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Erik goes full metal. by Sebaslick



Erik kissed his girlfriend goodbye for the summer. He was to spend the entire two and a half months that he had off from school, with his dad’s friend; Rupert. His father was going to go on tour with a international band and they couldn’t bring a minor. So Eric was supposed to spend the next two months getting to know his father's friend, who luckily had a son. Eric didn’t really care how he spent his summer, he only wanted to make sure he would be able to take care of his hair. His hair, which was like a second appendage to him, ran almost the length of his body. It was normally braided when he was out and about, but at home he would wear it down. Being into metal, he had always dreamed of being the best head banger at any function. By the ripe age of 17 he had finally accomplished that. His bright red hair caught many eyes wherever he went. And he loved it, he would swing his head so that his braid would sway left and right when he walked around. He would love to go to fairs and look around suddenly, causing his braid to knock something over in a nearby stall. It never bothered him, but that was Erik.

Erik smiled haughtily into his phone, focusing on the light behind him, angling the camera, making sure the braids length was visibly flowing down his taut chest, arching his shoulder so the spikes shone in the light, and…. CLICK. He didn’t even need to take a second selfie, he knew it was lit. And he sent it to his girlfriend with a eggplant emoji.
He thought, "She must be going crazy, without all of this Erik to grind on." Erik smiled to himself as he looked onward. He knew his father’s friend lived a few hours from the airport, so he was planning on taking a taxi but someone from the property was supposed to be waiting for him. He spotted them and they headed towards the luggage claim.

It was finally dusk when Erik and the handyman finally arrived to the farm. Much to Erik’s surprise, it was vast and open. He had thought that it was a more urban farm. But the handyman had explained that the farm focused on being self sufficient and organic. So it was the only place for miles around, and had no wifi. This simply wouldn’t do. Erik burst out of the truck the minute it stopped driving. Frantically he began to wave his phone around, this way and that, trying to find service. His braid whipped around too, like a wrecking ball in a construction site, anyone who happened to be in the driveway when Erik arrived was now transfixed by his frantic arm movement and his frantic braid swinging. It wasn’t until his father’s friend’s voice boomed across the yard that he stopped.
"What are you doing?" his said.
"I’m just looking for wifi, I didn’t know that you guys didn’t have any!" Erik lowered his arm and put his hand back into his leather jacket.
"Oh yes, you won’t have much need for it out here. You’ll either be with my son or a farm attendant." He beckoned Erik to come inside.

They went over the farm rules. Erik wasn’t supposed to go anywhere by himself and he wasn’t supposed to touch anything. The man’s name was Rupert and his son’s was Ron. Rupert was excited because his son was a metalhead or goth or something… SO he was positive that Erik and Ron would be best friends this summer. Ron had already gone to bed, so he and Erik would have to meet separately tomorrow. Rupert was normally up and around the farm by five in the morning. But since Erik was there on vacation he didn’t expect Erik to follow ensuite. Erik thanked him for all of his hospitality and went up to his room to turn in for the night. He didn’t fall asleep though until he had had a fantastic session with his hair. He had started by slowly unbraiding his tail, smiling as it snakily creeped to his ankles as the tresses became unbound by the braiding, as the soft waves from the braid began to shine like the ocean, as his hair fell in twin frames down his supple body, as his hair shined. His red hair was like fire. Flowing freely and hot. He smiled at his reflection, already bare chested, he slipped the rest of his garments off and admired himself even more. All his thoughts consisted of, "Such a shame my girlfriend can’t see this." "Who, Only me to enjoy all of this all summer." "Mmmmm, by the time I get back I’ll be even more toned, more of the Erik to love."

The next morning Erik woke and looked to his left, such a picture. His long hair had become unbound by it’s ties during his sleep and strewn itself over his pillow and over the left side of the bed. He turned his head and was delighted to see that he could see his fully bodies reflection on the closet door mirror. His bare body and hair made quite a site, one that would send lady Godiva into a jealous frenzy. He began to fuss with himself in the mirror, fussing over his hair, his muscles, and more importantly himself. It wasn’t until he arched his back and moaned that Erik was ready to clean up and get out of bed. As he got ready to get dressed, he decided that his leather boots, black leather shorts, and a slightly open button up that was studded with spikes; would be apt for his first day on the farm. As he headed for the door, his unbound hair brushed against his bare thighs. He stopped for a moment in the mirror. Debating on whether he should braid it or not he ran his index finger up and down his chest.
He smiled, "Why bind this beauty? No one is around for miles to enjoy it, ironic." Heading downstairs he made his way to the kitchen. Erik was standing over the counter pouring cereal when he heard someone enter the room, he flicked his head as he turned so his hair swayed like a curtain. It was a skinhead. A skinhead that could only be…
"Hi, I’m Ron. All of this," He motioned with his hand, "must be Erik."
Erik jutted his chin out at his spoken name, "Yes you have officially met, the Erik." Ron scoffed and they both looked each other up and down. They surveyed each other like a pride of lions would in passing, heavyset Ron was equally dressed in black, though his boots were heavier and he was in a black tank top. Ron seemed to have made up for the lack of hair with a plethora of piercings. But his dark clothing didn’t bother him, where Erik’s eyes lingered was the dome on top of Ron’s head. Like a disco ball. Erik couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of it.
Ron noticed, "The Erik? Does the Erik see something he wish he had?"
Erik broke out of his trance, "No, just a wanna be metalhead."
Ron glared, his piercings seemed to reflect his anger, "I don’t wanna be anything, I’m a skinhead. Which means I don’t deal with idiots like," Ron mimed with his hands, "The Erik…." And before Erik could respond Ron turned out of the room and all that could be heard was the heavy thud of his spiked boots.




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