This is a rewrite of the first chapter of Ash James’ excellent Unexpected Haircut.
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I unlock the phone and my jaw just dropped on the floor. The guy in the Grindr message I got a notification for is unbelievably hot. I literally can’t believe he hadn’t just grabbed a hot selfie from Instagram and pasted into his bio. But boy do I wish it to be real. He is everything I want. Muscular, in that Men’s Health cover shoot ripped kind of way, square jaw, white teeth, tan skin, jet black short hair slicked back. He is genetically more of a man than I can ever be, even if I was diligent and dedicated to my food and workout, which I’m not. He sure has been. That kind of body and look doesn’t happen by mistake. And now he is asking if I wanted to hook up.
There is little I wouldn’t agree to to make that happen. Even just as a pretend role play, this is hot, and I need to get out of my work clothes to tend to my erection. “Yes, I would love to” I answer. I hope that was both emphatically a yes, without sounding too desperate to make him reconsider.
“Is your bio up to date?” he asks. I’m tempted to say “I haven’t grown taller, if that is what you mean,” but this isn’t the time to be silly. “Yeah, it’s all recent info. Photo too.” The picture is me, a 22 year old warehouse stocker playing in a band. It kind of reflected all of that pretty well. I’m normal build, almost skinny, wearing our band T-shirt, a zip-up hoodie, rubber bracelets, and ripped skinny jeans. The hair is perhaps a bit messy. I’ve been trying to grow it out for a year, and it is now in that awkward stage where it is long enough to get in your face, but not long enough to tie it up.
“Out of interest, how much of a bottom are you?” he asks.
“I’m usually always a bottom,” I message back, feeling a bit awkward.
“How do you feel about totally submitting to me?” he messages. I thought my dick couldn’t get any harder, but apparently I was wrong. Being fucked by this guy is the hottest thing I could imagine.
“Sure.” I type, without really considering what he means.
I arrive at his door a few hours and a short bus ride later, after a thorough cleaning, looking pretty much like in the bio. I figure whatever caught his eye the first time better be present in person. It’s a fancy looking door in a fancy looking area, and I feel slightly out of place. It’s even worse when he opens the door. He looks if anything better than his profile photos. A magazine cover physique poured into a tight, white T-shirt and a pair of indigo Levi’s jeans.
I’m so struck that he has to do most of the talking the first minute, greeting me, inviting me in, offering me a drink. “Beer, wine, cocktail, water, petrol?” I request a glass of red. I have a thing for red wines, the more tannins the better. We end up in a nice looking living room, one of several I imagine, given the size of the apartment, where he invites me to sit in any of the large armchairs while he gets us wine. There is a large empty space in the room, and on the floor a large rubber mat has been rolled out. It feels out of place among all the modern furniture and modern art, like some crude graffiti on a wall.
He comes back with two glasses of excellent red wine, and join me in one of the armchairs. He begins to talk about himself and explains he runs a personal training business that has been more successful than it ought to be in recent years, according to him. I talk about my band, only mentioning in passing that I move boxes of nails and screws around at the back of a warehouse. I feel more than a little bit out of my league next to this muscly businessman, but all the time my dick is pressed hard against my skinny jeans.
“So, you want to be one of my subs?” he says suddenly when we are running out of superficial topics to talk about.
“I want you to fuck me,” I reply, nervous and perhaps a bit too blunt.
He smiles a little. “I only fuck guys who properly submit to me.” He sounds friendly but serious. “Stand up and take your clothes off.”
I stand up and take off my band T-shirt, unbutton my skinny jeans, pull them down together with my boxer briefs. He almost doesn’t move at all, just sitting there in his white T-shirt and jeans, looking at my dick pointing almost straight up.
“The socks and bracelets too,” he says.
I pull all my black rubber bracelets off and drop them on the floor, and bend down to pull off my socks. I’m fully exposed to him, in every sense of the word. He tells me to kneel, and I immediately obey. He walks up to me and starts playing with my hard-on, almost like he’s examining it. He puts his thumb in my mouth and tells me to suck it, while he pushes his other hand through my long hair.
“I shave all my subs heads,” he says casually. “Is that okay?”
I think about my long hair that I’ve been growing out for a year. I think about my band and how I look on stage playing the guitar with the hair dancing in my face. But I’m so horny, and this guy is so hot. Before I can really think about it I nod my head in consent. He removes his hands and pats me on the shoulder. “On all four on the tarp,” he orders.
I step over to the rubber mat and go down on all four. He is getting some things over at a table and comes back behind me. “This will make it so much better,” he says, and I can feel him fitting something on my dick. Some sort of cock ring. It sure doesn’t make me less horny. Then I can hear the sound of a plastic bottle being handled. “Just relax,” he says and I can feel something inserted into my ass. It’s quite narrow, but goes quite a way in, like a very narrow butt plug or a long douche.
He steps away again and when he comes back he stands above me, with one leg on either side of me. “Last chance. Do you submit to me?”
“Yes, sir,” I blurt out with no hesitation, and I get a wave of pleasure from my ass reverberating throughout my body. He then puts a clipper to my skull and slowly runs it front to back at the top of my head. There is no going back now. If I tell him to stop, anything will look worse than once he is done. He continues in slow, measured motions, front to back. For every stroke he makes there is like an explosion of pleasure coming from whatever he stuck into me. He must use a remote control and time it to his movements. Had it not been for the ring, I would have spilled all my cum right there and then.
My heart is pounding in excitement, lust, and terror. The only thing I can see is the rubber mat and load after load of dark brown hair falling from my head. I can’t believe this is actually happening, and that I’m agreeing to it. There is so much hair.
