Posted Wed Nov 18, 2015 | 81 Words | Tagged story

Once the gas mask was secured into place, there was no stopping the rest of it happening so quickly. He could only smell through it, smell the power of the mask. It made him feel so powerful, so strong, so demanding.

It wasn’t long before he got the bleachers on and the boots. Then the leather gloves, and finally the bomber jacket.

He was now a propa skinhead and he was gonna get some filfthy fuckers to lick his boots clean.