A New Direction

This story is copyright of Peircedskin and may only be posted on non-charging making web sites without the author's direct permission. Anyone else must first e-mail the author for permission.

As usual, this story contains gay themes and if you are offended by them I suggest you look elsewhere.

Chapter One

It was not a good day for Tom Brady. As of close of work that day he was unemployed, due to some back handed dealings from his business partner Mark Davies and his ex-wife Patricia.

The small manufacturing company that he had built from scratch had just been sold to a larger national company leaving him with a few thousand pounds in the bank, the clothes on his back, and a small clapped out car that he had bought as an emergency purchase after his company car had been taken off him.

It had seemed so right to give Patricia the controlling interest in the company. They were husband and wife, after all. How was he to know that she and Mark were shagging like bunnies behind his back? Then, when the other company had made an offer to buy them out, the bitch had voted with Mark to accept and take the money. At the same time, she had hit him with divorce papers citing mental cruelty as the reason for leaving. The reality was that she and Mark were getting married. The worst part was that after the debts had been paid he was left with only a few thousand, whilst the two of them had salted away a good chunk of the profits beforehand. They were living in the lap of luxury and he was living out of the boot of his car which contained his few possessions. The final humiliation was the contract that he had had to sign agreeing that he wouldn't take any management position for the next two years to avoid a "conflict of interests" as they called it.

Tom sighed as he looked at the fuel gauge. He had driven out of the city to clear his head, and wasn't paying too much attention to much, not the direction he was headed in or more to the point, the amount of fuel in the car.

Just up ahead he could see a filling station. He was in luck! Pulling in, he filled the car to the brim then went inside to pay. It was a grubby little place, not that clean and certainly not shiny and new looking as most modern garages were these days. Behind the counter was an old fella in dirty overalls. The years hadn't been kind to him and he had a fringe of dirty white hair surrounding a mottled old head. The face was creased with wrinkles, but it was set in what looked like a permanent scowl.

Barely glancing up as Tom passed over his credit card, his face creased up even more as he looked at the display.

"This card ain't no good," he growled. "Got any cash to pay for that petrol?"

Tom panicked. The reason he had used the card was because he only had a tenner in his wallet. Worse, he remembered that he had a joint account with Patricia. The bitch must have cleaned it out. He was broke completely. Ten pounds to his name and a tank of petrol he couldn't pay for.

Tom tried to explain this to the old man, but got a dirty look for his trouble.

"Petrol must be paid for son, and if you ain't got the cash then you will have to pay for it some other way."

"How can I pay?" asked Tom confused.

"Well, I ain't had a bit of young mouth for the longest time," was the grinned reply. "You can give me a bit of satisfaction to start with."

Tom looked in horror as the old man fumbled in his overalls and pulled out a thick wrinkled cock. Standing up, the old man grabbed Toms head and forced him to his knees. The smell of stale piss wafted into Tom's nostrils and he felt it push against his resisting mouth.

"Come on then son, time to start paying." And the old man pushed his cock into the barely open mouth.

As Tom felt the cock force his mouth open he started to gag. Slowing down, the old man let Tom get used to the feeling before he began a rhythmic thrusting which slowly got faster until with a grunt his hot juice flooded into Tom's mouth and down his throat.

As the old man pulled out, Tom felt himself wretch and had trouble holding down the bile as he spat the remains of the old mans spunk out of his mouth. He had never been so humiliated in his life, and hoped that the old man would accept this humiliation as his payment.

Suddenly, he heard a voice behind him. "Well, well granddad, looks like you found yourself a bit of fun?"


Chapter Two

Turning round to face the voice, Tom was horrified to see a forty to forty-five-year-old guy dressed in a security guard's uniform. Standing about six feet tall and built like a tank, Tom noticed his belly sticking out over his thick leather belt which held up a pair of black trousers stretched to capacity with the thick tree trunk legs ending in a pair of mirror polished black combat boots. The blue shirt was short sleeved and revealed large tattooed arms ending in big ham-like hands. Tom could see badges on the sleeves and epaulettes saying the word Security, and sergeants stripes were pinned to the epaulettes showing that this man was a supervisor. The short neck poking out of the button down collar was thick, and the head was large and wearing a black peaked cap. Underneath, it looked like the man had shaved his head, but there was a thick goatee framing his mouth. A thick gold ring in his left ear completed the impression that this man was not someone to mess with. He straightened his black clip on tie as he walked forward.

"What have I told you about fucking the customers, granddad?" he said menacingly. "You know what happened last time."

