#skinhead group

[scarmille]

via ig

[canichangemyblogname]

Coffee stop stranger to my friend watching a TikTok video: “A terrorist organization uses that phrase to call for jihad, just so you know.”

Me playing dumb because I know this person is just being Arabophobic and Islamophobic: “Which phrase? Alhamdulillah?”

*a pause while they “think” because they don’t know Arabic and have no clue what they’re actually arguing against*

Them: “Yeah. You kids need to stop saying it. It makes people uncomfortable.”

Me: “THANK GOD you were here to tell us. Where would we be without you?”

Old people are so bold and they love to comment on things that are none of their damn business 😑

[possumteeths]

Just now I was doing some dumb quiz via a tumblr post and this person consistently used like straight up white supremacist signaling multiple times but in a completely like… innocent way? This person clearly has no idea of like skinheads amongst punk subculture or lace code or anything like that so for the edgier options in their quiz the images were consistently pictures of skinheads and white bar laced boots nfmsndksjdmskdjskfhekfnd

[symbiotic-slime]

A FUCKING NAZI JUST CAME INTO THE STORE I WORK AT???

what the fuck what the fuck

[vintageleathersblog]

[rbbrbikerthorp]

Meeting Mick

In the centre of London, a 22-year-old junior office clerk named Gareth found himself trawling through his email inbox once again. For such a young lad, he was already fatigued with the tediousness of routine.

He had been conventional all his life, descending from a lineage of monotony. His father was an accountant who was coming up to retirement - a greyish man who wore greyish suits, his grandfather had been an accountant and he was pretty sure his great grandfather had also been in the profession. “It’s in our DNA, numbers run in our blood,” the words of his dad would echo around his head.

As a teenager, Gareth tried to rebel, well he put a bit of effort in to trying to rebel. First of all he let his hair grow, then he got a number 2 at the barbers. He bought a pair of DMs with some of his savings but never wore them for fear of what his mother and father might say. Once he came home ten minutes late for dinner, which was enough for his father to take him on one side and lecture him on the importance of timekeeping.

Anyway, let's get back to the present. Gareth got home early evening after another dull day in the office. He prepared a nice healthy meal of grilled salmon and steamed vegetables. After washing up, he decided to check his social media feeds, not that he was a prolific user of social networks, but at least they were a doorway to 'other worlds' that offered some escape.

As he was scrolling through Tumblr one profile in particular caught his attention. The profile belonged to someone calling himself 'Mick', an older man who proudly identified as a Skinhead Boss.

Gareth just stared at the profile picture; he studied it from top to bottom; his overarching thought was that this was an older guy who didn't give a f**k. He lost himself staring at the shiny black boots, which contrasted with the white laces and the arms covered in tattoos. Gareth then clicked on the profile and immediately pressed the 'follow' button.

He scrolled through Mick's blog and found himself getting more and more aroused at the pictures, which included from videos of lads getting their heads shaved, pictures of skinheads in full skinhead gear, groups of skinheads drinking and even photos of skins getting pierced and tattooed. The posts included many skinhead transformation stories as well as a few articles about skinhead culture, which Gareth read with interest.

Gareth really wanted to message Mick, and he pointed the cursor but kept hesitating because, to be honest, he felt a bit stupid. The voices in his head told him not to bother, Mick is a hard, tattooed skinhead and why would he want to chat with someone as boring and vanilla as you, Gareth?

After deliberating for many minutes whilst continuing to look over Mick's blog, he managed to silence the voices momentarily finding the resolve to send a message. He clicked on the icon and noticed the green dot, so Mick was probably online. After a lot of thought he decided to keep the first message short, "hey there, love the blog, love the gear," and pressed the send icon. No, he thought in a moment of regret and as the voices reasserted themselves, why did I type that? After a few minutes, and much to Gareth's surprise, the number 1 appeared on the messages side-menu. Expecting a "get lost" or "Eff off back to your boring, mundane life," he clicked to see what the reply was.

“Oi oi m8 thx. I didn’t think I’d be your type. Just seen your profile pic you look like just a conventional clean-cut lad." Reading this, Gareth was rock hard. He’d never spoken to a skinhead before and the thought of chatting with one was already driving him crazy. He thought very carefully about what to type next. “Ha ha, well yes, but skinheads - they're something else,” and he pressed send. Mick replied straight away “Thanks. I know you’d look good with your head shaved, wearing a nice tight pair of bleachers and all booted up lad.”

Gareth had often wondered what his life would be like if he had taken a different path maybe as a tradesman or a workie, even a punk or skinhead but it would never work, plus what would his parents and friends say. He quickly typed a reply, “Ah, I’d love to but I don’t think I could - I’d be a terrible skinhead,” and clicked on the send icon.

Gareth was starting to feel stupid again for initiating the conversation with Mick - but before he cold wallow in his foolishness he received another message, which had a much firmer tone to it “Listen lad, you WILL make a perfect skinhead. I CAN make it happen m8. I'll be in the White Hart pub on Grange Road at tonight 8 - be on time. If not, we won't chat again. It's a one time offer."

Having read the message, Gareth noticed the green light disappear - Mick must have signed out.

Gareth didn’t know what to do. This skinhead he’d spoken to for all of five minutes was willing to take him 'under his wing' and make all his dreams come true. Was this a set-up? Was it all one big joke? Was he being foolish turning up in a pub some stranger had mentioned

In that moment Gareth was 'paralysed' Should he carry on as Mr Conventional or take this opportunity to escape the monotony and drudgery of routine? Well there was only one way to find out.

After nearly an hour of procrastination he decided it was worth the risk and he would go and meet Mick. After all nothing was going to happen in pub full of customers? With a mix of excitement and apprehension, Gareth put on a pair of jeans, a plan blue t-shirt and a his coat. He opened Google Maps and searched for The White Hart and followed the directions.

After a twenty minute bus ride and ten minute walk he arrived at The White Hart. He paused for a moment. This looked like any other pub he'd seen in the city. Was he really going to enter a pub frequented by skinheads? Was he about to meet the man he'd been messaging on Tumblr? He was about to discover that this pub, adorned with memorabilia reflecting the skinhead subculture, would become the backdrop for his transformation.

He walked through the double doors and entered the tap room. He was immediately met by the sight of three skinheads standing at the bar. He checked them out; they all had shaved heads, some dressed in green or black bomber jackets, some just in t-shirts or Fred Perry polos and wearing skinhead boots; some black some red/brown.

Standing for a moment, just inside the doors (close enough to make a quick retreat should it be necessary), he took in the atmosphere. He looked around the room, trying not to catch anyone's attention. However, a few of the skins had noticed the new lad enter. Gareth was aware of several faces looking in his director, some seeming to sneer at him in contempt. He imagined they were thinking "what are you doing in our place?" After all he was a normal looking, average 22 year old in the middle of a pub occupied by tattooed, pierced, and booted skinheads.

Gareth got a sense that tension was building, but at the same time he was very aroused. He'd never been so close to one skinhead, let alone a pub full of pretty hot looking skins. He glanced at his watch - it was almost 8 o'clock - so finding Mick was his priority.

Gareth was feeling intimidated by the many eyes focussed on him. Believing Mick would be somewhere in the pub meant he was able to dig deep and find the courage not to run out through the door through which he entered. As he walked around, he noticed a skinhead standing at the bar smoking a cigarette. He always thought that smoking was banned indoors - and that included pubs - but this skinhead didn't seem to care. "You look out of place my lad - don't think you want to be in here!" he said taking the cig out of his mouth.

