Officer Tom part 2 by Vince
Mike spent some time cleaning up his leather jacket, swearing at that little brat of a brother.
Still, he had to say as he scrubbed his proud jacket clean, the little f***er really did cum like a f***ing
horse. He had to be a little proud of the stupid little f***ing jerk.
But not that proud.
One more stupid act and little Timmy was going to find out what being an army dude looked like.
Mike smiled at the thought of his brother without that massive afro reaching up into the sky - the
constant picking at it to make it the most bulbous fluffy awesome afro on any white boy.
Mike reached for his huge baggy saggies and gave himself a squeeze as he ostensibly pulled up his
pants - but of course that never happened for real. He just does not pull up his pants no matter how
much Uncle Tom f***ing whines about it - barking orders - AS IF!
Yeah, there is the real enemy, Uncle Tom. "Or should I say, Tommy," Mike chuckles to himself as he gropes
a little further, looking over his shoulder through the long midnight black strands of hair that constantly graced
the length of his face. He flicked his head so that the long tendrils temporarily flew across his face, briefly
providing him with a clear (well almost) vision of what was in front of him. Flick Flick Flick
"What are you doing, boy?" Uncle Tom stood in the doorway, legs spread, arms crossed - ready for battle.
"Nothing. Just washing my leather jacket." Flick - the hair flies and falls proudly. Flick.
"Don't you need to take that to the dry cleaners?"
Mike didn't know why but he felt his super baggy drawers rising up, and he can't have that now - but he
can't stop it either.
Like all bratty boys, he has very little control over his hormones.
"I'm just wiping down the outside, dude. Leave me alone."
Officer Tom shakes his head and leaves the lad to his chores. But not without a parting shot, "Maybe while
you're at it, you should wash that greasy s**t out of your long hair. It'll be ready for the barber then. Stop
you having to flick your head all the time - save on chiropractor bills, ha ha ha ha."
Mikes faced burned red with fury. "It ain't greasy, dude. It's just my hair product to keep it cool - not that you
would understand that. And ain't no f***ing barber getting anywhere near my long hair!" Giant flick.
flick flick flick - no way no f***ing way - is he f***ing - flick - crazy - F***.
Uncle Tom chuckled as he leaves the boy alone with his slimy coat and his huge boner hidden by the sink.
He didn't dare turn all the way around for a while yet.
Meanwhile, Timmy was fuming. The fear of what had happened was disappearing as the rage took hold.
How dare that f***ing emo s**t take any of his hair ANY!
He stood with his tightest skinny jeans sagging well below his ass and halfway down the front, cloth spread
between his knees practically. The tightness was getting tighter as he fondled his giant afro - plucking at the
long hair to get it to its full height. His extender comb barely doing the job.
He usually got his brother to help him with the parts he couldn't't properly reach but, "That asshole doesn't
get the privilege to f***ing touch my long hair any more, asshole."
He plucked at his hair and plucked at the crotch of his jeans, making adjustments as he thought about Mike's
own long jet black hair falling all over his f***ing face and down his back. "What I'd like to do to you, you
f***ing longhaired f***wit," Mike said aloud to himself, smirking under the massive fro hanging down over his
eyes and to the tip of his nose poking through the curly strands.
The plot came to him as he continued to excite himself. As all boys, the testosterone started to take over and
the commonsense flew away like brats when there are chores to be done.
He'd cut that f***ing emo boy's hair for sure.
Just before dinner and the studly brats are arguing again.
"My hair is way f***ing longer than yours asshole," Mike sneered and pulled at the long black strands of super
long hair in front of his face. "I can f***ing suck on my hair in front, not like your f***ing stupid curls."
"Shut up," Tim spat. "My hair is just as long or longer. It's just curly - how do you think I gots an afro, asshole."
Mike pulls his bangs down past his chin, smirking at his little brother.
Tim pulls at some of the beautiful afro locks that completely obliterate his eyes and most of his nose, but no matter
how hard he tries, he can't get the stands to reach his mouth or his chin.
Still, he's a boy. "See, it's just as f***ing long."
"Yeah, right. Full of f***ing lice more like it."
Just as they are about to wrestle, Uncle Tom calls them to the table.
As they are eating, Mike's overproduced long black hair falls over his face toward the table. With expert
talent, he flick his hair with twitches of his head so that the food enters his mouth without ever (well
hardly ever) getting into his pride and joy long hair.
Uncle Tom watches both boys and wonders if they can actually see him at all.
He thinks that everyone would expect an officer to take control of such brats and drag these two f***wits
to a barbershop - or at least a kitchen chair. He has to admit that he thought of that himself at first.
But now, he thought, there is a more subtle approach - a more psychological approach, and he won't ever
be blamed for actually forcing these longhaired pipsqueaks who think they are so cool to have their pretty
long hair cut.
"I think Mike is right," Uncle Tom said suddenly. Both boys are surprised by this. Officer Tom never agreed
with either of them about anything! "I think you are right, young Mikey," he continued. "Your hair is a lot
longer than Timmy's. I can see that now."
