Andrew Spencer's Blog

[michael25sworld]

[the-andrewspencer-stuff]

Which part of us is real.... Final Chapter - Reality is what you make it.

The night before the heist, the house was quiet in that brittle, electric way it got before a big job. No music. No jokes. Just the low hum of the fridge and the occasional clink of metal on metal as gear was checked for the hundredth time.

Andy stood in the garage under the single fluorescent tube, stripped to the waist, letting Rob touch up the last few lines on his back piece. The new work curled down over his shoulder blades: a black wolf mid-leap, jaws open, the gang’s unofficial crest. The needle bit and buzzed. Every sting felt like a brand sealing the deal: no going back now.

Max leaned in the doorway, arms folded, watching with that soft pride he never quite managed to hide.

“You nervous?” he asked when Rob finally wiped the skin clean and slapped a layer of cling film over it.

Andy rolled his shoulders, testing the pull of fresh ink. “Not nervous. Hungry. Like the night before my first proper fight at the Dog. You know that feeling when you’re scared you’ll come too quick, but also scared you won’t come at all?”

Max barked a laugh. “Yeah. I know it.”

Dave appeared behind him, holding two mugs of tea strong enough to strip paint. He passed one to Andy.

“Tomorrow we don’t speak unless it’s on comms,” Dave said. “No names. No personal shit. If it goes loud, we ghost separately. Meet point is the old quarry near Buxton if anyone gets split. After that, the cottage in Wales for three days, then we scatter. New ink, new passports, new lives.”

He didn’t need to add the rest. They all knew: if anyone went down, the others kept moving. No heroics. No revenge. Just survival.

Andy sipped the tea, scalding and sweet. “And the money?”

“Already split six ways. Even if only one of us makes it out clean, the rest still eat for life.”

Rob killed the fluorescent light. In the sudden dark the four of them stood shoulder to shoulder, breathing the same air.

Dave broke the silence. “We’re not criminals tomorrow. We’re a fucking scalpel. In, cut, gone. Anyone feels off, say it now.”

Silence.

Andy set his mug down. “I love you lot,” he said, voice rough. “That’s all I’ve got.”

Max’s hand found the back of his neck, thumb rubbing the fresh wolf. “Love you more, you daft bastard.”

Rain slicked the tarmac. The armoured truck limped exactly where it was supposed to—hazard lights blinking, steam hissing from under the bonnet like a wounded animal. The inside man had done his job.

Two plain white Transit vans boxed it in within six seconds. Doors slid open in perfect silence.

Black figures spilled out.

Andy was first to the rear door, bolt cutters already in gloved hands. The reinforced lock took four bites, then the door rolled up with a metallic scream that got swallowed by the rain.

Pallets of vacuum-sealed cash, grey and anonymous, stacked like bricks.

They moved like they’d rehearsed in their sleep (because they had). Forty-eight seconds and the first pallet hit the floor of the Transit. Ninety seconds and the second followed.

Then the escort car decided to be heroes.

A single gunshot cracked—wild, high, into the air—but it was enough.

Dave’s voice in the comms was ice. “Plan B. Light it up.”

Rob was already swinging the shotgun. Rock-salt rounds first. Two blasts that turned the windscreen of the escort car into frosted glass and sent both guards diving for cover, screaming.

Andy vaulted into the back of the truck, grabbed the last pallet himself, muscles burning. He felt the wolf on his back roar.

Another shot – this one real – from the passenger guard. It punched through the side of the Transit, inches from Billy’s head.

Andy didn’t think. The Glock came up smooth as breathing. One suppressed round into the guard’s shoulder. The man dropped, radio spilling from his hand.

“Time!” Max’s voice, sharp.

They were moving. Pallets in. Doors slammed. Tires spun on wet tarmac.

The truck burst into flames behind them, a grenade on the fuel tank, courtesy of Ian. A goodbye present.

After that, Billy drove like a demon, no lights, wipers beating frantic time. They hit the quarry road doing ninety, ditched the Transits behind a limestone cliff, transferred the cash to two anonymous SUVs that had been waiting a week under tarps.

Andy’s ears were ringing. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking. Not fear, just pure liquid adrenaline. Max grabbed his face in the dark between vehicles, kissed him hard, tasting blood and cordite.

“You beautiful fucking lunatic,” Max whispered. “We did it.”

Sirens in the distance, still miles off. They had minutes, not hours.

Dave’s voice cut through the comms one last time. “Scatter protocol. See you on the other side, brothers.”

Engines roared. Headlights speared the rain.

Andy and Max took the coastal route west, the boot of their SUV sagging under vacuum-sealed bricks of fifties. They didn’t speak for the first hour. Just the low growl of the engine and Max’s hand locked around Andy’s thigh like he was scared he’d vanish.

At a lay-by outside Betws-y-Coed, Max finally pulled over, killed the lights, and dragged Andy into the back seat. They fucked desperately among the cash – zippers ripping, mouths bruising, Andy riding Max with his forehead pressed to the fogged window, rain drumming on the roof like gunfire. When they came it was silent, teeth sunk in shoulders to keep from shouting loud enough to bring the police.

After, lying tangled and sweating among millions of pounds, Max laughed at the whole ridiculous situation.

“We’re rich,” he said. “We’re actually fucking rich.”

Andy lit two cigarettes, passed one over. “We’re free.”

Three days later, they were at the cottage in Wales.

The others arrived one by one. No one hurt. No one caught. A perfect execution.

They burned the ski masks and the work clothes in a rusted oil drum on the beach. Drank champagne from the bottle.

Dave raised his bottle. “To the last job.”

They drank.

Then Rob, grinning like a wolf himself, produced six small wooden boxes from his rucksack.

Inside each: a new passport, new driving licence, new life.

Andy opened his.

Name: Andrew Maxwell Scott DOB: same as before Photo: shaved head, tattoos, teardrop, septum ring, steel in the eyes Nationality: Belize

Max’s matched—except the middle name was Andrew.

Rob shrugged when they looked at him. “Figured you two should share something legal for once.”

That night they got spectacularly drunk on a clifftop. Someone started singing—some old punk song none of them knew all the words to—and the others just roared the chorus anyway.

Andy stood apart for a moment, wind whipping his hoodie, staring out at the black sea.

Max came up behind him, arms sliding around his waist, chin on his shoulder.

“Regrets?” Max asked quietly.

Andy thought about it. Really thought.

He turned in Max’s arms, kissed him slow and deep, tasting salt and smoke and freedom.

“Only one,” he said against Max’s lips.

“Yeah?”

“That I didn’t walk into your shop ten years sooner.”

Max laughed, the sound bright and wild, and dragged him down into the sand. The others whooped and catcalled, throwing empty bottles at them.

Somewhere out there the police were still hunting six ghosts who no longer existed.

And somewhere in the dark, wrapped in Max’s arms with millions in the boot of an SUV and a wolf freshly inked on his back, Andy Scott finally understood what redemption felt like when you decided you didn’t need it anymore.

He was home.

[the-andrewspencer-stuff]

Which part of us is real... Part 14

The getaway started slow and filthy, the way they both needed it.

They left at dawn, the BMW tearing south on the M6, Max riding, Andy tucked tight behind him, wearing matching one-piece leathers, matching black helmets, the new lids Max had surprised him with the night before. The visors were smoked; no one could see the grin splitting Andy’s face or the way his pierced cock rubbed against the seam of the suit every time Max cracked the throttle. Six hours of motorway and twisting coastal roads, wind screaming past, Andy’s gloved hands locked around Max’s waist, occasionally sliding lower just to feel Max tense and laugh into the comms.

They ended up in a rented cottage on the Llyn Peninsula – nothing fancy, just stone walls, a wood burner, and a view of nothing but sea and sky. The moment the bikes were in the shed and the helmets came off, they were on each other. No words. Max shoved Andy against the kitchen counter, yanked the zip of his leathers down to the navel, mouth latching onto a nipple ring and tugging until Andy hissed. They fucked right there, rough, fast, Max bending him over the table, still half in the suits, the slap of leather on leather loud in the quiet cottage. Andy came with Max’s teeth in his shoulder, the teardrop tattoo stinging under the bite.

Later, sprawled naked on the rug in front of the fire, passing a joint back and forth, Max finally asked the question he’d been sitting on for days.

“You ever think about stopping?” he said quietly, tracing the tribal lines on Andy’s chest. “Not the life, just… slowing it down. We’ve got enough stashed now. Could open another shop, another studio. Legit money. Still us, still the six of us, but without always looking over our shoulders.”

Andy took a long drag, held it, let it curl out slow.

“I used to think the collar was the cage,” he said. “Turns out the cage was pretending I didn’t want this.” He flicked ash into the hearth. “But yeah. Sometimes I wonder what it’d feel like to wake up without wondering whose door we’re kicking in next.”

