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Jon's Jog by Braidedandbound
Jon woke up to the sound of horns blaring. As usual he had had his usually frustrating dream. The theme was always his favourite thing; his hair. The dream usually consisted of him sitting down in front of a mirror with his hair covered the entirety of his body, and in waves around the floor. He then would begin hsi morning ritual of brushing the long hair 100 times, to get the knots out. But Jon’s issue was that he would wake up each time before he could get to the 100th stroke! He threw his blankets off in anger, his pillow flying across the room. Jon stood up and sighed as he caught his reflection in the closet mirror. He was fit, toned one might say. But his frame was smaller in comparison to the enormous mane that he had flowing down his back. It blanketed his rear like a cape, falling in wispy curls to his knees. He wished it would be longer, like in his dreams. But he dealt with what he had. He smirked as he flexed in the morning light. The sun's rays caught the red shades in his auburn hair. It reflected well off of his creamy white skin. He loved his hair, without it, he knew people would focus on his lithe frame, and pale skin. But luckily, his cape of hair would highlight and cause his over all appearance to glow. This thought is what stood his soldier to attention. But his self love was quickly stalled when he heard a knock at his door. Scrambling, he pulled his short kimono off of his bed rail and tied it around him. His auburn hair spilling out from underneath like a puffy fox tail.
"Hey Jon!", his roomate V.V. knocked on his door again, "Hey boy, open up!". Jon walked across the wood floor and opened his bedroom door.
"Hey V.V." He smiled and made no attempt to hide his morning wood.
"I didn’t realize you were hosting a circus in your robe this morning." V.V. said as she bLushed.
Jon smiled a bigger grin, his polished teeth shining, "Too bad my circus only shows for the other team V.V., what did you need?"
V.V. bit her lower lip, "You always look so fine. You’ll still let me do our weekly conditioning routine tonight right?" She reached for his hair, pulling it out from underneath the short kimono and letting his thick hair fall in slight waves, covering his shoulders, flowing past his elbows, and swaying to his knees again.
He tossed his head back, "Of course, you always treat my mane so right, I might let you try other areas."
V.V. looked like she was about to melt, "Maybe I can condition some more of your hair," She reached her hands into his huge bush of chest hair. Jon was both long haired and hairy, his sicilian roots awarded him with the resemblance to a muscular snake.
He smirked and flexed his muscles, "Most def V.V., look, I’ve got to go for my run before it gets too late in the morning, but when you get back from work tonight we can totally do a hair sesh."
V.V. squealed, "YaY! And better tonight anyways, I’ve got to get to work at the salon!" And with that she scampered off to her room.
It was 11:00 when Jon finally got out the door. The brisk Portland air always chilled his bones. But he would soon be warm. He would always wear his knee high Adidas socks, black shoes, and running shorts. He had learned a long time ago that running was best when he let everything hang loose. He ran commando, always being vigilant to ensure that his soldier wouldn’t accidentally fall out of his short and loose fitting Adidas running shorts. He was hairy, but the light auburn hair seemed to only highlight his pale, yet muscular body. Jon knew this, which is why he wouldn’t wear a shirt either. He wanted anyone and everyone who saw him running, to enjoy his hard work. Both in his tight frame, and in his unbound tresses that would flow behind him as he ran. Like a flag, the seven years of growth would tell a story in the waterfall of follicles that streamed behind Jon as his jogged. As his hair was to his knees, it would be obvious that he hadn’t had a haircut since he was younger. When Jon started going through puberty his body hair started coming in and he began to develop muscles. From that point on his head obsessed over his beauty. Bursting out of years of being teased as an ugly duckling and awkward youth. He felt it was his right to enjoy the fruits of his genetics and tedious labor. He hair was constantly being coated in masks, being pampered and spoiled by V.V. who would do anything and everything she could to stroke Jon, and his ego.
This is what Jon thought about as his started on his usual route. He ran for 8 miles every other day. He soon felt the heat and delighted to start to feel some of his beloved hair stick to hsi sweaty back. As his chest hair absorbed the beads of sweat, he no longer felt cold. In fact, he felt invincible, like a warrior running into battle, with a majestic cloak streaming behind him. He turned the corner in the park and stopped abruptly. His long hair landing with a thud against his thighs. A new route entrance had been put up, but it had caution tape wrapped from one post to the other. It was weird to Jon, as he hadn’t read anything in the parks newsletter about a new trail or construction being built. Jon toyed with his bangs as they flopped over his face and onto his chest. He felt like it was his duty to investigate and report what he found. So he pulled his phone out of the small pocket fanny that he wore over his short running shorts. Tossing his long hair again he snapped a picture, and began down the trail. He snapped pictures of anything that seemed suspicious, like the paint cans, the beer bottles, the plastic bags, the blanket, the shopping cart, the cigarettes. He finally stopped when he found the path became too thick, the brush began to scratch and his bare knees. Clicking his tongue angrily, Jon wished his hair was long enough to wrap around his ankles, so his beautiful body wouldn’t get scratched. He decided to keep going for a few more feet to see if it the forest shrubbery would become less this.