The old man sat down and looked a bit sheepish. "But he owes me for his petrol. The card's been cancelled, and he ain't got no cash on him."

"This true, pal?"

"I'm afraid so," replied Tom, launching into his tale of woe for the second time that day.

"Well, this might just be your lucky night. You need a bit of work to tide you over for a while, and it just so happens one of our men has jacked it in leaving us short for tonight so we could do with a bit of help. You help me out, and I might help you out."

Tom thought for a moment, then realised that he didn't have a lot of choice. "I suppose I can do it for a while, and then I can find a proper job in a few weeks. My name's Tom."

"My name's Dave, but on duty you should call me 'Sir' or 'Sarge.'"

Tom smiled. "Whatever you say, Sarge."

"Good boy, I think you'll do fine."

The old man watched them leave and felt a bit sorry for Tom. All he had wanted was a bit of ass and a mouth round his cock. Afterwards he would have let the guy go and no hard feelings. Getting mixed up with Sarge and his lot was going to lead to a world of possible unpleasantness.



Chapter Three

Sarge led Tom to a small white car parked outside. The word Security was painted in large black letters on each side. Tom felt a thrill of excitement running down his spine as he wondered what he was letting himself in for as Sarge drove off down the road.

"Don't worry, pal. We need to get you fixed up with a uniform, so we'll shoot round to the office and get you kitted out. Your car will be fine where it is. Granddad will look after it."

"I wasn't worried exactly," replied Tom. "It's just I've never done this before. Till today I was a desk jockey and it is a bit hard starting again at thirty years old."

"No problem. If I can help you out at any time then just ask."

Tom considered this as they drove, looking at Sarge as they went. Perhaps first impressions were wrong. Sarge looked like he was a nice guy after all. Perhaps the thug look was only for show.

Suddenly, Sarge pulled out a long thick cigar and proceeded to light it after first biting a small piece off the end. Tom coughed as the thick acrid smoke filled the car, and rolled the window down.

"Don't like ?em?" Sarge grinned round the tube of rolled tobacco. "I don't feel human unless I have a big fat cigar in my mouth. You should try it. It'll put hairs on your chest."

"Sorry, I've never smoked in my life and have no intention of starting now." Replied Tom. "Besides, I don't even have enough money for a roof over my head, never mind the money to sustain an unpleasant habit like that one."

"Assertive bugger, aren't you? That's something to keep in mind." Sarge replied cryptically.

Suddenly, He turned the car off the main road into a side street .The area was a little run down, but at least the rent must be quite low thought Tom. There appeared to be an old gym on one side and a barbers shop was unmistakeable with its old fashioned red and white striped pole rotating above the door. The building they were heading for was at the far end.

Sarge pulled the car up to the curb and beckoned for Tom to follow him as he got out. Opening the front door with a set of keys, Sarge walked inside closely followed by Tom.

"Give me a minute, I need to call the Boss and let him know what's going on. Coffee machine is over there, make yourself useful and load it up." And with that, he disappeared into a back room.

Tom felt a little resentful at being ordered round like a nobody, then realised that in Sarge's eyes he probably was a nobody. Bottom of the ladder and unproven. Still, it was humiliating to be given menial tasks when he was used to being the one giving the orders. With a rueful smile, he proceeded to load up the machine and sat listening to it gurgle away to itself. In the next room he could hear Sarge talking on the phone. Most of it was muffled and undistinguishable, but the odd word or phrase came through.

"The usual contract?"

"but of course..."

"if that's how you want it done..."


"body needs work..."

"start straight away..."

The conversation carried on for a few minutes then Sarge came back in looking happy. "The Boss agrees with me and we can get you sorted straight away. There is a cot at the back of the store cupboard here that you can sleep on until you find a place of your own. The Boss will deduct a small amount from your salary to compensate for the utilities and sundries you use while you are hear."

"That's great," said Tom. "You won't believe how grateful I am for all your help."

"Don't worry about it," replied Sarge. "Let's get ourselves a coffee while we start the paperwork. How do you take it? Hopefully black as we are out of creamer."

"Black will be fine," said Tom with a shudder. He only ever drank milky but he realised that he needed some sort of stimulant in his system. It had been a very stressful day.

Sarge poured two cups of coffee and sugared both of them. Tom didn't really care for sugar either, but he was glad that something would take the bitterness out of the black brew.

"First we need to get you all signed up for insurance purposes. The contract of employment is pretty standard, you can just sign on the dotted line in all the right places and we can fill in the details later. Anything I should know before we start? Any next of kin, family, that sort of thing?"

