An Education
It was another long day at work for Andrew Leighton, as a councillor he took great pride in his work as he helped people work through their varied issues. He saw himself as a healer, feeling that if he helped at least one person a day to work through their issues it was a job well done.
Andrew was classically handsome with his chiselled cheekbone and deep set eyes, silky skin and thick brown styled hair that acted as his crowning glory. He never suffered a lack of attention from the lasses or even the lads but his work was his priority, his conviction that he was put on this Earth to mend and heal people was his driving force.
When he got home he flung his keys on the breakfast bar and dropped his jacket on the sofa. Opening the fridge he took a lot of humous and celery, the staple of his diet that helped him maintain his ripped physique. As he munched on the celery he grabbed his laptop and booted it up, he had work to do.
Throughout our lives we all encounter crucial moments and experiences that help develop our personalities and defining characteristics, how we choose to respond to these define who we are, our very nature. One such experience occured several years previous down a quite city street as Andrew headed home from college.
It was a cold and dank November evening, the dark veil of night rolling in faster than the moist banks of autumnal mist that silently waited to envelop everything in it`s path. Clutching his bag with his coursework he turned the corner to see three imposing shadows in the mist. He considered his options but chose to continue on his journey, after all they`d seen him and if he diverted it could have made him even more of a target.
As he approached the shadows their features came into view, Andrew felt his pulse race at the dawning realisation of the danger he was in. The figures dissolved into the visage of a gang of skinheads all huddled together as they shared a fag. Andrew could see the dull light of the night sky reflect of the bald domes of their scalps, their upper body and shoulders padded out with their olive MA1 jackets bulking them up and making them look even more imposing as the skin tight bleachers and 20 hole ox blood grinders seemed to illustrate every contour of their muscled lower body.
As Andrew walked past he avoided eye contact with the thugs concentrating only on walking past them to safety, approaching them with trepedation and fear he maintained his composure as he glided past them, to his relief they didn`t seem to flinch or acknowledge him as he walked by. He felt an overwhelming sense of relief as he cleared them and continued on his journey, feeling a slight sense of guilt at judging the skinheads who he deduced were probably peaceful and totally innocent.. little knowing how wrong he was.
`Oi.. mate, you got a fag?` came an almost grunt from behind him, he turned around instinctivly. `S-sorry mate, I don`t smoke..` Andrew replied with a slight stutter as he struggled to maintain his composure, `Arite pretty boy..` came a menacing reply. Feeling the tension Andrew turned to walk away but the beefy hand of the thug clasped at his arm and pulled him back, jerking his whole body backwards.
`Oi, i`m not finished with you cunt..` the thug shouted to the innocent student. `Where you going anyway, to get ure brows done..` he bawled as his skinhead commerades howled with laughter. In the light Andrew got a better look at his aggressor, he could see an expression of pure anger and hatred radiating from the thug`s face as his pronounced ridge where his eyebrows were and broken nose gave him a primitaive, almost animalistic snarl. The bully had a scar above his right eyebrow, probably a war wound from a now forgotten fight, his ears and left brow pierced with cheap faux chrome piercings matching the thick chain around his neck and heavyset signet rings on his leather gloved clentched hands. He could see his MA1 jacket had loads of patches sewn on each one with racist or anti sematic symbology and the words SKINHEAD sewn on to the back of the jacket on the neck.
Andrew felt pity for the thug, the lack of education and wrong up bringing obviously lead him on a journey of self loathing and depravity and now he had become an antagonising bully with a worthless existence. `Why you lookin at me like that shithead? You think ure betta than me..?` the thug screamed, his fury erupting as his punched Andrew in the stomach, winding him as he creased over and fell to the floor in pain and shock.