"Well, erm, I, I'm supposed to be meeting someone here." Gareth stuttered a reply taking in the sight in front of him.

"Oh, is that so?" The skinhead started to smile. "And who is this person you're supposed to be meeting or do you just like being in a room filled with skinheads?"

Gareth was getting even more aroused. "No, erm Mick," he initially replied meekly, then getting his confidence back, "he's called Mick".

Suddenly Gareth heard a booming voice to his right, which he knew was aimed at him. “Boy, I've been waiting."

Gareth headed over to where the voice originated, very aware that the skinhead he'd just been talking to was still staring at him as he walked away.

"Good job you turned up lad." Gareth was mesmerised at seeing Mick in person - as if in a trance, he walked towards the man that would permanently change his life. With each step forward, he took in Mick's weathered face, shaved head, tattooed arms and, holding a metal baseball bat in his left hand. "Boy, I thought you might chicken out." Finally standing next to Mick, he laughed nervously; he actually was scared-stiff but at the same time he was so turned on by this older skinhead. “You wanna be a proper skinhead - just like ALL the lads around you, don’t you?"

Gareth turned around and looked around the pub - no one was staring at him now. Everywhere he turned he saw skinheads laughing, chatting, getting the beers in and even playing pool - it was the camaraderie that caught his attention.

All his life he'd been a 'lost sheep'; he'd been desperate for the kind of kinship he was witnessing. Yes this is what he wanted, and he would do whatever it takes to be accepted. He turned back to Mick, and more certain than he'd been about anything in his life, "Yes, YES, I want to be a skinhead."

"Good lad," Mick cracked a smile for the first time since they'd met in person. "I can make it come true boy. First, I should warn you that once you say yes, there’s no going back. So, you're absolutely sure about this?”

Gareth had never been more certain in his life, oh and had never felt like this before (not to mention the forming bulge that was hard to miss). “Yes, I really want this”.

Mick was relieved, he made it a mission to bring new lads into the skinhead world “good choice, I’ll make a proper skinhead out of you boy. When I'm done with you, you'll be a proud skinhead, following the skinhead code.” Gareth nearly erupted in his trousers, he couldn’t believe this was happening. Right seat yourself down, I'll get the beers in an we'll talk about your skinhead transformation.

In a matter of minutes, Mick returned accompanied by two other skinheads who sat down alongside Gareth. "This is Charlie and this is his boi Chris. Chris once had a boring life - he was a going to be a lawyer but he hated his life. He met first Charlie on Grindr and now they're inseparable; Chris now works for the council in the cleansing department. Lads, this is Gareth," he said, nodding in Gareth's direction."

Gareth nervously picked up his glass that had been put in front of him and took a big gulp of the beer. One gulp turned into two, three, four and in no time, he'd almost finished his pint. In doing so he'd plucked up the courage to initiate a conversation about what life would be like as a skinhead.

Mick was about to start waxing lyrical about his life when Charlie jumped in, having just finished his pint, "tell the lad how long you've been a skinhead Mick," turning to Gareth, "Mick also knows what it means to be a skin and how we watch out for one another. C'mon Chris let's get the next round in."

As they chatted over three more pints Mick regaled his life experiences and the subculture he had embraced since he started secondary school. He shared stories of camaraderie, rebellion, and talked affectionately about the unique sense of identity that exists within the skinhead community. Despite the age gap, a connection had formed between the two. Mick decided it was time to begin Gareth's transformation. "Right lad, follow me."

Mick put on what Gareth would learn is his black Harrington, he picked up his baseball bat and headed through a set of double doors. Gareth followed a few paces behind Mick heading down a short dimly lit corridor.

They walked through the door and entered a room with black and white tiles on the floor, three sides of the room had walls covered in pictures of skinheads, the other wall was simply a floor to ceiling mirror. In the middle of the room was a barber's chair.

"Right lad, take your top off"

Without a second thought Gareth complied. "Get in the chair." It was an order, not a request, which had to be obeyed. Gareth was about to take the first step and most symbolic stage his transformation to a skinhead.

Sitting in the old barber's chair, Gaz could only watch as Mick walked over to the shelf and picked up a set of clippers. Mick removed the guard that was covering the cutting end and turned to Gareth, ""this is it lad; in a few minutes Gareth will be gone. I'm going to transform you into Gaz - my Skinhead boi."

With that Mick pressed the on button on the side of the clippers; immediately he heard the familiar 'clack' sound echo around the room. Mick pressed the clippers into the nape and worked his way up the lad's head. With a deliberate slowness, Gareth's hair was stripped away. With each stroke, inches of hair fell on his chest and on the floor around the chair until it was all gone.

Gareth was more turned on than he'd been; at any time in his life. Nothing he'd done in his 22 years to date had resulted in the mild sweating, butterflies and raised heart-rate that he was experiencing as he stared into the mirror watching this tattooed thug denuding his head.

Mick could tell Gaz was enjoying the experience as he heard a little pleasure moan escape from his mouth. He ran the clippers over Gaz's head at least three times, ensuring there was only stubble left. Mick noticed Gaz staring in the mirror - it wasn't all he noticed. "Like what you see boi?"

Gareth simply nodded - his brain simply couldn't process the combination of his feelings and the sight of his shaved head in the mirror. He was about to touch his head when Mick interrupted, "No you don't boi. I'll tell you when you can touch your head."

Mick then walked over to the sink and turned on the hot tap. When the water was steaming hot, he grabbed a towel and wet it thoroughly. He squeezed the towel removing the excess water and placed the very towel on Gaz's head; leaving it for a few minutes.

This gave him time to grab a can of shaving foam. He completely covered his boi's head in foam. He grabbed a new Mach III razor and started the next stage of the transformation. It took a few minutes to shave away the stubble from his boi's head and make him as smooth and shiny as a baby.

Gaz sat there frozen in disbelief as each stroke of the razor revealed another patch of scalp completely void of hair. As Mick finished up, he produced a handheld mirror to show the back and sides: “what do you think boi?”

Gaz didn’t recognise the person staring back at him - he was starting to look like a dumb thug who’d grown up on a council estate and spent years getting in trouble with the law. Not some twenty-something who had grown up the perfect, but very boring, nuclear family. “Yeah, this is perfect, just how I wanted to look”.

"It's only the beginning of your transformation lad. Now we need to get you dressed. Stay there." Mick ordered and walked over to a cupboard ar the back of the room.

Gaz didn't want to move. He was transfixed by the skinhead he saw in the mirror - so much so that he didn't hear Mick calling to him.

"Get over here boi!"

Gaz came back to reality and jumped out of the chair. He walked over to where Mick was standing. It was a cupboard full of boots, jeans with bleach splashes, t-shirts, polo shirts and bomber jackets.

For the second time in as many hours, Gaz was enthralled by the content in the cupboard - as he stared at the many pairs boots on the shelf he was almost drooling. "Right lad," Mick said jerking Gaz out of his boot gazing, "we can get you started with what's in here. You'll need to get more in time but that can wait till you start yer new job."

With that Mick began to outfit his boi in classic skinhead attire. He started by handing Gaz a t-shirt wich the boy slipped over his head, then came a pair of very tight fitting jeans with bleach splashes - bleachers as they are generally known. As he put them on he could sense blood rushing towards his groin area. Seeing this Mick smiled; Gaz smiled back sensing he was blushing. As he finished buttoning his bleachers, he saw the jeans had been cut off just below the knee - he would soon find out why. Next, Gaz was handed a pair of white(ish) football socks. "Get them on your feet."

