The Telemachus Story Archive

Brothers In Arms
By Hooder
Email: hooder@ntlworld.com



Brothers In Arms

 

 

"What the fuck is that?"

Tom looked at Mike, then followed the line of his brother's pointing finger to the object lying on the floor. "Er - it's an armband."

Mike picked the offending item up and thrust it in the boy's face. "It's a fucking Swastika armband. Have you any idea what these things mean? What they stand for?"

Tom snatched it out of his brother's hand and turned around, throwing it under the bed. "Oh yeah, but that's all ancient history. The war and everything. Long time before we were born. All the guys are wearing them now - the SS is horny."

Mike shook his head sadly. "The nazis tortured and killed millions of people under that symbol, you little turd."

"Yes I know, but times change, bro. This is the twenty-first century. For your information the swastika's over three thousand years old, and for most of that time it's been a symbol of the sun. So ok, the nazis changed its meaning to something else - but now us skins are changing it again. Now it means perversion and sex."

Mike exhaled forcefully through his nose, but thought about what Tom had said. He ran his hand over his blond, No.1-cropped hair, then he shook his head again. "That would be fine if that was all there was to it, but it's not, is it? The WP and 88 guys are still about racial hatred. I've seen pics you've downloaded - skins with balaclava masks and baseball bats..."

Tom sat down on the bed. "Look, bro, you're a skinhead as well as me. We're both gay. You know I'm not into the politics of all this. I'm not a racist - some of our best mates are Asian for fuck's sake. But the masks and the armbands and the leather and the SS uniforms - they're a fuckin turn-on. They're horny. That's all I'm in it for. You know that."

Mike sat down as well, and there was a silence for a while. "Well for God's sake don't let mum or dad see it. You got any more stuff like that?"

Tom grinned. "Oh yeah. You wanna see it?"

Mike sighed. "I don't think I'm gonna like it, but you'd better show me."

"Close your eyes then." Mike did so, and Tom collected stuff from a case under the bed, then took it into the bathroom and closed the door. Mike lit a cigarette while he waited.

"You ready for this?" Tom's voice was excited behind the closed door.

Mike took a deep breath. "Yeah."

The bathroom door opened and Mike stared. Framed in the doorway was his brother - but he would never have recognised him. "Oh shit," said Mike, very quietly.

Tom and Mike were twins - nineteen years old, and although not actually identical, very similar in build and looks. Tom walked into the bedroom, his athletic, six-foot frame clad from head to toe in shiny black rubber and leather. Mike's mouth was hanging open in disbelief. His eyes travelled slowly up from Tom's leather jackboots, over his skin-tight black rubber breeches, across the rubber-and-chrome belt, up his shiny black leather jacket with the swastika armband, and which was open to reveal the black rubber shirt and tie underneath, and stopped at the peaked black leather cap pulled down on his black rubber-hooded head. Only his blue eyes were visible through the holes in the mask.

"Oh fuck." Mike stared at his brother. "Where did you get all that?"

"Never mind." He planted his feet apart in front of Mike, smiling under the mask, his thumbs hooked in the pockets of his rubber breeches, and the fingertips of his left hand gently stroking the very obvious outline of his hard cock through the shiny rubber. "Lick my boots, skinhead."

The disturbing thing to Mike was that he could easily have got down on the floor and done just that. The figure before him was powerful - and horny! Pure perversion. Black leather and rubber - the only other colour being the red armband. "It looks...."

"Yeah...?"

Mike could hear the grin in his brother's voice under the mask. Tom knew he looked fucking sexy.

"It looks... obscene."

"'Obscene'? You sure that's what you mean?"

Mike reached out and ran his hands over the boy's breeches, feeling the smooth texture of the black rubber under his fingers. He played with the bits that stuck out at the sides, and gazed at his brother's cock through the rubber. "Seems to have an effect on you, anyway, bro."

"You have no idea. Feels incredible under this rubber and leather."

Mike put his cigarette out. "I still think it's dangerous."

Tom sat down at the side of his brother. "You've got to try to separate the politics from the image. It's the image that I'm into. That 's what's so fucking horny. Fuck the politics."

"But you can't separate them. If it wasn't for the politics and for what atrocities were done in that kind of uniform years ago it wouldn't be horny. And there are still plenty of guys who think in the old ways. Look at the British National Party for a start."

