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Oscar: Shaved and Uncovered by Manny


This is the third chapter of the Oscar series


Oscar was totally dumbfounded when Chad pointed at a row of large barrels containing ball bearings and casually said, "You'll be counting these -- ball by ball -- to ensure each barrel contains the 100,000 the company says it does."

"Manually?! I mean, there's no machine to do this?" Oscar sputtered.

Chad's hand was fast and firm. Swat! Oscar's fanny stung; Chad had made his point very effectively, and Oscar admired him for it.

"The acceptable answer is 'yes, sir' not some pretentious lip of an upstart! Understand?" snapped the warehouse foreman. "I didn't get to the top of the warehouse by being Mother Theresa!" he added sarcastically.

"Yes, sir! I understand, sir!" Oscar hastily replied.

Oscar eyed Chad's smart, plush flattop with the shaved sides as he trailed him through the warehouse. It gave the warehouse foreman an air of authority, and Oscar found himself glad to submit to it.

Once inside Chad's small office, the foreman rooted through a closet. "Guess, I don't have a jumpsuit for you to wear after all." Then he took a large pair of scissors from his desk drawer. "Come over here," he commanded.

Oscar complied meekly. Then he watched with horror as Chad took the scissors to his pant legs right above the knee and began cutting into the expensive linen/silk blend fabric. His expensive Brooks Brothers suit was being mutilated!

"See you gotta be resourceful in my line of work," Chad said with a grin. He seemed very satisfied to completely ruin Oscar's suit pants.

"This suit cost over $1200...." Oscar began to whine as the scissors hacked through the expensive fabric.

In a flash, Chad muscled Oscar and made him leaned over the small desk. He reached into a drawer and pulled out a stout wooden paddle. SMACK! SMACK!! As he delivered a swift, impromptu spanking, Chad "accidentally" stepped all over Oscar's expensive Bruno Magli leather loafers caking them with the grit of the warehouse floor.

"Now stay still, leaning over the desk like that, while I finish turning your suit pants into shorts!" Chad ordered.

"Yes, sir. You are very resourceful," Oscar whimpered.

"Oh, now you're catching on," Chad said with a gentler tone. Then he began stroking Oscar's butch. Oscar basked in the tenderness. It was a nice follow-up after the spanking.

"Your barber didn't do a very good job on this butch," Chad mentioned casually as he caressed the bristles. "Either that or it's been a very long time since you've had a haircut. It's way too long."

"But, I just got my butch a few hours ago," Oscar protested. "I almost had no say in the matter. The barber just took a clippers to my hair and shaved off the executive style I've sported for the past fifteen years." Then he showed Chad his company badge. The photo portrayed a smug corporate executive feeling quite pleased with himself, especially the man of thick hair coiffed into a power helmet.

Chad let out a laugh. "That's you? I mean, no one would recognize you now with this crude butch cut and ragged outfit." Chad delighted in leading Oscar to a mirror inside the door of the closet so that could clearly see the difference.

Oscar's stomach lurched in horror. He was unrecognizable.

He kept staring at the mirror, feeling his clipped head, somewhat in a daze while Chad returned to his desk.

Then Chad broke the silence with another order. "Come over here!"

Oscar turned and saw the buff, muscular foreman with the snappy flattop and piercing blue eyes holding a small set of electric clippers. "I use this edger to keep my sides and back skinned between haircuts. Extends the life of the flattop a bit and keeps me looking sharp. Suppose I show you how to groom me with the edger? Here's a cape -- go ahead and fasten it about me. Are you up to this?"

Oscar's eyes lit up and he accepted with excitement, "Sure! I'll do my best!" His hands shook slightly with anticipation as he cast the cape around Chad and pulled it snug around his muscular neck. The view of his flattop was awesome! Chad's hair was dense; despite the short length, it appeared glossy and full of health.

"Plug the edger in over there and just run it slowly up to the point where it starts tapering away from the head -- about two/thirds of the way up," Chad instructed.

Oscar felt almost giddy to be grooming Chad in such an intimate, unexpected way. "I think your flattop is fantastic! It gives you such a commanding presence and air of authority."

"Much better than that pathetic butch cut!" Chad sneered. "No hair on you would be better than the butch....and much better than that fussy executive hairstyle pictured on your badge."

As Oscar clipped Chad's back in a tentative, gingerly way, he started re-imagining his morning experience at the barbershop. Instead of being forced into the chair by the authoritative barber and being on the receiving end of an unwelcome crude butch cut...what if his transformation had been at his initiative and command? Oscar pictured himself entering the small barbershop, executive coif in perfect place and clad in his immaculate Brooks Brothers' power suit, with teen son Brock in tow. He would be first in the chair. To the barber's casual suggestion of 'just a trim today' Oscar would be very clear and commanding in his voice. 'Give me a flattop; skinned up the sides and fairly long on top.' He would watch with full composure as the barber snagged the thick, full forelock of his pompous pomp with a comb and ran the clippers over it sending five thick inches to the cape. He would look on the approval as the barber ran the clippers up the sides of his head, peeling off the thick padding of glossy hair and unveiling snowy white scalp. His strong, healthy hair would be sculpted into a flattop that would rival the masterpiece on Chad's head that he was grooming. Then, in his fantasy re-imagination of his morning experience, he would order sullen Brock to the chair. The moptop that covered much of his face, ears and collar would suffer an even more drastic fate. 'Give the lad a flattop too, only much shorter on top with a proper landing strip.' He would watch with delight as his son's shag was stripped away.

