you or we can do it the hard way. It doesn’t bother me - now sign the documents or you’re going to take one hell of a beating.” Reluctantly the lad took the pen I was holding and signed his name on the papers and handed them back to me. [The signed papers would give notice on his rented flat, would inform his lecturers that he was quitting law school and he was resigning from his placement at the law firm].

I wheeled a mirror into the room so he could see his denuded head. “You look like a man now and I bet you feel better don’t you?” Not knowing what else to do, he simply nodded back. I reinforced my previous statement of intent, “so you’re my new project boi and when the time comes to leave me you will leave as a skinhead. A booted, inked and pierced skinhead, living by the skin code.” I finished my monologue and left the room to go make myself a drink and so that he could mull over what I’d just told him.

-------------------

I came back into the room about half an hour later. “It’s time to begin boi.” Pointing over at five pairs of black boots with different coloured laces I told him the first lesson will be how to look after your boots.

In my hand I had some black polish, what he realised was the work shirt he’d been wearing and a shoe brush. I dropped them by his feet and said “ok boi get over here and start shining the boots”. Understanding the previous warning I’d given him, there was no way out of this. He stood up from the chair walked over to where the boots were lined up. He timidly asked me “which ones Boss?” I was pleased he called me Boss without any prompting, ”all of them,” I responded. “Start with the ones in the middle, the ones with the white laces boi.”

He picked up the boots I’d instructed him. He opened the tin and dipped the rag into the black polish. He spent the next few hours shining all five pairs of boots. Every time he looked up to say he was finished, i would shake my head and give him a slap.

Now I know a thing about retraining lads, especially lads from good homes who tend to have a natural obedience because of their upbringing. I carefully balance the use of ‘fear of pain’ and ‘reward’. So long as the boi lives in fear of me and the pain I could inflict upon him, I can focus him on being rewarded for complying with my orders.

I looked at him, totally focussed on the boots. I thought about what might have been for the boi if I hadn’t decided to take him under my wing, I’m pretty sure that in his head he had his life mapped out ahead of him - someday becoming a partner in a law firm earning three-maybe four hundred thousand a year, marrying and having two or three kids. I step in and disrupt that to give him a new purpose, a more worthwhile purpose and a the opportunity to work in a proper job. Perhaps as a labourer, a refuse collector, joiner’s apprentice - who knows? What I do know is that he never, ever thought of being a skinhead; but soon he won’t be able to imagine life as anything else.

In all it took four hours of polishing the five pairs of boots before I said, “that’s enough for a first effort. You have one more pair to do later, they’re the ones you’ll be wearing!” I could see him shudder. “Now let’s get you dressed proper.”

I handed him a black Fred Perry shirt with yellow trim. “Put it on boi.”

He took it without questioning me, “yes, Boss.” He slipped the black polo over his body, I’d guessed the right size because it fitted perfectly. Next I told him that skinheads didn’t wear ‘poncy’ underwear, they go commando or wear a jock. “You are going to wear a jock and in time you’ll find out why.” I grinned, he had no idea about that devious part of my plan. I passed it to him and he looked at it - clearly he’d never worn one to play sport. “Take yer pants off, throw ‘em over there and put that on.” I remember he turned a shade of crimson. “Look boi, you ain’t got anything different to me, just get to it.” He saw me ball my fist, so he dithered no more and put the jock on.

You’ll wear that day after day untilI tell you to take it off. Next I told him to get the white football socks and put them on. Now for your bleachers. They’re gonna feel tight but that’s the way they are meant to be. This was the part I was looking forward - seeing the boi in tight bleachers, which I’d had cut so they barely went over the knee. And him seeing himself shaved and wearing skin gear for the first time.

I watch him stand up to pull them on. They were very tight and left nothing to the imagination. He told he felt they were too tight and felt weirdly short. I told him it’s how they are supposed to be. He was about to sit down when I told him to stay standing. I walked over to him and attached a pair of yellow braces to the waist of his bleachers at the back, over his shoulders and clipped them to the front.

“Nice - you’re looking the part boi,. but there’s something missing...”

“Are you going to make me wear a pair of those boots?”

“Haven’t you forgotten a word boi?” I clenched my fist again.