"I know. All I'm saying is that I - ME am only into the look. You can't change other people's beliefs, but that's no reason not to get into their stuff if it's horny."

Mike was quiet for a while, then he asked: "so what's it at all about, this SS stuff then? What do you do? Who else do you know who's into it?"

Tom smiled to himself under the rubber hood. He knew his brother was fascinated. "I can arrange for you to find out, if you like..."

 

* * *

 

"For fuck's sake stop struggling!" Tom stopped trying to get the blindfold over Mike's eyes and leaned back in the seat, sighing. The two boys were sat in the rear of Tom's Fiesta, which was still parked in the garage at the side of the house. "Listen, I've arranged everything for you, but you're going to have to just trust me, and go with it. Nobody's going to hurt you, but if you wanna go, it's a condition that you don't know where the place is or how to get there. And that means you gotta be blindfolded. Now sit still while I put this on you."

Mike didn't like the idea of being blindfolded to go anywhere - at least not by his brother. It was humiliating. But if he wanted to go to this place then it looked like he'd have to put up with it. "Oh fuck. All right then. Get on with it." He let Tom slide the wide black leather strip down over his eyes, get the top strap in place, and buckle the bottom of it behind his head.

"Now lean forward and put your hands behind your back."

"What for?"

"Got to handcuff you."

"What the fuck for?"

"So you can't get the blindfold off."

"I'm not going to take it off!"

"Probably not, but this'll make sure you can't."

Mike sighed loudly, but let his brother fasten his wrists into the metal cuffs.

"There. Comfortable?"

"No. They're digging into my back."

"Fucking deal with it, bro."

"You're sure I'm just gonna be there to look? They're not gonna fuckin torture me or anything?"

"You should be so lucky. Although in those jeans..." Tom smiled wickedly - Mike looked good sitting there in his skintight bleachers, blindfolded and cuffed. Tom ran a single finger up the inside of the boy's thigh and gave his brother's cock a squeeze through his jeans. It was the first time he'd ever done anything like that to Mike.

Mike slammed his legs together but couldn't get away from the teasing hand. "Fuck off!", he yelled - but he knew that Tom had felt his cock give a sharp jerk at his touch.

Giving Mike a friendly punch on the shoulder, Tom got out of the car, opened the garage door, then got back into the driving seat. He smiled at the blindfolded face of his brother in the rear-view mirror. "Enjoy the view." He put the car into gear and drove out onto the street.

* * *

At least it was night and people would be less likely to see him sitting there blindfolded in the back of the car, Mike thought to himself, but he kept his head down just to be on the safe side. He felt strange - it was humiliating to be taken somewhere by your brother and prevented from seeing where you were going - but he was also slightly surprised to find that it was also an oddly horny experience. His cock lay half-hard inside his tight jeans.

Although they'd had their ups and downs, he and his brother had always been close, and usually into the same kind of things. It was unusual for twin brothers both to be gay, but they were - and they were also both skinheads. They liked the same music, the same clubs, the same skinhead gear. But they had never ever touched each other sexually - at least not since they'd been nine or ten and hadn't known what it was all about. Mike had had the occasional fantasy about his good-looking brother, but it had never entered his mind to do anything about it. Both boys had sex with other lads on a regular basis, but with Mike it was always vanilla. He'd assumed that Tom was vanilla too. This was the first clue Mike had ever had that his brother might be into anything a little more... unusual. Mike himself had sometimes privately fantasized about being tied up, but had never done anything even remotely kinky with anyone. Tonight was the first time in his life that he'd been in any kind of bondage. And he thought it was turning him on.

Behind the leather blindfold he felt the car slow, and finally come to a stop. There was the sound of a garage door closing, and then the car doors were suddenly flung open and he felt himself being dragged bodily out of the Fiesta. From the sound of it, Tom was also being pulled out roughly. Mike heard booted feet on concrete, and felt leather against him as he was frogmarched forward, a pair of hands gripping each of his arms. Unable to see, he stumbled but whoever the two guys were who were holding him carried him onwards. "Hey! Fucking watch it!" He shouted, tripping over a step of some kind.

Somewhere behind him, Tom was yelling as well. "Let the fuck go of me! I brought him!"