"No one really," replied Tom. "I always put Patricia down as my next of kin, but now we are apart there isn't anybody. I'm an only child and my parents are dead."

Sarge grinned to himself as he opened a cabinet and took out a reasonably thick set of papers. This was going to be easier than he thought. Quickly sorting out the pages that would change Tom's life forever he looked at his newest prospect. Not bad, he thought, at least there is something to work with. About the same height as Sarge, Tom was considerably thinner with a fit swimmers body. His hair was cut in a classic floppy fringe style, longer at the back with the sides swept round the ears so that it all moved in a sexy way as he turned his head. The suit that he wore was crumpled but obviously expensive. The white shirt was mottled with sweat and the tie was undone and hanging either side of the buttons. Basically, Tom looked like a very sorry specimen who had been dragged through a hedge backwards.

Taking a deep breath, Tom signed the contract in the places that Sarge indicated. He worried slightly over not reading it first, but then shrugged his shoulders mentally. It wasn't as though he had much choice really. As he worked his way through the contract he noticed Sarge was putting his name in various places as well. Noticing Toms glance, Sarge replied that he was putting himself down as next of kin. Dave Sergeant.

Finishing off, Sarge poured some more coffee. Tom was surprised to realise that he had already drunk the first cup. Sipping the brew, Sarge said ?Let's get you cleaned up. There is a shower through there. You use it while I get you a towel and sort you a uniform out."

Tom looked round at the shower and realised that there was no privacy.

"Don't worry, I've seen too much for you to become shy now. After what you did for granddad?"

Tom blushed. He was hoping to forget that incident, so rather than comment he slipped out of his clothes and into the shower. Sarge moved into the next room and Tom breathed a sigh of relief. At least he could finish off in peace.

"Hurry up in there, we ain't got all day boy!" shouted Sarge.

Tom jumped and hurried to dry himself off. As he ran into the next room still naked he saw Sarge with a thick cigar in his mouth and his thumbs hooked into his trouser pockets. "Not good enough boy. You work for me now, when I say jump you should be in the air before I finish saying how high. Got it?"

"I don't understand," began Tom but he was interrupted by Sarge backhanding him across the mouth.

"You never interrupt or contradict me boy. Is that totally clear? The contract you signed is very clear. You are expected to give total obedience to all superior officers. You are also expected to perform all duties as ordered by that superior officer whether you are working or not." Sarge paused, then started to undo his belt and trousers. "As you need to be put into the picture, I think a demonstration is in order. You seemed to be enjoying the little service that you performed for granddad so you can show me the same sort of gratitude."

Tom gasped as Sarge pulled a long thick cock out of his pants. Through the piss slit was a thick ring held closed by a small ball. He hadn't intended it to, but his first experience at giving a blow job had turned him on big time, making his cock rock hard even though it was the most disgusting thing he had ever done in his life. Sarge looked down at Tom's swelling cock and laughed. "Looks like it might not be that bad for you after all? and grabbing Tom's hair dragged him down to his knees where Sarge could shove the huge piece of meat into Tom's barely resisting mouth.

Fucking Tom's mouth hard, Sarge sucked on the cigar in his mouth puffing thick clouds round Tom's head as he struggled for breath with that huge monster scraping the back of his throat.

With a loud bellow Sarge shot his huge wad of spunk into Tom's mouth. With an answering groan Tom felt his throbbing cock explode in sympathy shooting long strings of man-juice onto Sarge's boot.

Pulling his cock out of Tom's mouth, Sarge wiped it clean on Tom's head. Pointing to his boot, he growled, "Clean it up boy. Use your tongue." Tom bowed his head and licked the white fluid off the boot. With tears in his eyes he realised that this might not be the good fortune that he had first thought.


Chapter Four

Wiping his mouth, Tom looked up at Sarge tucking his huge cock back into his pants. Something felt very strange, but Tom couldn't work out what it was. This man had just raped his mouth and all Tom could think about was doing it again. He had never been attracted to any man before in his life, but all he could think about was obeying this brute of a man in any way that was required. Something fundamental had shifted in his psyche and he felt totally off balance.

Sarge looked at Tom and smiled. The coffee had done its job. He had added a little something to the brew to make Tom more responsive. It looked like Tom had a streak of submissiveness in his makeup or the brew wouldn't have been so effective. Sarge looked forward to seeing how far Tom would fall before he was the man Sarge had decided he would become.

"Time to do something about your appearance, boy. You look a mess. Not the sort of man that we like to employ here." He paused for a moment then opened a cupboard pulling out a shapeless set of dirty orange overalls. "Put these on. We need to get you looking right before you get to put your uniform on."