“Sorry....I mean BoSS, are you going to make me wear boots BoSS?”

“No, you have to earn the right to wear your boots, boi”

Pointing over to the wall, I instructed him to look at himself in the mirror. I told him he was well into his journey to becoming a skinhead.

I was surprised to see a bulge growing in his bleachers. “Interesting”, I thought. I felt that things were progressing at the right pace. I turned and left the room, leaving the lad to his thoughts.

-------------------

Breaking down a lad and rebuilding him as a boi in the desired image isn’t easy. If he was going to be a skinhead, he would have to behave like a skinhead and to believe there was no other way. To do this I ordered him to shave his head with foam and a razor every single morning. He would have to wait for me to inspect his work, only when I was satisfied would I allow him to get dressed. He would spend his day looking like a skin: wearing bleachers, Fred Perry, braces and football socks.

He still wasn’t allowed to wear boots. My goal was for him to learn the importance of boots to a skinhead: a highly visible sign that the wearer doesn’t give a shit about what anyone else thinks of them, they look menacing, and says ‘don’t mess with me’ because if you do, you’ll be the loser. I wanted him to beg me to wear the boots I’d got him, and I knew it would only be a matter of time until he was begging for permission to be booted. Until then on the occasions when we needed to go out, I made him out on some old workie overalls and on his feet he’d wear a pair of cheap and nasty black canvas plimsoles (remember the ones you might have worn in school?).

I didn’t know what his orientation was. In doing my research I’d not seen any evidence of girlfriend, or a boyfriend for that matter. I guessed that he might be so focussed on career, that he had suppressed any sexual urges or thought he’d wait ‘till the right person came along; then marry and have kids. Well, I had other plans. I wanted a boi to have ‘fun’ with and when I decided the time would come to let him leave he’d have absolutely no interest in women and he’d be looking for a skinhead partner or follow in my footsteps, finding ‘a lost sheep’ to convert into a proud gay skinhead, swelling the skinhead ranks.

-------------------

I returned to the room, “ok boi get over here.” He walked over towards me. “It’s time for you next lesson boi, you’re going to learn the art of bootlicking; you’re going to worship my boots. Boots are going to be the focus of your world and you don’t stop till I say. Get to it and I want to feel your tongue pressing hard.” Every so often I’d say “stop” and the boi would think he had done, but it was just to allow me to get a drink or go to the loo. I’d return and tell the lad to continue. I wanted him to get used to the position, being subservient (for the time being) and fully compliant with my instructions. Growing to love the taste of the leather, eventually becoming addicted to it. “Good boi”, I’d say every so often.

After a couple of hours of kneeling at my boots I told him, “that’s enough for a first effort now start on the other one”. The boi’s shoulders dropped but he did not say a word just started on the my other boot. After two more hours of bootlicking I allowed the lad to take a break. I got him some food but I made him eat it sitting on the floor by my boots.

The routine created for my new skinboi was expedited day after day. I would wake him at 6am in order for him to shave his head. I’d check the shave was to my satisfaction. Then he’d dress: black Fred Perry shirt, white football socks, bleachers, white braces. Then it would be down to work polishing all the boots in the morning, worshiping my boots in the afternoon and sometimes going outside with me dressed in full skin-gear and him in workie overalls and plimsoles. The monotony and repetition was wiping away his old life, soon all he would know is being a skinhead.

I also introduced him to the ‘joys’ that only a man can give another man. "Boi, Get over here, and get down on your knees." I watched my boi nervously get down on his knees. I grabbed the back of his head and pulled him forward so his face was in my crotch. I held him there so he can revel in the joys of his Boss’ scent. After a few minutes I told him to unbutton my bleachers. He was reluctant at first, but I was insistent. He knew I could meter a severe punishment, so using his fingers in he starts undoing the buttons, one by one. He looked up into his eyes knowing what was about to ensue. He opened his mouth to speak, but I said, "Ssh.. boi.. this is a necessary part of your training." He takes hold of my waistline and pulls down my bleachers, forcing my jock down too. He doesn’t break eye contact with me as my tumescent manhood strikes him on the chin. My balls are big and hang low. All he can do is stare. I’m pretty lucky, at least 8 inches long, and thick enough that his hand will be able to wrap around it, but only just.