The brothers' complaints were answered with silence, and they had no option but to let themselves be led through corridors, down a long flight of stairs, and finally into a warm room, where they came to an abrupt halt and Mike was held and made to stand at attention.

There was a pause, during which Mike had the strange feeling that he was being inspected, and then a deep voice in front of him said: "take that off him and hood him. And make sure the fucker doesn't see anything while you're doing it."

Mike felt his legs being roped tightly together at the knees and the ankles and knew that with his hands still cuffed, he'd probably fall over if the guys holding him let go now. He felt someone standing close behind him, and then fingers unfastening the buckle of his blindfold. The guy held it there for a moment and then, in one swift movement, pulled it off and dropped a leather hood over his head in its place. All he had seen during the exchange had been a very short glimpse of someone else holding a leather-gloved hand up in front of his face so that he wouldn't be able to see anything of the room or the guys in it. The hood was laced up very tightly around his head, and he heard the snap of a padlock. Then he was lifted bodily and placed in a wooden chair. Someone unlockled his cuffs and strapped his arms to the arms of the chair, while at the same time other hands removed the ropes from around his legs, pulled his knees wide apart, and fastened them to the sides of the chair. More straps were put around his ankles and pulled tight around the chair legs.

Mike had never been in a hood before, and for a moment all he could think about was being able to breathe. He found that he could, in fact, get air easily enough - although the thing still felt worryingly claustrophobic. He hadn't tried to protest as he knew it would do no good, and anyway complaints at this stage probably wouldn't go down too well. He'd just 'go with it' for the time being. And the leather smelled wonderful.

He couldn't hear much from inside the hood, but from the little he could make out, it seemed that Tom was being restrained as well. There were grunts and the occasional "fuck off!" that were unmistakably Tom's voice, coming from his left-hand side.

"So this is your brother. " It was the deep voice again, close by. "You've vouched for him so far, but I'd like to make absolutely sure of him before we let him see anything."

"He's kosher, Ha-"

"NO NAMES! You've been told this before! You can call me 'Sir' for the time being."

Tom didn't reply to that.

"The bag, I think."

"No!" Tom's voice was worried. "There's no need for that, Ha - Sir - he's clean."

"Maybe so, but like I said, I want to make sure."

There was a pause, and then Mike felt something being dropped over his hooded head. He heard/felt the crinkle of plastic, and then whatever it was was pulled tightly and held around his neck. For a moment he wondered what was going on - and then he realized that he couldn't breathe. The bastards were holding a plastic bag over his head. "NO!!!!" He struggled in the chair but the restraints held him helpless. He began to panic - and then the bag was loosened.

"Michael - tell me - Are you a member of any political organisation?"

Mike was still gasping for air. "N... No! None! For God's sake don't do that again. Please.

"Are you sure? We need to be very sure, you see. What are your politics?"

"I - I am not political. I don't bother to vote cos they're all as bad as each other."

The hands closed around his neck again. "Think carefully this time, Michael. What are your politics?"

There was no air. The bag crinkled and ballooned as he tried to breathe, but there was no air. "PLEASE!" He yelled, almost on the point of passing out, "I AM NOT POLITICAL!"

"It's true.. Sir... neither of us are. We never have been. Please don't do this." Tom's voice was pleading.

"And do you know where this place is? Did you see anything in the car?"

"NO! NO! I was blindfolded and cuffed all the time! I didn't see anything!" Mike was getting dizzy now, and fought with all his remaining strength for air.

The bag was removed from Mike's head and, from the sound of it, placed over Tom's. "Tell me again, Tom - is he safe?"

Tom's muffled begging and protestations that Mike was, in fact, safe slowly faded into silence, and Mike was suddenly very worried indeed. What had they done to his brother?

"Ok," said the deep voice at last, "remove his hood."

Mike felt fingers unfastening the leather hood, and then it was gently pulled off. Mike found himself looking up at the smiling face of his brother. It had been an act - Tom hadn't been tied up or bagged at all.

