owed Saturday morning. You woke up with a major hangover. Your head was pounding and your mouth was dry. You rubbed your head with your hands. It felt…different. Instead of feeling his hairs between his fingers, he felt something else on his scalp. Was it leather? Still unable to understand it, nor to open your eyes, you rubbed with your hands over the rest of your face. What was that godawful smell? It was a mixture of beer and smoke. Smoke? He hated smoking! While rubbing his face, he slowly noticed something else. He was wearing clothes. Had he fallen asleep with his clothes on?
You opened your eyes slowly. You saw a pair of leather gloves on your hands and you were wearing a black bomber jacket. A bomber jacket? Where did he get that?!? He wouldn’t want to be found dead in such a thing! Shocked, you jumped out of bed and walked toward the mirror. Your mouth fell open when you saw what you looked like. A shaved head, bomber jacket, skinhead shirt, leather gloves and pants and knee high ranger boots. WHAT THE FUCK HAD HAPPENED?!? Slowly it came all back to you…
You had been in a pub, waiting for a friend. You had been waiting for him for an hour or so, but he still wasn’t there. You emptied your third beer and decided to leave. When you stood up, you accidentally bumped into a skinhead that just passed behind him and you had spilled his beer on the ground.“Look what you just did, mate,“ he said, looking angrily at you. You didn’t know how fast you could apologize. “I am so sorry, here, let me buy you another beer.“ The skinhead’s demeanor changed in an instance and he started laughing. “That’s great mate, get one for yourdelf too! You’re not pissed enough to leave yet!“ Afraid to make him angry again, you went to the bar and ordered two pints. “Follow me mate, me and my mates are outside.“ Reluctantly you followed the skinhead, afraid that you would be attacked by him and his friends when he stepped outside. The second the skinhead stepped outside, he grabbed something out of his jacket. “Here we go,“ you thought, “brass knuckles to put me out.“ He was relieved when he saw it was only a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. “Oi mate, who is that fancy boi there with you!“ one of the skinheads standing outside shouted. “He is okay, mate, just bought me a beer!“ the first skinhead answered. He then continued to introduce the group. All of them had shaved heads and all of them were wearing bomber jackets and ranger boots. Some of them wore leather pants, others bleachers. After the introduction, the skinheads continued making jokes.You felt really awkward and you drank your beer as fast as possible, just to have an excuse to leave, but when he had finished the beer and he wanted to excuse himself, the first skinhead said “no way mate, tonight you are with us!“ and another skinhead handed him a new beer. “You want a smoke with that?“ “No thank you, I don’t smoke,“ you answered. “Okay mate, it’s your choice,“ the skinhead said. As the evening continued and the beer flowed freely, you started to loosen up more and more. Many of your prejudices about skinheads seems to have been wrong. They were just men, being men. He actually liked that, no inhibitions at all. What was bugging you was, that they kept trying to get you to smoke. Every time they lit up they said something like: “Come on mate, have a smoke with us! It is so good! Don’t be so uptight!“ When they pushing you for the eighth time, you caved in: “Ökay. I’ll try one, but then you guys stop bugging me!“ All the skinheads cheered. Awkwardly, he put a cigarette between his lips and he bent over to the flame one of the skinheads was holding out for him. He took carefully a drag, but something went wrong and he lungs were suddenly filled with smoke and coughed like crazy. Some of the skins started to laugh, but the one that introduced him to the group said: “Not so eager, mate, just take it slow at first. You’ll get the hang of it.“ “Ywah right, one cigarette and then it’s done,“ you replied. Your lungs had calmed down and you felt the others wanted to see you take another drag. Carefully, you did as was expected of you and you puffed a little smoke in. “Hmm, this isn’t so bad,“ you though, when you felt a slight buzz coming over you. You blew the smoke out and you looked at how it mixed with the smoke of the others. Suddenly, you felt more connected with them. He tried a third drag and a fourth drag, each time inhaling a bit deeper. The pleasant buzz became stronger and suddenly you started laughing “I am fucking smoking!“ The skinheads cheered again: “we told you it was good!“ You had to admit, they were right. With the next round of beers and cigs, he accepted a second cigarette and then a third. Each tasted better than the one before and soon enough he was smoking like the rest of them. He didn’t know wether it was the beer or something else, but he felt really cool, really masculine, smoking with these skinheads, like he was part of their group. When th bell of the last round rang and you went inside to get new beer, your eyes fell on the cigarette vedning machine in the corner. He decided to buy a pack. The skinheads were all sharing with him and it was time to gice something back. He threw in the money and pushed the button of the brand they were all smoking. Not one, but two packs fell out. “Must be my lucky day,“ you thought. When you returned with the beers you opened the pack and gave it around. “Seems like someone got the hang of it, mate,“ the first skinhead said. “Yeah, it is actually quite nice, goes good with the beer,“ you answered.
