The Telemachus Story Archive

The Conversion
By Hooder

The Conversion

Hair fell like dark blond snow onto Gary’s shoulders as the electric trimmers glided over his skull. He ran them over the very top of his head once more, then turned his head both ways to check in the mirror. Satisfied, he switched them off and stroked his other hand over his number one cut. Shaking the loose hair off, he stood up and cleaned the bathroom sink, then took a shower.

His naked body glistened as he walked into the bedroom, towelling himself off as he went. He picked up his bleachers and sat down on the floor – there was no way he’d get them on standing up; they were too tight. The rough denim slid over his skin as he struggled to pull them up his legs. When they were up to his crotch he lay down and arched his back so that he could force them up the rest of the way. He closed the top button, arranged his cock and balls to one side, and fought to pull up the zip. He could feel them stretching over his thigh muscles as he stood up. They were skin-tight at the best of times, but when they’d just been washed they were even tighter. His skin, still damp from the shower, hadn’t made things any easier.

This tee shirt was his favourite: white cotton, and quite old. It had fit perfectly when he’d first got it but since then he’d worked out a lot and now it was as tight as the jeans. He ran his hands over his pecs and flat stomach. It felt good. A green MA1 bomber jacket went over that. He pulled the zip up halfway and smoothed the slightly shiny jacket into place.

Gary sat on the bed and rolled up the bottoms of his jeans. He picked up his Doc Martens – they were black, had 14 holes, and the white laces went horizontally from one hole to the next – pushed his feet into them and laced them up. He adjusted the rolled-up jeans until they sat above the tops of the boots.

Done. He stood up and looked at himself in the mirror. He looked exactly as he wanted to look: sexy. He glanced at his cock bulge and smiled. He’d do well at the club tonight, he thought to himself. He was going to find some cute skinhead bitch and fuck the arse off him.

Gary had been a skinhead for years. About the same time as he’d realised he was gay, he’d also become aware than skinheads turned him on like fuck. It was partly the extreme masculinity, and partly the gear, which seemed to exaggerate that masculinity. Most of his straight mates didn’t wear their jeans so tight, but he loved wearing them like that, showing off his cock bulge; he often saw them secretly looking at it – enviously, he liked to think. And more than once he’d noticed one of them covering up an erection from the sight. There was something about skintight denim that did something to him. He only had to concentrate on the feel of it on his legs as he walked, and he would start to get hard.

The club was heaving. It and the Dog & Biscuit were the only fetish-oriented places in town but, even so, the dress code here wasn’t half as strict as he would have liked. There were usually a few skins, an occasional rubber boy, a bit of sports kit, but guys in suits, woolly jumpers, loose jeans and shoes also got in. Still, it was the better than nothing, he supposed.

Gary got himself a drink and stood by the wall looking around. Most of the crowd were of no interest. There was a skinhead by the door, but he wasn’t very sexy. A boy in tight faded jeans and white trainers was chatting to a man in a suit – that boy was hot; he’d keep an eye on him – and there was a very stoned punk in PVC sitting alone by the jukebox.

He finished his beer and went to get another. As he approached, someone left the bar and Gary took his place. There was a guy in full leather to his right. This was unusual – it was rare to see leather guys in this club; they mostly went to the Dog.

He looked Gary over. “You,” he said, “would look fucking amazing in leather.”

Gary smiled. “Nah, I don’t think so.” The guy was younger than he’d thought at first. In his twenties, maybe, with sparkly eyes.

“Have you ever tried it?”


The guy looked him up and down again. “I've got a proposition for you then: come back with me and I’ll give you the most amazing orgasm you’ve ever had in your life. I’d like to take some photos of you as well.”

Gary blinked. The thought of fucking this leather guy was not unattractive, but what he really wanted was a cute skinhead boy. “Thanks, but I’m after a skinhead. Boots, and tight jeans.”

“So you’re into gear then.”

“Oh yeah. But skinhead gear.”

“Ok. Tell you what: if you don’t find anybody tonight, come back. I’ll still be sitting here.”

Gary smiled and took his beer from the barman. “Ok.” He walked back into the room.

By half past midnight he hadn’t found his cute skinhead. There weren’t any there. He thought about going home, but he was as horny as fuck. He glanced towards the bar – the leather guy was still in the same place, chatting to someone. ‘Oh fuck it,’ he thought, ‘why not?’