Tom pulled the overalls on over his naked skin. They felt coarse and uncomfortable but rubbed his cock and nipples in a not unpleasant way. Sarge passed him a pair of battered rigger boots which Tom slipped onto his feet with difficulty as he had no socks on.

"You will wear these at all times you aren't wearing your uniform, boy," said Sarge. "If you are good I might let you wear socks with them, otherwise you will have to make do with them as they are. Understood?"

Tom nodded. From an Armani suit to overalls in a matter of minutes. He wished he could see himself in a mirror as he felt ridiculous and assumed that he looked as bad as he felt. Hopefully the day couldn't get any worse, but he had a very bad feeling that it would.

When Tom was dressed, Sarge told him to follow. They left the offices they were in and headed towards the barber shop a few doors down.

"Please Sarge," begged Tom as it became obvious where their destination was. "Don't do something drastic like making me shave my head."

"What did I tell you about contradicting me boy?" Sarge said angrily as he grabbed Tom by the upper arm and squeezed hard.

Tom cried out in pain and quickly yelled out, "Sorry Sarge Sir!!"

"That's better boy. You need punishing for your insolence though, so I'll deal with it after your cut."

Tom gasped as Sarge let go of his arm and pushed him into the barbers. He was scared of what Sarge was going to do but excited as well. His cock strained the coarse fabric of his overalls and he had a strong feeling of remorse at disappointing Sarge. Where had that come from? It wasn't as though he even liked the man, never mind respected him, but when he looked at Sarge he felt a strong need of the mans approval.

The barbers shop was quite a large place but looked like it had been split into two with another shop in the back. Tom could hear a buzzing noise coming from behind the partition. The one wall had mirrors across it with four chairs equally spaced in front of them. Around the walls were pictures of men with different hairstyles. Tom had noticed them before when he had had his hair done but these seemed to be slightly different. They were all large men; some seemed to be body builders others were more rounded, as though from hard work. All of them sported unusual haircuts, from shaved bald, to Mohican, to dreadlocks, to other styles that Tom couldn't even give a name to.

The man Tom assumed was the barber came forward. He had on a white coat similar to a nurse's coverall, with the side panel undone and hanging down the front revealing a heavily tattooed chest. His head was smooth and gleaming but it was unusual in that there were four short spikes embedded in the top like some sort of metal Mohawk.

"Hey Sarge, brought a new recruit to see me have you?" he said in a deep gruff rumble.

"Sure have, Spike. You've got a bit of work to do on this one to make him look right. Needs his hair done, a bit of metal, and anything else you feel needs to be done." Sarge paused. "Oh, we'll need the special mask as well. This one still hasn't learned who's boss yet so I want to punish him by making him do something he hates."

"Sure thing. You're the boss. You get him settled in the special chair, and I'll get my stuff."

Sarge grabbed Tom and pulled him into the corner where a chair he hadn't noticed before was placed away from the mirrors. Tom caught a quick glimpse of orange in the mirror before he was thrown into the chair but didn't get a good look at himself. Sarge quickly restrained Tom with the buckled straps that Tom hadn't noticed on the arms and middle of the chair. He was now held at the wrists and waist, and Sarge quickly bent down and did up similar straps on his ankles.

"There you go," he grinned. "No moving now. I want you to be a good boy for the nice barber and do whatever he wants. I need to run an errand so I'll be back in a while. Relax and enjoy it boy, if I hear you haven't done as you're told I'll make you regret it for a week. Understand?"

Tom nodded numbly. "That's my boy," said Sarge. "Don't worry, I'll look after you. Eventually you will learn to love all of this as much as I do." With that, he suddenly grabbed Tom's head and kissed him roughly. Tom felt the tongue in his mouth and responded with surprising ferocity. Sarge had a thick bar bell in his tongue which Tom could feel scraping on his teeth as they tongue wrestled. Abruptly Tom felt his cock explode again and Sarge held the kiss until Tom stopped juddering, then released him. Feeling the damp patch in his groin, Tom smiled at Sarge in apology. Sarge rubbed Tom's head in approval before he walked off out of the shop.

Suddenly Spike reappeared from the back. "Sarge gone? Oh well, I was going to ask him what he wanted me to do, but it's pretty obvious from the look of you. Shall we begin?"


Chapter Five

Tom looked at Spike apprehensively. As he started to comb through the longish hair on his head, Tom groaned as he felt his cock growing hard again, straining the sticky fabric of the overalls. This was getting ridiculous. Why was he so constantly horny? Spike smiled and grabbed Toms cock through the material. "Enjoy the feeling son. Soon this will be a major part of your life. You had better get used to it."