As Gaz was putting his socks, he looked up when another skinhead entered the room. He was a bit younger than Mick but older than Gaz; his arms covered in tattoos and a huge ring in his nose and both ears pierced, "is he ready Mick?"

"Not quite Al, he's got his boots to put on an lace properly." He turned to Gaz, "for now you need to pull your socks over your knees." When Gaz had done as instructed, Mick put a pair of black 20 hole boots with white laces in front of him. He sat down and began talking him through tightly ladder-lacing his boots, first the right foot then the left.

In no time at all Gaz had ladder-laced his boots.

"Stand up lad - look in the mirror!" Mick instructed, "how does that feel?" He didn't need to ask - the lump in the boi's bleachers was there for all to see.

"i...," Gaz was stuck for words. After a few moments he spurted, "I can't believe what I'm looking at," as Gaz found himself feeling a sense of belonging he had never experienced before.

Mick was pleased with the transformation so far. He offered Gaz a cigarette. “Sorry, I don’t smoke”. Mick threw Gaz against the wall “lesson one, you don’t get the choose what you do and don’t do anymore. Skinheads smoke and now you're a skinhead so that means you're a smoker too. I want you to smoke a pack a day boi”.

For the first time since he walked into the pub Gaz was intimidated - especially knowing there was another skinhead in the room watching. Gaz gingerly took the smoke from Mick and lit up. It tasted awful and he was trying his best not to cough after every inhale.

“You’ll get use to it boi. Give it a few weeks you won’t be able to get out of bed without sparking up” Mick laughed. This is Al by the way. He's a tattooist - he's going to make your transformation more permanent.

"Right Al, he's ready for the next stage."

Al smiled, "come slong me boi."

Gaz followed Mick and Al out of the room, and out of a side door in the pub. Even though he'd worn his Doc Martens on a number of occasions, walking in 20-hole boots felt so different. To start with the leather was new and the soles of were solid and heavy. Mick and Al were heading off and Gaz had trouble keeping up. Eventually the two older skinheads arrived at a tattoo studio, with Gaz arriving a few seconds later.

"Right here we are. It's time to finish the job. Al's gonna give you your ink and we'll get some metal into you too,"

"Yes boi," interjected Al, "in the chair, take your shirt off and we can get started."

Gaz took off his shirt and sat in the chair.

"I think you should light up boi," Mick instructed, holding out a pack of cigs. Gaz took one and lit up. Even though it was only his second cigarette, he was doing better at not coughing every time he inhale.

"Right Mick, so just as we talked about earlier?" Al asked.

"Yes, just the ones he can't hide - the ones on his knuckles, hands, neck for today, then over the next few visits he can get his sleeves done and then you can work on his back.

Gaz's heartbeat was rising rapidly as he was listening to what was about to happen. The transformation so-far was reversible, but the moment the tattooing started there would be no turning back. Then all of a sudden he felt a wave of calm as he realised he wasn't forcibly being transformed. His lifetime wish was become a reality and Mick and Al were facilitating his deep desires.

Al set up his equipment and began. As the needle buzzed, skinhead symbols etched themselves onto Gaz's skin – a commitment to a lifestyle that was rapidly becoming his own. The letters S-K-I-N and H-E-A-D were tattooed onto his knuckles. Next, a swallow was tattooed on the back of his left hand, followed by his right hand. Then Al began the more painful and time consuming work of tattooing a spiderweb onto the left side of Gaz's neck and a pair of red DMs on the right hand side. Both would be positioned too high for Gaz to cover them up - even if that's what he wanted to do - and he didn't, ever!

Piercings followed suit, adding a further edge to Gaz's appearance. His ears were adorned with small gold hoops, then his nipples were pierced - wincing at the pain as the needle went through the sensitive skin.

"One more for today boi and then we are done. If you thought your nipple piercings hurt, then you'll really feel it when we get your septum done."

Mick wasn't wrong. However, compared to the continuous, vibrating pain of being tattooed, Gaz would describe the septum piercing as a quick, sharp pain. In no time at all he had a 14 gauge septum piercing with a gold ring though it.

"Your nose is going to be tender to touch and will probably take a couple of week to heal." Al told Gaz. We'll look at changing to a slightly bigger ring as Mick wants in a couple of months, that's provided it has healed well."

Mick walked over to Gaz and grabbed him roughly. Mick pressed his body up against Gaz and kissed him lightly on the lips. Then he thrust his tongue harshly into Gaz's mouth. Gaz had never kissed a man before, in fact he hadn't kissed many girls before. So he just let Mick take charge. Gaz found he loved the smokey taste of Mick's mouth too - imagining that his would taste the same as he become a 20-a-day smoker.

In that single moment Gaz felt a sense of liberation that transcended his previous life. There would be no return for once ordinary office worker. Instead, with Mick's guidance, Gaz secured his first manual job. Being a workie on a building site was a fitting occupation for his newfound identity.

In the end, Gareth's (now Gaz's) transformation went beyond skin-deep. He found a sense of purpose and community that resonated with him on a profound level. Mick, the seasoned skinhead mentor, had unwittingly become Gaz's Alpha guiding the 22 year old through a journey of self-discovery that led him to embrace a life that, just weeks before, had been unimaginable.

[safety-pin-punk]

hi, baby punk here ! regarding your latest post about informing people on the punk scene: what exactly is the praxis?

OKAY OH BOY! THIS IS GONNA BE A RIDE!!

To start, I already have a post written about what punk even is. I'll link that right here for anyone who wants to read it.

Moving on to what Praxis is for those who don't know: Praxis is the customary practice or conduce. Teachers have a praxis. Cops have a praxis. Doctors have a praxis. And yeah, punks have a praxis too. But uuhhhhhh, ours can get a little messy.

Why is punk praxis messy? Easy. There are SO Many different types of punks. Straight Edge, Folk, Riot Grrrl, Sista Grrrl, Solar, Anarchists, C Punk & Sick Punk, Skinheads, and SO many more. All of these groups have different things that they value, so there is no real strict 'you have to believe or do this' to be a punk.

That said, there are things that the vast majority of punk groups agree on

Take care of your community and genuinly care about people

DIY as a cheap and sustanable alternative

Use critical thinking skills rather than following a bandwagon

Stay true to yourself

Activism

Activism is probably the easiest one to expand on, and probably the most important. Through out the different groups of punks, activism can look a lot of different ways. That's because punk ideology is really just a group of varied social and political beliefs. So what do the beliefs that activism is based on look like? Mutual aid, anti-consumerism, anti-capitalism, anti-cop, environmentalism, socialism, standing with disadvantaged groups and minorities, non-conformity, animal rights, equal human rights.

Some groups find different things more important. For example, Anarchists tend to place importance on direct action while solarpunks are very heavy into environmentalism.

One last thing I want to point out (a really good quote I stole from Wikipedia actually): "Punk does not necessarily lend itself to any particular political ideology, as it is primarily anti-establishment". Essentially meaning you can't simply be part of a specific political party and be punk. Punk doesn't support the full views of ANY political party.

