Virus Hair Part 1 by The Hair King

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The virus had been going on for a while. Everyone was trying to stay home - well,
almost everyone.
Tensions were running high and some people were getting even more antsy than usual.
Brad looked at his roommate, Byron, who was sitting at the vanity mirror, as usual,
combing out his long dark hair. The hair was a site to behold, and Byron knew it.
He played with his hair constantly. He couldn't keep his fingers out of his hair all
day long he fondled it, running his long slender fingers through the silky strands, pulling
it out, letting it fly, twirling the long fine strands around his fingers, just generally
making love to his long hair.

"Your hair is f***ing ridiculous," Brad said.

"What!" Byron turned briefly to smirk at him. He flung the massive hair over his
shoulder and then went back to preening.

Brad's face turned red. He wanted more of a reaction. "You hair is f***ing ridiculous.
You look like an idiot with hair that long."

"F*** you, dude," Byron just pulled out a brush and slowly drew the bristles down the
enormous length of follicles that shone beautifully.

"You need a haircut, Byron. You need a haircut real bad."

"F*** that, dude. My hair is too long to fail," he laughed. "You know I just got it down to
my crotch now and nearly the bottom of my ass. It's just getting fun." He laughed again.
"If you know what I mean."

Brad's face burned with anger. "Yeah, I know what you mean for sure. As if you didn't wank
over that long hair already. You've been getting off on your own hair for years. Don't think
I didn't know."

"Oh." Byron seemed slightly embarrassed.

"Yeah, I've seen you playing with your hair and with the little monster in those tight jeans of yours.
Now you can play with them at the same time. By the way, did you spraypaint those f***ing jeans
on you?"

"Dude, I'm for style. My jeans are super tight because they look good on me."

"Whatever."

The two sat quietly for a while. Byron continued to fondle his hair, caressing it and caring for
it with the concern of a mother over its baby. He was hard in his supertight jeans, true. The
thought of Brad knowing about his secret made him horny.
Brad was fuming looking up at the little bratty Byron who got away with everything because he
was so damn cute - but mostly because of the long hair. That long hair seemed to trap everyone into
wanting to care for him and pamper him. And Byron sucked it all up.
It was all about the super long hair now.

Suddenly, Brad had an epiphany. "Well, you have to cut it now, anyway."

Byron laughed, "Sure, why the f*** would I do that, dude?"

"The virus," Brad responded. "That hair will be loaded with the virus. They are going to make you
cut your hair short to get rid of it. I mean, I know your hair is loaded with your cum from wanking
with it down there all time, as if that's not disgusting enough. But now that the virus is crawling
around that long hair, it will have to be shorn."

The word "shorn" made Byron's loins go cold and his heart pound. It was like the old days when he first
started growing his long hair out and had to fight his dad and others to keep it. That was just not
going to happen.

"That's f***ed, dude," Byron's bravado came through. "My hair is f***ing awesome. Ain't no virus in this
hair. I mean, look at it." He flaunted the hair swinging it to and fro, letting is cascade in all directions
and then letting is swath him in glorious waves of silken dark fronds. The hair sailed past his thin
shoulders over slightly muscled arms, getting caught in his underarms now that he was sweating a little, and
flowed to just past his ass in the chair. When he looked down at himself, he saw the few fine strands that
curled around his skintight jeaned crotch, swollen with a boner.

"Yeah, sorry man, but you gotta cut that hair short now. You are going to miss that hair, but it will
be cleaner around here anyway. No more clogged drains. No more hair on the couch and the table and, well
everywhere," Brad laughed.

"F*** you," Byron's voice was wavering a bit.

"No more long hair stuck in your armpits. You do realize that you walk around with pit sweat in your hair
all the time, not to mention the cum and god knows what else you get in that hair during the day."

"Shut up."

"Yeah, and now the virus is all through those pretty long locks. You've got to have a short haircut."

"F*** off, I was my hair so it ain't got no virus in it, dude."

"It soaks into the follicles, asshole. That long hair is a walking disaster. Anyway, you don't have hair -
hair has you! You are just a walking hair monster."

"So what. I'm not cutting my f***ing hair, dude - not now not ever."

Byron got up to go to his bed. It was the middle of the day, but he always had a nap after playing with
his long hair. The wet patch on his super tight jeans that were threadbare and barely containing him was
evidence why.
Little boys always need a nap after they cum all over themselves, Brad thought. He had almost laughed aloud
when he saw Byron trying to surreptitiously wipe his crotch with his long hair. Little brat, he thought.

Just as Byron bent over to lean into his bed, Brad jumped him and knocked him onto the bed.
The two young men wrestled for a few minutes, but Byron was slender and not a fighter - plus he had a
awful lot of hair to take care of during a wrestling match. The long hair was getting wrapped around both boys
and caught up around their bodies.
Byron did his best to keep his hair from getting into any grief.
This did not help him take care of his opponent.
Finally, Brad straddled Byron who was now lying face down on his bed.

"F*** off, dude," Byron yelled.

Brad laughed at the little guy. He slowly pulled all the long hair from all around Byron's body, but also
yanked hairs from under his arms and around his legs to pull the massive hair into a huge loose tail in his
strong hand.
The hair looked awesome alright on the stud's head, but strung into a man's big hand, it looked like fragile
kid's stuff.
Brad thought the hair looked weak and childish. He laughed and Byron tried to kick free.
"Get off me, dude!" he yelled petulantly.

"Not yet, son," Brad said firmly. He tugged on the long hair.

"Get off my hair, faggot," Byron tried.

"Well something like that," Brad said.
He pulled the longest, shiniest scissors he had ever seen. He had found them in a store before all the
stores were locked up. He thought they might come in handy one day. And that day had arrived!