The thug futhered his assault as he forced Andrew face down in the dirt, he rumaged in his pocket and pulled out a ciggie and lighter, he placed the ciggie in the corner of his mouth and lit it.. lighting the thuggish features of his face and his snarl as the ciggie hung limp from his mouth, `How about that, I had a fag on me all the time..` he said with a sinister grin as he continued..`You know nothin cocksucker, i`m gonna teach you ure greatest lesson.. ure worthless, ure dirt.. ure only good enuf to lick ma boots..` he screamed. Andrew couldn`t form any resistance as he lay there helpless, as he raised his head from the dirt he could see the skinhead`s battered ox blood boot directly in front of him. Closer inspection revealed the stitching of the boot was starting to come undone after years of wear but the battered boots seemed to be the pride and glory of the thuggish skinhead.
As he tried to stand up he was pushed to the floor as the other two skinheads forced him down, their boots thrusting him back into the dirt and pinning him to the floor, he could feel the contours of the sole of the boots on his back. `Fucking do what I say cocksucker, u worthless piece of shit.. lick my boots..!` the ringleader cried, seeing no alternative Andrew once again raised his head but this time he opened his mouth and slid his tongue over his lips until the tip made contact with the boot. He traced his tongue across the battered old leather and dirt as he felt himself wretch at the thought, he started to lick the dirt rubbing his tongue when he heard the gang laugh, `Neva thought u`d do it cocksucker..` the skinhead chuckled when the silence was broken by the sound of police sirens. `Shit, we gotta get outa here Spud..` one of the skins lackys shouted, `Next time..` Spud smiled with a sinister grin almost like a death rictus, the thugs scarpered leaving the bruised and shaken student on the floor and in the dirt.
That was several years ago though Andrew still felt the effects. Some people endure terrible ordeals and do bad deals as a consequence, blaming their misfortune but some people, like Andrew, use their bad experiences to do good. Since the encounter Andrew worked hard to rehabilitate skinheads and thugs from all walks of life, helping them to deal with the issues that lead them into a life of crime and violence. He deduced he must have re-educated just over a 100 skinheads since he started his work, leading them to a more peaceful and happier life.
As he opened the laptop and accessed his website a message popped up on the screen from someone he had been chatting to for months. `Hi mate, things are nearly sorted and in order. I`m ready to leave this all behind, before I go though would it be ok to meet up with you. I`d like to show my appreciation for all your help, also I have a list of other skinheads who I think you could help, cheers` read the message.
Andrew would never normally opt to meet someone he had helped but he felt like he almost had a bond with the guy, they`d been chatting for months and he seemed to listen to everything Andrew had said. He couldn`t turn the guy down now after the progress he had made, also the list would really come in handy as there was a potential to reform a new group of skinheads so he decided to meet up with the guy, and after a brief chat they agreed to meet outside a coffee shop just down the street from where he lived just half an hour later.
After a quick shower and freshen up he left the appartment and walked down the street, as he turned the corner to the coffee shop an unmarked and battered white van pulled up besides him. Andrew looked through the window to see a couple of dirty workmen in high vis jackets, the grizzled driver rolled down the window, `Arite fella, you know the way to Westgate?`.. Andrew took a moment and replied as he turned his back on the driver to direct him, `Yeah mate, follow the road down and take the first right.. continue to the next junction and..`, before he could finish the side doors to the van opened and two burly workmen in high viz jackets and battered rigger boots and a half smoked cig in their mouths, jumped out one forcing a cloth over Andrew`s face, the vapours knocking him out instantly as he was dragged into the back of the van and laid on dirty work jackets.
Two Months Later
Unaware that two months had passed, Andrew woke up from his sleep finding himself chained to a chair. He felt different, everything felt different to him. As he tried to gain his bearings, looking around what seemed like a dirty living room in a council flat he heard the door open and a burly skinhead thug entered, the same guy driving the white van that now became his last memory.