[visenyaism]

Criston Cole beat a gay dude to death

The character did do that, it is portrayed as horrible. but you can understand how calling him a skinhead like the very real extremely violent white supremacist street groups in an edit to a michael jackson song that implies that he’s a neonazi and Rhaenyra Targaryen is a persecuted racial minority might come off as extremely inappropriate right. like we can get to that level of media literacy at least

[workingclasshistory]

On this day, 4 July 1998, best friends Lin "Spit" Newborn, 24, a Black skinhead and singer, and Daniel Shersty, 20, a white US air force serviceman - both members of Anti-Racist Action (ARA) - were murdered in the desert outside Las Vegas by a gang of white supremacists. Newborn's friend, PJ Perez, described him as "a madman. A poet. A motherfucker whose good side you'd want to stay on. He was a father, a son, a passionate and dedicated fighter for what's right." Shersty was born to a working class family in Florida, and joined the air force in order to fund college which his parents could not afford. The pair, both amateur musicians, met in Las Vegas, became fast friends and helped co-found the local chapter of militant anti-fascist group ARA. ARA took the fight to neo-Nazis who were recruiting in the local skinhead scene and attacking Black and Latine schoolchildren as well as white "race traitors". One neo-Nazi was swiftly jailed for the murders, and others were convicted in 2012. ARA continued their fight against white supremacists across the US, and helped disrupt many of their activities, and successfully drove them from many local youth subcultures. Learn the history of ARA in this book, We Go Where They Go, written by participants themselves: https://shop.workingclasshistory.com/products/we-go-where-they-go-the-story-of-anti-racist-action-shannon-clay-lady-kristin-schwartz-and-michael-staudenmaier https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=655865593253326&set=a.602588028581083&type=3

[octuscle]

Hotel room - Blue

Frederik hated Berlin. Chaotic. Dirty. Politically far left. Sexually promiscuous. And now it was Christopher Street Day. The city overflowed with fags running half-naked and some even completely naked through the city. Frederik couldn't wait until he was back in Munich. He was looking forward to the comfort of first class on the ICE train he was about to board. The platform at Berlin's main train station was crowded. It was Friday evening. Crowds of people were leaving, crowds of people were flooding the city. Thank God his train was leaving in ten minutes.

"Dear passengers, due to a technical defect in two signal boxes, rail traffic at Berlin Central Station is suspended for a short time. Trains in the direction of Hanover will run today only from and to Berlin Spandau. Train services in the direction of Hamburg and Munich will be completely suspended until further notice. We ask for your understanding."

There was a second of shock on the platform. Then crowds of people started moving frantically, storming rental car counters and the cab stand. People made phone calls or frantically tried to book flights on their cell phones. Frederik traveled a lot on business. He stayed in at least three different beds during the week. He knew what this situation meant: Find a hotel bed! Now! Because you won't get out of this juggernaut before morning. He had quickly phoned his regular hotels. No chance. All that was left were the hotel chains where he had gold or platinum status. After fifteen minutes, he had called all the four- and five-star hotels that came into consideration. Finally, he was recommended a hotel where, according to the internal system, there was still a room available. That would have been blocked for him. A three-star hotel near KaDeWe and Kurfürstendamm. Okay, better than nothing. There were no more cabs.

Frederik hated public transportation. His mood was correspondingly bad as he stood in the lobby of the hotel. Everything was decorated in rainbow colors. In front of him, a group of beefcakes in leather gear were just checking in. Behind him stood a skinhead, under whose bomber jacket a latex shirt shiny emphasized his six-pack. Frederik felt uncomfortable. Extremely uncomfortable. And when he was told that the room was wrongly blocked for him, his collar burst. He demanded this room, after all he was a Platinum customer and had a right to a room. The receptionist tried to explain to him that the guest who had been staying in the room had actually moved out. However, it was only because he had obviously ended up in the hospital with a bit much alcohol in his blood. A friend had just picked up the clothes and paid the bill, but housekeeping hadn't had a chance to do the room yet. And there would be no one else in the house at that time of day. However, given his status, they would fix it up first thing in the morning, and he could move into it at 08:00.

From behind the skinhead came forward. He had quite a suit fetish, Frederik was very welcome to spend the night with him. "Listen," Frederik pleaded with the gentleman at the front desk. "I don't care about the condition of the room. I just want my own bed and my own bathroom." After promising not to complain about anything, he got the door card. And Frederik hurried to get out of this den of iniquity.

The bed was not made. There were knotted condoms and tissues on the floor. There were still clothes in the closet that had been overlooked. Shower gel was still in the shower and there was still a razor. It smelled of sweat and sweetish perfume. Frederik didn't care about anything. He looked again after the status of the German Rail. Supposedly, trains should start running again at 07:00 in the morning. He set the alarm clock in his cell phone to 06:00, undressed and hung his clothes neatly in the closet. With a used towel, he wiped the shower, toilet and washstand. And fortunately, there was still a clean towel left for him to use. He lay down on the bed. The pillow smelled of the sweetish perfume. Slowly, he calmed down. And fell asleep.

At 04:00 his cell phone woke him up. He had received a new message. "Sweetie, how are you". And there were at least two dozen more messages and missed calls. What the hell!!! Darn it! Had he been drinking yesterday? Actually, no. But somehow he had a hangover. A glass of water might help. He went into the bathroom and ran the cold water and drank straight from the tap. Yes, that felt good. He washed his face with cold water and looked in the mirror.

FUUUCK! Frederik was 42 years old. He had once been athletic, but lately he had let himself go quite a bit. As a self-employed management consultant, he earned a lot of money and made a point of maintaining a well-groomed, discreet and conservative appearance. But what was that in the mirror!?!?!?!?

Shit, Freddy had really drunk a lot after arriving in Berlin yesterday. For a short time he had gone black before his eyes. But now it worked again. And in the name of Cher, Bette Midler and Zarah Leander: He wasn't here to sleep it off. Freddy put on his one-million-dollar smile and answered the last message with a selfie. And the subtext: "Honey Bear, I had to freshen up for a minute. Where are you?"

He quickly swapped the baggy shorts go his pink glitter hot pants, put on matching sneakers and pink chest harness and left the room. He didn't get far. In the elevator he met a skinhead whose upper body was in a shiny latex shirt. He was no longer completely sober. But he obviously thought Freddy was hot. And somehow the latex made Freddy horny. One blowjob more or less didn't matter anymore. His friends could wait a few more minutes for him.

[captainlondonman]

New Skin Boss

Jed was glad it was Friday. His Boss allowed Friday to be the day when staff could wear what they wanted. During the week Jed had to tone down his gear, just jeans, thick soled shoes and a sweatshirt and anyway he had to wear a warehouse coat over. However on a Friday he did not give a shit what the other two lads in the warehouse thought and he always put on his Skin gear. Christ if you are a skin you have to show that you are, so out came the bleached jeans, the Fred Perry T shirt, the yellow braces and the yellow laced 20 hole Ranger boots. Like all good skins he wore no underwear and you could see the outline of his cock down one leg made more obvious by the piss stains from not shaking his knob when finishing his piss. The other guys wore their jeans and some boring top always looking at him as if he was an alien.

‘Well fuck them’, Jed thought

The Boss , Brian, was young, early 30s and seemed fixated with golf spending most of his free time on the golf course with his boring suburban friends. Jed had to admit he was good looking but God knows if he was straight or not. Had to be Jed thought with all this bloody golf. He was 6ft. good build, gelled hair with perfect parting and one thing Jed always noted was that there was a nice bulge hidden in his chinos. The guy obviously wore boxer shorts so his cock could swing around a bit. This Friday as they were packing up to go, Brian looked at Jed and said.

‘You always wear your Skinhead gear on a Friday, Jed. I just can’t see why and always so tight on you.’

‘Once a Skin always a skin, Brian. You wouldn’t know.’