Oscar cleared his throat a bit, "There, I think I did a pretty good job, Chad." Then, after clearing his throat a bit, he continued, "I'd like you to work on my haircut a bit -- to morph this butch into a sharp flattop, just like yours."

Chad yanked the cape off himself and sprang to his feet. "I give the orders here in the warehouse, Baldy. It's time for you to get to work counting ball bearings!" With that, Chad marched Oscar out to the huge barrels to begin the tedious work of hand counting the 100,000 balls that each barrel was said to contain. It would be grueling, tedious, thankless work.

The afternoon dragged on incredibly slowly. Oscar couldn't believe the project he'd been put onto. It was the most awful thing he could imagine doing. But, his boss had sent him down and he needed to comply. As he counted the ball bearings mindlessly, Oscar thought about Chad. His feelings swung between enamored and fearful.

As the shift was drawing towards an end, Oscar heard Chad's voice boom across the warehouse. "Baldy, I'll see you in my office now!"

When Oscar walked in, he was surprised to see Chad standing with the edger in hand next to a chair with the barber's cape draped over it. "I was thinking about your request, that I take a stab at playing barber to see if we can't do something with that pathetic butch cut. So, Chad's Barber Shop is open! Come take a seat here."

Oscar smiled; he felt tingly and lightheaded as he complied. Oscar felt warm inside, knowing that Chad had been thinking about him and his request for a sharp flattop.

Chad was very authoritative as he secured the cape tightly about Oscar's neck. It was so tight, his breathing became somewhat labored. "Sit up straight, Baldy!" Chad ordered. "No slouching in my chair!"

Oscar complied as best he could.

Then, unexpectedly, Chad brought the edger right in front of Oscar's eyes and with an evil grin on his face quickly drove them straight down the top of Oscar's head, from forehead to cowlick! Snippets of his hair flew in all directions and a small clump of hair fragments fell to the cape.

Chad bellowed out a laugh, "Now you'll really live up to your name, Baldy!! I'm taking you down to zilch!" Chad felt the shorn swath and announced, "Like a fine grade sandpaper!!"

Oscar's stomach churned. Chad was mercilessly tormenting him. First the paddling, then the awful task, and now the forced clipper-shaved head. It took him all his self-restraint to not dissipate into anger or tears. Instead, Oscar sat meekly and compliantly, bowing his head as ordered and allowing the bully to clip off the butch cut. In a way, it was a relief to be rid of the boyish haircut.

Once the machine had been snapped off, Chad announced, "I'm done for the day and am out of here! But, you, Baldy, need to finish counting your balls and also tidying up my office before you leave!" In a last farewell gesture, he rubbed his full hand furiously over the whole of Oscar's clipped head. "Bye, Baldy! Make sure my office is spic and span. Your fur is all over this place. There's a broom in that closet over there."

After Chad left, Oscar hustled over to the closet -- not to get the broom, but to look at himself in the mirror that hung inside. He was in for somewhat of a surprise. Instead of hating the way he looked sans hair, Oscar's first impression was that the chromedome was....uh, quite manly. He looked like a modern Yul Brenner. The sleek, clean look exuded confidence. Oscar found himself feeling tough and quite sure of himself. How strange to feel empowered in the same place that he'd been reduced to a lowly recruit! Oscar rubbed the nubs with his hand and enjoyed the sensation.

As he was marveling at his unexpected transformation, Oscar's eye drifted to a box on the floor that had a scrawl marked "diverted inventory" on the side. He was curious. Diverted? To where? And why?

He began looking at the bills of lading and seeing markings, numbers, factions, calculations. It seemed to be some sort of separate inventory being recorded. He churned through the records and decided to spot check a few items in the warehouse. Oscar's suspicions that valuable company inventory was being siphoned off by Chad seemed to be confirmed. Oscar used his administrator's password to log into Chad's account. The record keeping was even more brazenly kept in a file marked "entertainment"!

Throughout the rest of the week, Oscar continued to perform the mundane tasks during the day and stayed late to continue documenting Chad's sideline that amounted to a huge scheme, bilking the company of hundreds of thousands of dollars in diverted inventory.

By Thursday, he'd concluded drafting a comprehensive report and scanning the supporting documentation into his computer. But, he was at a loss as to how to proceed. His boss had banished him to the warehouse for three months, and he'd only been there just shy of a week.

As he was considering his options, he heard Chad announce over the intercom, "Baldy, to my office. Make it snappy!"

Oscar scampered as quickly as he could. When he entered, he saw Chad sitting in a chair with the barber cape and edger lying next to him the desk. "Time for you to clean up my sides. This will be my last 'maintenance' session before I visit my barber. My flattop can't support any pile length exceeding an inch and a quarter."