Max rolled onto his side, propped his head on one hand. “Dave’s talking about one last really big one. Proper retirement money. After that… maybe.”

Andy’s eyes narrowed. “How big?”

“Bank transport. Armoured truck doing a cash reload for the big Tesco distribution centre outside Manchester. Three trucks a week, but there’s a pattern. Inside man says the middle one on the third Wednesday of the month carries an extra pallet—unlogged, old notes going for shredding. Eight figures if we lift the lot. One night, one perfect hit, then we vanish. New names again if we want. Or just… disappear to somewhere warm.”

Andy laughed, low and rough. “Eight figures. Christ. We’d never have to work again.”

“Or we could buy half of Anglesey and still have change.”

They let that settle between them, the fire crackling, the sea hissing outside.

Andy stubbed the joint out. “You in?”

Max kissed him slow, tasting smoke and salt. “Always.”

They fucked again after that—slower this time, face to face on the rug, Andy riding Max with the firelight painting gold across their ink. When they came, Andy’s forehead pressed to Max’s, both of them shaking.

“Whatever happens,” Andy whispered, “I’m not going back. Not ever.”

Max just pulled him closer.

Three weeks later, the kitchen table looked like a military briefing. Blueprints, schedules, fake plates, a 3D-printed replica of the truck’s rear-door mechanism. Dave had been up for forty-eight hours straight; his eyes were bloodshot but burning.

“Inside man’s solid,” he said, tapping a photo of a bored-looking security guard. “He’ll trigger the breakdown on the flyover at 03:17 exactly. Traffic cams go down for eight minutes. Ian’s drone jams the GPS tracker. We box the truck with two vans, masks on, guns out. Four minutes on the ground, max. Rob and Andy on the door, Max running comms and the magnet that kills the alarm. I take the driver at gunpoint, Billy covers the escort car. We transfer the pallets to the transit, torch the truck, gone. Clean.”

Rob leaned back, arms folded. “And if the escort’s armed?”

“Then we’re armed better.” Dave slid a short-barrelled shotgun across the table. “Rock salt rounds first. Real ones if they make us.”

Andy picked up the shotgun, feeling the weight. His knuckles still had scabs from the Black Dog. “Eight figures,” he said again, tasting it. “After this, we’re ghosts.”

Dave met his eyes. “You still in, brother?”

Andy racked the shotgun, a ‘chuck-CHK’ filling the room.

“Born for it.”

Max’s hand found his under the table, squeezing once.

Two nights before the job, Andy came home from a late shift at the Dog smelling of beer and blood. Some idiot had swung a bottle, learned quick why that was a mistake. Max was waiting in the bedroom, naked on the bed, a length of chain in his hands and a grin that promised trouble.

“Remember that last trigger Dave left?” Max said, voice low. “Wake Fun One.”

Andy’s breath caught. They’d joked about it but never used it.

Max crooked a finger. “Come here, husband.”

The moment the words left Max’s mouth, it hit Andy like a freight train. Heat exploding low in his gut, cock straining against his jeans, knees nearly buckling. He crossed the room in three strides, already panting.

Max laughed softly, snapped the chain to the new titanium cuff locked around Andy’s balls and cock – another ‘just for fun’ gift none of them had mentioned until now – and  tugged.

“On your knees, love. We’ve got two nights to practise obedience before the big one.”

Andy dropped, mouth open, every nerve on fire.

Whatever tomorrow brought, tonight he was exactly where he wanted to be. Owned, filthy, and grinning like the devil himself.

The heist was forty-eight hours away.

And none of them had ever felt more alive.

[the-andrewspencer-stuff]

Which part of us is real... Part 13

The Black Dog was a festering pit of a pub on the edge of town—sticky floors, the perpetual haze of cheap lager and cigarette smoke that drifted in from the smokers outside. His first shift as bouncer started at dusk, music from the jukebox already thrumming, and a quiet undertone of menace. Dave had pulled strings; the owner owed the gang for a "quiet word" with a rival last month. Andy fit right in: black t-shirt stretched over his inked chest, combat pants tucked into boots, the silver VI ring glinting under the neon sign. No one asked questions about the teardrop under his eye or the septum ring that caught the light—he was just another hard man keeping the peace or breaking it when needed.

Max had kitted him out that morning, slipping a slim wallet into Andy's back pocket with a wad of twenties—"Your cut from Charles, love. Spend it on something that makes you feel alive." They'd fucked slow and deep before Andy left, Max's fingers tracing the fresh 'A&M' tattoo on his collarbone, whispering promises of a weekend getaway once the next job cleared. But as Andy planted himself by the door, arms crossed, scanning the drunks spilling in from the car park, his mind wasn't on leisure. It was on the text Dave had sent at noon: Big one brewing. Meet at the house after your shift. All hands.

The time dragged—ejecting a mouthy lad who'd groped the barmaid, breaking up a scuffle over a spilled pint that left one punter nursing a split lip—but Andy handled it with a cold efficiency that earned nods from the regulars. By last call, his knuckles were bruised, his cock half-hard from the adrenaline of control, the way the guy he'd floored had whimpered sorry, mate before scrambling out. It was power, pure and unfiltered, the kind the church had never given him. And then it was off home. And whatever waited there.

The house was alive when he pulled into the garage, bikes and cars slotted like puzzle pieces. Laughter spilled from the living room—Rob cracking open beers, Billy and Ian arguing over a dart game, Max plating up reheated pizza. Dave held court at the head of the table, maps and printouts splayed out like a war room. No one rushed him; they knew the drill. Andy stripped off his jacket, grabbed a slice of pizza and a smoke, and slid onto the sofa beside Max. Their thighs pressed together, a silent missed you in the heat of it. Max's hand found Andy's knee under the table, thumb circling lazy patterns that made Andy's pierced cock twitch against his zipper.

"Right, lads," Dave said, tapping a photo at the centre of the chaos: a sleek glass-and-steel warehouse on the industrial estate, floodlights haloing razor wire. "This here's the prize. Pharma depot for that wanker Ryden's old outfit—high-end stuff, not the street rot we torched bridges over. Client's a rival corp, wants us to lift their R&D prototypes. Experimental stuff, the kind that'd make Einstein hard. Vials, data drives, the lot. Fifty grand upfront, double on delivery. Clean snatch, no traces."

Rob whistled low, leaning in. "Security? Cameras? Guards?"

Dave grinned, sliding over blueprints—Billy's dark web magic again. "Two guards on rotation, lazy fucks by the night logs. Motion sensors on the perimeter, but Ian's got a jammer rigged. Cameras loop every fifteen—Max, you're on the feed hack from the van. Entry's through the loading dock; Andy, you're point on the cut—wire snips and bolt cutters, nice and quiet. Rob and Ian handle the vault crack—combination's on a timer, but we've got the sequence from an inside tip. Billy drives, I cover the exit. In and out in ten, torch the paperwork for good measure."

Andy's pulse kicked up, eyes tracing the layout: vents for escape, blind spots for cover. It was bigger than the safe jobs, riskier than Theo's bedroom—team play, synchronized like a symphony. His mind flashed to Charles's choked gasp, the blade's kiss on skin; this was that thrill amplified, shared. "Armed?" he asked, voice steady, but his free hand clenched under the table.

Dave met his gaze, approval flickering. "Stunners only—client wants product intact, not bullet-riddled. But if it goes south..." He tapped the folder, revealing matte-black tasers and a pair of suppressed Glocks as backups. "We adapt. You're on the vault with Rob—trust you not to flinch."

The room hummed with energy, plans sharpening into action: contingencies for alarms (smoke grenades to mask), abort signals (three flashes from Ian's torch), split of the take (Andy's share bumped to fifteen percent after the solo job). Beers emptied, smokes lit in a chain, the air thick with that pre-job buzz—camaraderie laced with the sharp edge of what if. Max leaned in as the others filed out to gear up, lips brushing Andy's ear. "Proud of you, love. Come back whole—we've got that getaway waiting. Beach, bikes, just us. No masks."

Andy turned, capturing Max's mouth in a bruising kiss. "Whole and harder. Watch me." But as he pulled on his ‘work gear’—balaclava ready, gloves snapping taut, the pistol's weight at his hip—doubt wormed in. Not fear, but the ghost of Andrew: What if this is the line you don't cross back? He crushed it with a drag from his cigarette. This was the gang. This was family. This was him.

Midnight struck as the minibus idled a block from the depot, engine purring low. Andy slipped out first, shadows swallowing his form, clippers in hand. The wire parted like butter under the moonlight, a whisper of snick-snick. Inside, the air was sterile, humming with fridges full of promise. Heart hammering, cock straining against the thrill, Andy signalled: Clear. The vault loomed—steel beast, dial gleaming. Rob at his shoulder, breath steady: "Your turn, mate. Spin it like you mean it."