‘Too right there, Jed, however I do admire you for looking like that. It may not be for me but it actually does suit you.’

 That night Jed met up with his pals at the local Skin club. Great always to be with fellow skins in their gear. Some wore rubber versions of skin stuff and a few of the bigger blokes would bring their slaves in with a thick collar and chain and make them kneel begging for a beer. This was his home and often he would hook up with another Skin for a night of raw sex but it was usually a one night stand. Christ he had probably had half the guys there. He was talking to Otto who was considered the leader of the Skins who frequented the club. Everyone called him Otto because he loved to go off for weekends to the Berlin Skin scene and besides you would not mess with him, he was at least 6’2” and built like a brick shit house, both arms heavily tattooed and a spiders web tat covering his head. Jed was telling the group abut Brian and his comments.

‘Mate it sounds as if you fancy yer boss. I fucking hope not as us Skins stick together.’

‘Shit, Otto, no way am I having sex with anyone other than a Skin.’

‘So what Jed if this boss was a skin, what would you do?’

‘Well IF he was, I fucking love to be his fuck bitch judging from that cock outline I see in his chinos. But that’s not gonna happen ain’t it.’

‘Stranger things have happened. If you are up for it me and two of me mates could help out a bit. Always want to make us Skin boys happy.’

‘You’re bloody joking’

‘Am I? What say we have a go next weekend but I will need all the weekend and you stay out of things till I call you. You will just need to let us in before you leave  and then you bugger off till I call.’

‘Not sure I can believe all this but hey man you are such a boss I’m willing to give it a go.’

‘Great, I like the sound of this commission. Will make for a good weekend.’

 The following week at 5pm the other guys had gone off and Jed did as he was told by putting something Otto had given him into a cup of tea for Brian.

‘Thought you might like a cuppa before I go off, Brian’

T’hat’s nice of you Jed. No doubt you are off for one of your boys night.’

‘You can say Skin instead of boys Brian.’

‘Maybe but that’s not my thing but if you insist yeah, Skin nights. Hope you enjoy. I’ll be another half hour and then I will lock up.’

‘Have a great weekend. I’m sure its gonna be special’

‘Who knows Jed?’

Jed whispered to himself ‘I know’

 He then opened the door to let Otto in and his two sidekicks.

‘You put the liquid in the tea did you, Jed’

‘Of course just as you asked’

‘Christ what have you there? It looks like a bloody huge suitcase.’

‘A bit like that but don’t you worry. Bri’s not gonna know what has hit him but the result will be exactly as you are wanting.’

‘I’m not sure now,’ Jed replied

‘Look fuck off mate and leave this to the professionals. Go.’ And with that Otto pushed him out the door and quietly shut it behind him.

‘Right lads lets give Bri 20minutes. That should be enough.’

They then opened the office door and saw Brian slumped over his desk.

‘Look like it’s worked boys so lets get to action, open up the case. First, hand me the shaving cream and razor as well as the chains and ropes but before we do anything lets get this guys clothes off.’

All three skins quickly removed Brian’s clothes

‘Well’ Otto said, ‘Jed is right, the guys got a good sized cock, I reckon a good 8inches when stiff but well find that out soon enough. A real waste in a pair of chinos. Dom, put these clothes in a bin bag and shove in the bin outside.’

Otto tied Brian to the chair with the ropes and taking out a good thick leather collar buckled that around his neck and then chained it to the back of the chair so his head was fully upright and unable to move.

Otto then took his electric razor and started on Brian’s gelled hair, great pieces falling to the floor. Once most of it was off he sprayed on the shaving foam, mixing it in with a couple of thick heavy globs of spit for good measure. Taking the razor he worked his way around the scalp once and then another go to make sure the head was smooth and properly scalped.

‘Shit that looks better for a start.  He has a good Skin shape of head. Fucking hate blokes with all that gel thinking they look bloody great. Better shut him up before he comes round but first let’s close the blinds and set up the video system for him.’

Brian started to come to and as he started to open his mouth, he felt  a round rubber ball being forced into his mouth almost making him gag and then it was strapped round the back of his head. He could not move his hands were firmly tied behind the chair and his head was immobile. He was vaguely conscious of a thick leather strap around his neck keeping his head firmly in position.

As his eyes still had a fuzz, he could make out in the dark room three men standing in front of him. They all looked dressed the same and he could make out high boots and shaved heads but little else.

One was bigger than the other two and came forwards so his face was up against. The guy looked fearsome and he could make out the guy was a Skinhead as he was dressed similarly to the clothes Jed wore on a Friday. The guy was bulky with thick legs encased in his bleachers and on his head a large tattoo of a spider’s web. On one cheek was another tattoo of a swastika.

‘So Bri, I’ve just put a ball gag in yer mouth to shut you up for now. You might see you’re naked but don’t worry that will get sorted out. Us lads are going to leave you for a while but before going we have a little piece of equipment we think will help you.

Otto opened up the ball stretchers and fitted them around Brian’s hefty pair of balls. As he clicked them in Brian let out a howl of pain as he felt his balls firmly locked and being stretched. You’ve a good pair there, boi, but we want them to give you a lower voice like us and besides you soon grow to love them and never want them off.’

By now Dom had set up the machine with a screen directly in front of Brian so he could not miss what was to be shown.

‘Ready Bri?’

All Brian could do in his anguish was mumble

Otto started the machine. The first video showed a group of skins hanging around some with knuckle dusters and others with bats, a group of chavs started to walk by the with Skins shouting at them. Every word was Fuck this, fuck that, Oi oi. Then the Skins waded in hitting the chavs with the bats punching the lads with their knuckle dusters, showing their power and making the chavs submit and run off. More videos started up all with real aggro Skins, looking for trouble, and always with the volume set loud, Fuck Fuck, Oi Oi. These words kept thumping in Brian’s eardrums

‘Right Bri, good stuff for you to watch. Well leave you now.’

While Brian sat tied up rigid unable not to watch the violence, the aggro, the sheer force and manliness of the Skins, Otto and his mates went next door for a couple of hours for a few beers.

When they returned Brian was wriggling in his seat, trying to force himself free, a look of sheer anger on his face, his eyes bulging with fury. His arms straining to be free.

‘Now what’s going on here Bri. Lets get that ball gag out.’

As Otto forced Brian’s mouth open and took out the gag Brian let rip

‘Fuck, fuck fuck, Fucking Skins. Oi oi ‘which he kept repeating his voice now deeper and his accent different, a working class sound erupting form his body. ‘Fucking skins,’

‘That’s more like it Bri. What I was hoping to hear.’

‘So for now we will leave the gag off but change the videos.’

Ok Dom put the other ones on for our mate here

The machine started up again and the new images flashed on to the screen. Again groups of Skins but this time no fighting, no fists. Instead the Skins were licking their Mates rangers, all in either bleachers or camos, tight, showing off their package, their hands rubbing against their crotchs. Other images showed some young Skins being forced down on their knees and their heads rammed against the older Skins bulges, unzipping and taking out their erect cocks. Being told to get on with their blow job . the older guys grabbing the head of the younger ones and forcing them to take the full shaft down the back of their throat. In other images other guys unzipped their bleachers and took out their cocks slowing wanking for the camera, eyeing each other and some helping their mate out, hands firmly grasped around the dicks, then coming with reams of thick white spunk at the camera. Other shots showed Skins with a rear zip having it undone and the top Skin shoving two or three fingers up their butt, , or getting down to give them a face fuck letting their tongues explore their mate’s arse. Then pictures and a full fuck as the main guy grabbed the other’s waist and pulled him onto his rigid cock, all the time shouting Fuck.  Another video showed a fist fuck with bottom getting down on his knees and sticking his arse up so his mate could slowly start with a. couple of fingers moving then around to open up the guys arse and adding a third and fourth finger as the bottom squirmed begging for the full fist. Then the hand started to disappear in the guys cheeks and finally the arm moved in and up to the hilt. His own cock was out and wanking as he fist fucked his mate, both shouting with Fuck me mate, take my fist you fucking Skin boi.