"F***ing A" Mike said, proud of his awesome long hair.
"I mean, if it were a contest - which it seems to be. I think your hair is longer in front at least. And, of course,
you have the flow at the back, that hair is down between your shoulder blades I noticed this morning
and that little tail of yours is even longer." He was referring to what used to be a rattail from about ten
years ago when Mike was proud of having one. Of course, he was totally embarrassed for anyone to bring
that up now, but he never let go of the long strands. They didn't look like a rattail now, but the extra long
strands were still a lot further down his back than the rest of the overgrown mop.
Uncle Tom was not finished yet. "I think that the boy who loves his hair the most should probably get to
keep his hair. The longest hair has to be some measure of that."
The boys two young brains are in overload. One of them gets to keep his hair! Only one!
"Yeah, I think that makes sense, don't you, Mikey?" Uncle Tom is the one smirking now.
Mike was not so sure. He was reaching for the crotch of his super baggies and hoping that Uncle didn't ask him
to stand up right now.
What was he up to? Still, he seemed to be on his side. If he was the only one that got to keep long hair, he'd
better say so.
"Yeah, my f***ing hair is the best - no doubt."
"And you do care about it the most, don't you? I mean you do love your hair?"
What the f***, Mike thought. Did he hear me with little bro? His face is turning red with embarrassment.
"Well? Do you?" Uncle Tom presses.
"Yeah, s**t, of course I care about my hair," he mumbles under the huge fringe, letting is curtain over his entire face
"And you love it?"
"Yeah, yeah, okay, I love it," Mike practically whispers.
Tim would be laughing except he thinks he is getting the short end of the stick.
"He doesn't spend anywhere near as much time on his f***ing long emo hair as I do on mine,"Tim piped up.
"That's true," Tom replied acting as though he is thinking this through long and hard. "Still, I think Mike has
you beat on the length. That's for sure. His bangs are truly the longest I've ever seen."
Tim couldn't believe this. He walked away from the table and his tight bubble butt hanging out over his super
tight skinny jeans sagging down looked like a wee boy's ass, the red underwear ready to be spanked.
He looked defeated.
Mike on the other hand, strutted in his swag of low hanging baggy jeans, his ass just as revealed in black
shiny underwear that clung to him like a peach. He had to keep picking at his ass to keep the undies out,
but he knew he looked super cool all the same.
Dad cringed as the boy swagged out of the kitchen swinging is proud hair and picking at his undies quickly -
thinking nobody ever noticed this little problem.
Why the hell he wears a belt, I will never know, Tom thinks. He can't just let the boy get away totally free
"Pull up your pants, young man, before I take that belt off that's doing you no good and swat that little
brat ass of yours. It looks like you took a huge dump in those diaper pants."
Mike didn't turn around but kept going. He didn't want to risk losing the hair battle, despite the fact than
nobody but nobody made him pull up his pants. F*** that s**t.
Mike went out that night with some of his friends. He knew he should not have drank as much as he did
but, what the hell, it had been a good night so far. Uncle Tom seemed to be siding with him on his long
hair, and the brat would likely lose his locks. He couldn't wait to see that happen.
He'd get Tom turned around on his sagging baggies as well - eventually.
He hooked up with a couple of buddies who did a little more than drink, and he shared in some of the
other goodies as well.
By the time he got home, he was pretty blasted and barely made it up the stairs (tough with these pants down
between his knees to start with) but when he saw little bro, he couldn't resist teasing him.
"Everybody said my hair was the best and the longest," he slurred and waddled in his saggers over to his bro.
Flick - hair flies - falls - flick - hair flies - falls - Flick Flick Flick.
"Yeah, did they ask if you needed a diaper change," Tim sneered, "wear some f***ing pants, dude, instead
Mike laughed and punched his brother. He landed on top of him in his bed and the boys wrestled a bit -
not really trying to hurt each other but typical brotherly competition. Except one thing, Mikey was very
horny. He couldn't help it. He started rubbing against his brother's leg.
Flick flick - he looked down - flick flick.
"F*** off, dude," Tim said. "You faggot, get off me."
"Come on, bro. F***, just let me use your leg for a minute. I got my pants on, dude. Just let me, please."
"NO! Go f*** your pillow like you do every night, faggo."
Mike whined a little, "Please, dude - I need it and this is better than a pillow, pleeease. " He swung his long
locks as if that would be even more convincing.
"NO! Get off me."
Well, Mike was a young lad and young lads who are completely full of themselves and full of boy hormones can't
hold on for long. He held his bro steady and humped his leg furiously for a few moments. As he enjoyed
the humping, he watched his long silky black hair bouncing and cascading down over past his
face all the way down to his brother. He admired the long hair as it slid across the younger man's
slightly muscled arms and chest. This kid is loving my long hair right now, Mike thought -not being
able to imagine that anyone wouldn't love feeling the long hair glistening with hair product and
sweat slapping at them. Tim's reaction in his own shorts did not help dissuage the lad of these
views. Truth be told, Tim was getting some pleasure out of this - not only physically, but the knowledge that
his older brother needed his help.