`Wakey, wakey.. time to rise..` the thug almost sang. `Who the fuck are you.. what you done to me?` Andrew screamed, in fear of his life. `Shut the fuck up an i`ll tell you cunt.. We know who you are, we know about your good work and now it`s time we repaid the favour. We`ve lost loads of brothers to you but everything comes at a price and now its time to pay the piper cocksucker…` the skinhead declared as he reached for a floor length mirror and pulled it up in front of Andrew, he couldn`t believe what he saw.
As he stared in the mirror he saw a mindless, boneheaded thug stare back. His beautiful boy next door looks had been corrupted into that of a skinhead freak. His thick brown hair was now shaved and his scalp was smooth and shiny. He now had a ridge over his eyebrows where a filler was injected, giving him a constantly threatening appearance. His nose looked broken in two places and he now had a scar above his eyebrow and as he opened his mouth he could see he had lost a front tooth.
As he looked to the side he could see `100% British Beef` tatooed on his neck, during the following days he would discover plenty of tatoos on his naked flesh each racist and antisemetic, offering a polar opposite view of everything Andrew stood for, as well as celtic tatoos on both his hands..branding him forever.
He could see the ox blood battered 20 hole grinders with white laces on his feet, laced snug around his dirty moist footie socks. The dirty bleachers so tight around his calves showing the rock solid definition of his muscled physique. The loose MA1 jacket that sat over his black and yellow Fred Perry was edorned with various racist and antisemetic patches and the words `SKINHEAD` on the back. Through the confusion the jacket, leather gloves and thick chain around the neck as well as the piercings all looked strangely familiar but he didn`t have time to reflect as he tried to process that he had been transformed into a skinhead animal.
`Like what you see brother..?` the thug asked? Andrew replied, `Don`t fucking call me that.. i`m not your brother!` he shouted back in fear and anger. `Thats what we want to see bro, all that anger you`ve kept pent up inside.. Time to let it rip…`.
The thug walked to a table and turned some speakers on, songs started to blare out full volume from skinhead bands declaring white power. The thug walked over to Andrew with a syringe and injected him with a liquid, Andrew felt almost as if he was floating on a wave on euphoria as he stared at his reflection and listened to the music. All the conditioning he had been subjected to over the last couple of months was about to take effect, in that time he was made to quit his job and give up his appartment. All the ties of his old life were removed as preperation for his new life began and now the final catalyst.
As the drug took effect, absorbing into his mind and body he fought to retain the memories of his old life. Secretly, he got off on skinheads after his first encounter with Spud. As he helped and reforemed all those skinheads he held a secret and repressed desire to fuck a skinhead and Spud became his fantasy, the idea of total control.. loosing himself to the power became his ultimate fantasy.
His mind now open and impressionable he started to find a truth in the music, his thought process were changing and his attitude adjusting to the anger and violence of the music as he stared aimlessly at his thuggish apppearance and his new personalty asserted itself.
Two Months Ago
Andrew`s unconcious body was dragged into the council flat, the thug.. his captor, hoisted his prey on to a chair in the middle of room and stripped him naked. He left the room for a moment and re-entered with a handful of dirty underwear. As he fell onto his knees in front of an unconcious Andrew he fed the dirty piss stained jock through his legs and up to his knees, looking up he smiled.. Someone`s a lucky boi, he thought as he admired the thick juicy cock tat dangled between his hostage`s legs. He pulled the pair of crusty footie socks on to Andrew`s feet and stretched them up over his calves.
For many years Bruiser acted as Spud`s right hand man, his loyal commerade but he never once revealed his true feelings for the skinhead, the sexual frenzy he felt every time he saw the thuggish leader of their gang or the fantasies of being fucked by him that invaded his dreams every night. Now his soul mate had gone forever he found better use for Spud`s stained underwear, it was time someone else wore them, Andrew smelling like him as the smell of his BO and piss once again filled the flat.
He moved on to bounding Andrew to the chair and then he produced a bowl of soapy water, clippers and a razor. He set about his work as he cut through Andrew`s hair with the clippers until all his once thick hair fell to the floor like clumps of fur. Wetting the razor he shaved Andrew`s scalp, making sure he removed all remnants of hair, when he finished he admired his handy work as he rubbed his crotch against the back of the chair he leant over and licked the silky soft scalp.