As these pictures appeared so Otto and his mates decided to leave.

‘Bri needs a good few hours seeing all this, and you two can come with me otherwise you’ll be wanking each other raw. Later OK’

Brian was left alone to force watch the videos

As the guys were downing their beers and smoking their fags they eventually heard a voice next door shouting

‘Fuck the shit out of the bastard.’

‘Go on fucking wank yerself’

‘Get that fucking cock down yer throat’

The words went on and on in  Brian’s new voice

Otto opened a beer and added something to it saying

Time to move on to the next phase boys

They went in and looking at Brian staring at the screen, still shouting

‘Fucking hell, Otto’ Dom said. ‘He’s luving all this, look at that fucking dick of his.’

Brian was sitting shouting at the screen urging on the blow jobs, the wanking and the fucking and his cock was stiff showing a full 8’ of thick manhood with a decent head. It was as if Brian wanted to break free and grab his cock for a wank

‘Good boi.’ Otto smirked. ‘Glad you luvin this what we Skins do to each other. No one has sex like a Skin. So take a beer and calm down’

Brian slurped down the beer and had not even drained the bottle when he conked out.

‘Right lads get the kit out, time for a bit of art work. Otto took out the tattoo kit with all the needles and colours

‘Time this guy looked more like us eh?’

Dom said ‘what you going to do mate’

‘Well we have to make a start and he can always add himself later as he will do. So I’ve worked out a few ideas. There are a couple of obvious ones.’

Taking hold of Brian’s hand he started to etch out Skin on his left hand on each finger, all in black letters a good inch high.

‘Well he can’t hide that now and lets give him another for every bloke to see. Taking the black needle again he etched out a spiders web on Brian’s neck, not as big as his own on his head but one about 4inclhes in diameter and one that no shirt would hide.

‘Looking good. Lets do one more.’

He made a pair of Ranger boots on his right arm with yellow laces.

‘I like a bloke with yellow laces.’ Otto said. ‘Always the sexiest. Right lets clear this up and give him a quick rub with some disinfectant. The bruising will soon go and he can admire himself.’

‘Ok Chas now get the next bit of gear for our friend.’

Chas took out a full rubber hood with no eyelets and just a plastic tube coming out from the mouth. Otto took the hood and put it over Brian’s head zipping down the back to make sure it was a very tight fit. He then fitted a funnel to the end of the tube.

‘Perfect. Christ I’ve been dying for a piss after those beers and cant save it much longer so Bri here is in for a fucking long drink. So lets wake the boy up .’

With that Otto took his hand and gave Brian a resounding slap across the rubber bound mask. ‘Fucking love hitting a bloke in rubber. Take that you fucking shit heap, and take that again,’ whacking Brian 3 times to make sure he was awake.

As Brian came round Otto opened his bleachers fly and pulled out his large thick tool.

‘Shit man,’ Dom said ‘I always luv seeing that big dick of your. Never fails to get me going’ as he started to rub his crotch.

‘Later man but for now lets give Bri here a good drink’

Otto put his dick over the funnel and start to let a stream of hot piss down it. Brin suddenly felt this wave of acrid piss spilling into his mouth but was totally unable to stop swallowing it. At first he hated the taste and tried to block it out as it poured down his throat but something clicked in his mind. It didn’t taste that bad, in fact he loved the taste and the more Otto poured down the more enthusiastically Brian swallowed.

‘You now fucking luv that boi, don’t you. Take my piss, after all those beers there’s plenty for you, as wave after wave poured down.’

Both the guys watching started rubbing each others crotches,  thick outlines in their bleachers showing.

‘Ye see Bri, yer getting me mates all worked up and you can expect some luvly creamy spunk coming yer way from them. So guys hold yerself for now. The guys still rubbed each other precum stains showing through. Brian drank every drop of Otto’s piss.

Otto removed the funnel and then the rubber mask showing `Brian’s skin head glistening with sweat.

‘That was fucking great.’ Brian said. ‘Make sure you get a few more beers and let me have it again.’

‘See boys, the change is working. Well done Bri youre on the right road. Now me, Dom and Chas are gonna stand in front you. I’m gonna remove your neck chains but not the collar, it suits you, and take off the ropes. Us skins like our Rangers nice and clean and with all that piss of mine in yer mouth you are gonna lick every one so now get down on yer knees. ‘

Otto grabbed Brian by his leather collar and forced him down on his knees

‘You got 6 rangers there boi that need a good lickin so get on with it.’

Otto kept his hand on the chain that was attached to the collar and pushed him to start with Chas’s. Brian knew what he had to do and do it right

Chas shouted ‘Get fuckin right down Boi and let me see that tongue shine up me boots.’ Brian let his pissed stained tongue lick deeply on the toe caps using his spit to shin up the spit oozing out his mouth

‘That’s it boi get all the way round.’ Brian was grovelling on the floor licking round the toe caps and the backs of the Rangers his chin buffing up and his hands firmly around the boots. He looked up at Chas to make sure he was doing a good job and saw that he was stroking his crotch and Brian could see the outline of a good sized dick stretching down the inside of his bleachers

‘You lick well boi, gets me going. Me cock now nice a hard., as he unzipped his fly and let his hand go deep inside his bleachers to pull out a long cock.

‘Now fucking lick mine’ Dom shouted. He already had his dick out and was stroking it dropping some spit on to his shaft.

‘Fucking lick and use your tongue and spit boi,’ Otto shouted putting one of his boots firmly on Brian’s head and forcing it down onto the boot. ‘When we say lick you fucking lick got it.’

Chas and Dom now had their hands on each other’s cock giving one another a good wank.

Otto said,’ I’m saving you for later Bri but come on lads let’s see you both spunk over Bri’s face you can see he’s gagging for it

Shit I’ve a load of good spunk ready for him’ Chas shouted

‘Me too’ Dom said ‘I love your hand rubbing me cock, Chas, keep it going. As for you Bri sit up and lets see your face. That’s it, stare at our pricks and get ready for our cum.’

Dom was now using his hand up and down the full length of Chas’s cock and Chas was working Dom’s head knowing he loved his head rubbed with spit.

Otto watched rubbing his own crotch, smirking at his lads getting off on each other.

‘We’re gonna cum together boi so be ready to swallow and what you don’t I’m gonna rub all over yer face’

Dom and Chas had worked one another up to shoot their load.

‘I’m ready now Chas’

‘Me too Dom, yer fucking great at wanking me off, Christ im coming’

‘Take aim’

Both guys let out a stream of cum onto Brian’s face, Brian trying to swallow as much as he could loving their spunk and started using his hands to wipe it into his mouth whilst Dom and Chas rubbed what was left all over Brian’s face

Christ that fels better Ive been dying to shoot ever since we started his on the guy.

Otto said don’t worry I think youll both be at it again soon.

Otto took a wet cloth and wiped Brian’s face removing all excess of spunk.