Fingers gloved and sure, Andy worked the tumblers—left three, right twice, the click echoing. The door swung wide: vials glowing under LEDs, drives stacked. Jackpot. But then—a footstep, too close. Guard's silhouette in the doorway, hand fumbling for his radio.

Time slowed to a crawl. Andy lunged, taser crackling blue fire into the man's neck. He dropped like a puppet cut, twitching. Rob zip-tied him silent, but the radio squawked: Perimeter breach— Dave's voice cut in from the van: "Company. Two minutes. Move!"

Bags stuffed, they bolted—vials clinking, boots pounding concrete. Alarms wailed belated, but Ian's jammer bought seconds. Outside, the second guard rounded the corner, pistol raised. Andy didn't think—Glock up, suppressed shot grazing the man's shoulder, spinning him into the dirt. Not lethal, but enough. Billy's tires screeched, doors yanking open mid-turn. They piled in, hearts slamming, laughter bubbling as the depot shrank in the rearview.

Back at the house by 2 a.m., bags dumped on the table: product inventoried, take confirmed. Dave clapped Andy's shoulder, eyes gleaming. "Good shot, brother. You're in deep now." The client pinged approval by dawn—wire transfer through. Beers cracked, bodies crashing together in the haze. Andy found Max in the crush, pulling him aside to the shadows of the garage. "Told you I'd come back harder."

Max's fingers traced the fresh adrenaline flush on Andy's neck, voice husky. "And wetter. That getaway tomorrow? Or you need this first?" Andy's answer was a growl, pinning Max against a BMW, bike creaking as they ground together—release raw and immediate, the night's high spilling over.

Tomorrow’s another day.

[rubberaibeef]

Short movie I made for my Instagram... but good crossover with this page... The Shoot. Made entirely in Sora 2 and CapCut - this is entirely AI generated, no real people or suits... My Instagram is https://www.instagram.com/bvstard.ai/ - much more arty & experimental.

#Sora2#Sora2shortfilm#aifilmmaking#aishortfilm

[the-andrewspencer-stuff]

wow

[the-andrewspencer-stuff]

Which part of us is real... Part 12

The phone call had been a calculated risk, but Andy knew it was the perfect bait. Charles Hargrove—old university mate, now a priest in a leafy Oxfordshire parish, heir to a family fortune that kept him more in the shadows of academia than the pulpit. They'd bonded over late-night debates on theology and ethics back in the day, Andrew the earnest idealist, Charles the wry observer with a taste for vintage Scotch and discreet indiscretions. Andy had dug up the dirt earlier in the day, courtesy of a deep dive into Charles's online footprints and a few discreet inquiries through Dave's network. Emails, photos, a string of anonymous hookups with young men in seedy London clubs—nothing earth-shattering, but enough to shatter the facade of the ‘devout second son’ if it ever surfaced.

‘Charles? It's Andrew. I'm in trouble—can you help me?’ Andy had pitched his voice low, ragged with feigned desperation, the kind of plea that tugged at old loyalties. He'd called from a burner phone.

A pause on the line, then Charles's voice, smooth as ever but with some surprise. ‘Andrew? Andrew Samson? I thought you were in Sweden. I'd heard you'd just... off and disappeared.’

‘Yes, I had to make myself scarce, but I really need your help. Are you free to meet me in an hour at the Lamb and Flag? It's quiet there on a midweek night—back booth, like old times.’

Another pause. Andy could picture him: mid-40s now, sitting in his study. ‘Trouble? What kind? You sound... different.’

‘Just come, Charles. Please. I wouldn't ask if it wasn't bad.’ Andy hung up before the questions could pile on, his heart thudding not from fear, but from the thrill of the con. This wasn't just a solo job; it was personal. Dave had decided it was to be Andy's ‘graduation’—extract a fat wire transfer from Charles's trust fund, disguised as a ‘loan’ for Andy's invented escape to Sweden. Five figures, wired anonymously to an offshore account that would trickle back to the gang. But Andy had his own twist: a taste of poetic justice. Charles had always been the one with secrets; now he'd bleed for one that wasn't even his.

The Lamb and Flag was a relic of a pub, tucked into a cobbled alley in Jericho, all low beams and flickering gas lamps. Andy arrived early, slipping in through the side door, hood up under his black beanie hat, balaclava folded in his jacket pocket, just in case. He slipped into the shadowy booth at the back, sipping a pint of beer. The place had a sparse Thursday crowd—academics with their whiskies, a couple of locals at the bar—but no one spared him a glance. He looked the part: shaved head gleaming, tattoos peeking above his jacket collar, the silver ring in his septum. This was Andy Scott, not Father Andrew. His switchblade felt heavy in his boot, a cold comfort beside the compact pistol tucked into the back of his pants.

Charles arrived exactly an hour after the call – punctual as ever. He scanned the room, his face full of concern and then he spotted Andy. He froze for a split second, eyes widening at the transformation: the ink, the piercings, the hard edge to his previously soft features. Then he slid into the booth, voice dropping to a whisper. ‘Andrew—God, what happened to you? You look like... like you've been through hell.’

Andy leaned forward, elbows on the scarred oak table, forcing Charles to meet his gaze. ‘Hell's got nothing on this, Charles. Sit. Drink. He pushed a whisky across the table—neat, no ice, just how Charles liked it back in the day.

Charles took a sip, his eyes staring at Andy. ‘Talk to me. Sweden? Resignation rumours? And this...’ – he gestured at Andy's neck and hands. ‘The bishop's furious, you know. Says you vanished without a trace.’

Andy let out a low chuckle, the sound rougher than he remembered his own laugh being. ‘Vanished? Yeah, that's one way to put it. Look, I fucked up, Charles. Big time. Debts—bad ones. The kind that come with threats on the phone. I need ten grand, wired tonight. No questions, no traces. You're my only shot.’

Charles's brow furrowed, the half-smile fading. ‘Ten thousand? Andrew, that's not pocket change, even for me. And why me? We haven't spoken in years. This feels... off.

Andy's hand shot out under the table, firm enough to pin, not bruise. Yet. ‘Because you're loaded, mate. Second son, remember? Daddy's shopping empire keeps the coffers full while you play at sermons. And because I know things. Things that'd make your bishop choke on his communion wine.’

The colour drained from Charles's face, but he held steady, voice a whisper. ‘Blackmail? From you? This isn't the Andrew I knew.’

‘That Andrew's dead. Andy's free hand dipped into his jacket, emerging with a slim burner phone. He thumbed it awake, tilting the screen: grainy photos, timestamps from last month—Charles in a dimly lit club, lips locked with a bearded twink half his age; email chains laced with explicit pleas; a hotel receipt circled in red. ‘Your little hobbies. Harmless fun, right? Until the diocese gets wind. Or the family. Imagine the headlines: 'Priest's Prodigal Passions.' Poetic, innit?’

Charles's whisky glass trembled as he set it down, eyes flicking to the pub's exit like a cornered animal. ‘How... where did you—?’

‘Doesn't matter. What matters is you wire the money. Now. App's open.’ Andy slid the phone across, the transfer screen glowing accusingly. ‘Or I hit send on these to every contact in your list. Starting with dear old Dad.’

Charles was sweating now. He glanced around—no one watching, the pub's murmur a perfect cover. His fingers hovered over the screen, then tapped: authorizing the transfer. Andy watched the confirmation ping through - easy money. Five minutes, tops. Clean.

But Charles wasn't done. As the transaction cleared, his jaw set, a flicker of the old fire Andy remembered. ‘You're not getting away with this, Andrew. Whatever hell you've crawled out of, I'll drag you back. I know people…’

Andy moved like a snake, the blade freed from his boot in a fluid movement. It touched Charles's throat, just under the jawline—not piercing, but with a promise of what could come. ‘Call me Andy now. And you don't know shit.’ From behind him came the pistol, the silencer pressing into Charles's ribs, hidden by the shadows. ‘One word, one twitch, and you're choking on your next breath. Wire another five. Call it interest.

Charles's breath hitched, eyes bulging like Theo's had under the bag. But this wasn't Theo—this was a man who though he was going to help friend. His fingers flew again, the second transfer going through with a chime. Andy's cock stirred against his combats, the thrill of control. This is me, he thought, the real fucking me.

‘Done,’ Charles rasped, slumping back. ‘Now delete them. All of them.’

Andy flicked the knife closed and grabbed the phone. ‘Deleted? Nah. Insurance. You breathe a word—about this, about me—and they go viral. Enjoy your whisky, Father. And your secrets.

Holstering the pistol, Andy stood up, and tossed a crumpled tenner on the table for the drinks—'Cheers, mate’—and walked calmly out the side door before Charles could blink. The night air hit him, cool and sharp. He lit a cigarette with shaking hands—not fear, but the high—and exhaled into the alley's night air. Fifteen grand richer, one more ghost exorcised. Dave would be pleased; the gang's coffers swelled, and Andy's rep was solidified. Calculated. Calm. Steel.