Allowing himself a moment he then picked up a bottle of strange smelling fluid and slapped it on Andrew`s scalp, as if it were aftershave. He rubbed it into his bonce and then left it to do it`s work as it killed all the hair folicles on his head.
He moved around and grinned a sinister grin as he saw the changes he made to the unsuspecting lad. Bruiser felt his cock swell as he once agin fell to his knees, the smell of stained jock and the look of the fat 8 inch cock sending his pulse racing. He leant over to Andrew until his was face to face and then he moved in to kiss him, his nicotine filled breath filling Andrew`s mouth with the stale taste of tobacco. He felt Andrew`s cock stiffen, he was clearly enjoying the sensations even whilst asleep.
Bruiser rubbed his captive`s cock as he traced his nose and kissed the bare naked flesh that was now so receptive to his touch. As he descended he licked his moist warm lips as he moved towards the throbbing hard cock. For Andrew it was the ultimate wet dream as he felt Bruiser`s lips wrap around his pounding shaft, the blood pumping harder than he ever imagined it could.
Bruiser slid the cock in his mouth as he wanked off his own meat, Andrew`s taste filling his own nicotene riddled mouth with the taste of the sweet flesh of Andrew`s cock. He sucked harder and harder as their pulse`s raced in harmony until they both tensed their bodies and shot their warm, moist seed. Andrew reache over, his left hand wet with his own seed and rubbed it into Andrew`s bald head, almost babtising him into the new life that awaited him.
Bruiser didn`t bother to clean himself up, after finally enacting his fantasy he had work to do, the gang expected results. He pulled a television in front of the captive and hooked up a laptop, after preparing everything he slapped Andre`s face, waking him up.
Andrew took a few moments to come too and then realising the predicament he was in he confronted Bruiser, `What the fuck are you doing to me you dumb skinhead shit?` he roared, Bruiser marched over and punched him square in the nose, almost breaking it as blood gushed down. `Think ure all high n mighty do u.. think ure better than me.. think again cocksucker.. This is gonna be the first day of the rest of your life!` he promised, as he switched the tv on and images burst on the screen.
Andrew recoiled as a racist propaganda video played on loop, but this was different as videos of Spud, Bruiser and their gang also played. Fight sequences between them and their victims replayed again and again, as well a vidoes of them enjoying a spliff and lager and exchanging their views and opinions. Even more shocking were short videos of Andrew looking like a total tit, they`d been filming him for a few months and edited the video painting his own life as sad and pathetic compared to the life they lead as warriors and the pleasures they enjoyed.
`You think that a few views of this shit will change me, change the years of experience and opinions i`ve built..?` he questioned, he was taken aback by the answer.. a simple, cold `Yes, it already has..!`.
Bruiser reached over to a syringe and injected him with the fluid, Andrew offered little resistence, resigned to his fate. As the drugs took hold he became receptive to the images, sound and videos that bombarded his senses, but more importantly he became receptive to the subliminal messages carefully placed throughout the looping videos. There were only a handful of messages and images that were hidden away, they ordered him to retain his memories a little longer and that when he truly woke once more from the conditioning he would remember who he was briefly until the new personalty reasserted itself permanently, he would only remember Spud`s life as he watched the videos of the skinhead thug, he would become Spud.
A month of constant conditioning and a lack of sleep took its toll on Andrew, the only brief breaks he was allowed was to eat the burgers or fastfood that Bruiser bought him, to go to the toilet or quit all ties with his former life including his job and apartment.
During the final month, the conditioning continued as only videos of Spud played with his every mannerism and his colourful use of the English language once again invading Andrew`s senses. The subliminal images changed to naked women, the more and more they looped the more he became aroused, eventually spunking in his pants at the thought of fucking a lass. Bruiser would come in and inject Andrew on occasion to ensure his mind remained fully open.