‘I think its time to get some clothes on you boi, it the only clothes you’ll be wearing from now on, you never want to wear anything else. Once a Skin always a Skin. I’ve your new uniform.

Otto opened the suitcase and brought out the clothes for Brian. A Fred Perry black T shirt with yellow piping, a pair of camos with yellow braces, yellow long socks and 20hole ranger boots.

‘Ok Chas help the guy on with his gear. He needs to know how to do the laces of his boots.’ As Brian put on his clothes he started to feel even more different and wondered what clothing he had ever worn before this weekend. He seemed to know this was right for him and he felt it suited his body, showing off his chest and firm arse. The putting on of the boots was like a sexual surge, feeling them tight around his legs, knowing he could kick the shit out of someone wearing them with their steel caps. The pressure around his legs gave a pressure to his cock as it grew in length down his leg.

,Right Bri time to see the new you. This is what it’s all been about and hope you like what you see.’

Dom brought a mirror in and Otto pushed Brian in front

‘Well boi you look fucking horny,’ Otto said rubbing his dick

Brian was amazed. He now looked just like the others there and his spider Tat looking like a real Skin, but then he is a real Skin. He clenched his fists and could see the Skin tat on his knuckles. By clenching his fists he looked ready for a fight, tough, real aggro and so fucking manly, such a fucking turn on. His cock was rigid.

‘Right Bri time to finish off the transformation and I get the pleasure. Get over here.’

As Brian moved over towards him Otto unzipped his flies and put his hand deep down inside to pull out his thick veined 9inc rampant cock. This ain’t been washed in days boi so all the better for fucking you now bend down over your desk.’

Brian saw Ottos cock and for a moment winced at the thought but seeing this rough man standing in his Skin gear with his massive cock out at the ready, Brian knew he wanted to be fucked by this monster.

Brian did as he was told and Otto unzipped the rear of his camos.

‘I make sure all my bois have a rear zip as I love to fuck them in full gear. Dom you can call Jed now and get him down to see his Boss.. That’s some arse you got there,  Bri, just as I like good firm cheeks and a deep cleft at your hole.’

Otto spat two large globs of spit onto his rancid prick.

‘Makes it a bit easier for you first time.’

As he put his arms around Brian’s waist he moved his cock into the crack.

Dom and Chas were both watching rubbing their cocks knowing how well Otto fucked.

‘Well Dom no point in the two of you just watching and feeling horny so Chas get over to the desk next to Bri and let Dom fuck you at the same time. I know you love his cock.’

‘I fucking do’ Chas said as he leant over next to Brian and  unzipped his rear fly  Cum on Dom give it to me.’

‘Watching Otto fuck the hell out of Bri will make you even more horny.’

Otto took his hands and spread open Brian’s cheeks to let his cock find the hole.

Nice little hairy arse you got there boi and I can see a good slit you have for my big dick.’ With his hands keeping the arse wide open he let his head meet Brains hole and spat another glob to push the head in.

‘Fucking hell Otto what a cock you have, you’ll bloody well split me.’

‘Don’t worry boy once I get the head past, my shaft will glide up your arse right to the hilt. Just look at Chas and how he takes Dom’s cock.’

Chas was starting to move his body back to allow Dom into his arse. Dom had taken Chas by the shoulders and was pushing him against his balls.

‘I want to feel that arse of yours right up tight against my balls. Make em swing Chas.’

Chas rammed his body back as much as he could until he felt Dom’s pubes rubbing against him.

Meanwhile Otto had started pushing in the full length of his cock. That’s it boi take the full load as I’m gonna blast you.’

‘Shit this is fucking great, I’ll never want anything but dick again.’

By now both Dom and Otto were fully up as Chas turned next to Bri and taking hold of his head kissed him plunging his tongue down Brian throat.

‘That’s it bois enjoy one another while we enjoy you.’

‘Come on Dom lets give our lads everything we got and cum together’

The two men fucking started pummeling, grasping their prey and pushing their dicks in an out with increasing force and rapidity. Brian and Chas were giving each other deep throat groaning as they could feel the dicks up their arses ready to explode in side them

‘Christ Bri this is your moment there’s no going back now once I cum inside you. Dom  get your jism ready as I’m about to cum’

‘Me too mate’

And with that both Skins erupted their spunk deep inside Chas and Brian.

 The door opened and Jed stood there transfixed at the scene.

‘Fucking hell it’s a bloody orgy. What have you been doing.’

Otto slipped his cock out of Brian’s arse giving his cheeks a hard slap.

‘Well done Bri, you know how to use that bum of yours. Now see who’s here. It’s your mate Jed who asked us for help to change you.

Otto zipped up Brian’s rear and let him stand up to face Jed

‘Christ you looking fucking amazing’ Jed said staring at his boss. ‘I could never have imagined. I don’t know what to say Otto.’

‘I think you are about to find out.’

Brian walked over to Jed and before Jed knew what had happened Brian had him in a stranglehold making Jed unable to move.

‘So it was you, you fucking little shit who caused all this. You’re the one you has put me through all this, you fucking little wanker. I should have known. It’s you who have made me a skin’, he sneered into Jed’s face  spitting at him and using his spare arm to rub it in. ‘Fucking great life you’ve given me You made me a Skin just like you and Otto here. You’ve changed my life for ever.’

Jed did not know what to say ‘I didn’t know it was going to end this way Brian,’

‘Well it fucking has and let me tell you, its bloody brill. What a fucking great life you’ve given me. Who wants to be anything but a skin but I’ll tell you now having just been fucked good and hard by Otto, my cock needs to get rid of plenty of spunk and its your arse that’s gonna take it all.’

Brian threw Jed at the table and as he undid Jed’s jeans he could feel Jed with a full erect cock.

‘So you like seeing me like this do you. Well all these times I’ve seen you checking out my package you’re now gonna get it as I am so horny after Otto.’

Brian undid his zip by now his camos showing a large stain of precum.

‘Christ I’m ready for you and that arse Jed.’

With one arm firmly on Jed’s back he took hold of his cock and pressed against Jed’s crack which was already moist and waiting. He knew he was going to be fucked and he so wanted Brian inside him.

Brian decided this was no slow fuck he wanted Jed to feel every inch as he rammed the 8 inch prick all the way up so Jed could feel he could go no further. His movements were rapid but Jed wanted it all and was pushing his arse back and forwards to help the sensation and while being fucked he had his hand over his own shaft wanking for all he was worth.

‘Christ Brian fuck me, let me have all your cream as I’m about to spunk all over your desk. Go on faster and faster I want you. Christ I’m ready to explode’

‘You little horny skin you Christ I m ready to give you all my spunk’

‘Me to, shoot mate’

And with that both men groaned deeply and came at the same time a great spray of cum shooting across the desk from Jed and Brian at last cumming as he had so wanted to do during the weekend. He was a Skin and he loved fucking.

‘So guys, looks as if I’ve had another success. I can pack up.’ Otto said

Brian replied, ‘thanks Otto. Jed you’re coming home with me tonight I’ve not finished with you yet. I think you and I have something together and a good night of fucking will see what happens. I may have another job for you Otto.

 On Monday morning Brian and Jed were waiting in full Skin gear for their warehouse staff to arrive. The two guys walked in and saw Brian, no longer in his chinos and light blue shirt, but looking a full skinhead in his bleachers, Rangers and Fred Perry, totally shaved and the spider tattoo showing. He had an arm around Jed and as the blokes took in the scene so he tongued Jed.