Andy was back at the house by 3 in the morning where he parked the car he’d used back in the garage. He found Dave in the office, waiting for him, looking over plans for the next score. ‘Clean?’ Dave asked, not looking up.

‘Spotless. Fifteen total. Wired and ghosted.’ Andy dropped the burner on the desk, the weight of the blade and gun a secret thrill in his pockets.

Dave's eyes flicked towards Andy. ‘Charles play nice?’

‘Like a lamb.’ Andy grinned, the teardrop tattoo crinkling – it had been earned that night. ‘Squirmed a bit but signed on the dotted line. The photos sealed it.

Dave nodded, with a half smile. ‘Good. You're a natural. But tomorrow – you start your permanent job. Bouncer at The Black Dog. Dirty work, cash under the table, keeps you visible without questions.’

Andy nodded his agreement – he liked the idea.

Andy headed upstairs. Max was in bed, scrolling his phone, but looked up with a shy hunger in his eyes. ‘How'd it go, love?’

Andy stripped off and crawled under the sheets, pulling Max close. ‘Perfect. But I’ll tell you over breakfast.’ His hand trailed down, teasing the waistband of Max's boxers.

The room filled with gasps and the creak of the bedframe, Andy's world narrowing to heat and release—no triggers needed, just the raw truth of who he'd become.

[the-andrewspencer-stuff]

Which part of us is real... Part 11

(This was definitely a flip of the coin situation – I hope you agree with the fates!)

‘I was going to talk to you about your solo outing, but Max told me about the chat you had about what we did to Theo last night,’ Dave continued.

‘It’s true – Billy, Ian and me, well, we started out as petty dealers on the estate where we lived. Theo was doing a story on the people who lived there, and we ran across him when he started poking around. But he let slip his bad habit and we soon had a good client, who kept us out of his reporting.

‘Seems like he got a good tale in his newspaper, which led to better things, and we heard he’d cleaned himself up.

‘But that was a few years ago. He’s recently started sniffing around one of our current clients, who wanted the whole thing shut down – hence what we did last night.

‘However, both Max and I noticed you seemed to have a more than passing interest. You never did answer his question ‘user or dealer?’, did you?’

Andy didn’t really know how to answer.

‘C’mon Andy – we’ve all seen your cock twitch at any bad suggestion. What’s the problem this time?’

Still Andy couldn’t think of what to say.

‘Well, let’s decide that for you eh?’ Dave sneered.

Andy was grabbed by Billy and Ian and strapped into a wooden chair. Before he could say anything, a ball gag was rammed into his mouth.

Dave reached into the leather case and brought out a syringe that was already filled with liquid. He made sure there was no air in the needle, as Billy grabbed Andy’s forearm and Ian twisted Andy’s head so that he could see what was about to happen.

Andy tried to struggle, and tell Dave to stop, but the gag and the straps prevented anything meaningful coming out.

Dave held the needle to Andy’s arm, but just as he was about to inject the substance into a vein, he stopped. Looking Andy in the eye, he turned the syringe around and squirted it onto his own tongue.

‘Just water,’ he said. ‘OK guys, let him go.’

Although Dave was smiling, he was deadly serious when he said, ‘This is seriously fucked up stuff Andy. Yeah, I know we were involved, and what we did to Theo wasn’t something I’m exactly proud about. It’s NEVER something to get hard about. OK?’

Ian agreed. ‘We’ve seen what it can do to people, Andy, and it’s not nice. We burned a lot of bridges when we stopped dealing and made more than a few enemies too.’

‘Take it from us, we’re never going back to that,’ Billy agreed.

Andy looked at the three guys and the serious looks on their faces, but also there was a twinkle behind the looks.

‘Thank you. Truly.

‘My life has changed so much over the past few weeks, I guess I was a bit carried away, and I won’t deny that I was turned on this morning. Glad you’re a lot less stupid than I am!’

‘Shit – you’re probably the most intelligent person in this room,’ Billy told him. ‘And even that nearly didn’t stop you.’

‘What would you have done if I’d said ‘dealer’ then?’

Dave picked up the folder of photos and passed them over.

‘I used some AI to change some photos of all of us into users, including you. Have a look’.

Andy flicked through the pictures of men with gaunt features, haunted eyes, and bad skin. Horrible tracks on several arms. 5 men laying flowers at Max’s grave.

‘Burn them!’ he muttered.

‘Good,’ Dave replied. ‘Right, get off upstairs to your healthy husband and enjoy each other’s company. I’ll see you in the morning, and we can talk about tomorrow night.’

By this point, Andy had tears in his eyes, and hugged the other three in the room, before going to the bedroom.

‘I’m sorry my love’, Max told him as he hugged him tight as they lay on the bed. ‘I had to tell Dave.

‘You did the right thing Max’, hugging him back. ‘I let my imagination get the better of me. Maybe I need to let the sensible Andrew out of its box occasionally!’

‘Not too often, I hope! Especially tomorrow night…’

Andy reached out and switched the light off and, as Dave had ordered, they did enjoy each other’s company.

[the-andrewspencer-stuff]

Which part of us is real... Part 10

When Andy got back into bed with Max, Max wanted to know how things had gone, but Andy was too horny to talk, and urged Max to fuck him again, knowing his PA wasn’t healed enough to return the compliment. Soon the bedroom was full of grunts as Max pounded his ass, shooting his load at the same time as Andy came into the sheets.

‘We’re going to have to use the washing machine again,’ Andy chuckled.

‘Maybe we need rubber sheets,’ Max grinned. ‘But now, tell me what happened…’

Andy talked about the night’s job, but questioned the use of drugs on Theo.

‘I guess he’s not told you, but Dave used to be a dealer when he was a teenager. Wasn’t proud of it, but he knew Ryden – he used to be a client. Dave thought he might just need a small push back into his habit. It certainly helps ruin his character even more if he’s back using.

‘That turns you on does it?’ Max hadn’t failed to notice the reaction in Andy’s cock. ‘Dealing or using?’

Andy denied both with a laugh, but a little part of him wondered as Max left the bedroom to get some breakfast before leaving for work. He certainly knew a few who would benefit from being taken down a peg or two and if he tried a little try himself it wouldn’t do any harm, would it? He’d have to have a word with Dave, he thought, as he fell asleep.

Andy slept till about 2pm and when he woke up the house was empty. He had a quick shower and dressed in black combat pants and boots and went downstairs, grabbing a can of beer from the fridge. On the kitchen table was a note ‘Can you go to the supermarket and get everything on the attached list. You should have enough in your bank account now. Take the car in the garage. Dave’

This was to be his first venture out of the house on his own and the first time he’d been trusted with a car, so he put on a bomber jacket and drove into town, the can of beer in the centre console. He used to shop at the Tesco there, and he couldn’t see any point in going somewhere unfamiliar.

He stood outside the shop having a smoke and drinking his beer, while watching people’s reactions as they walked past. Most ignored him, although a few did stare at his appearance.

As he finished his second cigarette and was draining the last dregs out of the can, he saw two people walking out of the store and he nearly ran back to the car – it was his sister and her new husband.

He was trapped as his sister looked towards him. He could see uncertainty in her eyes, but then she obviously made up her mind and headed his way.

‘Andrew! What’s happened to you?’

Andy decided to tough things out. ‘I’m sorry, I think you must have me mixed up with someone else love,’ he said, deepening his voice and trying to put on a stronger local accent. ‘Name’s not Andrew – Andy Scott but never been ‘Andrew’. Who are you?’

‘It’s me Andrew – Sandra, your sister. This is Stewart, my husband. You know – the wedding you were supposed to do last month, then you announced you were off to Sweden without any reason.’

She was crying by this point, but Andy calmly took another cigarette and lit it before laughing in her face.

‘Look love, I’ve no idea who either of you are. I’ve told you I’m Andy Scott. I only moved into this part of town a couple of weeks ago with my husband and I’ve just come here to do some shopping.’

By this point, Andy was enjoying himself. He’d never really gotten along with Sandra, and he’d taken an instant dislike to Stewart when he’d been introduced.

He fished in his pocket for his wallet and took out his driving licence and almost shoved it in her face. ‘There we go – Andy Scott like I said.’

She stared at it and then back at Andy. ‘I, I, I’m sorry’ she stumbled. ‘I just thought…’

‘Well, you didn’t think hard enough, did you?’ he growled.

The couple walked away, but before they were out of earshot, Andy said ‘Stupid bitch!’ as he ground out his smoke under his boot.

Sandra turned to say something back, but Stewart grabbed her arm and led her off to the car park.

As he watched them drive away, Andy roared with laughter. He’d really enjoyed the confrontation and felt that his new life was properly sorted. Any suspicions were dealt with – he was Andy Scott and even his snooty sister didn’t know.