With my hand still on the back of my head, I say to him “open up boi.” He hesitates, but seeing the expression on my face, he complies. I know he’s scared about what is going to happen. He was probably thinking about that ‘normal’ life of wife, kids and career. But looking at him, I can see there is some level of arousal. I now enter his now willing mouth. The underside of my manhood rubs against the top of his tongue as he lets it rest in his mouth for a few seconds. I pull his head forward so I can force myself deeper into his throat. It's half way in before he gags on its length. Laughing, I pull out, "Pretty big eh? Don't worry. We'll work on that.” I put it back in his mouth and he begins sucking again. It isn't long before I notice how turned on he is by all of this. Something must have clicked in his mind. Perhaps he wasn’t sure of his sexuality. Perhaps he was naturally submissive and was finally responding to the changes I was making to him. I’ll never really know. He is now sucking with vigour; even trying his hardest to take me in his throat and make his Boss happy.

"What a good boi. You like sucking your Boss’ dick don't you?"

He nodded. I could tell from looking into his eyes he was happy he was making his Boss happy. I smiled, “you’re going to be getting as lot of practice from now on boi. In fact when you finally leave, you’ll have no interest in women anymore - that’s if you had any in the first place. A skinhead like you is going to be into real blokes, who love aggro, sp[it, piss and hard sex. Now get up.”

I stand him up, turn him around, and walk him over to the sofa. “Strip,” I order. He hesitates for a moment, but seeing the expression on my face, he obediently takes off his Fred Perry, drops his bleachers, and pulls down his jock. What i assume to be his untouched hole is fully now exposed to me. I lean him into the sofa, putting his knees up on the cushions and face into the backrest. As I stand behind him I’m pretty sure he can feel something rubbing on his bum cheeks. I’m pretty sure he knows what it is. My hands are exploring his arse, rubbing and massaging all over.

Then I do something he wouldn’t be expecting. I lean forward and bury my face in his arse. I’m ravishing his hole with my tongue, and I know he will have never had a feeling like this before. He’s now moaning into the cushions as my tongue explores my hole. Satisfied with my work I pull back. I hear a squeak of disappointment, but it doesn't last long. The next noise that emanates from the lad is a ‘yelp’ in response to me sliding a finger into his wet boi hole. His bum clenches as I slide my finger in and out.

“How does that feel boi?”

Breathlessly he responds, “it feels amazing. Don’t stop. Please.”

I reach around him and start jerking him off my, using the precum leaking out of the head I keep a steady pace in order to distract him from what I’m about to do. I insert another finger into his hole, then a third. I know he could have never dreamed about the pleasure he’s experiencing at this point. I kept this up for ten, twenty, maybe thirty minutes - I can’t remember. When I gauged that he was almost at the point of no return I asked him a question.

"Are you ready for me to finally mark you as mine, boi?

At this point I knew he didn’t want this ‘world of pleasure’ I was giving him to end, so he vigorously nodded .

“Do you want to screw your tight little virgin boi hole? Speak."

"Please. Yes. I need your cock. Please take my boi hole," he whimpers.

I rub the head of my cock against his hole. His hands reach behind him and with both hands he pulls his cheeks apart giving me full access. Slowly, I push forwards applying pressure on his hole. Then, the pop. I’m in.

He yelps, “ow, ow, it hurts, no! He tries to rise up. But then I place a hand on his back, forcing him down.

"Shh.. boi..give it time, The pain will go - you'll learn to love it"

I keep the head of my hard pole in his hole for a few seconds without moving it to get him accustomed to it. Very slowly I start to move back and forth. I’m very steadily stretching his hole more and more. But then I notice a change in the noises he’s making.

I spoke up, “see boi, that initial pain begins to get replaced. Replaced by this, full feeling and eventually that makes way for an unbelievable pleasure. A pleasure only a man can give you.” I rock back and forth, putting more of my cock into his tight arse, When I pull back he’s started to push back; he’s moaning each time more is pushed inside him, until finally I feel my sack up against his arse.

"You like that boi? All of your Boss is in your arse. And my what a tight one you have boi."