‘Well lads as you can see there have been a few changes. You see me as I want to be and I’ve promoted Jed to be my personal assistant. I’ve decided to take the company in a new direction and in order to make the changes I’ve brought in some help, so meet Otto, Dom and Chas.’

The 3 Skins came in and stood behind the employees.

‘You won’t be going home for a couple of days as Otto  will be working on you. We are all going to be one fucking great Skin team.’

[scarmille]

visited my friend today, i miss her badly

it was so peaceful today and so quiet,

take care of yourself guys, you are loved and supported no matter where you are in life

[wishmaster]

One of the boys

There was a group of guys in my neighbor that dressed differently from us other guys. they didn't like being stared at, wish I would have known that I wouldn't be tied up like this now.

Craig was the name of the first guy to catch my eye, he wore a shiny version of what I think they called Chav or skinhead style clothing. More than one occasion I got a look and it made my dick jump. Must have had other guys horny to as one by one each guy on my block disappeared returning as some sort of version of Craig.

It wasn't until the two college kids next door changed that I became worried.

They went from this.

To this and both now oozed sex, their libidos were through the roof more than once they tried to fuck me. I resisted for awhile. Now after falling for their games I was locked in a collar in there basement waiting on my own conversion.

My head was shaved and my mind wiped, my life as I knew it was over, tight and shiny was my world now, my new vocabulary consisted mostly of the word Oi and Fuck. I was just one of the boys now. And it Was Fucking Amazing mate!

[hoodienanami]

fantastic article from original London punker Vivien Goldman about the not-so-secret but often forgotten Jewish role in the early UK punk scene

In a classically angst-ridden Jewish ambivalence about identity, the New York punk Richard Hell – of Television, the Heartbreakers and the Voidoids – has said he doesn't like to be defined by the fact that his father is Jewish. But he's one of many Jewish (or Jewish-ish?) artists on the New York scene, such as Joey Ramone, Lenny Kaye of the Patti Smith Group and Blondie's Chris Stein, who overcame his Holocaust paranoia by collecting Nazi artefacts. (The concerns of punky American Jews are documented by by Steven Lee Beeber in his book The Heebie-Jeebies at CBGB's). In a documentary I made for BBC 6 Music, A Tale of Two Punk Cities, Talking Heads bass player Tina Weymouth recalled that New York punks thought people who talked politics were a bore. But to us, the ideas expressed in Anarchy In The UK and White Riot were real. The G2 or Second Generation theory, whereby children of Holocaust survivors are often socially conscious activists, could have had something to do with it, however it was never discussed. But the Yanks were trying to forget Vietnam, while we were still living among bombsites in our own civil war zone, fighting teds, skinheads and rockers as well as the sus law and the National Front. Our punky Jew experience was also different because British punk mostly inhabited a shared political landscape, as well as views of the kind that McLaren and Rhodes helped to spread, which manifested in organizations such as Rock Against Racism.

[odinsblog]

“Alexei Navalny, the neo-Nazi who compared Chechen Muslims to cockroaches, endorsed and participated skinhead marches and had a far right anti-immigrant stand - suddenly turned into an anti corruption activist.”

To be sure, people are glossing over Navalny’s racism and Islamophobia.

This does not diminish the fact that 1) it’s wrong to poison, jail, defenestrate and murder political opponents, and 2) Putin has a history of poisoning, jailing, defenestrating and murdering reporters + political dissidents, and anyone else who voiced opposition to him. Putin is an authoritarian dictator, but it’s disingenuous to pretend that Navalny was anything other than what he was.

Remember the leader of the Wagner Group, Yevgeny Prigozhin? He opposed Putin too. It doesn’t mean he was a good person (he wasn’t). Similarly, neither was Navalny. Just because people oppose someone who we also oppose, that alone doesn’t make them a good person. I always use Liz Cheney as an example: she now hates Trump, but she is still an anti-abortion advocate who voted for Trump twice, and both of their conservative politics still dovetail pretty well.

Finally, democracy in Russia is a nonexistent thing. If there was any real democracy, Putin wouldn’t have remained in power (“winning” rigged elections) for as long as he has.

[nonplatonicsubtext]

Estate of the Bay Part 1: Johnny Law

(If you haven't read about @shakertwelve's Estate AU, go check out their victor lavere tag, or this won't make much sense)

Thought we'd put together a quick breakdown of the state of Brockton as of story start, beginning with the heroes. Names in italics are changed from canon

Protectorate Heroes:

Armsmaster (Colin Wallis)

Miss Militia (Hana)

Velocity (Robin Swoyer)

Dauntless (Shawn)

Battery (“Jamie”)

Assault (Ethan)

Redeye (Crystal Pelham)

Wards:

Clockblocker (Dennis)

Aegis (Isabela)

Scribble (Rune)

Vista (Missy Biron)

Kid Win (Chris)

Browbeat (Browbeat)

The Brockton Bay Protectorate core members are mostly unchanged, due to the point of divergence only being about ten years prior. The main differences are the absence of Triumph, who died in a horrible nepotism accident due to a lack of Panacea around for healing, and the addition of Redeye, who graduated from the Wards closer to a year before story start and rebranded from her Laserdream identity, severing the last tie between her and the Brigade, at least in the eyes of the public.

The Wards are a different story. Gallant was put permanently out of action in a horrible fucking rich boy accident, which was what precipitated Crystal being transferred in. Beyond that, Aegis is transgender but that doesn’t really come up except in the Wards interlude pre-Leviathan.

The biggest change to the Wards is the absence of Shadow Stalker - in her place is Scribble, aka Tammi. This is very much the same Rune as in canon, to be clear - no whitewashing here. She just got snapped up by the PRT while doing Plausible Deniability “Vigilantism” kind of like what Purity does and got press-ganged into the Wards. She’s not mask-off all the way about the white supremacy… at least not yet.

More importantly, she takes over Sophia’s Other role in the plot too - the Trio now consists of Emma Barnes, Madison Clements, and Tammi Surname. Always Sunny font Emma Barnes Goes Alt-Right.

Outlaw Inlaws

The Arrows

Spitfire (Emily)

Morrigan (Sophia Hess)

Apsis (Whirligig)

Replacing New Wave as the independent heroes (or ‘heroes’ depending on who you ask) are the Arrows, a recently formed vigilante antifascist group. Spitfire, the leader, has a bit more steel up her spine than in canon (though she still struggles), Sophia’s still an angry loose cannon but just not. you know. in a racist way. She's got a lot of very good reasons to be angry. Whirligig in canon is just a power and a faction so she’s basically an OC - she’s slightly older than the other two, an even mix of the level head and the slacker. Doesn’t seem to quite fit with the vibes of the group.

For the most part, they’re concerned with not bringing the wrath of the Protectorate down on themselves - like in real life, killing Nazis tends to get more of a response than Nazis killing people does. A lot of what they do is lurk nearby during civilian antifascist action, ready to head off the Nazi capes if they try and intercept for their own side. A few months before story start, they killed Alabaster - more specifically, Sophia did, and while it hasnt been conclusively linked to them at story start, they’re keeping their heads down, to Sophia’s chagrin. 

They're still semi-associated with Palanquin, despite Spitfire not being a part of that group - they did approach her, and now they communicate sometimes, as the club with Case 53s is a pretty frequent target for neonazis and other shitheads.

Charlotte knows them by chance encounter, after Sophia saved her from a few skinheads.

Rogue One

Parian is still Parian. She’s aware of the Arrows, but disapproves of their use of violence, cause she’s a bit of a lib.