He quickly filled a trolley with what was on the list and was soon heading back to the house. He told the others what had happened, and they all congratulated him on how he’d handled himself.

As Andy and Max relaxed on the sofa after dinner, hands down each other’s pants, Max told him he was genuinely surprised how Andy had reacted.

‘I thought you would’ve run a mile when you saw her! Seems like we’re stuck with you now,’ he said with a wink, and then an ‘Ouch!’ as Andy squeezed his balls.

‘For the rest of your fucking life,’ Andy grinned back.

‘Right, Dave wants to talk to me about my ‘solo job’, so I’ll see you upstairs when we’re finished my love.’

‘Don’t be too long!’

But when he went into the study, Andy saw that Dave wasn’t alone. Billy and Ian were with him and they all looked serious, indeed Dave looked angry.

He was left to stand while Dave flicked through a folder of photos. Throwing the folder on the table, he picked up an old leather case. ‘We need to talk…’

[the-andrewspencer-stuff]

Which part of us is real... Part 9

Shortly after midnight, Dave stopped the car behind some trees 50m away from the target’s house.

‘One last reminder, Andy – no names when we speak. Got it?’ Andy nodded his agreement.

Then he and Dave got out of the car, grabbed their bags and closed the doors quietly. After pulling their ski masks and gloves on, they were able to walk to the house out of sight of the road, although the road was empty, and had been all the time they had been watching from further away.

Walking on the grass to keep any noise to a minimum, they arrived at the back of the house, where Dave was able to pick the door lock. Without a sound the door was opened and they shuffled inside, leaving it slightly open, in case a fast exit was needed.

Up the stairs they went, keeping to the side of each step to reduce the possibility of any of them creaking, and they were quickly outside the target’s bedroom.

With a thumbs up from Dave, which was followed by a nod of the head from Andy, Dave went through the door with a deliberate crash and then they were quickly at the bed where a man in his 40s was just jerking awake. But he was already too late to do anything as Dave and Andy grabbed him and threw him into a chair which stood to the side of the bed. While Andy quickly taped him to the chair, Dave thrust a ball gag into his mouth, tying it behind his head. Andy then slipped the leather belt round the man’s neck, making sure it was snug, but not too tight – yet. The whole procedure had taken less than a minute, and the man was where they wanted him.

‘So, this is Theo Ryden, who’s been making misery for one of our clients’, Dave told Andy, ‘and we’re here to make sure he stops, right?’

With that, Andy pulled on the belt, tightening it around the man’s neck.

His eyes bulging, Theo shook his head, but Andy only pulled harder, causing him to squeal and then gasp through the gag as he couldn’t breathe.

After 30 seconds or so, Dave gestured to Andy, who released the belt, but kept his hand on it.

‘Not ready to comply, eh? Well, this might change your mind.’

With that, he pulled a clear plastic bag out of his backpack and pulled it over Theo’s head. Andy fitted the belt over the neck of the bag and pulled enough to trap the air inside.

Theo’s breathing got quicker and quicker as the oxygen ran out in from the bag and was replaced with carbon dioxide. As he watched the bag inflate and deflate, Andy’s grin under his mask grew wider and wider, and his cock strained under his combats. Glancing at Dave, he saw a similar reaction. He was definitely in the right place!

As Theo’s head slumped forward, Dave grabbed the bag and pulled it off and waited for the man to revive.

‘Did you not like that?’ Theo shook his head, his face covered with sweat, tears falling down his cheeks. ‘Well, all you need to do is to simply sign a piece of paper saying your reports are all false and that you’re resigning from your newspaper.’

With another shake of the head, Dave pulled the bag on again, Andy tightening the belt again.

This was repeated for nearly half an hour, until Theo finally nodded his head – he’d had enough and would do anything to make the torture stop.

The bag and belt were removed, and while Dave brought out a letter, Andy untied Theo’s left hand – Dave had done his research well – and once Theo had stopped shaking, he was given a pen to sign his name to the letter.

‘By the morning, all the newspapers and news channels will have a copy of this, and your crime reporting career will be over. You might even want to get out of the country as I’m sure others will be looking for you.

‘In the meantime, enjoy your trip while we get out of here.’

Dave then pulled a syringe out of his bag, carefully inserting it into a vein in Theo’s arm and injecting the contents. The effect was almost instantaneous, Theo’s eyes rolling back in his head as Dave and Andy removed the duct tape and ball gag. They led him to the bed and pulled a sheet over him. Dave left the syringe and a further supply of the narcotic on the bedside table.

‘He might need that!’ Dave told Andy as they moved quickly downstairs. They locked the back door and walked swiftly back to the car.

Checking that the road was clear, they set off back. As they pulled off their ski masks, they grinned at each other.

Dave patted Andy’s crotch. ‘No need to ask if you enjoyed that!’

‘Fuck!’ was all Andy could manage.

‘Well, you’re on your own next time. But more of that later. Let’s get home and I’ll get this letter to the client.’

As they returned in the growing dawn, Andy could only imagine what was next.

[the-andrewspencer-stuff]

Thank you @ascrwlus and everyone who got me to 500 reblogs!

[the-andrewspencer-stuff]

Which part of us is real... Part 9

Shortly after midnight, Dave stopped the car behind some trees 50m away from the target’s house.

‘One last reminder, Andy – no names when we speak. Got it?’ Andy nodded his agreement.

Then he and Dave got out of the car, grabbed their bags and closed the doors quietly. After pulling their ski masks and gloves on, they were able to walk to the house out of sight of the road, although the road was empty, and had been all the time they had been watching from further away.

Walking on the grass to keep any noise to a minimum, they arrived at the back of the house, where Dave was able to pick the door lock. Without a sound the door was opened and they shuffled inside, leaving it slightly open, in case a fast exit was needed.

Up the stairs they went, keeping to the side of each step to reduce the possibility of any of them creaking, and they were quickly outside the target’s bedroom.

With a thumbs up from Dave, which was followed by a nod of the head from Andy, Dave went through the door with a deliberate crash and then they were quickly at the bed where a man in his 40s was just jerking awake. But he was already too late to do anything as Dave and Andy grabbed him and threw him into a chair which stood to the side of the bed. While Andy quickly taped him to the chair, Dave thrust a ball gag into his mouth, tying it behind his head. Andy then slipped the leather belt round the man’s neck, making sure it was snug, but not too tight – yet. The whole procedure had taken less than a minute, and the man was where they wanted him.

‘So, this is Theo Ryden, who’s been making misery for one of our clients’, Dave told Andy, ‘and we’re here to make sure he stops, right?’

With that, Andy pulled on the belt, tightening it around the man’s neck.

His eyes bulging, Theo shook his head, but Andy only pulled harder, causing him to squeal and then gasp through the gag as he couldn’t breathe.

After 30 seconds or so, Dave gestured to Andy, who released the belt, but kept his hand on it.

‘Not ready to comply, eh? Well, this might change your mind.’

With that, he pulled a clear plastic bag out of his backpack and pulled it over Theo’s head. Andy fitted the belt over the neck of the bag and pulled enough to trap the air inside.

Theo’s breathing got quicker and quicker as the oxygen ran out in from the bag and was replaced with carbon dioxide. As he watched the bag inflate and deflate, Andy’s grin under his mask grew wider and wider, and his cock strained under his combats. Glancing at Dave, he saw a similar reaction. He was definitely in the right place!

As Theo’s head slumped forward, Dave grabbed the bag and pulled it off and waited for the man to revive.

‘Did you not like that?’ Theo shook his head, his face covered with sweat, tears falling down his cheeks. ‘Well, all you need to do is to simply sign a piece of paper saying your reports are all false and that you’re resigning from your newspaper.’

With another shake of the head, Dave pulled the bag on again, Andy tightening the belt again.

This was repeated for nearly half an hour, until Theo finally nodded his head – he’d had enough and would do anything to make the torture stop.

The bag and belt were removed, and while Dave brought out a letter, Andy untied Theo’s left hand – Dave had done his research well – and once Theo had stopped shaking, he was given a pen to sign his name to the letter.

‘By the morning, all the newspapers and news channels will have a copy of this, and your crime reporting career will be over. You might even want to get out of the country as I’m sure others will be looking for you.

‘In the meantime, enjoy your trip while we get out of here.’

Dave then pulled a syringe out of his bag, carefully inserting it into a vein in Theo’s arm and injecting the contents. The effect was almost instantaneous, Theo’s eyes rolling back in his head as Dave and Andy removed the duct tape and ball gag. They led him to the bed and pulled a sheet over him. Dave left the syringe and a further supply of the narcotic on the bedside table.

‘He might need that!’ Dave told Andy as they moved quickly downstairs. They locked the back door and walked swiftly back to the car.

Checking that the road was clear, they set off back. As they pulled off their ski masks, they grinned at each other.