“I’m Bryn.” He smiled as he opened the door to his flat. “Come through.” He led Gary through to his bedroom.

Gary’s eyebrows went up. The whole of one wall was filled with black leather gear on hangers: jackets, jeans, one-piece bike suits, there seemed to be hundreds of them. The bed was a large double with a leather sheet on it, and to the other side of the room a roll of blue background paper hung down and trailed forward smoothly over the floor. An expensive-looking camera stood on a tripod, and assorted lighting gear with flashes and white umbrellas were dotted around.


Bryn smiled. “I’m a photographer. I take pictures of boys in leather. I’d like to take some of you.”

Gary didn’t really know what to make of this. “Ok,” he said.

“But first let’s have some of you in your skin gear. You look fucking amazing in it. Horniest skinhead I’ve ever seen. Those jeans are unbelievable.” He switched everything on and the room suddenly got a lot brighter. “Stand in the middle, on the paper.”

Gary did so. Bryn fiddled with the camera for a moment then came over to him. “Would be good if you could get hard in those jeans...” He lowered a hand and ran his fingers lightly over the boy’s bulging cock through the bleached denim. He gripped the head and scratched his fingernails over it. All the time he was looking deeply into the boy’s eyes. Their lips met and they kissed wetly.

Gary felt his cock beginning to respond. It grew until it was fully hard.

“Ok.” Bryn went back to the camera and there was a bright flash. He took the camera off the tripod and, over the next few minutes he suggested different poses, while moving around to photograph Gary from different angles.

“Good. Now, let’s try some black leather. What size waist are you?”


“Thought you probably were. Good – same as me.” Bryn sorted through the hanging leather gear and selected a pair of jeans. “Try those.”

It took a while for the skinhead to undress but eventually it was done. He pulled on the jeans – they were almost as tight on him as his denim ones had been and he had to struggle to get them fastened up. The supple black leather moulded to his legs and thighs. He was surprised at how horny they felt.

“Take your tee shirt off.” A leather jacket followed. It was heavy, shiny, and had studs on the shoulders. Bryn pulled the collar up. Then a pair of chunky motorcycle boots, and black leather bike gloves.

“Oh fuck, you look good enough to eat.” He wheeled a full-length mirror over so that Gary could see himself. He looked amazing. A sexy leather biker, his muscled chest visible under the studded jacket. The jeans clung to his thighs smoothly and the light reflecting from the shiny leather over his cock bulge made it look huge. Bryn gave him a silver crash helmet to hold and took a lot more pictures.

This was all making Gary even more horny than he’d been when he came in. He could feel precum beginning to make the inside of the leather jeans slippery over his cock head - and it felt amazing.

“Ok,” Bryn said at length, “let’s go over to the bed.” He moved the lights around, then went to the shelves and came back with a pair of handcuffs and an armful of ropes and chains, which he arranged around the edges of the leather sheet. “Kneel in the middle of the bed and let me handcuff you.”

Gary knelt on the bed but looked at the cuffs and shook his head. “I’m top, mate. I don’t get tied up.”

Bryn smiled. “It’s only for the pics. You’d look good with your hands cuffed behind your back.”

Gary thought about this. “Okay, but only for the pics.”

The cuffs clicked around his wrists and more photos were taken.

After another trip to the cupboard Bryn returned holding a loose leather hood. He put it on the bed with the ropes and chains. “Stay kneeling, but turn around to show your cuffed hands.”

Gary did so.

Quickly, Bryn picked up the hood and dropped it over the boy’s head, then grabbed a rope and tightened it around his booted feet, pulling them tight together.

“What the FUCK?” Gary fell over onto the leather sheet, struggling to get the hood off and to get his feet free. Bryn tied a thin rope around the bottom of the hood so that the boy couldn’t get it off, then he took more photographs.

“Get this fucking hood off me!”

“Oh, I don’t think so. Makes it easier to control you when you can’t see.” He pressed his hands down tight over Gary’s eyes and mouth for a moment, then set about securing the skinhead to the bed: a cuff went around each ankle and, only when their ropes were through the restraint points at the corners of the bed did he untie the one holding the boy’s feet together. He pulled the ropes hard and the skinhead’s legs were pulled straight, and wide apart. He tied the ropes off. The skin’s hands were still cuffed behind his back, and it would take a great deal of care to get him spread-eagled without being hit. But he’d done this before and knew the drill. First, roll his upper body over so he could get the cuffs around his wrists – the other ends of the ropes attached to them were already secured to the steel eyelets in the wall at the top corners of the bed – then unlock one handcuff and pull the ropes until his arms extended. As it had done before, it worked well. The boy struggled and fought, but he was greatly hampered by not being able to see what Bryn was doing.