One day, straight after an injection, a mate of Bruiser`s came to the flat and soent all day inking Andrew up. He`d originally worked on Spud`s tatts so he went about his work as he etched exactly the same tatoos on Andrew`s body so he was identical to Spud`s. He carried out a few special extras injecting a filler into Andrews eyebrows which swelled them giving him a far more threatening appearance. He also pierced him with all of Spuds former piercings, not bothering to disinfect them because in their warped logic they were only re-piercing Spud.
On the day before he awoke proper he was ordered to put on all of Spud`s gear. It was a strange sensation for Andrew, he was now so use to wearing only the stained jock but he felt comfortable in his new uniform.
The Present
Eventually, a few days later the skin returned to the flat, and to the room. Andrew was now lost, unaware of the hidden commands that were subtly implanted in the music and videos that had slowly and permanently reformed his memories and personalty.
He would never know that the thug that attacked him all those years ago was no more, after picking a fight with the wrong people he was fatally attacked a year ago.
Bruiser had helped Andrew come a long way in the last few months, his former crusade of rehabiliting skinheads now seemed long gone, he had become a skinhead thug.. he had become the greatest skinhead thug, he had become Spud.
`What the fuck am I doin ere cunt… Who the fuck do u think I am` Andrew roared. `Sorry bro..` the skin replied as he untied the binds, Andrew stood up and punched the skin head on knocking him to the ground..`Name`s Spud and no one messes with me.. understand shithead?` he declared, the skin nodded in agreement.
Spud picked up an e tablet and swolled it hole as he took a sip of lager, every memory Andrew ever had gone now as his imagined life as Spud took root, as per the subliminal messages. He not only wore Spud`s clothes, rings and chains…, he also embrced his attitude and beliefs.. he had now become Spud.
A thought crossed his mind, something he`d lost. He stormed to his bedroom and looked through his wardrobe of clothes, rumaging through the bleachers and jackets, air maxes and dirty adidas trackies. Under a pair of battered rigger boots and dirty hi vis he found it, the silver knuckle duster. He slid it on over his leather gloved hand and it sat next to his signet rings, he grinned a sinister grin as he looked at the lettering on it, his calling card.. S-P-U-D. He reentered the room with bruiser and took another swig of lager, `c`mon cunt.. we`ve got work to do..`
Two years down the line, Spud woke up in his hovel. The prossie he fucked the night before long gone, fuck.. some homecoming, he thought . He`d just got out after serving a year for GBH. He swigged a can of lager and put on his white power music so it blared out as loud as it could. He reached over to his gear, the sweet smell of his sweat as he slid on his dirty bleachers and Fred Perry polo. Snapping his white braces on to the waist of his crusty bleachers, his signet rings already on his fingers they were now a permanent fixture of his appearance. He put on his chunky chrome like chain and put it around his neck and slid on the spunk stained leather gloves, then hoisting his battered MA1 jacket over his upper torso he felt the soft nylon material slide across his naked arms.. the jacket had seen many fights over the years and Spud kknew it was gonna see plenty more. Finally he pulled on his battered 20 holes and lacing them, He took an e and savoured his first joint since his release.
He left his dirt ridden flat and ran down the piss filled corridor of the council flats as he joined his brothers. As they swaggered the streets looking for vunerable guys to re-educate, they shared a fag at a street corner. Spud bent over to tie his laces, he had become the most feared skinhead thug in London with a reputation to match. every remnant of his former life now extinguished, even his sexuality.. the thought of shagging a guy turned his stomach as he fantasised about shagging leggy birds and spreading his seed. He lit a ciggie and then something caught his eye, in the distance he could see a one student.. he smiled a menacing smile, it was time for some fun!
Spud lapped up the power and authority he now wielded, he lapped up his new calling as he worked to building his gang and educating new converts, new brothers.. his gang once again had their leader, Spud had truly returned.