Dave patted Andy’s crotch. ‘No need to ask if you enjoyed that!’

‘Fuck!’ was all Andy could manage.

‘Well, you’re on your own next time. But more of that later. Let’s get home and I’ll get this letter to the client.’

As they returned in the growing dawn, Andy could only imagine what was next.

[rubberizer92]

He woke up in the chair again, the same way he always did — slow breaths through the glowing mask, eyes staring into the endless blue light. But something was different this time. He couldn’t remember. Not just what day it was, but anything. His name. His job. His life before rubber. All of it had been stripped away in the weeks of conditioning, until nothing human remained except his body, twitching with arousal.

The hiss of the tubes filled his ears, pumping signals and commands straight into his brain. His muscles strained inside the skin-tight latex, creaking as he shifted, every buckle and strap keeping him locked in place. And yet he didn’t fight it. He didn’t want to. He had forgotten how.

The programming filled his mind with a single truth: rubber is everything. Rubber is arousal. Rubber is obedience. Every time he inhaled, the thought was reinforced. Every time the light pulsed, his cock throbbed harder, leaking inside its sheath.

The weeks had blurred into one long session. He didn’t know how he had ended up here, who had strapped him down, or even when it began. He only knew that the Voice was always right, that pleasure was obedience, and obedience was pleasure.

More rubber. More arousal. More surrender.

His mind whispered it now on its own, even without the machine. He belonged here. He needed the straps. He needed the mask. He needed the Voice.

And soon, when the chair finally released him, he would not return to his old life. There was no old life anymore. There was only rubber, obedience, and the society waiting for him.

Do you want to get your own rubber AI art? Then click here for a commission: https://bit.ly/4huCvu0

Would you climb into the chair, knowing you’d wake weeks later with nothing left but lust and rubber obedience?

[the-andrewspencer-stuff]

Which part of us is real... Part 8

Max got dressed for work, while Andy pulled on some of Max’s clothing, enjoying the smell of the man he thought of as his husband, even though they were a bit small on him.

‘We’re going to have to go shopping soon. I’ve got no clothes of my own and I can probably afford it soon,’ he said, checking his banking app.

‘Matching leathers and helmet too?’ Max had noticed Andy’s lingering looks over his bike gear.

Andy smiled shyly, admitting that that would be good too.

After breakfast, Rob and Max set off for work. Andy was tired from the last night and went back to bed for a few hours.

He was woken up by Dave, who told him it was time to get up so they could talk about that evening’s job.

In the kitchen, they sat at the table, and Dave unfolded a plan of the house they were going to. Billy had been able to obtain this copy of the plans on the dark web. Dave pointed out the exterior doors, and the bedroom that the victim used. There were also photos of the house, taken from a drone, and even a shot through the bedroom window that showed the bed and the rest of the furniture.

With a tattooed finger, Dave traced the route through the house from the back door that they were to follow, up the stairs to the bedroom door.

‘How are we getting into the house?’

‘I’m going to pick the lock. Another skill for you to learn as soon as you can.’ Andy gave him the thumbs up.

The bedroom door’s unlocked, so it’s a quick rush in and overpower him in the bed and then we drag him into the chair that you can see there,’ he said, pointing at the photo of the room.

‘While he’s still confused, you duct-tape him to the chair, and I’ll stick a gag in his mouth. Then you’re going to put this round his neck’. Dave held up a thick leather belt. ‘This should be enough to get what we need, but I’ve got a few more things in case we need them.’ From a rucksack, he pulled a couple of thick plastic bags and then pointed at the two pistols that were sitting on the desk. ‘Last resort. After all, he’s not much use to us if he’s dead, is he?’ Andy just shook his head and turned a little pale.

‘Look mate, I know you get a fucking boner when you’ve been out with us, and even the thought turns you on. We all do,’ confirming to Andy what Max had said the day before, ‘but sometimes shit happens, and when it does, you’ve got to be ready for it. That’s why you need all the training we can give you. Gym time too. Ok?’ A nod of the head.

‘Good man!’ causing Andy to blush at the praise. ‘Oh, and, by the way, all your triggers are gone, well, apart from a couple we’ve not tried yet, and they are a bit more about fun than control, to be honest. You’re your own man and this is the real you.’

Andy sputtered, trying to find the right words. Eventually he said ‘I can feel it, as if a gaping hole in my life has finally been filled. A proper sense of purpose, surrounded by, yes, family. You’re going to be shocked to hear me say this, but perhaps Hell is empty and all of us devils are here?’

Dave snorted, but he could see that Andy was serious.

‘OK bro, how about this for an idea? You’ve got your big solo job on Friday night. If it goes well, we’ll give the proceeds to a local food bank. And if the others agree, we can give 10% of all we get to them for the next six months and see how it goes from there.’

Andy was very eager to agree to those terms. ‘Maybe it was a plan all along.’

Dave smiled to himself. Maybe he was a soft bastard, but he knew his men and what motivated them.

‘Right, it’s time for something to eat, and we can get the rest of the gear sorted out afterwards.

Andy needed to go through in his mind the plans for that evening’s job and look through the rucksack Dave had given him. Duct tape, bags, leather belt, a switchblade, and pistol in a side pocket. He felt the weight of the gun and felt a mixture of fear and exhilaration at being in charge of the weapon. He hoped he didn’t need to use it, even as a club, but he knew he needed to learn how to use it properly, and quick!

[the-andrewspencer-stuff]

Which part of us is real... Part 7

The next day, Andy spent most of the time running errands for Max and helping keep the shop tidy.

At lunchtime, Rob joined the two of them in a local greasy spoon for lunch. While Andy was at the counter getting the food ordered, Rob asked Max ‘Have you told him about tomorrow night yet?’

‘No, Dave’s going to talk to him tonight. Don’t know how happy he’ll be about it, but it’s all part of the job. And he’s getting there, so I think he’ll be ok in the end.’

‘He certainly gets excited by it, doesn’t he? He’s going to shoot his load one of these times,’ Rob chuckled. ‘Although he wouldn’t be the first, would he?’

Max blushed.

‘We’ve all been there,’ continued Rob, ‘even Dave.’

The afternoon continued as the morning had done, and when Max closed the shop, he and Andy went to Rob’s studio, where he got his tattoo that matched Andy’s, and in the same place. Although Andy was dark-haired, and Max a dark blond, their appearances were even closer after this.

After dinner, Dave asked Andy if they could have a talk. They went into a room in the house that had been set up as an office and, once seated in more casual chairs in a corner, Dave poured two glasses of whisky. They both drank, while smoking.

‘Andy, I wanted to talk to you about our job tomorrow night. It’s just going to be you and me, but this time we won’t be going somewhere empty. The information we’re being paid to get isn’t on documents, but in the mind of someone.’

‘OK,’ Andy said, ‘I’m listening.’

‘We’ve agreed to extract this information urgently, so you’ll need to follow my instructions to the letter when we get there. You understand?’

Andy nodded.

‘The target will be at his most vulnerable when he’s asleep, so we’re going to get there about midnight and then wait until I think the time is right. Now, this is probably going to take some physical persuasion. He’s not just going to give us what we want without resistance. You ok with that?’

‘Fuck it, if that’s what it takes, count me in.’ Dave couldn’t help noticing that Andy was absent-mindedly rubbing his cock as he’d been taking this all in, and he smiled to himself.

‘Good man! We’ll leave here about ten tomorrow, as it’s quite a drive. I suggest you have a relaxing day tomorrow around the house. I’ll get together with you in the afternoon and we can make some more plans, and I’ll get us kitted out with what we’ll need.

‘Right, I’ve had a long day. Help yourself,’ he nodded to the bottle of whisky, ‘and I’ll let Max know we’re finished. I’m sure my little brother is anxious to know how our chat has gone!’

Sure enough, seconds after Dave left the room, and before Andy could even reach for the bottle, Max rushed in.

‘Well?’

‘Fuck, I love the new me!’ was Andy’s simple reply, as he poured Max a drink and topped up his own.

Max’s smile was broad and, as they sat and drank and smoked, he explained how nervous he’d been to hear how Andy had reacted to Dave’s plans.

‘You know there’ll be no going back after this, don’t you?’

‘Nah, don’t want to go back, only forward. Forward with you and the others.’

‘You are beyond my wildest dreams, you know that?! C’mon, lets go to bed – it’s time we had our first night together’.

Andy followed him up the stairs, wondering what Max’s room looked like. When he went in, he found it a bit of a mess. Clothes all over the place, although Max’s kit for the jobs they did was hanging up neatly on a hook behind the door. On a table sat a laptop, and also a black bike helmet, and the matching one-piece leathers hung over the door of a wardrobe, the boots sitting on the floor underneath.

Andy looked at the bike gear with interest, but Max hugged him from behind and then they were both pulling each other’s clothes off, before Max tugged him into bed, reaching out to turn off the light.