"Ohh.... It's so good," in his state of ecstasy is all he can summon up.

I begin pumping back and forth, pulling out to the point to where the tip of the head is all that is left in his arse and then pressing all the way back in.

"Tell me you like it boi. Tell your skinhead Boss what you want me to do. Tell me now boi!"

"Boss yes!.. You feel so good inside me. Please don't stop. Please. Please fill me with your pure skinhead seed"

I pick up the pace to the point where I’m pounding his arse. I continue to penetrate him over and over again. I’m hoping to reach that special place every male has. I tell him to turn around because I want him to be looking at me when I deposit my seed. I start again, pumping in and out, over and over. His eyes roll back into his head as I go all the way down. I can tell he’s experiencing a new feeling. Soon he’ll be at the point of no return. The point where man sex is all he desires.

"You feel that boi? I’m massaging your prostate"

"Oh my god Boss. That feels so good. Please don't stop."

I’m thrusting into his arse, back and forth, slowly at first then picking up the pace. He grabs his cock and starts jerking it.

"Yes!” he says, “please keep going. don’t stop!"

I keep pumping away, when I hear him say, “I’m going to cum.” I pull his hands away. “You have to ask permission to cum boi.” I say sternly.

“Please may I cum, please Boss?” he begs.

“I’ll let you cum when you tell me what you are boi.”

“What, what do you mean?” he queries.

“Tell me what you are boi, tell me you’re a skinhead! Tell me you’re going to live your life as a proud, gay skinhead. You’ll spread the word and convert others to the skinhead life.”

“Yes, I will,” he responds, eagerly.

“Not good enough boi, tell me what I have turned you into, now!”

Breathing heavily as I continue to plough in and out of his arse he responds, “oh, okay. I’m a skinhead, a gay skinhead. I proud, gay skinhead. I’ve been shown how to live as a skinhead, how to dress in skin gear, how to polish and lace my boots correctly. How to shave my head. How to live my life... from... now on as a skinhead.”

“Yes boi, you are a skinhead. For now you’re my skin boi. There are some final changes I have to make to ensure there’s no return to your old life. Now cum for me.”

Streams of cum land on his chest. I feel his are clinches around my cock as I keeps pumping away, reaching the point of no return. Marking him, filling him with my essence. I look deeply into his eyes and can see complete bliss.

I slow down, then pull out. Our lips meet and lock together.

To reinforce his new gay skinhead life, we repeat these sessions, day after day. Me on top and him on the bottom. Because I want him to convert others to the skinhead life, I need to allow him to top. So in some sessions we switch and he gets to experience what it’s like to penetrate another man. We always shag in skinhead gear and our sessions get more exciting as he gives himself to this new life I’ve created for him.

-------------------

A couple of weeks later, I woke up to find my boi had got out of my bed early and was already in the bathroom. I opened the door to find him shaving his head. I smiled at him and he smiled back: success!

I waited for him to come downstairs wondering how he would be dressed. Sure enough he walked into the room, with the exception of a pair of boots he was dressed in his skinhead gear.

I looked up, “hello boi, what are you?” was all I asked him.

“I am a skinhead Boss, living by the skinhead code” he replied

“Good boi.”

Quickly, I made a call to a friend to book a four-hour appointment.

I came back into the room, "boi, get the black boots with the white laces, and put them on. Lace them as I’ve shown you.

“Yes Boss”, he replied excitedly.

We’re going into town to make some final changes to the way you look. We are going to make sure everyone knows what you are. Tell me again, what are you boi?”

As he laced his boots he repeated his mantra. “I’m a skinhead, BoSS.”

“Yes boi, and after today there is going to be no way back. Now, get a move on and finish lacing those boots because we have an appointment booked.

I watch closely as he ladder laces his new black boots. I’m admiring the skin boi I’ve created. In the next hour he will begin the final part of his transformation. He will stay with me for some time so that I can fully reinforce his skinhead training. When I decide he’s the finished article, I will tell him to go find himself a partner, perhaps a normal lad he can transform into his own skinboi perhaps someone who is already leading a skinhead life.

As I look at my skinboi standing in the doorway, I start thinking about what my next project will be...

#skinhead #ranger boots #shavehead #bleachers

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