"Sorry we had to do that, Mike, but we had to be sure. Welcome to the club." He was grinning as he stepped to the side - and Mike found himself staring at a huge swastika flag on the wall. Lined up in front of it were twelve guys. They were all masked - some with balaclavas, others with leather masks, and two in tight red rubber hoods with white circles and black swastikas printed on the faces. Two of the guys were in full SS uniforms - one in black leather, the other in rubber - this one also wore a long, black, open rubber cape - and the rest were either in leather or rubber variations of the SS gear, or just dressed as skinheads. All wore heavy boots and the armbands, and every one of them had an erection that was straining their rubber, leather, or denim jeans to bursting.

The guy in the full leather uniform - he of the deep voice - nodded at Mike. "Yes, welcome." He had a slight accent. Dutch? German? Mike wasn't sure. "Ok Tom, get him out of there and strip him."

Mike stood up once the straps were removed, and - a bit self-consciously - allowed his brother to strip him naked. His cock was hard, and stabbed the air in front of him.

The guy in the leather uniform buckled a collar around Mike's neck, while two of the others fitted leather cuffs around the boy's wrists. They locked the cuffs to either side of the collar.

Mike felt vulnerable and pretty defenceless. He was worried. "Hey, I'm only here to watch," he said. "Tom said that -"

"Nobody comes here just to watch, Michael." The man stepped back and nodded to the others. They closed in on the skinhead.

They pawed him and caressed his naked skin with their rubber- or leather-gloved hands; they passed him round between them, one holding him helpless while another squeezed his nipples, or spat on him, or crushed his balls slowly. His hard, dripping cock rubbed against black leather jeans, or shiny, bulging rubber breeches, or skintight denim; he was kissed violently by anonymous, rubber swastika-masked faces. A cold, rubber-clad arm reached between his thighs, grabbed his cock, enclosing it in a rubber grip and wanking slowly. He was sandwiched between leather-uniformed bodies, there were rubber fingers in his mouth, rubber hands over his eyes, leather fingers all over his body...

Mike was forced onto his knees, a cloth with poppers on it was held over his face, and then his head was thrust into crotch after crotch. He sucked and licked hard cock bulges through black leather, shiny rubber, and bleached denim. His head swam with the smells of leather, rubber and poppers. His nipples were constantly squeezed, rolled and rubbed, and one hand after another - sometimes two or three at once - worked on his cock and his balls, gripping, squeezing, pulling, teasing; the shiny black fingers sliding over his precum-lubricated cock-head. He was drowning in an ocean of black leather and rubber. With a violent jerk of his body, Mike came, spraying thick gobs of creamy white spunk onto the skintight breeches of the guy who was currently ramming his face into his bulging rubber crotch.

Mike expected them to stop, now that he'd cum - but either they hadn't noticed or it was of no importance to them. The hands continued to stroke over his body, the fingers continued to wank him and to work on his balls, his face was rammed onto a rock-hard erection under tight bleached jeans, and two guys were sucking his nipples and rolling them between their teeth. Suddenly his head was pulled from behind, leather-gloved hands clamped over his eyes and mouth, cutting off his air, and the fingers around his cock-head increased their speed. Mike came again, his body shaking as he fought for air and to escape, but he was held helpless by strong, rubber-clad arms. He had never felt so controlled in his life. His spunk shot out for a second time, but he couldn't see where it went.

Tom had been watching and playing with his hard cock through his jeans. He found the sight of his naked, hunky twin brother's being used by these men in rubber and leather SS gear incredibly horny. Then the deep-voiced man caught his eye and nodded. Tom left the room.

The men let Mike collapse on the floor this time, standing over him and watching him gasping as they played gently with their hard cocks above him.

Arms picked Mike up, his collar was removed and his wrists freed, and he was laid over a wooden horse. Two of the men began to strap him down to it. Mike started to struggle and yell then, but several of the masked men came forward and held the skinhead down so that the other two could finish tightening the straps to make him helpless. A guy in tight rubber jeans and a bomber jacket, his face concealed under a black balaclava, pulled a leather hood down over the protesting boy's head and buckled it tight. It had no eyeholes. Into the open mouth he stuffed a leather gag, and fastened it in tightly. Mike's blue eyes were wide with fear under the blindfolding hood - all he could see was black leather pressing over his eyes.

"Very good," said the deep-voiced man. Producing a bottle of lube, he dipped his finger into it and massaged it deeply into the boy's hole. When he was done, he turned to the others. "Help yourselves..."

