Kidnapped (part 4 - The Conflict Within)
Even though I was unconscious, images flashed through my mind and I mumbled along reciting the mantra I’d been given. The images changing with each line I recited.
“I wear black boots with while ladder laces”.
“I wear ass tight bleachers and braces”.
“I wear a Fred Perry shirt and an MA1″.
“I wanna be feared in the street”.
“I’ll stay bald forever…”
In an instant, I came around. My heart was racing. I felt different.
“I’m a skinhead boi”, I blurted out with more aggression and attitude. “I’M A SKIN…”, I shouted, but no one replied.
I looked in the mirror, which was still at the side of me and realised I hadn’t transitioned into a proper skinhead. I could see that my head had been shaved, obviously some time had passed because stubble was showing, and I’d been pierced in several places, but the hair can regrow and all the metal could be removed. I needed to find a way to confirm my status as skinhead and not return to my old life of boring office work and tedious meetings.
I could sense this voice inside my head trying to be heard, “What are you doing? What are you thinking? You’ve got a great job. You’re married, you’ve got a kid…”
“I’M A SKINHEAD”, I shouted again, and the voice in my head was silenced.
Just then I heard the door open and the skinhead walked back into the room…
“Alright lad? Well rested? Good. Here, you’ll be thirsty I’ve made you a drink”, and he held it to my mouth
I took a sip, it tasted foul. “Fuuuuck. What is this shit you’ve given me” Where did that come from, that’s not the way I’d normally speak.
“It’s just a drink, keeps you hydrated and you get the nutrients you need lad, c’mon finish it up”.
My throat was dry so, despite the weird taste the drink hit the spot. He left the room as quickly. I heard the voice again. “Why did you drink that stuff?”, “You need to get out of here”, “the changes they’ve made can be reversed”, “it’s not too late…”Arrggh! Shut the fuck up. Don’t fucking tell me what to do. I’m a Skinhead. I’ll wear black boots with while ladder laces, a Fred Perry shirt and an MA1″.
He returned to the room carrying some bags.
“Oi, Oi, Whatchu got there” I has not idea why I added the ‘Oi Oi’ to the start of the sentence .
The skinhead smiled. “Oh, just a few things yer going to need later on. I’ll pop them over here”.
Despite the other voice nattering away in my head. I turned towards the skinhead who, by now had put the bags on the floor and with conviction I spoke up, “I’m… a… SKINHEAD, I wear black boots with while ladder laces, a Fred Perry shirt and an MA1, I need more metal, I need to get inked, I need to get inked, I NEED TO GET INKED”.
The skinhead laughed, “I know. It seems like you’re ready for what’s next, I’ll be back”
He was gone a few minutes, and then returned. “Right, I’m going to untie you now. You’re not going to cause me any trouble are you boi?” I shook my head from side-to-side. “Good lad, yer gonna like what I’ve got planned, follow me”.
With that I got up. I was quite stiff from being strapped to a chair for, well I don’t know how long. I followed a few steps behind the skinhead. “Now’s your chance, you can escape”, “Go on, make a run for it”. “Will you shut the fuck up, I don’t want to run, why would I run, I’M A SKINHEAD”. ”Run for it, go back home…”. “Aaaaaarrghh, I’M… A… SKINHEAD, I’M… A… SKINHEAD, I wear black boots with while ladder laces, a Fred Perry shirt and an MA1, I need more metal, I need to get inked, I’ll stay bald forever…” With that I lifted my had to touch my head; I felt the fuzz. “I need to be shaved.”
The skinhead turned around and grinned, “yes, you do boi”. He knew I was conflicted. But he also knew that with the videos and what was added to the drinks he’d plied me with, the skinhead in me was getting stronger.
“That’s what we’re doing first, get in here.” With that he turned on the tap and started to fill the sink with hot water.
With all the noise, the little voice in my head was struggling to get heard. I could feel the skinhead in me taking charge.
“Sit” I compiled. I sat in a chair, facing a mirror. The skinhead picked up a pair of clippers which had no comb attachment. I heard the familiar ‘clack’ sound. I held my breath as the clippers approached my head.
I felt them whirring as they ploughed a strip of fuzz away along the centre of my head. “Shit” I said gulping as I saw bare scalp on my head. ‘Out of the blue’, the skinhead leaned down and kissed me, breathlessly whispering that he wanted me so bad. My head was in a spin. The voice in my head was temporarily silenced and there was a stirring in my groin.
Eventually there was nothing butt very fine stubble on my head. “Yeah”, was all the skinhead said. “Right I’m going to teach you about how to shave yer head, because yer gonna want to do it daily from now on.”
He soaked a large flannel in the sink filled with hot water, squeezed out the excess water and placed it on my head. “This means the razor can slide over your head nice and easy, and will get less irritation after your shave, boi.”
Next he handed me a can of shaving cream. I squirted some foam into my hand as he removed the flannel.
“Make sure you apply the shaving cream evenly to your head, yeah that’s right - good lad”.
He passed me a towel to wipe the foam that was left on my hand, then gave me a razor. “Right, start ar the top of your head. Slide the razor in the direction of the grain of your hair. Work from front to back with nice steady strokes”. I did as instructed. “Yeah, that’s right”. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed a nice bulge building in his bleachers (wait where did that come from?). “Now, put your razor at the back of your crown, then pull it forward towards your forehead. Continue making even strokes until it’s clean-shaven”
I could feel my cock getting harder and harder, but my focus was on learning what I needed to do to stay bald. “What are you doing, are you mad?” A very feint voice was trying to get my attention, but I was focussed on what the skinhead was telling me.
“Top done, let’s do the sides. Put the razor just above the side. Then, pull it down in an even stroke, stopping once you reach the top of your cheeks. Once you finish the one side, switch to the other side and do it all over again”.
Between strokes of the blade, I’d dip my razor in the hot water, to keep the blades clean. When that was done, it was time to do the back.
“This is the hardest bit, boi. You need to take yer time because yer not going to be able to see what yer doing. Place your razor at the back of your crown, then pull it down toward the nape of your neck. Make slow, even passes with your blade until your head is completely shaved”.
Throughout the time I was shaving my own head I kept repeating my mantra, “ I’m a skinhead, I wear black boots with while ladder laces, a Fred Perry shirt and an MA1, I need more metal, I need to get inked, I’ll stay bald forever…”
The skinhead handed me the towel, “wipe yer head.” I complied. He pulled out the plug and the sink emptied. Then he put the plug back in and filled up the sink with cold water. “Right, lean forward and dunk yer head, This will seal off your pores and rinse off any little hairs that stuck to your skin as you were shaving boi.”
I did as I was told, grabbed the towel and dried off my head. In the mirror I could see my newly razored head.
I looked up at the skinhead, “I…, I…, I…,” I couldn’t finish my sentence.
I found the words, “I need to get inked, I need to get inked.”
“I know you do boi”, he smiled, and lit up a cigarette. Everything was going to plan.
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