When the skinhead was fully secured, Bryn unfastened the boy’s leather jeans. His cock was soft. Perfect. The leather guy took a metal chastity cage and got it locked on, curving Gary’s cock downwards inside the steel device. After re-fastening the boy’s jeans he sat back and looked at his handiwork. Oh fuck, the skinhead looked good like that. The closely-spaced bars of the cock cage were clearly outlined under the thin black leather.

He slid off the bed, picked up the camera and took more photos.

Gary was swearing and threatening under the loose leather hood, and something was going to have to be done about that, thought Bryn. He went to the shelves and found another hood: this one was thicker, tighter, and had a built-in gag.

The boy’s face was sweaty when the loose hood came off, and he looked daggers at Bryn. “You are gonna fucking suffer for this, you cunt.”

Bryn smiled. “Possibly. But not right now.” He pulled the tight hood over the boy’s head, forcing him to open his mouth by pinching his nostrils together, so that he could get the gag between his teeth. One by one he fastened the many straps of the hood to their very tightest positions. It was much quieter now, although the skin was still struggling in his restraints.

Bryn took a few more photos, then put the camera on the table and picked up another one. He moved the tripod over and fixed the new camera on top, squinted through the viewfinder and then straightened up. He pressed the record button.

Kneeling on the bed at the boy’s side, he began to run his fingers over the boy’s black leather jacket and jeans. He teased Gary’s muscular thighs and legs slowly from the tops of his motorcycle boots up to his perineum, pushed the tops of his jacket apart and squeezed the exposed nipples, leaned forward and kissed the boy through the gagging hood. Then he picked up a vibrator, switched it and touched it to the bulge of the cage-imprisoned cock under the shiny black leather jeans.

For a moment there was little reaction. Then a slow wail began to come from the boy as the vibrations travelled into his cock. Immediately it began to get hard – or tried to, as the metal cage did not expand at all.

Bryn moved the vibrator around, getting at the bulge from all angles, and watching the boy’s reactions closely. He nodded to himself as one place – the very end of the cage – seemed to produce the most response by far. Occasionally he moved the device onto the leather-clad balls, but now he mostly concentrated it on that spot.

The vibrator felt so fucking horny. Blood was flowing into Gary’s cock. In normal circumstances it would be growing to full erection now, but the metal cage made that impossible. However, the boy’s body didn’t know about that and so his cock tried to get harder and harder. And it was starting to become painful.

But Bryn didn’t stop. He used the vibrator to make the boy need to cum more and more urgently. When he knew that he was close, he lifted it off and waited. The expected howl of frustration came, and Bryn squeezed his own cock through his leather jeans. He looked at his watch: yes, a couple of hours of this should do.

The pain in Gary’s cock had been getting worse and worse. The metal bars of the cage were forcing it to remain about the same size as it was when it was soft – but it badly needed to be hard, straight, and thrusting. And every time the bastard held the vibrator to it, it made him need to cum. In time, this had had a surprising effect: the pain in his caged cock had slowly become an increasingly intense pleasure of its own. He wasn’t into pain at all, and he didn’t understand how it was happening, but it seemed that the ache was somehow melting into his need for orgasm. This only made it worse because that itself increased his need to cum.

This had been going on for hours now, and Gary was beyond desperate. He’d been trying to beg the guy to let him cum but the gag made that impossible. He’d gagged boys before, but he’d never been gagged himself, and being unable to communicate was a much more powerful thing than he’d ever imagined. He couldn’t see a thing, which was humiliating and frustrating in itself, and the black leather clinging to his face with every breath seemed to be turning him on even more – it felt amazingly horny. He pulled at the restraints and felt fucking helpless.

Bryn leaned forward and pressed his hand down over Gary’s hooded eyes. He whispered into the boy’s ear. “How’s it feel to be a sub, boy? Helpless. Can’t fucking see. Can’t fucking stop it. Can’t fucking cum. In black leather...” He held the vibrator to the cage again for five seconds then took it away and breathed a sigh of satisfaction as the boy screamed his frustration into the gagging, blindfolding, leather hood. “Do you want to cum?” He asked, tauntingly.