Andy’s first experience of getting fucked was a bit of a mixture. Painful at first, but soon he was loving it. Max expertly pressed all of Andy’s buttons, getting more and more turned on by his moans and groans of pleasure. The two came together, Max up Andy’s hole, Andy, a little painfully, from his pierced cock into the pillow he lay on. Exhausted, they fell asleep, Andy cradled in his husband’s arms.

The next morning, the alarm woke both of them. It was time for Max to get ready and go to work. They showered together, wiping off the dried cum from their bodies before lathering each other up. Nothing was said between them – nothing needed to be said, as they were still in the glow of the previous night.

[the-andrewspencer-stuff]

Which part of us is real... Part 6

The next evening, they all were outside, Rob cooking at the barbeque. The big table they ate around was soon filled with empty beer bottles as the gang relaxed.

As the sun went down, Max went and got him and Andy hoodies and they were left alone, moving to a garden sofa and they cuddled up together.

‘Dave told me what you said to him yesterday you know?’

Andy blew out smoke and thought, before replying.

‘It was the truth my love. I know you’ve changed me in ways that I don’t really understand but it also feels that has genuinely opened floodgates in my mind. I feel like a lot of this is the real, the old, me, that was trapped inside.

‘The truth is, apart from the changes to my appearance, I really don’t know how much my mind has been changed, and how much has been repressed all my life.’

‘Ah, the truth,’ said Max, as he took a drag on his cigarette. ‘Well, to be honest, the truth is that, yes, we did some mild conditioning on you, as well the triggers to wake you and send you to sleep, but a lot of this is you. We had no idea how you would react to all of this, but pretty quickly we could tell that a lot of your mental changes were coming from you.

‘A lot of the time, while you’ve been asleep, we’ve only been getting you to like our taste in music!’ Max grinned.

Andy roared with laughter and thrust his hand down Max’s pants, fondling his cock, while kissing him deeply.

‘I’ve seen you around town and had a few fantasies about you,’ said Max when he came up for air, ‘so when you came into the shop I couldn’t resist. We’d been talking about getting a sixth, and I was feeling a little out of things. And here we are.

‘Are you disappointed?’ Max shyly asked.

‘Hell no! You’ve shown me the real me. Although I think it’s going to take more conditioning to get me to like your music’ he laughed.

Max blew his cheeks out in relief. ‘Thank you, my love. And I mean that. Although we’re supposedly married, I think we’re beginning to feel like a proper couple.

‘So, what do you want?’

Andy thought for a while before nodding his agreement. ‘I don’t know how we’re going to do it, but even if it’s something with the six of us, it would be great to celebrate.

‘But I do want to please Dave with some shooting lessons, and,’ he said, fishing out his driving license, ‘I need to learn how to ride a bike, as I’ve already got this!’

‘My kinda guy,’ Max replied, showing his own license. ‘I’ve only got a provisional bike license so we can learn together, but I can take you shooting. I know somewhere we can go where we won’t be disturbed.’

He pulled Andy into him. ‘Come with me tomorrow and we can spend the day together. I really want that.’

‘Me too. I’m pretty good with the broom and the coffees. But I’ll do anything you want me to. And we can have lunch together…’

Max was touched by Andy’s suggestion. ‘Maybe you can appreciate my music too,’ he chuckled, ‘and afterwards I can get my new tattoo with our initials’.

Soon it was time for bed and, with a slight hint of regret, Max put Andy into his calm state before taking him upstairs.

‘Not much more of this my love,’ he told Andy, as he triggered him to unconsciousness and put the headphones on. ‘Just a few additions you need.’

[the-andrewspencer-stuff]

Which part of us is real... Part 5

Quick thanks to everyone who's liked and reblogged this tale so far. Several more chapters to come! And I'm always open to suggestions for this or other stories.

They let themselves in and sat while Rob finished up with his only client for the day, an older man who was just having a simple image on his upper arm. He looked as if he was trying to make sure it was easily hidden. As the man paid for the work, Rob looked over at the other two and rolled his eyes, causing them to laugh.

When the man had gone, Rob locked the front door and turned the sign to ‘Closed’.

‘Right, shirt off and sit in the chair first Andy’.

Quickly Rob inked ‘VI’ on a small patch of Andy’s head, behind his right ear before starting on an intricate intertwining of the letters A and M just below Andy’s collarbone.

‘Max is going to get this too, so you two lovebirds can match,’ Dave told him. At the mention of Max, Andy’s cock twitched, a reaction that didn’t go unnoticed by either Dave or Rob.

Once that was done, the three men stepped out the back and had a smoke, before Rob was ready to continue his work.

‘Face down on the table this time,’ Andy was instructed, and then he began work on Andy’s biggest piece, that continued the flowing tribal designs from his neck and arm over his back.

Several hours later, and with Andy in some pain, it was finished and protected.

Back in the chair, Rob got out his piercing needles and decided to be kind to Andy this time. ‘Wake nine five’ and Andy’s glazed over.

Working at a leisurely pace, he swapped out the plugs in Andy’s ears for some slightly larger ones, before piercing both nipples with silver rings. He then stroked Andy’s cock until it was stiff and proceeded to give him a Prince Albert.

Rob looked to Dave, who nodded his pleasure with the additions, before triggering Andy back to full awareness.

Andy stood up and went to a full-length mirror. Although he was sore in many places, he couldn’t help admiring the new changes.

‘Fucking love it – thanks Rob’

‘Right, let’s get home. We’ve got another job tonight. Just you, me and Max this time. Shouldn’t take long,’ said Dave.

When they got home, Andy showed his husband the new changes. Max loved them and said he looked forward to getting his matching monogram. He stroked Andy’s cock, feeling for the PA, which made Andy wince, but Max just guided Andy’s hand to his own crotch so that he could feel Max’s own version.

Dave then instructed Max and Andy to get changed into their ‘work gear’ and then he let Andy look inside the backpack. There Andy found the tools and drill he’d used previously and a balaclava. But in a side pocket there was a small pistol and a silencer.

‘This is just for emergencies tonight, but I want you trained on its proper use as soon as possible,’ he told him. ‘You’ve shown you can be trusted, Andy, and this is the start of the payback.’

‘Next weekend, I’ve got a little job for you to do solo, but I’ll tell you about that nearer the time.’ Andy’s cock definitely twitched at that and his brown eyes showed the thrill of anticipation.

‘Now, let’s get in the car and get going,’ Dave ordered.

Andy sat in the front as Dave drove them south, Max in the back seat. After an hour on the dark roads, they arrived at an isolated house located behind a stand of trees.

‘The owner’s away on holiday, but we’d better check there’s no one around’ muttered Dave.

Cutting the lights on the car, they glided up the driveway before pulling up in front of the house.

Pulling their balaclavas and gloves on, they got out of the car. They checked around the house, but there were no signs of life. By torchlight, Max was able to disable a primitive alarm – it wasn’t connected anywhere and would have only set off a bell on the outside of the house.

Around the back of the house, it was even darker, empty fields in view. With a swift kick, Andy was able to force the back door open and the three entered, pistols drawn, listening for any sound, but none came. It was safe to return their weapons to their bags.

They searched the lower floor until they found a study, in which an large stood behind the desk. Once more, Andy followed Dave’s guidance on what to do, and soon the safe was open. Inside there were some documents, along with a considerable amount of cash and a few expensive looking watches, all of which were handed over to Dave.

‘Let’s get going,’ Max said and soon the three were back in the car, balaclavas off. Smoke filled the car in celebration of a job well done.

Andy’s cock strained in his combats, despite the pain and Dave gave it a rub, adding to the discomfort.

‘Fuck, why didn’t I meet you guys earlier?’

Max leant forward and kissed the back of Andy’s neck and reached over and started to tease his newly pierced nipples. More pain, but Andy moaned with the pleasure.

When they returned home, Dave went out on his bike, taking the proceeds with him. Max told Andy that they usually worked to order and that the documents were what they were told to extract. But that the cash and watches will be laundered before they show up in their accounts.

[the-andrewspencer-stuff]

Which part of us is real... Part 4

The next morning, Max went to collect Andy, but he couldn't help staring at him lying in bed. He leaned over and engulfed Andy’s cock in his mouth and began to work on it until it was at full attention. He looked forward to doing that when Andy was fully awake, but he contented himself with what he’d managed so far.

He reached over and removed Andy’s headphones and whispered, ‘Wake nine five’, knowing that he wouldn’t be having to use that trigger phrase much longer, although there were others up his sleeve that he hadn’t used yet.

He helped Andy to dress in an old black t-shirt and sweatpants and led him downstairs, where he put on a pair of sneakers before being sat down at the kitchen table. Rob was making breakfast for the three of them as Dave, Billy and Ian had already gone out.

Max then brought Andy to full consciousness.