Jon smiled as he found the slight path again, but yelped when his head was wiped back. His hair had been blown into a cypress hatchling. He groaned, kneeling down to see if he could untangle his locks. He yelled in frustration as he scratched his forefinger. Standing up, he realized he might just have to pull, as the he held his hair to keep the wind from wrapping his hair around the tiny tree even more. He stood up to pull his hair out, but yelped when he heard a sickening crunch and realized he had tightened the knots that had started to bind him to the satchling. He groaned as his legs buckled from his head being yanked; so he fell into the brush. Jon was horrified as his meticulously manicured body was scratched buy the foliage. Dirt got into his abundant body hair and he screamed as he realized that his short shorts had provided to protection for any of his toned muscles to not be scratched by some branch or leaf. He struggled to sit up, with at least half of his unbound auburn hair now entangled in the cyprus hatchling and surrounding shrubbery. Jon started to feel cold as the sweat dried or was absorbed by the dirt that was now in his body hair. He hadn’t realized that his shorts and socks were adventure wear. So they were designed to keep his scratched body from overheating. Which is why he didn’t like to wear a shirt when running. It would only keep him from cooling down. Since his long hair was often enough to absorb or contain the sweat.
Jon thought to his horror, that it would take weeks for all of the scratches to heal off of his chest and back. He would have hoped that his hair would have stopped most from knocking him, but it had just clung to leaves and dirt. He whipped around as he heard someone walking through the forest towards him.
"Who is there?" Jon bellowed, feeling very vulnerable, being almost naked in the bushes.
A man came through the trees, dropping a large backpack and pulling his camouflage jacket sleeves up. He was in ripped jeans and a soiled shirt. To Jon’s horror, he realized the trail had led into a hobo area.
The homeless man spat and mumbled through his beard, "What in the heck boy?"
Jon grimaced, "Sir sorry, I was out running when my hair got caught in the tree, and then I fell and my beautiful body is now scratched!" Jon almost cried. Struggling again with his mass of hair, trying in vain to squat again so his muscles wouldn’t get poked.
The hobo looked down, "Look like a damn baby, stuck in your own mess. You look dirty baby."
Jon glared, "I’m not a baby, I’m just f***ing hot. I’d think you’d say thank you. You sure don’t have as good a body as this." Jon grinned and pointed to his hairy abs, frowning as he quickly brushed a leaf off of him.
The hobo frowned through his beard, "Tough talk for a near naked baby. Does the prissy baby need help?"
Jon attempted to toss his hair indignantly, but squeaked when he just tangled his hair more. "No, I’m fine."
Jon felt bad for the poor stuck buck, "Lemme help you baby." He walked towards Jon. Jon tried to get up but snorted, "No, you look crazy." The hobo glared, perhaps he should help the boy in a different way. Jon turned away and plugged his nose, unable to stop the hobo.
Jon turned to see the hobo breaking branches, yelping as his knee length hair got pulled, "Ow, wanker stop. Be soft with my hair, it’s worth more than whatever's in your hobo bag."
The hobo glared, walking to his bag, "It’d be easier if you looked away boy. Your mewling is making it hard to concentrate.
Jon sneared, "Whatever, just get me out of here, it’s cold. I’ll buy you food or something." Jon groaned and turned away from the hobo, crossing his arms. The hobo pulled a pair of rusty scissors out of his dirty bag. Smiling he walked forward. He though the boy looked like a topless girl from behind, a girl whose hair had grown a tree. It looked like a spider had wrapped its web through the tree. He knelt down and stroked the hair from behind. It was very soft, and with the amount of hair that had knotted into a mound on the satchling. He assumed a lot of time and length had gone into this hair, and money too. Geez.
Jon piped up, "Well?"
The hobo smirked, "I figured it out, hold still." Jon relaxed, he would be home soon, and then he would wash all of the dirt and hobo out of his hair. He was horrified that he even needed this dirty mans help.
The hobo pulled the hair slightly, and dove the rusty scissors into the long soft hair. He cut it off at the base of this shirtless boys neck, cutting quickly. Snip, snip, snip, snip, snip, snip. And the uber long hair fell off of Jones shoulders and covered the hatchling. Pieces of rust fell onto Jon’s shoulder and the piled of his once knee length hair. Jon remained frozen. He didn’t understand what had happened. The wind picked up and his chiseled chest shivered. He reached his hand up and touched his shoulder, brushing the rust and dirt off. A slow silent scream animated out of his mouth.
It grew louder until he bellowed, "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!?!?!" He stood up, freed from the forest floor and whipped around to face the hobo. The hobo stood there brandishing his large rusty scissor.
The hobo laughed, "The baby was stuck, so I freed the baby. Now without all that hair, you look more like a baby." The hobo licked his lips and looked Jon up and down, the hobo observed Jon’s taut muscles, and large pecs. But the Jon was still a small man, smaller now that his knee length red hair had been cut off. What was left hung limply around his ears. The hobo saw the scratches and dirt on his body and stuck in Jon’s abundant body hair.
Jon took a step back, wishing his body wasn’t almost nude. He suddenly wished his muscles weren’t on display, his thick body hair, now almost the same length as his head hair, soiled. He wanted attention, but not from this hobo.
The hobo smiled, "Let me help you look more baby." He quickly took a step forward and grabbed hand fulls of Jon’s chest hair. Snip, snip. It came off as quickly as Jons long bound red hair had. Red tufts flew and Jon struggled to comprende his beauty being shorn as the Hobo then grabbed his headful of hair and sawed off the rest, close to his head. He took a step back, Jon had been to startled by someone wanting to cut, instead of worshiping his red fiery hair, that he hadn’t been able to stop the hobo. He shivered, more cold now and most of his hair was gone. A few stubby patches remained.
Jon started crying, "What the hell man!?"
The hobo put the scissors back into his bag and started to walk away, "I’m so dirty remember? I thought you’d feel better if I took the filth off of you. Bye bye clean baby." Jon creamed himself as the Homeless man picked up some of his red hair that had blown into another tree, and he walked back into the woods.