"It looks great at that length on top, Chad," Oscar said with an admiring tone.

"Yes, I'm aware of that. The flattop is a very empowering haircut. Only the manliest of men can sport one with confidence. Of course, you also need a dense head of healthy hair like I've got. Go ahead, now. Cape me up and use your steadiest hand cleaning up the sides. You did a fairly good job earlier in the week," Chad noted.

Oscar enjoyed playing barber. He carefully fastened the cape about the foreman's neck. Then he picked up the edger.

Suddenly, an idea sprung into his head. He felt his cock stir. The edger could just as easily destroy Chad's empowering flattop as it could sharpen it up! His hand trembled at the thought....

Oscar snapped the machine on and the vibration was accompanied by a low hum. He gently nudged Chad's head forward, but the foreman kept it rigidly straight and forced Oscar to bend for a better angle.

Oscar cleared his voice nervously after the first careful trim with the clippers. He surveyed the magnificent, plush top. Yes, Chad would be taught a lesson!

As the clippers started up the back through the nape, Oscar commented, "When I was tidying up your office, I came across a box marked 'diverted inventory'."

Instantly, Oscar could feel tension pulsate through Chad's whole body.

"I hope you left it alone," he replied nervously.

The edger approached the plush top with hungry teeth eager to continue clearing the path up through the prized, plush top.

"No, I examined its contents," Oscar stated with a firm, cool voice. "You are embezzling the company!" he exclaimed as he drove the clippers right up through the cowlick and firmly down the center of Chad's cherished flattop!

"What are you doing?!" the shocked foreman shrieked.

Oscar did not answer until the clippers pushed off a mass of Chad's treasured hair. The clump tumbled down past his disbelieving eyes.

Oscar snapped, "No! What are YOU doing, Chad Branson? I'll tell you what you're doing, you low-down thief! You are diverting hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of inventory into a private warehouse for resale! I have the whole scam documented! You will be prosecuted!"

Chad began blubbering and begging, jumping to his feet and turning to address Oscar. "Oh, please, Oscar! I beg you. Don't do that! Why not go into the scheme with me and we'll share profits?"

Oscar, seeing the shaved strip through Chad's flattop released a fulsome laugh, "You look like a skunk with your new haircut, Chad! I don't do business with stinkers like you!"

Chad felt the top of his head and winced at the damage. "Please, Oscar. I have a family to care for. I can't lose this job, and I've become very dependent on the extra income from the inventory diversion."

He moved forward to plead his case, but Oscar quickly muscled him to lean over the desk. In a flash, Oscar's hand pulled the paddle from the desk drawer and delivered a few stiff whacks across Chad's fanny. "Ooooouch!" the humbled foreman gasped. Chad had never been on the receiving end of an adult spanking. He was unsure what hurt more, his pride or his fanny.

Oscar had never paddled anyone before, but the action unleashed an even more potent surge of authority.

He grabbed the intercom and announced. "All warehouse employees, please meet in the central corridor immediately."

"What are you doing?" Chad asked with a panicked voice.

"I want them all to see your new haircut, Chad!" he laughed. Then Oscar led him to the closet to see himself in the mirror that hung inside.

Chad's eyes could hardly stay focused on the ruins of his precious flattop. "I can't go out there like this," he whimpered.

"Oh, yes you can. And you can announce your resignation from the firm, effective immediately," Oscar instructed.

As Oscar led the humbled Chad to the central corridor so that all his subordinates could see him stripped of his precious flattop, the warehouse foreman grabbed his arm and whispered, "Oscar, I'm not in on this diversion scheme alone. Mathers gets a cut too. That's right -- your boss, Mr. Mathers! In fact, he gains most from this operation. Trace the bank accounts -- the one that gets the bulk of the revenue is in his wife's name."

The revelation shocked Oscar. His own boss knew and profited from the scheme! The very same dominating Mr. Mathers who effected his status cut and sent him to the warehouse!

He was still processing the news as the two men strode into the central corridor. There was a gasp and murmur among the employees as they saw Chad with the strip shaved through the middle of his flattop.

Oscar announced with mirth in his voice, "I gave your boss, Chad Branson, a going away present. A new haircut! And now he has an announcement to make...."

In a cracking voice, the humbled Chad announced, "Today is my last day at the company."

A spontaneous cheer erupted in the assembly of warehouse workers. "Good riddance!" one voice shouted. "Hope the door hits you in the ass on the way out!" came another.

Oscar enjoyed watching Chad box up his things under the close watch of company guards. As he was paraded out through the warehouse, the employees whistled and cheered. Several of them ran up to Oscar and shook his hand to congratulate and thank him for cleaning up the management of the warehouse.

After briefly savoring his new found status as hero, Oscar's thought turned to Mr. Mathers -- the domineering, cruel boss who had summarily reduce him in status and banished him to the warehouse. Yes, Mr. Mathers would be made to pay dearly...and his fussy little businesscut, with every hair sprayed perfectly into place, would be the first thing Oscar would strip from him!






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