With that, he pulled out a white apron which he draped over Tom and tucked around his neck. Pulling out a small brown bottle, he pinched Tom's nostril and ordered him to sniff hard. Tom complied and felt his heart thump in his chest as his head started to swim. Spike repeated the process with the other nostril and then made Tom sniff both nostrils another two times. By this time, Tom had lost track of what was going on and was just concentrating on keeping his head upright. As the dizziness wore off he felt incredibly horny and started butting his head against Spike's hands.

"Lets get started then, shall we?" and with that, took a large chunk of hair from the side of Tom's head with his scissors.

Tom felt the hair being removed from his head and loved every minute of it. All his other haircuts faded into insignificance next to the sheer power of this one. Spike changed to a pair of electric clippers which sent a shock straight down his back. It was as though there was a circuit between the clippers and his cock, and every time they touched his head he clenched his fists in pleasure.

As Spike continued, Tom wondered what he was going to look like. There seemed to be a lot of work on the sides and a smaller amount on the top but nothing on the back. Spike turned away and Tom heard a slurping noise coming from behind him. Suddenly he felt something warm and slimy being rubbed into the sides of his head then realised it must be shaving foam. He found he was correct when Spike slowly started to scrape the remains of his hair away, but only at the sides. First one way, then the other, the barber took his time making sure that the scalp at the sides was as smooth as possible.

Forcing Tom to take another hit from the brown bottle, Spike turned his attention to the hair still remaining at the back of Tom's head. Tom felt Spike pulling the hair tight, then tighter, then so tight his scalp felt like it was being pulled off his head. Slowly he began to relax into the pain, helped by the regular hits Spike made him take from the bottle. Spike continued his manipulation at the back of Tom's head, and then with a grunt of satisfaction he came back round the front and looked at it carefully. Grabbing his scissors, he snipped at the top of Tom's hair until he was satisfied. Finally he put on a pair of gloves and rubbed a thick cream into the shaved sides which tingled then burned before fading away into a slight itching. Spike then took a cloth and wiped the remains carefully away.

"You are going to be one ugly fucker by the time I finish with you, son," grinned Spike. "Just a few more alterations and you will fit those overalls as though you have always worn them. Pity we can't bulk you up straight away, but I'll give you a shot of something that will vastly speed up the process. You will look a little bloated unless you exercise hard, but we'll leave that for Sarge to decide. He likes fat boys as much as muscular."

As Spike disappeared into the back room Tom pondered over his words. What had they got planned for him? One thing was for sure, he couldn't stay here. The first chance he could he would make a break for it. But could he? The moment he thought about leaving he was overcome with a panic attack and started to breath heavily. What if Sarge got upset? He wanted to please Sarge, not upset him. And the barber, Spike. Why hadn't he spoken up about the haircut instead of letting Spike do what he wanted? Something was going on, and it might be for the best if he let things take their natural course till he knew what was happening.

Spike returned, and noticed Tom's distress. Spike had expected something like this, and was prepared for it. Making Tom take several hits from the brown bottle he whispered into Tom's ear.

"That's it boy, breath deeply and listen. This is all natural to you, and you want this don't you? You need this, and Spike is here to help you. Sarge is always right, and he wants this for you. You want to please Sarge don't you? This will please Sarge. Sarge is always right, and you are Sarge's boy. You must obey Sarge. It gives you pleasure to obey Sarge."

Tom breathed in the acrid aroma and felt Spike's words entering into his brain. Of course Spike was right, how silly that he even needed reminding. As he heard Spike talking his worries evaporated into mist, and he felt happy again.

Spike looked at Tom and decided to continue with the next phase of Tom's changes. Pulling the cover off a metal tray, he revealed several sharp needles and some rings, studs and barbells. Tom looked at them in curiosity, but didn't make a sound as his conditioning held.

"This might hurt slightly, boy, but it will be over soon, and you will enjoy it." So saying, Spike picked up a needle and went to work. Taking Tom's lower lip, he quickly pierced it in the center, at the point where the skin was thinnest just before it bulged out into the chin. Quickly he replaced the needle with a flat backed bar bell and screwed a spike-like cone onto the end. Grabbing Tom's nose next, Spike quickly inserted a ring through the septum and closed it with a small ball. "We can increase this into one big fucking pig-ring once you heal up boy," said Spike and Tom felt happy at the tone in Spike's voice, but upset that it was going to take time.