Mike had a grip in Tim's giant afro and had to admit that there was a f***ing miraculous
amount of hair on this kid's head. The volume of hair was astounding. Mike imagined shearing this stupid
f***ing sheep, the stupid f***wit doesn't deserve all this long hair. The more Tim
struggled, the more excited Mike became. His back arched and his super baggy jeans took the boy's
cum one more time.
"Thanks f*** head," Mike laughed and waddled over to his bed, collapsing on it without changing or even
getting under the blankets. He was out.
Tim waited for a few minutes, but it was obvious that older brother was out like a light - and out for a long
time by the look and smell of him.
He walked over to the bed and looked at the young man with his long glistening jetblack locks cascading out
in front of him over the pillow and the long hair down his back with the extended bits from the old tail all the
way down to his pants.
Which hair should he take?
He smirked and felt his boner rise in his shorts. The skinny silky shorts he wore to bed would hide nothing, but
there was nobody here to see.
Tim noticed Mikes huge baggy jeans and saw the soaked bit. He adjusted the boy's jeans for him, sliding a hand
to the totally visible undewear and just making a few adjustments so that he didn't wake up stuck to himself -
ouch - that can hurt - he knew. Well, he was his brother afterall, even if he was a total f***ing idiot.
He lifted Mikes long bangs and let them drop across his nose and a few strands went into the boy's mouth.
The dude never moved.
He was definitely OUT.
Mike debated taking away the tail - the longest hair he had.
But, he was his brother, and that might be too mean.
Of course, he debated taking all of the hair - but that was risky and way too much payback.
The bangs. It had to be the bangs. Those long silky strands filled with product and hot iron treatment to keep
the emo bangs concealing his face. The flick flick flick of his head was so f***ing annoying.
Tim imagined that the constant flicking must be bothering the dude anyways.
He'd probably thank me, Tim thought unreasonably - but his lithe body was filling with testosterone and the
only "brain" that was thinking was the one in his shorts that now stood to attention.
He rested one hand on his shorts and thought about just anointing his brother's long hair while he lay there,
but that was not enough. Not tonight.
He took the same scissors that Mike had used on him and he lifted some of the long hair from the boy's
forehead. The blades slid easily into the hair and to Tim's surprise the long sharp blades closed easily and
sliced the punk's long hair without any hesitation.
It was too easy.
Here he stood with a massive swath of long emo hair in his hand, detached from his mouthy brother's head.
The hair dangled in useless weakness, the emblem of a strong, mouthy brat deemed garbage now.
His shorts were getting damp, but he didn't care. It felt good - real GOOD.
He let the black hair dangle from the protrusion in his shorts for a few minutes and then let go. The long
strands slid over his boner within his shorts and landed unceremoniously to the floor.
Should he stop?
Reader - tell me - should he stop?
Well, he couldn't.
He could no more stop cutting these bangs than Mike could have stopped humping his leg a few moments
ago. The boy hormones took over - the boy hardon was sturdy and wanting more.
Feed me, his proud erection demanded satisfaction.
The long nosed blades of the scissors entered the sleeping / passed out young man's long bangs over and over.
The long hair came away as easily as cutting paper. It was not invincible punk hair afterall. There was the
bridge of the young man's nose, finally visible. Tim noticed the nice splash of boyhood freckles across the
bridge of his cute nose and thought about how much younger and babyish his older brother was going to
look now - not emo punk stud but boyood cutie. He laughed to himself as he imagined Mikey puking over the
thought of looking like a cute little boy instead of the swaggering mouthy stud he thought he was.
The slicing continued until the bangs were reduces to only about an inch on the top of the lad's head. Tim noticed
that he'd cut too much really - there weren't any bangs to speak off and the blunt cut across the top of his
forehead looked ridiculous, like some bowl cut gone wrong. The ultra-white skin gleaming now that the hair is
not protecting it. The bit of acne on his forehead proving that this was just a snot-nosed kid even though he was
old enough to be a man - the brat.
There was definitely no long hair down over his face now.
The flick flick flick would be totally unnecessary.
As younger brother let the last of the bangs slide to the floor, he looked at the mountain of long hair - the
jet-black beauty that had been his older brother's pride and joy at the dinner table. HAD been, Tim laughed.
His hand on his other pride and joy, he jerked off onto the long tail of hair that was sprawled over the bed.
He couldn't help himself.
Should he keep cutting? He thought about it, but he knew that when Mikey woke up and saw that his precious
long jet-black emo bangs were reduced to an inch of blunt cut s**t, he would cry like a baby. He'd be made, but
he'd cry, too - probably wet his fancy baggy pants.
Well, after his back had arched and the proud boyjuice flew into the silky long
strands making them sticky, he felt somewhat embarrassed and weakened.
The little brain below had been satisfied.