“Feels lighter, doesn’t it?” he asks. I shake my head a little, and it feels so strange. “Yeah,” I answer, choking on my words. “Sit up. We are not done yet.” I carefully sit up, afraid to impale myself to the dildo or whatever he put up my ass, but it’s not large enough to matter, although I can feel it shift a little. The new sensation made me gasp.
He cleans my head off with a warm, wet towel, and then I hear the spray sound of shaving foam. The hair is already gone, so the last millimeter doesn’t really matter, but it still feels like a step just as big to go from buzzed to shaved. He lathers all of the head and starts shaving. He holds my head in a firm grip and I can feel him pull the razor over my scalp. It sounds a bit like Velcro being pulled apart, and for every stroke I can feel a faint pulse going through the body. The setting is either very low or I’m more accustomed to whatever he put up my ass, or I’m just imagining it. But the overall effect of him tending to my head and my edging is I start to relax into it. Lulled into pleasure.
When I think he is done he cleans off my head again and covers it in shaving foam one more time. He starts shaving it again, but this time in the other direction. The Velcro sound is gone. It’s just the feel of the razor against my naked scalp. He cleans my head yet another time and I can feel him rubbing in some cream all over. Then he goes back and applies something, or the same, once again. Finally he is moving a much softer towel than what he cleaned me with, almost like he was polishing me.
“Are you ready for your amazing reveal?” he asks me, walking away from me to a table. “Yes,” I say. Next to the table stands a large dressing mirror on wheels, turned away from me. He grabs it and starts rolling it towards me. “Well, stand up and face me.” He is beaming, clearly enjoying his handiwork.
I do as he says, and he turns the mirror around so it reveals my new looks. He pushes the remote way up, sending a big shot of pleasure as I look at my reflection. I almost don’t recognize myself. Even the face looks different when all my hair is gone. I’m not just bald, but the head is ridiculously polished, like a shining marble. “It suits you,” he says and touches my head, sending more signals to my dick.
My friends will freak out when they see me, not to mention my family, but I can’t disagree. It looks like I’ve had this look for a long time. Like it belonged. “It’s tan-without-sun, some wax with bronzer, and some oil to finish it off,” he says, sensing I was forming a question about why I didn’t look like I had just lost my hair.
“I can’t get turned on unless a sub is completely bald,” he says, rubbing one of his hands against my head, “but man do you turn me on. I haven’t seen such a beautiful head in a long while.” I feel a weird pride from what he tells me. “I wasn’t sure where this was going. A shave and a fuck, and then perhaps hookups whenever when I felt like it. But this… This changes things.”
I’m still in a slight shock over what I see in the mirror that I missed the nuances in what he just told me. “Would you consider something more long term with me?” he continued. I wasn’t sure what he meant. “What do you mean?”
“I’ll show you. Here, clean yourself off,” and he handed me a damp towel from the table. As he leaves the room I’m not really sure what he means by cleaning myself. I use it as if I was drying myself, and find a lot of small stray hairs is picked up by the damp towel. He returns with a bundle of white clothes and a small bucket. “On all four again.”
I do as he tells me, and I can feel him removing whatever he stuck up my ass. I can feel a wet wipe or something cleaning the area around the hole after the device is removed. “OK, stand up.” Again, I follow the instructions. He is squatting in front of me, and picks up a small towel from the bucket with ice water and wraps it around my dick. I almost take a step away from him to avoid the uncomfortable chill, bordering to pain. Once my erection is gone, he swiftly removes the ring, but puts on a different kind of ring. Then a few other parts. Quickly, and probably well-practiced, he has replaced my cock ring with a chastity device. Instead of locking it with a padlock he pulls a zip tie through the small hole and zips it tight. I’ve never had a chastity device before, or even seen it in real life. My dick starts to stiffen up again, but is uncomfortably prevented by the device. I feel no less horny than before though.
“It’s just for now. Here, try this on,” he says, hands me a white jockstrap, and motions me towards the pile of clothes. I quickly step into the jockstrap and pull it up, then I take a look at the rest of the clothes. Besides a pair of sports socks, there is a shiny athletic T-shirt, and a pair of shorts with stripes down the side, all of it white. This is the kind of clothes I would never wear. It’s not just not my style, but it doesn’t feel serious or proper in some way. I don’t show any hesitation though, but quickly put on the shirt and step into the shorts. They are not skin tight, like compression clothes, but they are definitely my size. I sit down and put on the socks too. As I look up I see myself in the mirror again, and somehow the shock is at least as large as seeing myself bald. That was just me bald, but now there is an entirely different character in the mirror. Someone I wouldn’t really trust if I met him on the street.
I stand up and take a step forward to have a closer look. “Do you like it?” he asks and again rubs my head with his hand. Another shiver of pleasure shoots through my body. Didn’t he already remove the device? “Yeah, it’s… something.” I don’t know what to answer him. If my dick could, it would be crazy hard right now. I don’t like any of it. I wouldn’t choose the bald head, the ridiculous polish, the style of clothes, or the color white. But it is incredibly hot to have him do it to me. That he decided all of this for me.
“Do you have any plans for the weekend?” The question surprises me. It’s only Tuesday now. “No, I don’t have anything planned.”
“This is what I propose then. I can have sex with you right now, as you are. It’ll be the best fucking you’ve ever had. Then you can get dressed, go home, and we maybe hook up again in the future.” He made a pause to let it sink in. “Or I’ll take you on as my next muscle bottom project. I’ll tell you what to wear, how to train, what to eat, and you’ll have the best time of your life. Leave here as you are right now, think about it, and come back on Friday, same clothes, shiny bald head. If you are up for it, we’ll do an all-weekend event. Your choice.”
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