Spike then inserted a ring into each of Tom's earlobes, then finished off with a long barbell which pierced the top of Tom's left ear in two separate places, with the large balls behind the ear.

Spike looked at his handiwork, then picked up another needle and pierced Tom's right eyebrow at the corner with a thick barbell. Tom could just make out the bottom of the ball in the corner of his eye. To complete his handiwork, Spike grabbed Tom's tongue with a pair of forceps and quickly inserted a long barbell through the middle of it. Tom gasped in pain as the needle pierced his flesh, but by the time his eyes had started to water it was over.

Spike looked at the end result and wondered if he should do any more, when the door went and Sarge walked in holding several items of clothing in his hands.

"Fuck Spike, what have you done? He was supposed to be a security guard. I love what you've done, but I might have to change my plans slightly."

Spike looked at Sarge in surprise. "Dressed like that, you expected me to know different?" he replied.

"No problem. Looks like we have a freaky guard on the books for a while," said Sarge as he walked closer to inspect the work. "You still need to tattoo the sides I see."

"Yeah. I thought we should let him see the new look first before we did any more."

"Don't bother. Just get it done and we can get to the next stage."

"Fine," said Spike. "It'll take me about an hour to finish up here. You want to set up the gear for your little punishment plan?"

"Can do," said Sarge. "Damn boy, you look so hot I just want to fuck the shit out of you right this minute. But I can wait."

With that, Sarge disappeared into the back while Spike brought a portable tattoo machine into view.

Tom watched this exchange with interest. He was still fighting the feelings he had deep down, but was very excited at the thought of being fucked by Sarge. One moment he hated the man, the next he adored him. At that moment rational thought vanished as a searing pain began to penetrate his head. Spike had commenced the tattooing of the freshly shaved sides and it was all Tom could do to grit his teeth and bear it. Seeing Tom's discomfort, Spike gave him a few hits from the brown bottle. Slowly the pain began to subside and Tom found that he was beginning to enjoy the sensation. Eventually Spike finished the one side and commenced work on the other side. Tom gritted his teeth and bore the pain. It wasn't as though he had much of a choice really though, did he?


Chapter Six

Sarge walked back into the room as Spike finished up. Tom looked at him with thinly disguised lust. The tattooing had turned him on big time, and he needed to do something about the fat throbbing cock trapped between his legs. All he wanted to do was rub it till he came, but he knew Sarge would get upset if he did. Sarge undid the restraints on Tom's legs and arms, and helped him out of the chair. Grabbing Tom roughly round the neck, he pressed his mouth tightly to Toms. Tom winced as Sarge caught the new bar in his tongue and Sarge broke away. "Looks like your mouth is out of bounds for a while boy. I'll have to find another hole to use."

Dragging Tom in front of a mirror, Tom saw himself for the first time. It was a shock, and he would have collapsed if Sarge hadn't been holding him up. "Take a good look at the new you boy," hissed Sarge in his ear. "You are going to love it eventually. And even if you don't, you ain't got a choice in the matter."

Tom looked closely at himself. The overalls looked as grubby as he had thought they would, tucked into the brown dirty rigger boots. The fasteners at the front were undone and he could see his well defined pecks going down to his flat stomach and fine crab ladder of hair. No wonder Spike had misunderstood what look Tom should sport. The piercings were a shock, but at least he had known they were there. They made him look strange, but the main shock was his head. The hair on the sides was now a memory, replaced by black tribal flames outlined in red starting at each temple and ending below the collar on his neck. The hair on top had been roughly chopped so that it stood up straight in an uneven spiky Mohawk. In a side mirror he could see the back, and now realised why his head felt so tight. Spike had left a strip about two inches wide and had plaited it into a very tight braid which must have been extended as it finished halfway down his back, but Tom couldn't see the join.

Suddenly he felt his overalls being ripped down, freeing his hard cock, and he saw in the mirror that Sarge had taken off his peaked cap revealing his shiny bald head, and had pulled out his thick pierced cock. Pushing Tom forwards over the chair, he pressed the thick head against Tom's virgin hole.

"Enough admiring yourself boy, it's time to take it like a man." At which point he thrust hard and Tom screamed as he felt the thick meat penetrate his arsehole.

Sarge waited a few seconds, then started to fuck Tom within an inch of his life. Tom's cries were just turning Sarge on more and he began to speed up the rhythm. There was nothing loving about it, this was pure brutal rape and Sarge was the one in charge. Tom cried out as felt Sarge shoot his load deep within his guts, and then shuddered as his own cock, tormented with frustration for the last few hours, suddenly began to heave and he came so strongly he nearly passed out.