‘Dave left this for you,’ he said, handing Andy a battered wallet. Andy took it and looked inside. It contained the drivers license in the name of Andy Scott, as well as an ATM card and £50 in banknotes.

‘You’ve got an online banking account, where your share of the proceeds will go. And here’s a phone so you can access it. It’s locked for now and you can only access your bank details and the rest of our numbers, as well as a group chat for the six of us. No other calls or apps, until we know we can trust you, ok?’

Andy just nodded and put the phone and wallet into his pants pockets.

He still felt a bit numb about his whole situation, although he felt his cock twitch when the idea of getting more money from further jobs was mentioned.

‘Fuck,’ he thought, ‘I’m really getting into this!’

As he put his hand on Max’s, he said ‘Thank you’, and then leaned over and pulled him into a kiss before breaking away and looking at their wedding rings.

The newly found sexual tension was broken by Billy putting down a fried breakfast in front of them. Breakfast was followed by a coffee and a smoke in the garden and Rob told Andy that he was coming with them to their shops.

In the garage, Andy noticed that one of the cars had gone, together with two of the bikes, and assumed that they had been taken by Dave, Billy and Ian.

He got in the other car with Max and Rob, and they drove into town. On the way, Max explained that they trusted Andy with their address – after all, it was on his license, and Andy grinned, feeling more relaxed than ever. Soon they arrived in the alley behind the barbers and tattoo shops. There was just about enough room to park, and Rob made sure he put his shop owner’s permit on display.

It was a Sunday morning, and Andy could hear the church bells ringing. He knew it was from his former church. He felt unsteady on his feet, but Rob guided into Max’s barber shop.

‘Let’s get some music on.’ Max said, and soon the electronic music was enough to cover up any noise from outside.

Once that intrusion had gone, Andy felt better, and Max told him to get in the chair. The shop didn’t open until 11, and Max had more than plenty of time to sort Andy out before the blinds went up and the front door was unlocked.

As it had been over a week since Andy had last been in the chair, he was in desperate need of a tidy up.

‘I’m going to have to show you how to do this yourself at home, but for the time being, this one’s on the house’ Max told Andy as he helped him into the chair. ‘Shirt off!’

While Rob was out the back boiling a kettle for the shaving foam and making coffees at the same time, Max used his clippers and scissors and tidied up Andy’s beard, before he got the soap and water from Rob and started on Andy’s head, before working down to his chest.

With a final flourish, Max took his electric trimmer and cut a slit in each of Andy’s eyebrows. ‘Perfect!’ was Max’s reaction to his work, and Andy agreed it did look good.

Finally, he nodded down at Andy’s crotch. ‘I’m going to finish up down there’.

Andy blushed, but with encouragement, he pulled down his sweatpants, and with exquisite care, Max shaved his husband’s cock and balls.

‘Not a nick. You can thank me later,’ he grinned, and this time there was no escaping the fact that Andy’s cock was full as he thought of what ‘later’ would entail.

Andy got re-dressed as Max began to get the shop ready to open.

‘C’mon Andy, lets go to the local and let Max get his shop up and running. I’m not open until 1 and we’ve got time for a few.’

Andy’s anxiety returned with a snap at the thought of going into a local bar. After all, who might recognise him.

‘It’s ok Andy,’ said Rob, understanding what was going on. ‘No one’s going to see who you used to be – relax.’

Glancing in the mirror, he realised Rob was right. He barely recognised himself, down to the eyes, which had more steel behind them than he’d ever seen before. As he left the shop, he lit a cigarette for Rob before lighting one for himself.

Rob deliberately kept Andy standing outside the bar for longer than necessary, using the time to smoke and see Andy’s reactions to people passing by. They’d been there about ten minutes when he saw Andy’s hand clench.

‘That’s Miss Wallace. She’s the church organist!’

Rob knew he had to do something deliberate, so as the woman reached them, he stopped her and asked if she had the time.

She looked them up and down with a curl of her lips but looked at her watch and told them that it was 11:20. Then she scuttled away, muttering something about ‘hooligans’.

‘Fuck you,’ muttered Andy, giving her the middle finger.

Rob grinned as he pushed the bar door open – Andy had passed another test.

Inside the bar, Rob told Andy to get two pints while he went and sat down near the rear of the bar. They spent the next hour talking about some of Rob’s exploits in the gang, any thoughts about what might be happening next, and finding more out about Max.

They went outside a couple of times to smoke, and soon Andy had a pleasant buzz – he’d never been a big drinker. Andy had spent the first of his earnings, and it felt good!

At 12:30, Rob got up to go and get his studio ready to open. Andy got up to go with him, but when they got outside, Rob said he was booked until 4 and that Andy would be on his own until then.

‘You trust me?’

‘Well, yes, but Wake Nine Nine’ Rob said, before patting Andy on the head.

Andy was about to ask what had happened but found he couldn’t speak.

‘We thought if you couldn’t speak, then we could let you have a little independence for a few hours,’ Rob explained. ‘You can always get something to eat at the self-service tills in Tesco! Oh, and you can’t write either…’ He gave Andy a full pack of cigarettes and walked back towards his shop.

Andy knew there was no point in going to Max’s in this state, but, frustrated as he was, he understood why Rob had done this. So, after having another cigarette, he started down the street towards the town centre.

He was pleased that, as it was Sunday, the town wasn’t too busy. He wandered into the small supermarket on the main square, and bought himself a sandwich and a drink, following Rob’s suggestion of using the self-service till. Not having a bag with him, he took them to a bench outside and had his lunch.

He sat and smoked while people-watching and enjoying the sunshine but, as the church clock struck two, he got up and headed in the direction of his former life.

His first port of call was the vicarage, where he had lived for 3 years. It looked deserted, and the curtains were all drawn closed on the ground floor.

He then went to the church, which was round the corner. The Victorian building looked no different, although the noticeboard outside had already been amended. A strip of duct tape had been put over ‘Father Andrew Samson’.

Andy felt an irrational twang of guilt on seeing that, but he brushed that aside as he walked up to the church door, which he knew would be open until later that afternoon.

When he entered, it was like stepping back in time, and by more then a few days. He walked around the church, looking for any sign of his time there, but found nothing. He supposed that he wasn’t a popular person around there anymore, but he was surprised at how little that affected him.

As he reached the front of the church, he heard the church door opening behind him. His heart leaped and he worried about who was coming in. He turned round, but saw, with relief, that it was Dave.

Dave was standing there, in his combat pants, bomber jacket and boots, and in his gloved hand he was holding a black rucksack.

‘Thought I might find you in here Andy,’ he said. ‘Oh, and Wake Eight Eight’

As if a switch had been flicked in his head, Andy found his speech had returned.

‘Yeah, just wondered what it felt like.’

‘And?’

‘Nothing. Nothing at all. As if I’d never been here. And it looks like the people here feel the same way. Let’s get out of here’

Dave put his arm round Andy’s shoulder, and they walked back to the church door, stopping only for Andy to write ‘Andy Scott’ in the visitor’s book. He thought briefly about what to put in the address column and simply added ‘Paradise’.

Stepping outside into the sunshine, Andy felt as if he’d shed his old skin and he and Dave walked confidently through the streets. Dave handed over the rucksack, which Andy slung over his shoulder. It was heavy and Andy wondered what was in it, but a look into Dave’s steel-blue eyes made him pause in questioning him.

Over the next hour or so, they wandered the town before going into a coffee shop. Dave got them a drink and then Andy saw two men walk in, talking. With a jolt, he recognised them as the churchwardens.

They sat down at the next table, and it dawned on him that they were talking about him. How much ‘Father Andrew’ had left them in the lurch, and that they were having to cope with stand-ins until a permanent replacement could be found.

When Dave returned with two mugs, he started talking to Andy about Max. Andy glanced at his wedding ring.

‘Fuck, Dave, Max is the best thing that’s happened to me and having you as my brother-in-law is the icing on the fucking cake.’

‘Me too Andy,’ Dave replied, ‘it feels like our family’s complete with you in it the last year.’

Andy kept watching the men, but, apart from a slight flinch at his coarse language, they didn’t react to his voice or appearance.

Dave indicated it was time to leave and get to Rob’s.

Andy stood up and deliberately knocked one of the men on the way past, making it look like an accident.

‘Sorry mate,’ he said and both men looked at him directly. The ‘victim’ said ‘It’s ok, the tables are a bit tight in here!’ He smiled to show he was ok.

When they got round the corner, Andy explained to Dave who they were and why he’d done what he had.

‘They hadn’t a fucking clue who I am,’ he said proudly.

That made Dave laugh. ‘Good for you Andy,’ he said. ‘Looks like we didn’t need to keep you silent after all.’

As they walked to the studio, smoking as they went, Andy felt as if he’s passed another test, but in this case one he’d set himself.

[farmer12]