The skinhead nodded violently.

“But you can’t, can you...” He touched the vibrator to the cage again and was rewarded with another yell and violent struggling. He was continuing to squeeze and roll the boy’s nipples with one hand.

Bryn sighed in pleasure. He could do this sort of thing for a very long time.

* * *

Much as he would have liked to continue torturing this hunky skinhead all day, dawn was breaking and he knew it would have to stop. He leaned forward again. “Ok, sexy boy. I’m gonna make you cum. In the cage. It’s gonna hurt, so if you’re not into pain it’s probably better if you don’t let yourself cum.”

Gary moaned and muffled sounds came from the hood.

Bryn took a nipple between his teeth and gripped it tightly. His tongue was pushing the nub against the inside of them. As he began to increase the pressure, he held the vibrator to the end of the chastity cage and kept it there.

The boy began to struggle under him. A low howl started, and gradually increased in both volume and pitch. Soon it was a keening wail. Bryn bit down on the nipple as the boy began to cum.

His body convulsed in the restraints as his spunk pumped out of his imprisoned cock under the leather jeans. Oh fuck – it was agony. But it was wonderful agony. It was one of the most intense and exquisite orgasms he’d ever had.

Bryn kept the vibrator there until he knew every last drop of the boy’s spunk had been extracted, but he gradually reduced the pressure on the nipple as the boy’s orgasm ended.

When it was over, Bryn got off the bed and there were many minutes when nothing happened. Gary could hear odd sounds through the thick leather, but that was all. He wondered what the guy was doing.

Eventually the mattress moved and Gary felt the hood being unstrapped. It was pulled off. He closed his eyes tightly against the bright light of the room.

Bryn waited for more threats.

But they didn’t come. “That was fucking incredible,” he said, his eyes still closed.

Bryn smiled. “I thought it might be.”

Gary opened his eyes carefully – and stared. Looking down at him was one of the sexiest skinheads he’d ever seen. The hair wasn’t right, but the gear – then he realised: it was his gear. The white tee shirt, the MA1, the boots - and especially those jeans - looked gobsmackingly horny on him.

Bryn kneeled astride his hips and they kissed again. “You know, I could get used to gear like this. Never worn skin stuff before. It’s as horny as hell. I fuckin’ love it!” He moved up the bed and shoved his bulging, denim-covered cock-bulge into Gary’s face. Gary pushed his mouth into it and sucked the cock through the bleached jeans.

After a while Bryn got off the bed and paused before releasing the boy’s wrists. “Now, are you going to beat me up? Because I really don’t want a mess on the carpet...”

Gary chuckled. “I should do. Oh fuck, I should do. But no, you’re safe.”

Bryn looked at him speculatively for a moment, then untied the ropes.

Gary ran his fingers over his leather jeans. “I’ve tied up loads of boys. I’ve gagged them and fucked them. In skintight bleachers. But it’s a long time since I’ve had an orgasm like that. It was mind-blowing. That fucking cage is evil. It hurt like fuck when I was hard. But the thing that got to me most was that hood. I have never felt so fucking helpless. It was -” he shook his head.

Bryn smiled. “You see? There’s more to leather than you thought.”

“You’re not wrong. I’m gonna get one of those.”

“To use on the boys you fuck?”

“No! To use on myself!” He laughed.

“But it’s not the same if you know you can get it off. You gotta be tied up so you can’t.”

Gary thought about this. He nodded. “You’re right. I want to feel like that again. And I’m gonna get some leather jeans as well. Fuck, those felt so horny! ” He looked up at Bryn. “You bastard, you’ve made me a fucking sub!”

Bryn smiled. “Not just a sub – a leather sub. And you’ve made me a fucking skinhead. Gonna get my hair cut tomorrow.” He squeezed his denim-jeaned cock.

He thought for a minute. “Do you really like those leathers?”

Gary stroked the shiny black hide. “Oh fuck yes.”

“Well I’m well into your gear. How about we swap?”

Gary frowned. “Your leathers are worth a lot more than my gear.”

“Not a problem. I’d really like it.”

“Well Ok then! Yeah!”

Bryn smiled, squeezing his cock bulge through the bleachers. “Here. For you.” He handed Gary a thumb drive. “The session we just had.”

They hugged, then looked at each other.

“Thanks,” said the leather boy.

“My pleasure,” said the skinhead.