Sarge felt Tom's orgasm. It was hard to miss as it was so strong Sarge didn't think he would be able to pull out himself. Toms arse had just grabbed Sarge's cock like a vice and milked the last few drops dry before slowly relaxing. Sarge pulled Tom into a rough hug from behind and whispered in his ear, ?Not bad for your first day. You are mine now boy and I ain't giving you up.

"Now let's get you dressed."

Letting go of Tom, Sarge pulled out of a bag on the chair Tom's new uniform. Tom put on the thick black socks, the tight black trousers with thick leather belt, the short sleeved blue shirt with security on the epaulettes and sleeves and the black clip on tie. Sarge then handed him a pair of highly polished black combat boots which he put on, then looked at himself in the mirror. He couldn't believe what he saw. Gone was the handsome preppy looking business man he had been that morning. Looking back at him was a horny security guard. A bit freaky, but Tom felt good. Better still, he felt fantastic. The man looking back at him turned him on big time. He felt a surge of gratitude welling up in him for being forced into this. His arse stung like hell, but even that felt good.

Sarge held a black peaked cap in his hand. "You get this later boy," he said. "Time for your punishment first."

Tom looked at Sarge and felt apprehensive. What did the big man have planned for him?


Chapter Seven

Sarge grabbed Tom by the arm and led him through a door in the back of the shop, with Spike following. Down the corridor was a set of rough stone steps which they descended into a dark poorly lit room. In the center of the room was a chair which made Tom's heart beat faster and his mouth dry up. It was wooden, with straps for his wrists and feet, and Tom knew without doubt that he was going to end up being fixed into it.

Sarge pulled Tom into the room and threw him into the chair. Within a matter of seconds, Tom was secured and began to look around in a panic. Seeing Tom's distress, Sarge grabbed him round the neck and made Tom look at him.

"Don't look so worried boy," said Sarge. "I know it looks scary but eventually I think you will enjoy yourself. Trust me." And with that, he kissed Tom firmly on the lips and rubbed his head lovingly.

Tom relaxed a little then. He was scared of Sarge, but for some reason he trusted him implicitly. If Sarge said it would be okay, then he would just have to believe him.

Sarge went off into a corner and Tom heard him muttering to Spike. He couldn't make out the words, but it looked like Spike was being given instructions. Tom knew he was to be punished for his earlier disobedience but it didn't look like it was going to involve pain. Sarge had said that it would involve doing something he hated but what"

After a few minutes, Sarge and Spike came closer, and Tom could see Spike had a tray with various syringes and vials on it. As he slowly drew a pale liquid into one of the needles Spike said ?Time for your jabs. I told you about being bulked up; this first one is a combination of growth hormone, steroids and appetite stimulator. You will need to have one of these every day if you are going to look how Sarge wants you to look.

"The second and third ones are going to remain a mystery for now. We don't want to spoil the surprise now, do we?"

With this, Spike plunged one needle after another into Tom's upper arm, injecting the chemicals into Tom's body.

Tom gasped as he felt the needles pierce his skin, and waited for any reaction. Strangely, he felt fine, and wondered what he had been injected with and how long it was going to take before he felt any reaction. Sarge looked at him with a knowing smile, and then fetched a box from out of the shadows.

Out of the box came a bizarre contraption. It looked like some sort of mask, but coming from the mouthpiece were several long tubes which ended at a large box about three feet square. The box had a hinged top, and seemed to be plugged into the mains electricity supply. Sarge took the mask and fixed it over Tom's head. The straps went round his head, and Sarge shoved a rubber tube firmly into his mouth before covering his nose with another tube. Finally, a strap covered his entire lower jaw and Tom realised that he could still breathe, but only through the tubes attached to the machine.

"You made such a big fuss about my cigars earlier I decided to turn you into a cigar smoker," gloated Sarge. "I haven't decided on a pipe yet, but I think you might just have the looks to carry it off if you practise hard." With this, Sarge flipped a switch on the side of the machine and Tom started to gag on the smell of fresh cigar smoke as it billowed into his mouth and nostrils. Trying to breath, he realised that the machine was controlling his air supply. He had to breath in through his mouth and out through his nose. Very quickly he began to fell light headed and dizzy, trying to cough but unable to because of the machines control. He tried to shake his head free and realised that the straps at the back were fixed to the chair. He was trapped and immobile, forced to breath in the acrid aromatic smoke.

His skin started to itch and he looked down at his arms. Slowly, thick black hairs were growing where before, he had had a thin coating of light blonde. It was very slow, but still a lot faster than it should have been. He suddenly realised what one of the injections must have been.