When the beers were done, the group fell apart, each going their own way. Only you and the skinhead you bumped into earlier remained. “Come over to my place, mate, I still have some cold beer in the fridge.” You knew that you shouldn’t go along with him, you had drunk more than you would usually drink in a month, but the night had been so great. One more beer couldn’t hurt, could it? You followed the skin home and once inside you stumbled onto the couch. The skinhead came in and handed him a beer, he opened his own and lit a cigarette. You mimicked his every move. “So you enjoyed tonight, mate?“ “Yeah, it was great, I really had a good time, but…“ you fell silent. “But what, mate?“ “Well, you know, I didn’t really fit in. I am not really a skinhead…“ The skinhead started laughing, “We can fix that mate, I have some gear for you here.“ “No, I couldn’t, it’s not me“ “You said the same about smoking, mate, just try it on!“ The skinhead walked out of the room and you followed him.He took some gear out of his closet and took a pair of boots from the corner. “Here, put them on!“ He left and you did as you were told. The gear suited him perfectly. The leather pants were like a second skin and the bomber jacket was so nice and warm. Putting the boots on, was horrible tho and it took him a good twenty minutes, but when they were on and he stood up, it felt amazing. Like his legs had morphed into these powerful boots. When he walked into the living room, the skinhead whistled. “Damn, mate, you look fucking great. Here take a look yourself.“ He came towards him and pulled you in front of the mirror. Damn, he was right, you looked great! “Only one thing is missing, mate,“ the skinhead said, while ruffling his hairs with his gloved hand. When he touched you, you instantly sprang a boner. Your leather pants were very revealing and you looked at your boner in the mirror. The skinhead saw it too. He turned you towards him and started stroking it. “You want to go all the way, mate?“ he whispered. You started to breathe lheavily. “Yes mate, make me like you!“”I will do so much more than that mate, I’ll make you mine.“ You no longer could resist him. and you started to snog him hard. He returned the favor and in no time your leather pants were on your knees and he was deep inside you. You had the best sex you ever had in your entire life. When he came, you came too. Completely spent you fall on the couch. He went into the kitchen for more beer and you drank it eagerly, while smoking another cigarette. “Fuck mate, that was great!“ you said. “It was, mate,“ he replied., blowing his smoke seducingly over you. You still want me to shave your head? You had no inhibitions left, so you almost shouted “yes mate, do it!“ Your mate stood up and btought his shaving-kit out and started shaving your head. The scraping sound and the feeling of the razorblade on your head made you hard again. When he was finished, you noticed that he too had a again a bulge in his pants. He took you too the mirror, and now the transformation was complete. He saw two skinheads. Two very horny skinheads, both with shiny, perfectly shaved heads. He felt his mate coming closer to him, and you leaned into him. “Someone seems to like his new look,“ his mate said, with lust in his eyes. You turned to him, “damn right, mate, and I am not the only one.“ The next hours were a blur, but they were filled with booze, cigs and lots of se and somehow you ended up home, apparently.
“It must have been a dream,“ you thought, ”a very weird dream.”But how did he end up the way he looked now? Perhaps he was still dreaming. He wanted to pinch himself in the arm, to check if he was awake, but then he felt something in his arm pocket. He opened the pocet and took out a pack of cigarettes. HIS pack of cigarettes. There were still a few left in it. He started to become confused. He felt like he was standing on a crossroads. In one direction, was his old life. comfortable and safe. In the other direction was the life of a skinhead. What way to choose? He looked again at his cigarettes. and then he took a decision. He flipped the pack open, took one and lit it. His lungs embraced the smoke like an old friend. Yeah this was his new life now. He was a skinhead and proud of it. He had to get to the supermarket, to buy some booze and more smokes and then off to his mate. He stepped out of his appartment, only leavind a trail of smoke behind.
yousharknotpass
germansingergirl
pixelskylines
discoholicmusic