Young Byron was yelling, "Get the f*** off me, dude."

Brad says, "Not until you promise me you will cut all this ridiculous long hair off. It is full of virus."

"No it isn't and no I won't. Are you f***ing crazy. My hair is my life."

"You have to cut it short to get rid of the virus. I don't want to live with someone who is spreading the
virus through his vanity - his long hair. You are too vain for words, little boy. Little longhaired boy."

"I'm not little, and I'm not a boy to you - and nobody but nobody makes me cut my long hair, so f*** off."


Byron squirmed trying to free himself from Brad's strong straddling legs. The wiggling was having an effect
on Brad's groin. He did kind of admire this young buck and his arrogant attitude and cute face. If it was
just not for this horrible long hair.
Brad smirked.
Well, not for long.

Byron could feel Brad's reaction through his skintight jeans. He was going to mention it, but then he kind of
liked it. If the dude was not such an asshole, he might actually be cool. He felt Brad's thrust as he tightened
his legs on his slender body. If Brad could just get used to his long hair and accept it. But, no, Brad had
too keep his buzzcut and thought every real man should have one. F***ing nerd.

"Just relax, stud," he said, "this will all be over in a few minutes." He laughed at the thought.
The thought that this wee tight jeaned mouthy stud had grown his hair for ten or twelve years and within less
than ten minutes, the decade plus long hair would be gone.
He hesitated for a moment.
Should he cut the hair?
It wasn't his hair to cut, really. But then it was so f***ing ridiculous - ridiculously long.
The hair was clean, but then the kid could only wash it once or twice a week because it was so long - so it
could not be that clean after all. It had to have dirt in it.

He opened the blades of the scissors.

The hair was beautiful, so he shouldn't cut it.
But it was full of the boy's cum and other s**t likely.

Brad brought the long silver colored blades over to the massive collection of long boy's hair in his hand.

It would be a shame for anyone to lose something he had worked over a decade to grow and perfect.

But the hair was always getting caught in things now. It was dangerous. He would be saving the boy's life.

So many people admired the long hair and gave Byron a lot of leeway and favours because of it. It would be sad
to take that power away from the boy.

Still, he used it to take advantage of others and did not always recognize the people.
The hair was so long now that they found strand everywhere in the apartment.
He never cleaned up after himself.
The bathtub drain and the sink drain were always getting clogged with slimy bundles of his long proud hair reduced
to garbage, but it was always up to Brad to clean the drains.
The long silky strands were enemies to the vacuum cleaner and got wrapped around the beaters all the time, and Brad was
the only one who cut them out of the beater.
CUT
CUT
Brad's energy was building. He could feel his jeans tighten as the boy Byron squirmed and struggled.
He tightened his legs and his grip on the proud stud's long hair
The hair that was left all over the apartment - on the couch, on the floor, sometimes even a strand or two he
found on his own bed or on the table.
He even found a huge two-food strand handing out of the peanut butter jar one day.

Brad had saved his roommate more than a few times when his extra long hair got caught in something. Maybe it was
time to save him permanently.

The scissors came toward the hair, Brad ran the closed blades up and down the shiny conglomerate of super long hair, ass-length
hair - truly ass length hair, or crotch length hair.

It would be a shame to steal the hair that Byron had just in the last few months been able to enjoy right in his crotch. He
imagined he used it by wrapping it around his other major friend down there while wanking at night - he could hear him.

Still, Brad thought, I could teach him some other games to play. It wouldn't stop him entirely from wanking.

He opened the long blades and tightened his legs on the boy between them.

He placed the shiny blades about one half way up the lad's neck and then began to close them, moving straight across the back
of Byron's invincible long hair.

The invincible hair proved to be no match for a man's strong hand and a sharp pair of scissors. The blades sliced the hair as
if it were nothing - as if it were not a dozen years of growth, care, and love - as if it was just a normal boy's hair.

As the blades sliced, the hair sprung away and what was left dangled like lost sheep halfway down the stud's neck. The cutting
continued through Byron's yelling and whining.
He did not know he was getting a haircut.
He was just making a lot of noise to get Brad off him. It was not working.
Brad, the barber, kept cutting his long hair until the entire three foot mass was reduced to a silly looking pageboy haircut.
The left over strands did not even reach Byron's shoulders.

Brad smiled. Not even shoulder length hair anymore!

When Byron was released. He sprung out of the bed ready to fight.
He saw Brad with a huge swath of hair still in his big hand.
He spun around to the vanity mirror and squealed a high-pitched shriek.

"My f***ing hair! My hair!" He started to wail and cry, tears flowing down his face.
"My f***ing long hair. It isn't even to my shoulders, dude! I gotta have long hair."

Brad smirked and reached over with the dangling, severed hair. "Oh, here it is. You can have it."

Byron took his own hair from Brad, but then the tears started for real. He was honest to goodness sobbing like a
five year old boy getting his first haircut.
He stood in disbelief holding his pride and joy in his hands, tears flowing, and body shaking from grief over the loss.

Byron stood there with his hair flapping halfway down his neck, teasing to reach the shoulders - but not. Whereas a
few moments ago he looked like a Rockstar stud, he now looked like a high school kid trying to grow his hair long but
not able to convince daddy to get longer than a stupid pageboy - half longish hair.

"It's not even to my shoulders," he cried again as if in shock. "My long hair... my long hair...."

Brad was feeling a little sorry now. The dude really was devastated.
But then he noticed a fresh patch of cream on Byron's extraordinarily tight jeans.

Even through the copious tears, Byron did notice that Brad's jeans were not exactly pristine now either.

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