As Sarge and Spike watched, they both lit up large thick cigars. Tom realised that he would soon be joining them in the ritual and finally gave up struggling with the inevitable.

Sarge watched Tom breathing in and out at the machine's command. The third injection was slowly filling up the receptor sites in Tom's brain with chemicals to make him crave nicotine. It was a process that normally took several months for a normal smoker, but the constant intake of cigar smoke from the machine was compressing the process into a few hours. By the time Tom was released he would have the normal craving of a dedicated smoker. Sarge had considered cigarettes, making him a chain smoker, but had decided on cigars due to Tom's obvious dislike of them. The chemical they had used was pernicious, and stayed in the system forever. No matter how much Tom tried to give up, he would never be able to stand the craving and would very quickly find the first cigar he could.

Eventually, the machine gave a buzz and turned itself off. Sarge quickly removed the mask from Tom's face and gave him a fierce kiss which Tom returned with equal vigour. Sarge looked at the thick black hair which had sprouted on Tom's face. It was already several inches long, and he thought how sexy Tom looked with his new beard. Eventually Sarge knew it would reach down below Tom's collar and Sarge thought he would let it grow for a while before deciding on a style. Sarge also knew that Tom now had a thick mat of black hair all over his body which Sarge was looking forward to exploring later.

As Tom was released from the chair, Sarge handed him a black peaked cap which Tom placed onto his head. He felt happy and contented, but something was missing. Turning to Sarge, he said ?Please Sir, can I have a cigar?"

"Fucking right boy. You don't look right without it."

Tom bit off the end and placed the thick tube into his  mouth. Sarge held a lighter for him and Tom puffed on it until the end was glowing evenly. As he blew a thick cloud of smoke into the air Sarge said, "Come on boy, there's patrolling to be done."

"Yes Sir," replied Tom and Spike smiled to himself as Sarge and Tom walked out into the night.


Chapter Eight: Epilogue

Tom rolled out of bed with a yawn and stood there scratching his balls, feeling his guiche between his legs. His cock was semi hard as it normally was in the mornings and the thick heavy prince albert pulled it downwards. He looked at himself in the full length mirror and smiled as he noticed how much he had changed in the months he had been Sarge's boy. His face was a lot fatter now. Sarge had decided that his moustache and sideburns should be joined together, with a strip under his lip shaved to show off his lip stud. The cheeks were shaved as well so that the beard he now sported was neat and tidy. It was also trimmed so that it was bushy but even with his jaw line. Spike made sure it looked it's best at his weekly trim. His nose ring was now a lot thicker and pushed his nostrils out slightly making his face look more brutal, and the rings in his ears had been replaced with wide tubes which you could see through. Sarge had told him that eventually they were going to be an inch wide and Tom couldn't wait. His hair was the same style he had been given originally and the hair at the sides was now gone for good. Spike had used some sort of cream which had eventually killed all the follicles.

His body had bulked out big time. He estimated that he must weigh about three hundred pounds now. Sarge had insisted that he be given more of the bulk up drug than usual and it showed. Constant work in the gym had toned him up into large slabs of muscle, but Sarge had insisted that he go for the power lifter look rather than the chiselled muscle man so he had a good layer of fat under the skin which made his belly hang over his trousers. He was covered in a thick layer of black hair, both on his chest and his back, and the tattoo design on his head of thick black tribal flames outlined in red had been continued down both arms to the back of his hands, down his back  and round onto his chest outlining each of his pecs. The thick silver ring in each nipple stood out in the forest of hair and he rubbed his hand lightly across them wincing slightly as they were sore from Sarge's rough handling of them  the night before.

Grabbing a cigar from the humidor beside the bed he sucked in the first smoke of the day. Damn that felt good. As he performed his normal morning ritual of cigar, bathroom, coffee he thought back to his first days as Sarge's boy and smiled as he realised how stupid he had been to resist. His life had never been better, and as he slipped his freshly pressed uniform onto his body and stood admiring himself in the mirror he knew that this was his life now, and he was content. Better still, Sarge had a new recruit that he was about to start work on. The Boss had instructed Sarge to find new labourers for a building contract that he had just acquired and Tom had arranged for one of the new prospects to visit. He had just arrived, and Tom was especially looking forward to this one. He wasn't sure what his ex business partner Mark Davies was doing now, but Tom felt that with the right persuasion Mark was going to love being an uneducated, dumb, tattooed, pierced skinhead labourer.

It was all a matter of pointing him in a new direction.