One by one, each of the men took out his cock, rolled a condom onto it, and fucked Mike. The sounds of animal grunting, and the slap of rubber or leather jeans against bare arse cheeks as the men pistoned their cocks into the restrained boy, echoed around the room. Some came almost instantly, others tried to take their time - but in most cases the feel of the muscular, athletic skinhead hooded and strapped down helpless in front of them made them shoot their load into him far sooner than they'd intended.

One guy - the one in the long rubber cape - hadn't joined the queue to fuck the boy; instead he'd taken up position kneeling by the side of the horse. As the others fucked Mike, this man fed the helpless lad poppers, and kept up a constant, slow, gentle stroking of the skinhead's cock. Even after two orgasms, it began to harden under his smooth rubber fingers. When he wasn't giving Mike poppers he was using his other hand either to tickle and tease the boy's balls, or to gently squeeze his nipples.

Low animal sounds were coming from Mike through the hood while the men took their turns to fuck his arse. He was, thankfully, well used to being fucked - but he had never before been used by so many guys in succession, or for so long.

Eventually the last man came, and pulled out. But Mike wasn't released. The guy in the rubber cape stood up, positioned himself in front of the boy's head, and removed the leather hood. Slowly, the man unzipped his black rubber breeches and pulled his hard cock out. After allowing Mike to look at it for a while, he held Mike's head gently, guided the boy's lips around his cock, then pushed it all the way in to the balls. He pulled the loose rubber cape around Mike's head and closed it there, enveloping him in a tent of black rubber. inside, it was dark and the smell of rubber was overwhelming. Mike didn't need orders - he began to suck the man slowly, using his lips and tongue expertly to bring him towards orgasm. As his head moved back and forth the rubber cape rustled and swung around him, sticking to his face for a second before sliding smoothly off. He felt rubber and leather on his body once more - gloved fingers stroking his skin, teasing his balls, wanking him. He could feel the breeches and jeans of the men standing around him, and the sole of a boot on his arse.

Mike had never cum more than twice in one session - he didn't think it was possible - but with the fingers working on his cock, the smell of rubber in his nostrils, the straps holding him down, the hooded rubber man's hard dick in his mouth, the hands and the leather and the jeans and the swastikas and the masks and the...

He began to cum for the third time - and simultaneously the cock in his mouth exploded, pumping spunk down his throat as fast as he could swallow. He was covered in leather and rubber - there were gloved hands, and breeches and jackets and jeans all over him. He sucked every last drop of cum out of the jerking cock in his mouth, while shooting his own spunk into the unseen milking fingers that were working on him. He came in an orgy of leather and rubber, and his orgasm was even more intense than the previous ones had been.

The hood was pulled off his head and he found himself inches away from the red rubber-masked face of the man in the cape, whom he'd just sucked off. The black-and-white swastika on the man's mask was distorted by his features beneath, but Mike could tell that the guy was smiling. The man lowered his face to Mike's and kissed the boy gently through the mask. Mike closed his eyes and kissed back.

It was a long kiss, and when the man pulled off his rubber hood, Mike wasn't really surprised to see that it was Tom. Perhaps that had been why Mike had loved sucking his cock so much. "Hi, bro," said Tom softly.

"Hi, bro," smiled back Mike.

Mike was released from the horse, and hugged by everyone there. None of the others removed their masks, and Mike found it horny that he wasn't going to be allowed to know who the men were who had used him.

"Welcome to the club, Michael. This is for you." He placed a swastika armband into Mike's hand.

* * *

Tom chuckled when Mike had asked to be blindfolded and cuffed again for the return trip. Tom said that it was no longer necessary, but Mike wanted it anyway. "You're gonna make a good sub," grinned Tom at his brother's reflection in the rear-view mirror. "And we have plenty of time..."

Mike was feeling the cuffs around his wrists, which were preventing him from removing the leather blindfold over his eyes, which was making it impossible for him to know where they were. He felt controlled, and now he knew that he loved and needed that feeling. Tonight had opened up a totally new vista of possibilities with his brother. He shook his head, trying to get the blindfold off, and smiled when he couldn't. "Hmm," he said, "with a top like you, Tom, I think incest is gonna be on the agenda."

And he had a hard-on again.